#I’m hardly the first person to think so but I can still make a statement

[jumper-insectia]

I have been listening to so much tma recently and I have finally gotten into season three and more specifically the arc I’m gonna personally call “mr archives realizes some shit and now he can’t stop realizing and also mannequins want him to adopt a new skincare routine”

[nelle-y]

We Become We

Synopsis: you’re arranged to marry the one and only yashiro commissioner, Kamisato Ayato

Content: Ayato x fem!reader, arranged marriage, one-sided love (Ayato) not proofread

Note: titled and inspired by the song ‘We Become We’ from Journey to Bethlehem (this is a little bit messy bc i tried making it shorter than my usual stuff😭)

—

“Do you like dogs?” Ayato guided you away from a puddle of rain. He has been asking you questions since you began your walk in the garden.

Still down in the dumps, you asnwered dryly, uninterested. “I’m fond of them.”

Your father had arranged a wedding for you and Lord Kamisato sooner than you had thought. You weren’t able to let everything sink in when he announced the date, there was still a little bit of aftershock left until now.

Lord Kamisato was ever such a gentleman—as he should. Flattery and friendly statements have accompanied you since he arrived at your clan’s estate. Nonetheless, you felt nothing for him. His chivalry was all for show. You knew this was just an arrangement, a sacrifice to make for your clan—for your father.

You were sure he felt the same, and that you would live in your separate houses as you tended to your duties, unbothered and concentrated. But the way he spoke to you made you think otherwise.

“Is that so? Then maybe I could show you my friend’s dog? His name is Taroumaru—the dog, not my friend.” Normally, Ayato wouldn’t speak so freely and childish around a person, but he felt safe enough in your presence to loosen his tongue. You nodded dryly, again.

He began to tire of your meekly responses. He sighed, “I’m sorry. You’re clearly upset about this whole… situation.”

After what felt like an eternity of silence, you looked at him for the very first time. Now he could properly see your monotonous eyes. “What gave it away?” You finally spoke in a more sincere tone.

“Well,” Ayato hesitated. “I won’t go into detail, but I’m no novice at taking hints.” You shyly laugh at this—a step in the right direction, he thought.

“I suppose I have to be careful next time.” Your gaze glued to the ground once more. “I wouldn’t want to offend you, Commissioner.”

“You don’t have to hide a thing, Y/N.” He leaned down slightly for you to see him. “It’s gonna take more than a secret to offend me. Oh, and you can call me Ayato; we are getting married, after all.”

You looked at him strangely, “I don’t understand how you’re so calm right now. Aren’t you disappointed that you’ve got your freedom taken away now that you’re engaged?”

“I’ll be honest here, I haven’t had that much freedom even before getting engaged!” He laughs, “If anything, choosing you as my wife is the only freedom I’ll ever have.”

“Only freedom?”

“When you become a leader, especially at a young age, you make it a habit to decide for the development of your clan. Your duties, fortunes, you should always think if it would benefit your people. There’s hardly any time to think for yourself.”

All of the sudden you felt pity for the man, with empathy lingering over. “Then you became the commissioner,” you draw out, to which he sighed. It seems like he’s unbothered by it now, like he’s gotten used to this overwhelming lifestyle. “Do you ever wonder about retirement?”

“As long as there’s no heir, I believe retirement isn’t an option for me.”

Ah, another reason for your engagement—producing an heir. Archons, you pray your children will have a much better life than you and your groom-to-be. “What about Miss Ayaka?”

You see a small grin on Ayato’s lips. “She’ll want to explore the world, meet new friends and what not. Best not to trouble her.” You both sit on a small bench with an overlooking view of the sunset, purple and red-colored leaves matching the tall sky.

“You really care for her, don’t you?”

“Of course, she is my sister, after all.” Ayato found you leering your head near his shoulder. A warm feeling buzzes in his chest as he nudged closer to you. Oh, he’s been talking all this time! You haven’t said a word about yourself since you met him, he realizes. To correct his mistake, he asks, “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“Well,” you uttered, unsure where to start. You lean against him. “I find it charming that you care for your sister so much.”

“I meant with the marriage.” His voice wasn’t judgmental, but more like a friend lending comfort and safety. It lures you to open up to him.

“This was all just an arrangement,” you confess. Ayato couldn’t help but feel disappointed, yet he doesn’t speak a word of it. Maybe there will be a small rainbow after a drizzle of rain. “That was how I felt at first. But now I’m slowly growing more fond of you, my lord.

If you think of me as easily-caught, then I claim to be fond of you as a friend. At least, for now.”

“For now,” he repeats. “I’ll take that as a good sign. In truth, I fear I’m falling for you sooner than I thought.”

His confession makes you rise from your comfortable place, shock and sudden nervousness pulsing through your veins. “Pardon?”

Ever such a lady, he thought, even when shocked you still hold face. When he looked at you, he saw how you got antsy. Fearing for your comfort, he said, “I’m only joking, miss Y/N! I feel the same as you; a friend.”

You let out a breath, slightly relieved. You were flattered, but love at first sight just felt ridiculous to you—that was just physical attraction. True love takes time and understanding. With Ayato saying he was falling for you, you feared it was only for your looks and not for your soul. Though, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of loving him.

“I do admire your elegance, though,” he added.

“Thank you.”

Ayato couldn’t be happier that he was about to be your husband and you, his wife.

It was the way his name seemed to echo in songs from the loveliness that is your voice. It was the way you nodded when people passed by despite not knowing them. It was this sense of perfection he saw in you, and it only took him a smile to tell.

But the question in his head paralyzed him, anxious and, he wouldn’t lie, a little embarrassed. His feelings would be null and void if you didn’t—or wouldn’t—feel the same. “Will this always be just an arrangement to you?”

The stars peeked through the violet sky like fireflies by the time you walked back. The smell of the nearby sea and the woodlands blew with the air. You looked straight, watching your step in case you trip, while Ayato had looked at you like you were… everything. “I don’t really know you that well, Ayato. It can be difficult to tell.”

“But do you think, with time, this blossom of ours will grow into a beautiful flower?”

You appreciate his metaphor. “Maybe, someday.”

Someday.

—the end.—

[raayllum]

Was thinking about the Gifts scene because it was one of my favourites and has made me cry every time, thus far, and something that stuck out to me the first time has now collected more thoughts, in terms of parallels and parental relationships. 

Ezran and Rayla both sacrifice something in remembrance to their fathers. For Ezran, it’s the symbol of him finding a way to both honour his father’s memory and take a better path than he did. The way they worked his short story and musings over his father’s sword directly into the show was delightful and heartfelt. Ezran acknowledges that the crown isn’t made of precious metals or bearing special jewels, but it carries an emotional weight and shows his humility and his own strength as a king. It says just as much about Ezran as it does about Harrow, if not arguably more.  

Then you have Rayla stepping up first (was anyone else relieved she wasn’t offering herself up to be eaten?) and arguably with the biggest sacrifice. As she says, these blades are all she has to remember Ethari and Runaan, two of her parents, by. Unlike Ezran, who shares in his grief with Callum and the rest of the council about Harrow, there is no one left who remembers Ethari and Runaan the way she does and did. There are no more family heirlooms waiting for her. She can’t even truly go back to where they raised her.

Ezran gives up something he had crafted in Harrow’s memory, and Rayla gives up the one and final gift her fathers gave to her, her most constant companions in the two years she was gone, and her last line of defense.

Then you have Callum, who offers up Ibis’ staff. Now, Callum’s statement here is still meaningful. The staff here has been incredibly helpful, he’s presumably seen Ibis more than a few times over the past few years with Ezran and Zym assumedly visiting regularly, Ibis taught him the spell he uses the most this season and the one that let him save Rayla. But it’s hardly a parent-child bond or even a mentor-mentee bond. 

So what does Callum have from a parent? Well... the Key of Aaravos, really. He has his sketchbook, which is full of spells Rex Igneous would never be interested in (it’s not even his primal) and he has this magical, mystical key that unlocks something of great power. And I want to write a bigger post about how I think it relates to his identity and sense of self worth as a mage as well, but I do think given we see Callum lighting a candle for Harrow and that it’s attached to Harrow’s letter as it is, as well as some things Callum’s VA, Jack De Sena has said, in addition to this panel from TTM:

J: [Regarding trauma and growing up]  I think that’s part of, just to speak to like, right, season four stuff, that’s part of the I think some of the anger he holds about Rayla leaving is that like, “we went through all this really intense stuff together and that—like, I’m cut off from that, in some ways.” T: Yeah. J: This—this person who you shared that with is gone, and—

Through The Moon makes it clear that Callum hasn’t moved on from grieving Harrow, if indeed you can ever quite let a grief like that go in the first place. We know from 4x03 that Ezran likewise still feels hurt, pain, and anger regarding the death of their parents, but he also had Callum to mourn with, other people to remember with, and Zym most of all as a silver lining. 

We know from 4x01 he’s been quietly but actively grieving Rayla for a while now, too, and then she shows up. It’s clear that Callum has emotionally closed himself off in her absence and in her return (seriously, did anyone ever have to prompt him into talking in s1-s3?) which makes sense, since over the course of their journey she became his main confidant and peer. But, as Jack de Sena noted, he was cut off from that. His grieving stagnated in more ways than one because he couldn’t precisely move on, even before she left, never mind after.

Now he’s a loose end, frayed and jagged, still grieving in multiple ways. And with the coins now in Rayla’s possession, S5 may force him to confront just how not okay with Harrow’s death he still is in some ways, now that freeing his father’s killer is something he’ll both want and loathe to help with, in addition to being further entrenched in Aaravos’ schemes. 

What will Callum hold onto, and what will he let go of?

[mrs-sharp]

I did a bit of research and scraped together memories from a few semesters of psychology, hoping I haven’t fundamentally gotten anything wrong. I attempted a small (clinical) psychological analysis of Sharp in which, of course, some things had to be shortened, trying to determine how the events in Scarborough might have affected him.

TW: Mention of PTSD, trauma, personality disorders

Does Sharp suffer from PTSD?

What is PTSD?

• Trigger: uncontrollable, unpredictable event

• Stress reaction where people suffer from the persistent re-experiencing of the traumatic event (flashbacks, nightmares)

-> Guilt for surviving

-> In addition to chronic stressors, everyday stressors also influence the course of the illness and mental state (noise, stressful events (I’m looking at you, Garreth), job stress)

• There are several stages to diagnose PTSD:

1. Trauma

In psychiatric classification systems, trauma (in relation to PTSD) is defined as follows: (only) exceptional, (potentially) life-threatening events or events associated with severe injuries; applies to Scarborough, but:

-> not every trauma leads to PTSD; while an estimated 60% have had a traumatic experience, only about 8% of the male population develop PTSD (for women, it's 20%); the likelihood increases if the trauma was inflicted intentionally, which applies to Scarborough.

