#also sorry if uve never encountered this

[butch-chastity]

I will never stop being fascinated by the small group of the people who are so knee-deep in fandom shit that they legitimately believe real-life lesbians are oppressing them for liking m/m ships

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4]  Also on AO3

Chapter 5: Tim

Tim wonders where the hell everybody is. Jon’s not in his office, which is…unusual, to say the least, since they usually have to pry him out of it with a crowbar at the end of the day, and lately he’s been acting like lunch breaks are something that happen to other people. On the other hand, he might be poking around the Archives looking for more out-of-place statements to sneer at. Martin isn’t at his desk, either, unless he is and Tim just can’t see him; sometimes he swears Martin’s part chameleon, like he doesn’t exactly go invisible but can just fade into the background and not be seen. At least Tim knows for a fact that Sasha is off getting lunch, because she actually told him where she was going.

“If this is a game of ‘Let’s Make Tim Think the Archives Are Cursed’, I think the Archives themselves won that game several weeks ago, so give it up, guys,” he says to the room at large. The room, thankfully, does not answer him.

Walking around aimlessly, looking for his colleagues, Tim appreciates for the first time why Martin is so jumpy lately. This is, not to put too fine a point on it, creepy. Wandering through rows upon rows of files containing the stories of scary encounters and eerie presentiments and the like, no sound but his own muffled footsteps, and he swears he can hear a faint susurration from the shelves, like they’re whispering to him. Or like something is…crawling on the papers, rustling them ever so lightly. Makes his skin crawl and his fingers itch for the comforting weight of a fire extinguisher.

And it’s the middle of the day! It’s barely lunchtime and the lights are up and the window slits near the ceiling that let in enough daylight to help visibility but not enough UV light to damage the paperwork (honestly, it’s a shockingly well-designed and well-thought out archive for how old it is) are at full glow. And it’s still creepy as hell. It has to be worse after dark, when there’s for sure nobody here. The fact that Martin hasn’t run screaming from the Institute or had a complete nervous breakdown honestly has Tim feeling a surge of newfound respect for him, and for his courage—or at least his sheer bloody-minded stubbornness. There’s a fine line between the two and Tim rather suspects Martin uses it as a skipping rope.

“Hello?” he calls out, and then instantly curses himself. For God’s sake, he’s read the statements! He’s seen plenty of horror films, too, and then there’s…well, his own experience, which he’d rather not think about, thank you very much. Anyway, he knows damn well that nothing good ever happens after the person wandering alone through the spooky whatever calls out “hello” into the empty nothingness. Ominous music tapers off, split second of utter silence, sudden surge of discordant musical sting, cut to black, and the next day someone stumbles on his desiccated corpse.

There’s a clatter from the next aisle and it almost has Tim running for the hills, but he pokes his head around the shelf and relaxes. “Oh, hey, Marto. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Tim! Christ, I—shit, sorry.” Martin is clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand and steadying the shelf with the other and looks flustered.

“You know, you’ve really got to stop apologizing when someone else spills soup on your lap.” Tim has no idea if Martin’s going to get that reference. He doesn’t seem like the type to be into American comedians, but you never know. “Was wondering where everyone was. I know Sasha’s at lunch, but I couldn’t find anyone else either.”

“Jon’s got a meeting with—Elias. Something about the budget, I think. I can hear him now. ‘I have acceded to your…concerns in regards to the fire suppression system, but really, Jon, it was quite expensive, so we’ll need to have a serious discussion regarding some of these other requests you’ve made.’” Martin’s impression of Elias’s voice is amazingly spot-on.

Tim frowns a little, though, because it’s also amazingly biting and bitter. He mocks Elias all the time, usually making Sasha and Martin laugh when he does, and occasionally Sasha joins in, but he’s never heard Martin do anything but laugh or nervously try to stop them. He’s certainly never heard Martin speak about Elias, or anyone else for that matter, with that much anger—no, not anger. Hatred. Tim didn’t even realize Martin had that kind of hatred in him, let alone directed at Elias.