2. Flashbacks, nightmares (explanations follow below)

3. Avoidance behavior

-> Avoidance of stimuli related to the trauma:

So, we have this: Sharp claims that fear played no role in his decision to leave the Ministry:

-> there is a study (Lanius et al. 2003) that compared traumatized individuals with and without PTSD: those with PTSD showed lower brain activity when experiencing emotional memories (people with PTSD thus suffer from a disorder in emotion processing)

-> What does this mean? Either the emotion is present, but Sharp's brain can not process it, or maybe he simply doesn’t want to discuss his emotions with a student

-> Repression might also play a role in this statement, as well as the fear of making himself vulnerable (if someone uses my fears against me, I have to relive them)

4. Overstimulation

-> constant state of alertness

-> sleep disturbances, irritability

5. Duration > 1 month

6. Psychosocial impairments

Problem: We don’t see much: Does he have nightmares, flashbacks, concentration issues? Does he relive the trauma? Does the experience restrict him?

Between the lines, it can be seen that he feels guilt, but there is hardly any indication of the extent of it (if he didn’t feel guilt, to be honest, that would worry me too).

Counterarguments / Ambivalences:

• He speaks relatively openly about what he experienced

• He admits his mistake: this could be a sign that he has come to terms with it or that he blames himself for it

• He actively seeks a cure and even takes a new job for it, which argues against avoidance behaviour.

7. Differential diagnosis

-> Reactions to trauma can cause disorders of varying severity

-> Trauma can also bring other psychological disorders, including adjustment disorders, or:

• a persistent personality change after extreme stress:

Aesop mentions that success can make one complacent. From this, it can be concluded that the trauma has profoundly changed his personality:

• in the above-mentioned disorder, the personality change includes:

-> among other things, a hostile and distrustful attitude (thinking of the first encounter with MC, see this post),

-> social withdrawal (new job)

-> as well as constant internal tension and restlessness out of fear of being threatened (his extreme perceptiveness could be a sign of this; when MC talks to Garreth, Sharp knows exactly what they discussed afterward)

-> all this therefore applies to Sharp

However, this disorder tends to occur with persistent stress that can begin in childhood, which either indicates that Scarborough, though a one-time event, still burdens him, or that his personality changes cannot be classified as a disorder.

Conclusion: Sharp probably does not have PTSD, but Scarborough caused severe trauma. We can assume that the event has profoundly shaped his personality. Whether it can be called a personality disorder, I can not judge. However, I do wonder what the "old" Sharp was like. But that’s a question for another post.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

this should go without saying but “everyone can have ability to self advocate” and “everyone can self advocate right this second” are two different concept.

i say this even thought it sounds obvious because! see parents of nonspeaking level 3 autistic kid (but also adults) w high support needs say their kid don’t have functional communication, that they worried abt their offspring’s future—what happens if they die and not able to be here to take care of them anymore? their offspring dont have functional communication, can’t tell you anyone mistreated them abused them right now, and no idea if they will able to develop it in future.

and late diagnosed, lower support needs, and/or level 1, mostly speaking autistics come in very strong (many attack parents bc see “parent of autistic kid?” immediately think “ableist autism mom!!!”), accuse parents of not presuming competence, accuse parents of abuse, accuse parents prioritizing words over behavioral communication, accuse parents not listening to offspring’s behaviors. say “your child is self advocating, they can, don’t say they can’t!” or say or imply their child don’t self advocate right now because parents not do enough.

i’m all for presume competence. presume competence so so important. but, presume competence means “everyone can learn with proper support and accommodations, even if they may not seem like it on surface.” not “everyone have hidden skills they possess right this second everyone can do everything right now or eventually in the future!”

yes, most behavior is communication! (most not all bc tics, severe apraxia, etc). but the truth is behavior only goes so far. you can only communicate so much with behavior. even if other people presume every behavior as communication, may still misinterpret.

yes! you can argue screaming meltdown is communicating is self advocating! but screaming even two words “too loud! too loud! is different than screaming noises. in first scenario you immediately know what trigger meltdown! you immediately know what stimuli to remove! but the latter, just screaming noises—is it the noise? if it clothes scratchy? is it wrong spoon wrong plate? is it being interrupted? is it too many feelings?

“you can show them picture options and let them point! that is still self advocacy!” yes, but needing someone to provide you pictures is hardly same as able to go to pictures AAC yourself and select spontaneously.

not to mention that… the ability to know what you want to communicate, then go to pictures (whether app or physical printed), recognize what the pictures are, know what picture correlate to what you want communicate, have the motor skills and visual skills to pick the picture out of all the other pictures, then hand it to someone—all very basic skills taken for granted by most late diagnosed low support level 1 mostly speaking autistics. most probably never ever struggled with it. most probably don’t even realize so many nonspeaking kids and adults struggle with this. not everyone have ability to do this!! giving a nonspeaking minimally speaking person communication is not as simple as handing someone an AAC board and they magically can communicate.

what if what you want to communicate is not in picture?

all of these facts has become a taboo thing to admit in autistic circles.

and like i’m even nervous to say “everyone can have the ability to self advocate” because it’s such a extreme definitive generalizing sentence. who am i to make such a generalizing statement? do i know every possible manifestation of every possible disability that affect visual/motor/communication/cognition/etc? NO!

because you don’t know, because you are never sure, 100% presume competence. you never know. give them the chance to learn. see if any environmental factors are limiting them. try as much as you can.

but presume competence shouldn’t be weaponzied… not “if your child/client/etc unable to do this, you’re definitely bad abusive incompetent not doing enough all your fault” without nuance. sometimes it is the parent/professional/etc’s fault. sometimes it’s not.

a randomly selected nondisabled person, able bodied and neurotypical. learning to ski. not olympian champion. the parents are abusive, not providing them with all the lessons all the best equipment all the support? the coach are incompetent, not believing the person, not presuming competence, not believing they can be olympian champion? the equipment not the best in the world (even if best, not enough!!)!

[zeropsworld]

I don’t really get where some people are getting that Blake and Yang don’t talk or sit down and have meaningful conversations with each other when they probably have the most meaningful conversations together out of any other member on their team.

Burning the candle is a good example of that, Blake was the first person Yang opened up to about her past and past mistakes and she was able to get through to Blake and have her calm down

Another being Blake going against her trust issues in volume 3 and choosing to believe in Yang’s words despite what she saw, which is a big thing for Blake because she’s had a bad past with trusting someone solely on their words despite what she sees

In volume 6 in the barn, Yang expresses her concern for Adam’s presence and tells Blake that she still gets flashes on the night when Adam cut her arm off, which Blake is the only person Yang talks to about this by the way and Yang’s hand starts to shake and Blake looks concerned. Blake then talks about how she doesn’t know where Adam went and then tells Yang how Adam affected her by getting in her head and making her feel small, but then realizing that he just wanted to pull her down to his size. Blake reassures Yang by taking her hand and saying she’s not leaving and she’ll be there to protect her, which Yang at the moment takes the wrong way because she thinks Blake only meant she would protect her and not both of them protecting each other, but Blake corrects her statement and says they’re protecting each other and making Yang a promise that she wouldn’t break to never leave like she did. Then they have a moment on the airship where Yang takes Blake’s hand and says they were there for each other

Their conversation in volume 7 about doing the right thing was a great conversation because we can see they’re on opposite sides on telling ironwood the full truth or not (Yang leaning in favor, while Blake leaning towards not), where both of them expressed their feelings on the matter and heard each other’s perspectives out. This shows that they can disagree on things, but still be open to hearing the other’s opinion and understand their view on the subject. Then they talk about taking lives which was in reference to what happened in volume 6 with Adam. Where Blake expressed her feelings on the matter and Yang reassures her that they didn’t have any other choice because as we know Adam wasn’t backing down or choosing to leave them alone. Blake then expresses not wanting to take another life and how she didn’t want to go after Robyn when she was trying to help and Yang agreed and they decided to tell Robyn about the tower

The confession scene in total was meaningful in volume 9 because they’re talking and expressing how they feel about each other and what they admired about one another where Blake helped Yang along during and they came together to become girlfriends

There’s probably more that I’m missing, but Blake and Yang do have a lot of meaningful conversations together throughout the show and talk a lot compared to others. They’re the most vulnerable with each other and understand each other a lot. So it doesn’t really makes sense whenever I see people claiming they hardly talk when they talk the most out of anyone else on their team

[neiptune]

congrats on 1 year!! I’m so glad to have met you doing that time! 🩵

For the prompts I chose:

for the first time i had something to lose

And I’d like it with Rin from bluelock ofc (I know no one is surprised) 🩵 I don’t have a preference for trope, just whatever you want to do with it is fine!

itoshi rin x for the first time I had something to lose

request a character + prompt here :)

“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this”

“And I don’t understand why we can’t eat in silence”

A deep scowl settles over your pretty face and, as he glances up from his plate at your stubborn silence, Rin lets out an impatient snort.

“You��re being the difficult one, you know that, right?” he takes another bite from just one of the million onigiri his mom has left on the kitchen counter before heading out.

“I’m curious, sue me” you brush your hands clean of any food remnants and he barely resists the urge to roll his eyes while inching forward to swipe your bottom lip with his thumb to collect a few rice grains. You can’t help the heat the crawls up from your neck up to the very roots of your hair as he casually brings the same thumb to his mouth, teal gaze unimpressed.

“Yes, I felt nervous about entering blue lock. Now drop it”

You perk up right away, satisfied smile creeping onto your lips.

“Knew it! Why were you nervous?”

Instead of replying or even going as far as acknowledging your question, he takes both your plates and gets up to wash them.

“Rin?”

He doesn’t even have the decency to hum in response, exceptionally busy making sure all traces of grease and soy sauce are eradicated under the strokes of the soapy sponge he’s digging his fingers into.

“I literally can’t stand you”

“Really?” he peers at you from over his shoulder, plates finally clean enough to be set in the black drying rack by the sink “I seem to remember a different version of that statement from last night. Just like that, oh god, love you so fucking much Rin, keep-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Itoshi” you hiss, thankful as ever for being the only ones currently home. He’s shameless like that, always has been.

One could easily think he’s just a closed off, self entitled asshole, and he is most of the time. But for those who have been in his life long enough to make it past the fences he’s put up, Rin Itoshi is actually so much more. A respectful son who enjoys visiting his parents whenever he can, if he’s sure he’s the only one traveling home. Certainly grumpy but always kind enough to thank cashiers at the grocery store and wish anyone who serves him a nice day. He hardly forgets important dates and occasions, always has flowers delivered for his mom’s birthday and expensive, vintage vinyl records sent as presents for his dad’s.

There’s a playful side to him, too. He’s a sucker for inappropriate jokes, mainly because he can keep a straight face as the person unfortunate enough to be his target practically combusts from embarrassment. He’ll never admit it but he actually doesn’t mind spending time with some of the guys he had met through Ego’s project. You wouldn’t go as far as calling them his friends but, except for a few old school mates, he doesn’t really spend time with anyone else. He’ll say they’re a fucking headache but you’ll still catch him grumpily correcting Bachira’s english accent over voice memos or cursing under his breath whenever Isagi calls but picking up nonetheless.

You, however, along with his parents, are the luckiest. Rin still allows you to catch glimpses of the affectionate child he once was, full of life and smiling so much his cheeks would hurt all the time. His dream has stayed the same and he’s still working his ass off to fulfill it but what’s also stayed the same throughout the years is the value he gives you. You’re one of the very few parts of his life he deems irreplaceable. It’s been like that ever since primary school, precisely since the day you had decided to sit with him at lunch and insisted on sharing the vanilla purin your mom had packed for you.

He still remembers the flush heating up his entire face at your excited we’re gonna be best friends not even ten minutes after meeting him. And sure enough, while you never left him, he also never found it in himself to leave you. Not after the sleepless nights, the draining study sessions, that time he got drunk and you had to retrieve him from the small football field close to his house, the first brush of lips while still in high school, the same one that still works its magic and makes every place feel like home as long as you’re close enough.

“Rin, you know those are not yours!” your anger is as fleeting as the offence you take, his teasing long forgotten as you eye the popsicle he’s just grabbed from the freezer.

“Want one?” he deflects, well aware of the fact that you prefer ice cream. You narrow your gaze at him.

“Sae is visiting next week, you already had your share”

He doesn’t even mind hearing his brother’s name, not if it rolls off your tongue.

“Don’t care” he states and offers the tiniest smirk as he sits across from you once again but grabs your sleeve first, tugging until you give in with a sigh.

“You really are insufferable” but who would believe you actually mean it? Not him. Not as you sit on his lap and gently brush some hair away from his eyes. His gaze flickers to the small, already fading mark he's left on your neck the previous night, a shadow just underneath your jaw. Rin already wants to freshen it up.

“Can you really not guess why I was nervous?”

You shrug and tilt your head to the side, genuinely curious.

He drops his head enough to rest his forehead on your shoulder, watermelon popsicle already melting and making a sticky mess of his fingers.

“For the first time, I had something to lose” he mutters against your skin.

But even then, he knew you would've waited for him. Just like he would always wait for you.

[piganatur]

the eighth sense ep9-10

ok so this is very chaotic and long so everyone, brace yourself lol

After that gut-wrenching ending of ep8 we’re back in the therapist's office’s deep, underwater world. I love that there’s hardly any sound (and absolutely no music) whenever we’re in that office, it’s so silent as if it’s underwater, all is still. The sentence that sets Jaewon into motion, however, is his therapist telling him he’s selfish. That line literally pushes Jaewon not only to turn and face his therapist but to stand up and ‘protect’ himself against the statement. The only thing that can shake Jaewon is Jihyun (or the mere mention of him). He wants to protect Jihyun, but his therapist says he’s selfish for deciding things alone, for not considering Jihyun’s feelings, that’s basically the same as others hurting Jihyun. It’s an accusation of See? What you’re doing is what you want to protect him from

There are these lines that make me pause for a moment, giving me the urge to grip something bc 😩 Like Jaewon reasoning how he approached Jihyun first, what he literally says is ‘bc I reached my hands out to him first’ and I’m a weak bitch whenever it comes to hands (the mere mention of hands and I’m on the floor~) let it be holding, grabbing, not letting go of or reaching out and all their connotations so I’m just 😭😭😭😭😭 And now I’m thinking about Jaewon’s inability to see that he reached out first but Jihyun has been reaching out over and over again and maybe that only reminded him of this very first act, the one that, sometimes, he probably wished never even happened but what eventually saved him? (also, *vague hand gestures* it's a mirroring action-reaction kinda thing and I’m just *clenches fist*)

Not gonna lie, Jihyun scared me for a moment, being so inside his head and pondering so hard while walking with Joonpyo (like Jaewon’s vacant state got passed onto him BUT that’s another parallel so am I complaining? ofc NOT) friggin parallels and mirror conversations 😬😬😬 I’m just a shell of a person filled to the brim with t8s parallels now (should I make a post about all the parallels in all the episodes?? should I spiral into absolutely insane territory???)

As a viewer, it’s interesting to see Jihyun worry and actually waver (on a surface level) because of what Eunji told him (that Jaewon won’t even mention nor talk about him, like Jaewon talks about ANYTHING with Eunji… wow okay I’m sorry but this is too funny I share more connection with a roadside snail than these two did in the rekindled version of their relationship no.2) That scene shows just how inexperienced and young Jihyun is while simultaneously telling about his character growth and his response to fear (much like his final conversation with Jaewon about being afraid and maybe I’ll write an overall analysis about that, about overcoming fear in t8s but now it’s still just a scattered mess inside my head and I’m really not in any state to try and get into Jaewon’s head anytime in the near future so….)

I love LOVE the club room discussion:  ◦ first Jihyun wordlessly comforting Jaewon, not letting go of his hand, ◦ then shouldering all the blame so the surfing club can get re-approved, ready to give up something if that means, in turn, giving something to Jaewon, ◦ and then Yoonwon showing vulnerability – these are the scenes that make t8s so special to me… the buildup in this scene, the little things following each other that make Jaewon snap out of his stoic state to comfort a friend because he is a caring person and Yoonwon is his friend… these particles build on each other to push Jaewon to react, to move and do something (much like Jihyun finding - w/ the help of Joonpyo - Jaewon’s pictures and realising that Jaewon did not give up on photography and that fact propelling him to support Jaewon’s dream and giving him another camera?) It’s all action and reaction, some clear and loud, some like these snippets ready to get connected to reveal their final meaning

And I love that when Jihyun gifted the new camera the backdrop of that scene is a cluttered rock wall, all these one-of-a-kind entities of different sizes and forms backing them up from behind, when Jaewon is still at the point where he tries to piece his life together.

And Jihyun waits for him at a boulder that’s separate from the rest, where Jaewon joins him and then Jihyun gives him something precious and leaves. Jaewon stays there, because after everything that went down, much like Jihyun, that singular boulder is a certain and unshakable place. And he accepts what Jihyun gave him.

So when Eunji kisses him, Jaewon sees with his own eyes that what he does is actively hurting Jihyun because finally FINALLY he looks at Jihyun and what he sees is the pain he inflicted. It dawns on him, in that moment, that his actions are causing Jihyun harm, and that’s exactly what he wanted to protect Jihyun from. So he does what his therapist said and works on himself first (and I love how the creators play with/and portray time without blatantly stating how much of it passes)

Also, Eunji pls sit down and stop saying Jaewon is back in his right mind. He has changed clothes like once in the past 2 weeks ffs… Oh, but Jaewon throwing that same line back to her face?  I apologise, I wasn’t in my right mind yoooooooooooooooooo

When Jaewon said We’re done I was already cackling. Followed by the you’ve worked hard ...let’s agree that he was NOT talking about their assignment shdhgfhdhg. Another perfect establishing line for the following scene (also, Jaewon served in the navy?? he is  i n s a n e)

But back to Jaewon's road to realisation…Sajangnim is so real and I appreciate her every second I see her (also, like, everyone can be an oppa as long as they’re handsome😉). She literally beats some sense into Jaewon lol. It wouldn’t be the same if someone didn’t get boinked on the head with a spoon, that’s the sk experience~~~

The fact that both Jihyun and Jaewon were heavily led in the direction of finding answers by the advice of WOMEN *can I get an AMEN?* yes, I’m back at my women portrayed in t8s shit again

lmao I’m sorry but that Conan Gray song doesn’t even play for 0.3 seconds and Jihyun is already like yo Joonpyo do u know this song it’s so nice? hahaha but seriously,

I really like that Jaewon walks to Jihyun because walking with purpose is soooo powerful. He makes his way steadily and with determination towards happiness. He doesn't need to run, there is no need for that rush of urgency bc we always see these flashy and big actions portrayed as the picture of ultimate declaration (of yearning/wanting/striving for a better existence) when in reality, the quiet and sure things are just as valid, and often filled with more power.

The first time Jaewon unconsciously wandered (through roads he previously took w/ Jihyun) back to the samgyeopsal restaurant it made him smile, his heart led him there. This time however, he makes that choice consciously, he chooses to go to Jihyun and his every step is filled with that decision and with dedication...to pursue Jihyun and pursue happiness because Jihyun IS happiness to Jaewon and once his mind no longer fights it, going to Jihyun and trying is the simplest and most reasonable thing to do. The magic of Jaewon’s power walk is the conscious gravity of that realisation, of that act.

while watching the opening of ep10 all I could think of was t8s 🤝 tms: starts off teasing (the whole season) with clips that only happen in the last ep

If I’m honest, out of all the episodes, ep9-10 were the choppiest, but I get it, they had a lot to cover. There’s no swell, no smooth transition between the scenes, just a wave we climb and when it’s gone we hop onto another wave. Also, the experience of the last ep is akin to reading a c-webnovel where you get to the extras after the main story’s end… well, ep10 is all those extras combined:

◦ idk call me petty but Taehyung and Eunji are toxic people, I wouldn’t want them in my life for anything. Jaewon forgiving them is one thing bc it gives him closure but I hope as hell he cuts those two snakes out for good ◦ Jihyun’s dilemma of when was our first day (as a couple) is so ‘dating and romantic relationships in sk 101’ ◦ ily tipsy Jihyun, ily unruly Jaewon

I love everything @emotionallychargedtowel said in this post (thank you for the wonderful observations, your gripes are valid, I have even more lol) especially the bit about wanting, asking for, or expecting a certain level of care from the important people in our lives, Jiyun’s game, and the pursuer-distancer bit OMG THANK YOU FOR WRITING THAT!!! Jihyun’s game is my fav moment from the last two eps (closely followed by the opening sequence of ep10), it tells so much about his attitude and dedication towards their relationship

And on this note, I agree 120% with everything @emotionallychargedtowel and @jemmo wrote about the complexity of their relationship showed by the ‘twist to conventional roles' (and might I add, not just in queer romance but in romance as a genre too) Not me thinking about my post about Jaewon and Jihyun both actively romancing each other because for equality in a relationship, there has to be space for the ppl involved to move around, and at times, switch places (like taking care of one’s partner, be the one to woo them… then being taken care of, being wooed and so on) because it’s a dance where they take turns to lead depending on the situation because they both want this, because they feed into each other’s happiness.

Jaewon teases Jihyun, establishing again and again that he knows Jihyun is young, younger than Jaewon himself but he does NOT patronise Jihyun for it. It’s an indulgent way of acknowledging his bf’s youth while fully regarding him as an adult. And whenever Jihyun tries to downplay their age gap, whenever he puts them on the same standing with the casual slips of banmal, Jaewon is so happy to be treated like a friend, like someone of the same age as Jihyun. He doesn’t try to use his hyung status as leverage… it’s a balancing act, it is give-and-take and letting Jihyun give back and letting himself receive just as much because Jaewon appreciates Jihyun and takes him seriously as a person, not just as a cute younger boyfriend in need of doting on.

Then I saw this post from @jemmo and I’m !!!!!!!!

will you meet me more than halfway? 😭😭😩😩

Thank you for sharing that song and that particular line bc isn’t that what Jihyun did again and again, meeting Jaewon more than halfway?? Even at the end of ep9 he waited for Jaewon and when he saw him, he went down to meet him in front of the dorms. Jihyun took that extra step, once again meeting Jaewon more than halfway and ever since watching that scene my chest is so full

All in all, The Eighth Sense is a beautifully crafted, though evoking drama, full of passion and love apparent from its detailed and consistent plotline, believable three-dimensional characters, exceptional quality and cinematography. It made me kinda obsessed for 5 weeks and evoked thoughts and feelings I have not experienced since To My Star: Our Untold Stories. Everyone involved in making this drama deserves praise and an enormous round of applause 👏👏👏👏 Very well done 💕💕💕

[sammypinkgirl]

Fallout 4 Companions React: Sole Survivor’s Parents Skeletons (Part 1)

—

Quick personal thing here: Hey people! I just wanted to say that I will be doing each of the posts I outlined in my upcoming ideas blog. Companion reaction posts honestly take a lot of time to write, so, just bear with me. 😅 I hope everyone is doing good. Leave me a comment on what you wanna see from me.

—

The Sole Survivor froze when their eyes rested upon the car. It was rusted, after two centuries of exposure to the elements, and its hood was buried in the crumpled side of a station wagon, but otherwise it was exactly as they remembered it two centuries ago. It was a sleek black muscle car, a statement among the surrounding family cars and pick’er up trucks. There was no way of mistaking the vehicle for anyone else’s. It was Sole’s father’s car. As they approached, slowly letting their rifle fall to the ground, they saw the two skeletons in the front seat. For a long time, Sole stood still, at a loss for words. Eventually they spoke, through welling tears. “This was my Dad’s car…”

—-

Piper: She could hardly believe it. She tried not to look inside as she approached, and put her hand on the square of Sole’s back.

“God Blue..I’m so sorry”, She said. “Do you need a minute? I can…wait over there, and give you space.”

Sole didn’t respond with words. Instead, they wrapped their arms around Piper in a hug, as they began to sob. They buried their face in her shoulder. She hugged them back.

“If it’s any consolation…I don’t think it was the bombs that did it.” She said. She couldn’t think of anything to say, anything that would help. She knew what it was like to lose a father, and the pain that came with it. They stayed like that, the two of them, as long as Piper felt it was safe. She didn’t want to be distracted in Lexington for too long. Eventually, she spoke, trying her best to not come across as rude. “We should get out of the street Blue… it’s not the safest here.” Sole responded, only with a silent nod, and a sniffle.

Piper looked into her companion’s eyes, and reassured them with sincerity.

“We’ll bury them blue, I promise.”

——

Preston Garvey:

Preston wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when he heard. All the ideas he had of supporting Sole, the general, through their loss seemed insensitive. He hadn’t ever been a people person, or especially good at processing feelings. Eventually, he would speak, but not to Sole, just into the open air.

“Damn….” He would be sure to give them space, and assist in whatever Sole needed him to do. If they were going to bury some skeletons, then that’s what he’d do. He just did what he did best, follow orders. Overall, Preston would be sorry for Sole, and their loss. He just wasn’t sure how best to comfort them. He second guessed each idea as it ran through his head, on how to make the situation any better.

When Preston would speak to Sole, it would be earnestly. “I’m sorry for your loss General. I really am. If you need anything, you just need to ask.”Aside from that, he’d be sure to give them space.

—

Nick Valentine:

Nick knew by the look on Sole’s face that something was wrong. They hadn’t needed to say anything. Everything about them screamed sadness, especially their body language when they approached the car. He could see the hesitation, the dragging of their feet on the cracked asphalt, Nick knew it had to be a family car. When he saw their face, the recognition had been clear as day, the widening of their eyes, the welling tears… When they tried to approach the car, he’d been the one to put out his arm, in their way.

“You probably don’t wanna see what’s inside (friend/doll). How about you let me take a look first, hm?”

He didn’t want them to see it if they didn’t have to. If there was still any gore, anything unsightly, he wanted to be the first to know. When Nick did approach the car, seeing the skeletons inside, he sighed to himself. It was heartbreaking.

“Damn….” He said. “It never gets easier.”

He would do his best to cover the bones, using his coat. It wasn’t the best of ideas, but it right. He wanted to leave their memories intact. In the front cup holder, between the seats, Nick would find a sun bleached leather wallet, worn down by time. When he returned to Sole, sitting on a curb, he would hand them a drivers license from within. When he got the confirmation that it was Sole’s father on the card, he would take a seat beside them, and wrap an arm around them.

“I’m so sorry…”

—

Porter Gage:

“Hell Boss, What now?” were the first words out of Gage’s mouth. The sun was already lower than he’d have liked for the day’s travel, and after another petty argument, he wasn’t in the mood for something else to get in his way. The argument had been over something stupid, about how his new Overboss seemed different than the usual wasteland scum he’d met. He’d meant it to be a compliment, but of course Sole had taken it as criticism. Being misunderstood was one of Gage’s little pet peeves, and worse, was having words put in his mouth. Still fuming from the pissed off exchange, Gage approached his Overboss, standing in the middle of the street. At first, he didn’t notice the look on their face, after all he only had one eye, and had his mind on other things, but when he did turn to look them in the eye, he could see something was off.

“Uh…Boss…?” He started, “somethin’ wrong?”

For a moment, they didn’t reply to him, just staring through the windshield of the beat up automobile.

“This was my dad’s car. Two hundred years ago, this was….”, they paused, “these were my parents.” They said, pointing into the car, and to the set of bones inside.

“Shit…” Gage said. “I don’t know if mine are still alive, for what that’s worth. I’ll tell ya what though, your old man had some taste.”

“Yeah. This was his favorite car.” Sole said, quietly. They were getting more reserved, trying to not let the emotion show on their face. Gage could read people like a book, and he could tell a brave face when he saw one. He decided to give them space, after all, they were a human too.

“I’ll give ya some time Boss. I’ll be watchin’ your back from over there.”

—-

Dogmeat:

When Dogmeat saw that his beloved owner was upset, he did what dogs do best, and gave his master kisses. He would let Sole pet him as long as needed for the pain to go away, and resist the urge to sneak a bone when the skeletons were buried.

[fleshing-out-fodlan]

I’ve noticed some interesting things in how Ingrid talks about her father that indicate the type of relationship they have.

First is in her paralogue where she almost ends up married to a not so nice man. She says that her father was concerned that it would “bode poorly for [their] family,” notice no mention of Ingrid’s well being specifically. Ingrid would be the one married to this man so her wellbeing would be significantly more threatened than that of anyone else in her family. Sure, it’s possible he said something about her and Ingrid just didn’t mention that but I don’t see why she wouldn’t say “he was worried for my safety and the wellbeing of our family” or something like that if that was the case. It does make me wonder how concerned he is with Ingrid’s wellbeing or if he’s just hyperfocused on their territory and family’s reputation. One of the most common points used to support her father is how he would starve himself so Ingrid could eat. Which kudos to him for that but at the same time that’s not really enough to be considered a good parent if you drop the ball with everything else, especially if you believe the fan theory about him feeding her because a malnourished girl/woman would be ‘less attractive’ and therefore he’d get less money for her.

The second thing that drew my attention was in the Ingrid Byleth C support.

Ingrid’s pause here is very important and indicates that she has to think carefully about her words. She makes a very conscious decision here to call him a good person as opposed to a good father like Byleth said. If Ingrid and her father genuinely have a good relationship why did she need to think about it? Why did she avoid complimenting his on his quality as a parent? Then in their B support there’s something even more interesting. (Byleth has two dialogue options, Ingrid responds to both in the same way)

Ingrid thanks you for calling her father’s actions “awful” and there’s hardly any defense of his actions following it, the most she does is say that he doesn’t not care about her. If he was genuinely a good dad I imagine she would try to defend him in some way. And this isn’t a conversation with a childhood friend who understands the nuance of her family situation and is aware of the good and the bad, this is the first Byleth really hears about her dad and I’m sure Ingrid has enough awareness to realize Byleth is likely forming a negative view on her father. But still, she goes along with it. Furthermore, the comment about Byleth’s statement being ‘a great comfort’ to her indicates that Ingrid doesn’t normally have her feelings validated. It’s no secret that her childhood friend group is dysfunctional and I can see Ingrid feeling like her situation is the ‘least bad.’ Because of this, she likely didn’t receive much comfort from them as children so even just a simple statement from Byleth feels like a lot to her.

Next, I want to look at how she responds to Mercedes’ very similar struggle.

Kind of strange that her first response is ‘hey, why don’t you just abandon your family’ and she even states that her response is based off her experiences with her father, it makes me wonder if there’s a part of her that wishes she could just run away. Also not a fan of the comment about her father being ‘obsessed with [her] carrying on the family bloodline.’ A lot of conversations about Count Galatea revolve around him wanting to improve his lands for his people, which is of course a noble cause, and that’s why he’s forcing Ingrid into marriage. But Ingrid presents a different explanation here. I’m not saying that her father doesn’t genuinely want the first thing, but there are other ways of fixing this problem as shown by Ingrid’s endings. That leads me to believe a part of the reason he got so obsessed with finding Ingrid a spouse is because he knows that will likely lead to children. The type of people who will pay big bucks to marry a crest carrying woman are also the type of people who are going to want children with her after all. And he saw Ingrid was a very GNC child. Of course, being GNC has nothing to do with whether or not you want children but to Count Galatea this could’ve planted a seed of worry, what if Ingrid has ambitions outside of carrying on the family name? What if Ingrid’s ambitions lead her to have no children at all (and from the lack of emphasis on children in her endings I do believe Ingrid doesn’t have a particular to be a mother). How do you solve this problem? Why, you force her into a marriage by guilting her with the wellbeing of her people and then let her husband force her into becoming a mother and suddenly you’ve got exactly what you wanted and still have the moral highground.

[haikyuuwaifu]

4

Breakeven: The Script

Genre: Humor, Drama, Fluff

Warnings: Swearing

a/n: imagine that the xx-xx-xxxx is a specific date

Masterlist

Her best days will be some of my worst She finally met a man that's gonna put her first While I'm wide awake she's no trouble sleeping 'Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even, even, no  

xx-xxx-xxxx

“Babe, it’s time to get up.” Y/n whispered, giggling as the man next to her only snuggled further into her chest. “It’s my day off brat.” Katsuki grunted, snuggling her close. “But I still have to work today.” she snorted, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. “Call out sick.” Katsuki mumbled, his head snuggling into her bare breast. “I’m not going to call in sick just because you’re feeling frisky Suki.” she huffed, as the blonde made to nip at her skin. “But it’s my day off.” Katsuki whined, pouting cutely. “And I’m getting in the shower.” Y/n hummed, moving to slide out of their shared bed. “If you’re a good boy, you can even help me.” she called, throwing a towel at his face. The blonde let out a growl, as he gave chase to his giggling girlfriend. An hour later found Y/n standing at the front of her classroom, waiting for her students to file in. Katsuki had decided to spend the day at UA, wreaking havoc and aggravating the staff. Aizawa came inching into her classroom, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Why didn’t you leave your dog home for the day?” He huffed, curling up at her feet in his sleeping bag. “It’s his day off pops, he’s got errands to run this afternoon and you know he likes to grocery shop together.” “It’s sickeningly domestic.” Aizawa blanched, rolling over to look out toward her empty room. “You’re students are late.” Y/n shook her head, settling her glasses on her face. “They’re not late. I told them to change into their costumes, as today is going to be a physical mock-exam.” Aizawa hummed, waiting for her to continue. “Toshi and Touya are here to play heroes versus villains.” She grinned, as her psuedo-father cackled.

xx-xx-xxxx

“Suki, relax! It’s just your mom.” Y/n supplied, patting her boyfriends hand in reassurance. “I know, that’s the problem. The hag is a lot on a good fucking day. Auntie Inko is going to be there too, and I don’t know if she knew you and shithead were even together.” Y/n smiled softly, dropping a kiss to her boyfriends cheek. “If she doesn’t know then I’ll let her know. I’ll simply tell her things just didn’t work out.” At her statement, Shoto scoffed in the backseat, giving his brother Natsuo a solid elbow as the man barreled over to his side of the car. “It’s more than he deserves honestly.” “Stop elbowing me you little shit.” Natsuo hissed, as Keigo rolled his eyes in the way back seat of the car. The Bakugo’s were hosting a weekend getaway, and invited all of their friends and family. This invitation was also extended to Katsuki, his group of ragtag friends and his girlfriend. Bakugo had rented a 3 row SUV for the weekend, and Keigo negotiated not being in the same car as his boyfriend and his practical father-in-law for the 6 hour drive. Anyone with half a brain-cell knew how terrible of an idea it would be to ride in the same car as Enji and Touya, even on a good day. Next to Keigo, Momo sat, her chin in her palm. “What are you thinking so hard about ponytail?” Katsuki grumbled, making eye contact with her in the rearview mirror. “I think I want to give dating a try.” She supplied, effectively silencing all occupants in the vehicle. “It’s about fucking time!” Y/n shouted, as Natsuo made a show of flexing. “I know just who to set you up with!” he declared, as Shoto dug his elbow right into his brother’s eye. “She’s a lesbian you dipshit, and last time I checked, you hardly know any.” Momo let out a laugh as the brother’s started bickering, Keigo giving her an affectionate side hug, as Y/n sighed. “Don’t even worry about it ponytail, I’ve got just the person in mind for you.” Katsuki supplied, turning the radio up and effectively ending the conversation. 

As Katsuki pulled Y/n’s door open, she sighed, stepping out of the car to finally stretch her legs. Natsuo was on bag duty, and Keigo and Momo were talking quietly with Shoto. Behind them, Enji had pulled the car to a stop, stepping out and letting out a bout of flames. Shinsou came barreling out of the backseat, falling into his fiance’s arms. “Do not ever, stick me in a car with those idiot’s again!” He screeched, shaking his boyfriend slightly. “It’s a right of passage babe, you can’t escape it.” Keigo nodded sagely, coming up to wrap a wing around his fidgety boyfriend. “I had to do it when Touya and I got together, and it was as shitty as your experience.” He supplied, as Fuyumi crawled out of the back seat. Her boyfriend, Tai, stepped out as well, eyes wide in fear. “Surprised you made it in one piece fatty.” Bakugo teased, as the other man paled slightly. “I thought we weren’t gonna make it a handful of times the entire drive.” He whisper yelled, causing the blonde to cackle. Before Katsuki could say anything else, the door to the compound opened, and Eri came barreling toward them. “Finally! I’ve been waiting hours for you guys to get here!” She huffed, making a beeline for Katsuki. “I am your brother!” Shinsou hissed, crossing his arms to pout. “But Kachan’s my favorite!” Eri declared, giving the taller man a hug. “What’s it look like in there kid?” Even if Eri was now a teen, Bakugo would always and forever refer to her affectionately as kid. “It’s hectic already. Auntie Mitsuki and Auntie Inko have already gotten into it over the desserts, and then they ganged up on dad over how to set the table. Honestly, the only two that are level headed right now is Papa and Uncle Masa.” “And where’s that boyfriend of yours hm?” Y/n asked, giving her sister a sinister grin. “Y/n!” Eri screeched, covering her face as the men around them went  up in arms. “I’m here sensei!” A boy shouted, coming out of the house. Kouta was a tall gangly thing, still growing into his own. The men around them protested, arguing over who would give the shovel talk first. 

Kouta knew though, that the man he needed to get through to was the #2 hero staring him down. Bowing low, Kouta spoke. “I promise to support and care for Eri as long as she’ll have me. I know we’re just kids, but someday we’ll be adults and I swear I will always take care of her.” he declared, as the man scrutinized him. “What about her dreams to be the #1 hero?” He questioned, as Y/n buried her face in his shoulder to hid her smile. “I will support her in any way I can to ensure her dream becomes a reality.” Kouta shouted looking Katsuki in the eye. “Better make sure you do punk, or you’ll be answering to me.” Eri let out a squeal of excitment as she launched herself at her stunned boyfriend. Giving Katsuki’s hand a squeeze, Y/n made her way inside, patting Kouta on the cheek. “Good job kiddo.” She whispered, as the young couple followed her inside. Katsuki followed after them, nervous for the meeting between his two favorite women. 

xx-xx-xxxx

Y/n let out a little hum, as she perused the aisle. Mitsuki’s birthday was coming up, and she wanted to find the perfect gift for the other woman. She recalled their first meeting, where she and Y/n had gotten into it over the best way to make curry. Y/n had won out, her boyfriend’s eyes shining with pride at her victory. Over the next number of months, Y/n and Mitsuki built the kind of relationship Y/n wished she’d had with her own mother. They texted, called, and went shopping together all the time. Katsuki would grumble, but she knew he was pleased that his mother adored her. And with Mitsuki came Inko. Funnily enough, Inko didn’t really make Y/n think of Izuku. During that weekend, Inko had taken Y/n aside and apologized profusely for the actions of her son. She’d been made aware of what had happened some months before, when Katsuki informed Mistuki of his budding relationship. Y/n refused to allow the woman to apologize and promised that she was in a much better place. Y/n was brought out of her thoughts by an annoyed scoff. “Figures I’d run into you here.” Uraraka sneered, glaring at Y/n. 

Y/n supplied the other woman with an easy going smile, giving her a slight nod. “It’s been a while Uravity.” She supplied, as the brunette snorted. “Obviously, I’ve been doing serious work, you know as a ranked hero.” She stated, a dig at the fact that Y/n was not one. “And taking care of my best friend since you broke his heart.” She hissed, as Y/n rolled her eyes. Uravity was the only one of Izuku’s friends that knew about their relationship. As his token “best friend” he felt it was right that she knew. “Not like it matters to you, since you’ve been flaunting your relationship with Bakugo all over the news.” Y/n only sighed, checking her watch. “Pleasant as always Uravity.” She supplied, opting to ignore the woman and leave. “You don’t get to walk away without an explanation!” She hissed reaching out to grab her. At her attempt, Uraraka found herself bouncing back, and falling over. “I’m not comfortable with others touching my person Uravity, even if you’re a hero you are not an exception.” Y/n supplied looking over at the other woman. “I don’t owe you any sort of explanation. We are not friends and we’ve never been friends. You are simply the woman that wanted my boyfriend. Now that Izuku is no longer my boyfriend he’s free to be yours.” She declared, as the hero moved to stand. A small crowd was forming, as Uravity touched her fingers together. “You never deserved Izuku.” She hissed, glaring at the other woman. “Izuku never deserved her.” Inko scoffed, making her way through the crowd. “And I don’t appreciate you talking to my friend like that.” She hissed, wrapping her arm in Y/n’s. “Sorry I’m late dear, Yagi was being extra needy this morning.” She huffed, rolling her eyes. Y/n let out a snicker giving the older woman a wink. “Blondes” She teased good naturedly. “Suki made me promise to bring home spicy ramen for his troubles.” “Midoriya-san, what are you doing with her?” Uraraka asked, voice laden with shock. “She’s my friend, and my best friends birthday is coming up, so we’re looking for presents. What I do isn’t really any of your business.” Inko replied. The crowd whispered amongst themselves, as a teens stepped forward. “What are you doing to Y/n-sensei!” they shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Uraraka. “I didn’t do anything!” She defended, glaring at the child. “Isn’t that dynamight’s girlfriend?” Someone else questioned, as the mumbling grew louder. “If that’s dynamights girlfriend, then what does uravitity think she’s doing trying to harass her.” Someone else mumbled as Uraraka looked around frantically. Y/n and Inko were having a separate converstaion, as Uraraka looked for some support. The crowd continued mumbling, glaring at her. Security made their way over, standing in front of her. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave no ma’am.” He stated looking down at the hero. “On what grounds?” Uraraka hissed, floating above the guard. “You’re causing a disturbance to other shoppers here, and harassing the girlfriend of the #2 hero.” he stated, as the crowd started yelling at her. “leave her alone!” “Get out of here Uravity!’ Some shouted, as the woman looked around. Inko tsked’ looking at her son’s friend. “I’d say it was nice seeing you, but you’ve always been a bit too fake to pull of the cheerful friendliness.” She supplied, as she and Y/n turned to leave. “See you around, Uravity!” Y/n called, as the two women left. Leaving the floating hero, seething with rage. 

Prev/Next

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 30 - AMITY

A quiet scene between Rhiki and Haurchefant after the ill-fated banquet in Ul'dah (I BARELY managed to scrape anything together for this one, so hopefully this sort of fits the prompt - better than yesterday's, anyway. I wanted to do more with this scene, but I ran out of time so I cut out some parts in the middle and left it there.)

Rating: General Genre: Hurt/comfort Characters: Haurchefant Greystone, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi) Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light Word Count: 819 Content Warnings: None

“Rhiki?”

Haurchefant was surprised to see her still awake; after everything she’d been through that night, she must have been exhausted. One of his first orders of business had been to prepare a room for the Warrior of Light and her young friend so that they might rest, but apparently she had not availed herself of it. She hadn’t even changed out of her ornate leather and steel armor – the most ceremonial he could recall seeing her in. As he approached, he could see her eyes were still red from crying. She looked almost disoriented, adrift though standing completely still in the hallway that led to his personal chambers. He wondered how long she had been there – it had taken him no small amount of time to issue orders to his knights and begin drafting missives.

His voice must have reached her, as she stirred from her daze and turned to look at him. She blinked – once, twice – before finding her words. “Oh, Haurchefant.” Her voice was soft, and still hoarse. “I’m- I’m sorry. I was just….”

“Were you looking for me?” he asked gently.

She shifted uncomfortably, casting her gaze to the floor. “Yes… I guess I was. I know I shouldn’t impose… you’ve already done so much for me – us – tonight. I just….”

He waited patiently for her to assemble her thoughts.

“Don’t want to be alone.”

His expression softened further. He could hardly fault her for that. Not that he would complain about her company under any circumstances, of course.

“Then you need not be,” He assured her. He smiled encouragingly, then strode around her, pausing to place a comforting hand on her shoulder as he passed, and beckoned her the rest of the way down the hall. He held the door to his rooms open for her and, though she hesitated for a moment at the threshold, she followed him inside.

It was hardly the first time she’d been in his quarters, but for once she looked at a loss for what to do. He too took a moment to consider. This visit of hers was far different from the ones he had entertained in the past, and a more delicate touch was called for. After a few seconds of thought, he took her gauntleted hand in his and led her towards the rug in front of his fireplace. In the fire’s orange glow, he could see that the black leather of her armor was still damp from her long trek through the snow; she must be cold. He bayed her sit, and did so himself. She awkwardly situated herself next to him. At first, her eyes were drawn to the twisting flames in the hearth, but after some time she turned them to look up at him. They betrayed a turbulent swirl of emotions: pain, fear, uncertainty. She seemed to be asking him for something, though he doubted even she knew for what.

He could think of nothing to say, so he said nothing. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. That was all the permission she needed to lean against him. The silence persisted for a while until she said, in a small voice, “Thank you.”

He smiled and gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “You’ve nothing to thank me for, my friend.”

“I do, though,” she insisted, though the statement lacked fervor. “You’re always so good to me. You always let me stay here, listen to me talk, laugh at my stupid jokes. You’re always here when I need you, when I need someone…. Everyone else always needs me to be strong for them, so they can lean on me. But you’re the only one who lets me lean on you. You always make me feel so safe… you always make me feel wanted.”

Haurchefant’s heart fluttered. It was nothing he hadn’t known, or at least felt, before – they had always shared a sort of mutual understanding, an easy amity – but hearing it in her voice was different, somehow. It brought a warmth to his chest that even the fire couldn’t match.

“I do all of it gladly,” he assured her. “You deserve no less. From me, or anyone else. You have my word that so long as I am Lord of Camp Dragonhead, you shall ever have a place here. I shall always be glad for your presence.”

She turned her face so that it was partially hidden against his side. He dipped his head lower to rest his own in her soft hair.

Companionable silence once again fell over them, and he sat enjoying the heat from the hearth and her comfortable weight against him. He let her speak in her own time, and eventually she did.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

He smiled again into the crown of her head. “Of course, my friend,” he said. “I would like nothing more.”

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 131 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: putting up a new fence.

As if the title "Meat" wasn't enough, let's slap "Flesh" on top of it!

The sound of finger chopping + the muffled sounds of pain literally makes my fingers hurt... Well done...

The conversation between Melanie and Jon is quite something. Jon tries to say something to offer comfort, but it's rarely the right thing to say. I wouldn't know how to maneuver a conversation like this. Listening is probably really the best option.

MELANIE: "Yes, the bullet was bad, right, but it didn’t make me angry. Anger is… Anger’s been all I’ve had for a very long time. Years. Maybe since… oh, I, I don’t know. But everything I’ve done, everything I pushed for was because I was angry." Typical pattern of the Fears ceasing someone. These people always had the tendencies of that one Fear. Like Jon always has been curious, asking loads and loads of questions, pushing beyond the comfortable.

JON: "I figured the strongest anchor would be… part of my own body." I personally am not sold on the rib. We’ve had anchors in statements, in a way in MAG 13 already, then of course MAG 48 and MAG 129. They’ve always been about loved ones. Just recently saw a video of a doctor on trauma, saying he doesn’t understand people only referring to violence and cruelty as human nature, when it is far more logical to see love and compassion as human nature. Connections to others. I’m by far not a social person, but I still know how important it is. There was another video from a psychiatrist working on a trauma patient. He asked them to stretch out their hands and then asked them, if their right hand IS them. Are you your hand. Just by feeling. Patient said no. Them he asked them to put their hands together in their lap and asked again. Now the patient said yes. Only when being closer to yourself, parts feel like you. You can very well also see this on a metaphysican level, like being in touch with yourself. Also in this state right now I feel like Jon values others far more than himself (which opens a whole other can of worms, but yeah...), meaning he’s not in touch with himself.

JON: "Oh. This, this door… It shouldn’t be here. MELANIE: "Yes." JON: "I, uh… I don’t want to open it. I’m not going to." ... Well...

HELEN: "If I am an “it”, Archivist, then what does that make you?" Jumping right into that game which she will play till the very end. Slowly sowing doubt that makes you blink in confusion at first and then eats you up later when you think about it.

HELEN: "Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much ‘Helen Richardson’ as you are the ‘Jonathan Sims’ that first joined this Institute. Things change. People change. It happens." Trying to put Jon down by comparing his current self to her current self. Or trying to feign sympathy? That's the thing with the Distortion, you never know.

JARED: "That’s what it says on me licence." Loicence!

JARED: "I didn’t know what it was at first, not really" Not really-counter in S4: 2 (it'll pick up, I'm sure of it!)

JARED: "The weak one legged it, and I thought the skinny one did too. There was just the copper." Bit of information about the appearances of the main crew. I heard someone once say, they thought Martin was super ripped because of the "not the smallest guy in the world". Well, that interpretation is debunked now. Melanie is apparently skinny and probably also skinnier than Basira.

JON: "That’s it?" [HE SNORTS] "Hardly worth a rib." [JARED LOOMS FORWARD] JON: [Placatingly] "Alright! Alright." Hey, if Jared is allowed to judge about bones being good or bad, surely Jon's allowed to judge if a statement was good or bad...

JON: "Is it, uh… Is is going to hurt? JARED: "Dunno. Doesn’t hurt me." [THE ARCHIVIST MAKES IT BE KNOWN THAT IT DOES RATHER] The fan transcript is really funny there XD Also, didn't that guy, Hector, in MAG 49 scream when Jared took him apart? So I'd say, yes, Jon, it probably hurts.

I think it came up in a Q&A or Commentary once, about which ribs got taken out and it was mentioned being the two lower floating ribs and it does also make the most sense! But just for a dramatic picture I like it being the left third and forth rib, perfectly giving way to a knife to reach the heart.

JARED: "Huh. That’s a weird one. Not sure I like it. Still. Mine now." For so long I was so confused about Jared calling Jon's rib "weird". We already had the statement about Albrecht von Closen in MAG 127, that his insides were full of eyes. I thought there'd be something like this to it. Since this didn't come up again, I guess it was just as mundane as Jon's ribs probably got fractured when the wax museum collapsed and since Jared is sooo insistent about the existance of good and bad bones and wanting only good bones, it probably irratates him that this bone has callus formations.

HELEN: "Still alive?" MELANIE: "Seems to be, yes." HELEN: "And he’s certainly holding a bone. For some reason." Lol, collapsed again?

HELEN: "You are very welcome. I have decided that I support what you’re doing, and I’m happy to assist." That should have already been a red flag. Then again, how do you stop something you're not even aware of doing?

@a-mag-a-day

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 38

change however necessary.

“No man who is concerned in doing a very difficult thing, and doing it well, ever loses his self-respect.”

“One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”

“I was obliged to be industrious. Whoever is equally industrious will succeed equally well.”

“The reward for work well done is the opportunity to do more.”

“My grandfather once told me that there are two kinds of people: those who do the work and those who take the credit. He told me to try to be in the first group; there was less competition there.”

“In order that people may be happy in their work, these three things are needed: They must be fit for it. They must not do too much of it. And they must have a sense of success in it.”

“Basically, I no longer work for anything but the sensation I have while working.”

“When I work I relax. Doing nothing makes me tired.”

“Blessed is he who has found his work. Let him ask no other blessing.”

“Anyone can do any amount of work, provided it isn’t the work he is supposed to be doing at the moment.”

“The better work men do is always done under stress and at great personal cost.”

“What you do instead of your work is your real work.”

“Well, we can’t stand around here doing nothing, people will think we’re workmen.”

“A day of worry is more exhausting than a week of work.”

“It is not work that kills men; it is worry. Work is healthy; you can hardly put more on a man than he can bear. Worry is rust upon the blade. It is not the revolution that destroys the machinery, but the friction.”

“Worry is a sustained form of fear caused by indecision.”

“We are, perhaps, uniquely among the earth’s creatures, the worrying animal. We worry away our lives, fearing the figure, discontent with the present, unable to take the idea of dying, unable to sit still.”

“We experience moments absolutely free of worry. These brief respites are called panic.”

“Of all the fatiguing, futile, empty trades, the worst, I suppose, is writing about writing.”

“Writing is the geometry of the soul.”

“Everywhere I go I’m asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don’t stifle enough of them.”

“On the day when a young writer corrects his first proof sheets, he is as proud as a schoolboy who has just got his first dose of pox.”

“Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.”

“Should not the Society of Indexers be known as Indexers, Society of, The?”

“Writing is so difficult that I often feel that writers, having had their hell on earth, will escape all punishment hereafter.”

“It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talentfor writing, but I couldn’t give up because by that time I was too famous.”

“You can’t help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn’t spell it right; but spelling isn’t everything.”

“I don’t give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way.”

“How vain it is to sit down to write, when you have not stood up to live!”

“Great novels are always a little more intelligent than their authors.”

“The best kind of writing, and the biggest thrill in writing, is to suddenly read a line from your typewriter that you didn’t know was in you.”

“Look in thy heart and write.”

“A novel should cater for the fact that life is mostly confusion, that most people’s inner sense is of not knowing, rather than knowing.”

“To people writing a novel is like three people having a baby.”

“Finishing a book is just like you took a child out in the back yard and shot it.”

“He that writes to himself writes to an eternal public. That statement only is fit to be made public which you have come at in attempting to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.”

“If a writer has to rob his mother he will not hesitate; the Ode on a Grecian Urn is worth any number of old ladies.”

“When we encounter a natural style we are always surprised and delighted, for we thought to see an author and found a man.”

“When I see a paragraph shrinking under my eyes like a strip of bacon in a skillet, I know I’m on the right track.”

“The language of truth is simple.”

“To write simply is as difficult as to be good.”

“If there is a book you want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”

“Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there.”

“I’m all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let’s start with typewriters.”

“I heard someone tried the monkeys-on-typewriters bit trying for the plays of W. Shakespeare, but all they got was the collected works of Francis Bacon.”

“A publisher who writes is like a cow in a milk bar.”

“Who is more real? Homer or Ulysses? Shakespeare or Hamlet? Burroughs or Tarzan?”

“In Yes and No all things consist.”

“I only have ‘yes’ men around me. Who needs ‘no’ men?”

“Never allow a person to tell you no who doesn’t have the power to say yes.”

“The formula for my happiness: a Yes, a No, a straight line, a goal.”

“The art of leadership is saying no, not saying yes. It is very easy to say yes.”

“To say yes, you have to sweat and roll up your sleeves and plunge both hands into life up to the elbows. It is easy to say no, even if saying no means death.”

“Go not to the elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.”

“The problem with the youth of today is that one is no longer part of it.”

“There is nothing worse than being an aging young person.”

“The cheerfulness and vivacity of youth are partly due to the fact that when we are ascending the hill of life, death is not visible; it lies down at the bottom of the other side.”

“The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age.”

“A museum oftenest induces the feeling that nothing could ever have been young.”

“Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine.”

“The only Zen you find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there.”

[renneiscent]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Note: This chapter… is kind of contained NSFW part that I embarrassedly managed to write. So... yeah, pardon my bad grammar and ugly writing.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 8: …but also my heart that yearns for you.

“So, where is this secret coffee shop you talked about?”

I turn and find Jake is putting his wallet inside his pants pocket. We just had finished delightful lunch, our laughter and conversation (mostly my monologues) are still lingering in the air as we walk out from the restaurant. I have no clue about how much Jake paid for today’s lunch but I saw some cash when he paid for our food. It must be so damn expensive. I’m upset that old man didn’t give him free meal or at least discount, at least that’s what I saw judging about how much cash Jake handed to the cashier.

“That’s just few blocks from my flat,” I explain. But that means we will separate too soon if we go grab some coffee right away. I don’t want that.

“Oh,” his brows are raised. I guess he realise that too. “Very well, shall we go now?”

Then Jake calls the taxi for us while I’m hoping for us to hardly get the taxi, but no, the taxi comes right away parked in front of us. He then opens the door for me as the sign to get inside first, which I stop him right away by holding the side of his shirt. I’m thinking to go there by bus, but it is too much of public space. Too many people. Who can ensure that it will be safe for Jake and his transparency while being in the public transportation? I highly doubt that. So it makes taxi is the best option we got so far. Let’s just ask the driver to stop at the bus stop so we can walk to the coffee shop. Yeah, that will do.

“Nothing,” I smile. “Let’s go then.”

The traffic is smooth, which I hate it. I’m hoping it will be crowded and there is going to be traffic jam like usual. It’s Sunday after all, it’s a weekend! But why suddenly people didn’t go out and crowd the whole street like when I spent some time by myself? I take glance on my phone screen, it’s still 5 o’clock but the sky already turns darker rather than usual. Will it rain? As soon as I notice the bus stop, I immediately sign the driver to stop. Jake looks very surprised but he didn’t ask much but just pay the fare again. I hope I didn’t make him broke in one date.

“What was that?” he walks beside me. I look up and read his expression which is now showing confusion and uncertainty.

I cannot help myself but grin. “Nothing,” I lie.

“What’s that grin for?” He lifts one brow, still watching me in perplexed.

I press my lips together, forcing my smile away. “I’m just excited to get some coffee.”

“Right,” he smiles. “As if I didn’t notice your sneaky plan to stop the taxi right in front of the nearest bus stop in your neighbourhood.”

I blush.

I’m trying to counter his statement—which is true and I hate to admit it, but I cannot come up with anything. So I’m just looking away while our hands are brushing each other until Jake chooses to hold mine, his hand covering my hand entirely. Without saying anything, I’m holding his hand and intertwining our fingers together as if they were meant to fit perfectly together.

As we step inside the coffee shop, there are only 4 customers inside; one person is sitting while facing the huge window of the shop and reading a thick novel, two people are sitting not far from the first person while having chit-chat and sipping their lattes, the last person is drowning on whatever on her laptop with a slice of carrot cake and latte as her companion. It makes us don’t have to get in line and directly order the coffee to the barista.

“Good afternoon,” the barista smiles cheerfully to both of us. “Oh—it’s you MC. How have you been? I rarely see you these days. Let me guess… cappuccino for here as usual?”

“Hi Kevin,” I greet him. Since I’m one of those loyal customers here, it isn’t weird that the barista know my name and even my usual order, right? Especially when the shop is near my place and we often have the chance to bump into each other. “Yes, I’ve been busy these days. Now finally have some free time to get my usual order.”

I chuckle. Kevin also chuckles. Only Jake that doesn’t chuckle.

“Of course,” Kevin winks while smiling so wide. “Then what about you, mate?”

“Coffee. Black. For takeaway…” he takes a short pause. “…mate.”

“We don’t stay here?” I ask, confused.

“I prefer spending time in your place,” he winks at me as he tugs the strand of my hair behind my ear.

That’s a sudden strangely hot moment he gives me.

“Oh…” I can feel the heat on my face. “Well then, mine also takeaway please.” And I find Kevin’s face is strangely frowning. Now I understand about what’s happening here. Jake is jealous. I love it. I love the Jealous Jake.

“Good, so 1 cappuccino for you and 1 black coffee for this mate and take away.” Kevin wraps our orders before asking about the warm pumpkin pie on the display or their signature carrot cake or their new muffin like usual. “That will be £5.20.”

Jake takes his wallet out from his pocket and I quickly hold his wrist to stop him from spend more money in our very first date. “No, you promise me I will buy you coffee.”

“Yeah, and I did.” He hands out the cash to Kevin, “would you mind to give the receipt to the lady next to me, Kevin? Oh, you can keep the change.”

“What—well, thanks mate…” Kevin says sheepishly and hands me the receipt before going to make our orders.

I stare at the receipt then stare at Jake who is now leaning on the wall and his eyes are gazing on me, waiting for my response. “Uhm, a little bit help here?”

“You insisted to buy me coffee,” he smiles. “I bought yours and you bought mine. The price is on that receipt you are holding.”

I nod then quickly grope for my wallet inside my purse but then Jake holds my hand and pulls me closer to him. “Later,” he says. “We still have much time.”

I smile, completely amused with his act. I always have this assumption about how much Jake is not PDA person but thinking about today, I need to dump that assumption. Judging from today’s date, he is like a man written by woman; he is gentle, polite, such a sweetheart, that type of guy that you will not be ashamed to bring in front of your friends or family. That type of guy that will make your parents love him more than you as their own child. That type of guy that will make your friends defend him when you have an argument with him. That type of guy that will make you question yourself about what did your past life do until you have him in your arms?

I might sound like I’m really biased but Jake is such a lovely man and it’s such an unfortunate how he is living tough life like this; when a freedom is such a luxury to have. It makes me so eager to discover about his life, to reveal what actually happened until he lost that luxury. But to be honest, I’m kind of scared. Rather than scared with the damage that I will find from him, I’m more scared if my questions, my intention to know him further will bring him to the memory he want to erase. I’m more scared with the questions that in any way will harm him and damage him even more. Because he must have lost so many things, he must have killed so many parts of himself just to stay alive, just to be survived.

We are only a block away from my place, when I’m slowing my pace until stop completely. Jake notices right away as he also stops and turns himself to face me completely, holding the black coffee that he sipped in every minute. He lifts one brow and look at me, perhaps studying me for finding the reason why I suddenly stop when it’s just a block away from our final destination.

Just when I open my mouth intending to call his name, I feel a droplet of water against my skin. It begins with the pitter-patter of the rain but the drops suddenly fall even faster and become a downpour. The sudden heavy rain is pouring and every drop of the water bathes me in until I can smell that fresh and earthy scent. People are rushing and passing past us, seeking for the shelter to run away from the rainfall, but neither of us is moving, neither of us is trying to get away.

Neither of us, until Jake moves first. He throws his cup of black coffee that I’m certain that’s already mixed with the fresh water from upstairs, I throw mine too—I wonder if we will get scold for littering in the middle of heavy rain. His hand reaches my face, despite the cold of the rainfall is that sliding down on my skin, my face, my neck, my body, my everything, and I still can feel the warmth from his skin that brushing me. I still can feel the taste of his lips that strokes against me. I still can feel his body heat that press against me. I still can feel him.

The lips of his as cold as the first snow in the soothing night and as wet as the dew on the grass in the morning, it’s soaked from the rain but then I can feel the warmth of his tongue gently strokes mine. It twirls and dances inside me, giving me life and colour when our surroundings feel little grey because of the rain. Jake’s warm hand is moving to the back of my head and the other hand is holding my waist tightly, wrapping me in his embrace; while both of my hands are clutching on his shoulders as if those already attached with him, becoming him.

Is it our second kiss? I cannot remember. Every time we have kiss, it’s feeling so great, it’s feeling so amazing. It feels like we have done this so many times since his mouth fits mine so perfectly, as if this is our usual routine, as if we are the two pieces of puzzle that matching.

If only it’s not because both of us are still mere human that need oxygen to breath, there is nothing that can possibly separate us right now. I lean on his chest while hoping to hear his heartbeat but only the rainfall that I can hear. He pulls me closer into his arms, embracing me until I can feel his chest is going up and down as he is panting so hard.

“Going to catch the cold, aren’t we?” he chuckles. His words are clear as he speaks next to my temple. “Come on,” he says while pulling me away and taking my wrist, keeping me close as both of us are running. I match my pace with him, both of us are running until we finally reach the entrance of Mister Wright’s building.

“Should check the weather forecast,” I pretend to be disappointed. I’m grateful, absolutely. I cannot help but notice the figure of Jake who is soaked by the rain; how dare he is brushing his drenched hair while the shirt that soaked by water is clinging to his torso, outlining the lines of his abdomen. How dare he do that without thinking the damage that he causes on me?

“Neither did I,” he takes out his flip phone, perhaps checking if the phone still works out or not.

“It feels like the rain is not going to stop any sooner,” I mumble, waiting for him done checking his phone.

“Feels so,” he turns at me. “You should go inside and get change immediately.”

“What about you?”

“Do you have umbrella that I can borrow?”

“And letting you pass through that heavy rainfalls after soaked by the water? No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Come inside, I believe I have some clothes that you can borrow.”

“How come you have some clothes which fit me?” he lifts one of his eyebrows, there is accusation in his tone. Oh, is he being jealous? I love this overprotective side of him.

“I like wearing oversized clothes when staying at home,” I open the entrance door and beckons him to follow me. “Some of it really big since I bought men outfit. So I believe you can wear it.” As we are going inside, there is so much water over the floor as if there is something leaked. It feels like not only us that got soaked by the sudden rainfall.  I hope we don’t get scolded by Mister Wright or maybe I will just make Jake to persuade him in case he’s angry.

When we finally inside my flat, I immediately go to the bathroom and take two towels. I hand one of it to Jake and dry myself with another towel. “Wait here, let me take the clothes,” I sprint toward my bedroom and check my cupboard to see the oversized shirt and pants that I thought will fit on Jake. After I managed to find the right size, I head toward him.

Normally I’m neither feeling shy nor awkward when a guy is taking off his shirt and making him exposed his upper’s body half-naked. Normally. Since I’m growing up with brother who loves to bring his guy friends stay over or spend the weekend together, I’m getting used with that kind of horror scene. But this time is different, well of course it is! I already thought about whatever lies beneath that polo shirt twice—let me remind you, twice! Which is I never did it with other guys before. So when I found Jake with his upper body’s half naked, exposing his bare skin and making me notice that he owns these huge tattoos that covered almost of his back, what do you expect me to do besides subconsciously walk toward him and brush his tattoo with my fingers?

It’s just a small and light touch that I made subconsciously against his back, but he easily flinches and immediately holds my wrist, his gaze on me is intense.

“I don’t know you are a tattoo person,” I comment. “Even the massive one.”

“I’m seriously concerned about your opinion on me,” he escapes soft chuckle.

“That’s why you need to open up,” I click my tongue. “First thing first, may I see it?” I beam.

There is slightest hesitation on his face but then for whatever reason, he relents. Then he turns his back on me, granting me with a great view of his back and of course his tattoos. As my fingers gingerly explore the intricate designs etched upon his skin, I find myself captivated by the artwork that adorns him. Beginning at the upper back, near his nape, a majestic ship with its flag unfurled commands attention. Following the contours of his spine, a meticulously crafted clock, its intricate details resembling a perfectly real image, captures my gaze. Nestled beneath the clock, a compass merges harmoniously with bare branches, their absence of leaves adding more questions for me about the meaning of his tattoo. The compass is connected with a simple design gears, but still meticulously shaped and aligned. As my eyes travel downward, I discover a lighthouse gracefully stretching from his lower back to his loin, elegantly encircled by twin anchors. The expanse of his shoulder blades down to the lowest part of back reveals a symmetrical arrangement of bold geometric lines resembling wings, as if those are fences that keeping the art on his spine to be protected.

While I’m staring on his tattoos, my eyes are catching some scars scattered like there is the constellation engraved on his back. The scars that are faint and covered with the tattoos’ ink make you have to get closely to see them. “This is beautiful,” I says while keep stroking his back. “This is painfully beautiful,” I correct my previous word. With the amount of pain for making this masterpiece, I couldn’t imagine how much he needs to suffer.

He turns to face me, there is something in his gaze that I cannot grasp into it. “I will deliver your praise to the creator,” his lips curl and form a smile.

“So many people must want to get in line to see that masterpiece,” I tease.

“I don’t know about that,” his hip is leaning against the wall while still staring at me. “There are only two people this far.”

“Two?” I lift my eyebrows, feeling upset about the fact that I’m the second. “Who are they?”

“The tattoo artist and you.”

I cannot recall who starts this another round of passionate kiss we are sharing with each other; was it me or was it Jake? The only thing that I can remember that I lean closer to him as his hand glides to my lower back and pulls me against him, and just like that… our lips are pressing into each other again. The kiss is little different this time; it’s still sharing the same passion and affection from the previous, but it’s more deep and somehow more desperate.

He pushes my body and makes me being pinned against the wall, not so hard but it’s so gentle. His hands wrap around me as if I’m a fragile thing and he is afraid to cause any harm. The mouth of his tastes so sweet and I’m certainly addicted with the taste and its sensation he puts under me. He pulls down the collar of my turtleneck, making it expose a glimpse of my skin and he claims the land to be his. He kisses, he nibbles, he sucks, as if he is trying to declare that I’m his.

And he succeeds.

As I cannot help myself but escape a soft moan, my hands are clutching onto his shoulder and grasping it tightly. I perhaps cannot think straight under this situation but I clearly know what I want. And I want him right now, so, so bad. And I want to throw whatever things that crossing Jake’s mind, until it makes him pull away and stares at me with those ocean waves that still calmly welcome me.

“Should I stop?”

That question is clearly rhetorical. He is not asking because he wants to stop, but instead he is asking because he wants me to say it clearly what I want. He wants me to say it out loud, that I, also want him as much as he wants me.

“No,” I trace his bare chest with my finger. “I thought it’s clear that I want you as much as you want me.”

“I hope you are aware that I just wanted to have lunch with you,” he inhales deeply and exhales sharply. “And I didn’t come prepared, not at all,” he nudges his nose on my forehead.

“I hope you are aware that I’m always understanding my menstrual cycle,” I’m peppering his neck with kisses. “And lucky you, it’s already passed my fertile time.”

He clenches his jaw with his eyes are staring at me, it’s growing darker as if the desire he has been holding is finally growing bigger and consuming him. But he still hesitates to make a move.

“No way, is it your first time?” I accuse.

He snorts, feeling offended with my accusation, “I’m sorry to disappoint you but you are not my first.” He lifts his brow, showing that cocky grin that I don’t know that he has. “Is it yours?”

“Of course not,” now I’m the one that feeling offended right now. I don’t know why it feels like we are showing off about the fact that we both already had our first time moment in having intercourse with someone else. “Then, why you still hesitate? Do you have STI?” I accuse him again.

“I’m really strict with the person I’m making love with,” he leans closer and plants another kiss on my temple to my jaw and then my neck. “I can assure you that I’m clean,” his hand is slipping under my shirt as he is breathing and whispering on my ear. “Are you?”

The way he said making love instead of having intercourse or having sex—or worst, fucking someone, really managed to make my heart pounding so hard. “Am I what?” I feel like I’m starting to lose my composure as he begins to claim me again.

“Clean,” he replies shortly as his hand that inside my shirt is caressing my skin. I can feel his warm hand again on me. “Are you also clean, MC?”

“I am,” I answer but I’m not sure if the words managed to escape from my mouth because what I can hear is my moan and his deep breath that are born because of his fingers running all over my skin and my thigh suddenly between his legs. As my knees feel weak and start to tremble, I’m clutching onto Jake and mumble, “let’s move to bedroom.”

Note: Don’t do this, fella. Remember what Uncle Ben said, great power comes with great responsibility. Always use contraception! And always put the trash on the trash bin! Do not littering!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUPS AND EVERYTHING

In the best case. If you know you have a meeting in an hour, you don't even start working on a program, it's more efficient to work in. The first hint I had that teachers weren't omniscient came in sixth grade, after my father contradicted something I'd learned in school. There's always something coming on the next hour; the only question is what. Perl also retains this distinction, but deals with it in typical Perl fashion by letting you omit returns. Every engraver since Durer has had to live in his shadow. Few realize that this also describes a flaw in the way of the future.

Fortran I because you could not nest statements. The surprising thing is how many, and how likely they are to their standard m. What this means for us, as people interested in the question, how do you design a good programming language? The next generation of business computer. I know that naming companies is a distinct skill orthogonal to the ones used in convincing investors, just as we do a birthmark. It didn't seem to harm us. I hardly ever go back and read stuff I write down in notebooks. And since one person can only manage so many deals, each deal has to be treated as a threat to a company's survival. I'm not saying that you want to know what they're doing, their lawyers can't. The most famous example is Google, which initially made money by licensing search to sites like Yahoo.

The typical stove has four burners arranged in a square like the burners. Though novice investors seem unthreatening they can be. The more people who have to like a new idea, the more willing they seem to be facing off in a kind of limit that mainstream languages are approaching asymptotically—does that mean you should actually use it to write software? VCs that founders hate. I used to think I wanted to know everything. When Lisp first appeared, these ideas were far removed from ordinary programming practice, which was discovered in 1960 and is still the fastest general-purpose sort. The worst case scenario is the long no, the no that comes after months of meetings. The famous scientists I remember were Einstein, Marie Curie, and George Washington Carver with Einstein misled us not only about science, but it's not part of any specific science; it's literally meta-physics in our sense of meta.

The most dangerous thing about investors is their indecisiveness. If you look at these languages in order, Java, and Visual Basic—it is not clear whether you can actually solve this problem in other languages, of course. The biggest startup ideas are. There is no core of knowledge one must master. The latest intellectual property laws impose unprecedented restrictions on the sort of people will tell you that you should keep working on your startup. Whatever you make will have to stop and pant for a while to grasp this, but reacted simply by not studying philosophy, rather than carry a single unnecessary ounce. I don't mean that languages have to be done? A of the Metaphysics implies that philosophy should be useful too.

It will seem preposterous to future generations that we wait till patients have physical symptoms to be diagnosed with cancer. Telling a child they have a particular ethnic or religious identity is one of those ideas that's like an irresistible force meeting an immovable object. Macros in the Lisp sense are still, as far as I can tell it isn't. But in Lisp the functions and macros I wrote were just like those that made up the language itself. Cultivate them. Doctors discovered that several of his arteries were over 90% blocked to learn that the world is quiet and warm and safe. Complaining that VCs were jerks. In the movie Wall Street, Gordon Gekko ridicules a company overloaded with vice presidents.

Older societies told kids they had bad judgement, but modern parents want their children to be confident. So if one group abandons this territory, there will also be a need for such infrastructure companies. How could I have missed something so obvious for so long. Most parents use words when talking to other adults that they wouldn't want their kids using. The best way to handle a frightened 10 year old bothers me so much is not just that he'd be annoying, but that it's so much harder than they expected. It didn't work out as I'd hoped. For someone on the maker's schedule? Partly because some companies use mechanisms to prevent copying. And since no one is going to visit Greylock, the famous Boston VCs. I read it out loud and fix everything that doesn't sound like conversation. This leads to the phenomenon known in the Valley. Certainly, people who want a deep understanding of what you're doing.

Users don't need benchmarks to run fast. An optimization marketplace would be a shortcut straight to wisdom. But when you do something so clever that you somehow beat the system, that's also called a hack. There must be a better solution. In past times people lied to kids about: they're the questions you answer Ask your parents. To be fixed. The buildings are old though increasingly they are being torn down and replaced with generic McMansions and the trees are tall. His answer was simply no. Naming is a completely separate skill from those you need to, but to study it as an act of rebellion against the organizations that employ them. How could I have missed something so obvious for so long. Our generation wants to get paid up front.

The most interesting question here may be what high res fundraising will do to the world of programming languages, a lot of the worst ones were designed for other people to use. And isn't popularity to some extent its own justification? Not just to solve the problem in Python, writing either def foo n: s n def bar i: s 0 i return s 0 return bar Python users might legitimately ask why they can't just write def foo n: lambda i: n i and my guess is that the spinal cord has the situation under control. In the best case, though. I had several motives, some more honorable than others. I'll do without books. That must also mystify outsiders. Now that I've seen parents managing the subject, I can work in noisy places. Meetings cost them more. If you leave a project for a few months ago we replaced it with an iMac bolted to the wall. I've found that whenever I've been able to write the software that made them want to buy us. Have low expectations.

Thanks to Bob Frankston, Trevor Blackwell, and Travis Deyle for reading a previous draft.