“How long have you worked here again?” he asks.

“F—eleven years, give or take. Why?”

Tim studies Martin. He looks…tired isn’t the word. He looks exhausted. He’s pale, although that  could be because he’s been basically underground for almost two months and it was winter before that. His glasses sort of hide them, but looking closer, Tim can see shadows under his eyes so deep they’re nearly bruises. The papers in his hand waver a little, and it’s not because of air currents in the Archives, it’s because Martin’s hands are shaking, ever so faintly. He looks like a precariously-built structure that’s just had the support props removed—standing on his own, for the moment, but with a sense that it won’t take long, or much effort, to send him crashing to the ground.

It’s that that makes Tim decide to change tack. He was about to ask why Martin doesn’t quit if he hates Elias that much, but in the state he’s in, Martin might just do that, and if he quits he can’t stay living there, and if he leaves he might get hurt. Besides, he knows why Martin—usually—puts up with so much crap, and not just from Elias.

Instead, he says, “Well, I guess that’s long enough to build up a good reserve of aggro against the Big Guy. Aren’t you worried he’ll overhear you, though? After all, ‘nothing escapes his notice.’” He does his own impression of Elias, and it’s about as spot-on as Martin’s, but even he can hear the difference in tone.

“I’m not worth his attention.” There’s still that spark of bitter anger in Martin’s voice, but also a note of resignation. “Besides, he’s busy with his meeting. He won’t be looking at anything down here.”

The first part of Martin’s reply has Tim wanting to storm up to the office and knock both his bosses’ heads together—nobody has the right to make Martin feel like that—but the second part gives him pause. Martin makes it sound like Elias is…spying on them. Tim knows there’s no CCTV equipment in the Archives, something about interference, but could Elias have the place bugged?

“You get that feeling, too, do you?” he asks quietly. “Like you’re being…watched?”

Martin laughs. There’s no humor in it. “Yeah, get used to that, it’s not ever going to go away.” Before Tim can say anything, he rubs a hand over his face. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m just…sorry.”

“You really don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Tim glances at the papers in Martin’s hand. “So what’s that, then?”

“Oh. Erm, Jon asked me to—to pull some statements that might be helpful, so I was looking through and seeing what we’ve got.” Martin holds up the paper to study it. “Thought this one might be useful.”

Partly because Martin is so visibly tired, and partly because Tim’s not actually capable of carrying out a conversation without being at least a little lighthearted, he smirks. “Wow, I knew you were good, but I didn’t realize you were so good you could read a statement upside down.”

He expects Martin to blush. Instead, his face goes almost bone-white and his eyes get as big as saucers. He says something in what Tim is pretty sure is Polish—something Eastern European, anyway, and he knows Martin speaks Polish—and is also pretty sure is profane, but then he recovers and looks up at Tim. “Well enough to pick out the salient points, anyway. Here—take a look. What do you think?”

He thrusts the papers at Tim, who decides—again—not to mention that Martin’s hands are shaking and takes them. His eyes fall on the name on the document, and his eyes widen.

“Okay, I take it back,” he says. “You said you saw salient points—did you see the name?”

“No, but—” Martin pauses. “Christ. It’s from her, isn’t it?”

Tim doesn’t need Martin to clarify who she is. “Yep. You should take this to Jon. Like, now. He’s definitely going to want to see this.”

Martin nods. “I’ll just—put it on his desk then. Unless you want to.”

“No, you go ahead. This is your find, you deserve the credit. I’m going to—” Tim waves vaguely over his shoulder. “It’s lunchtime. Want me to bring you back anything?”

“I’m good, but thanks, Tim.” Martin smiles. There’s something sad about it. “You’re a good friend.”

“Of course I am.” Tim grins to cover up his confusion. “Right, see you in an hour or so.”

“Right-o.” Martin hesitates for the barest of seconds, then starts off down the row of shelves. Tim hears a clang and a curse as he rounds the corner and suspects he’s run into something, or at least banged the fire extinguisher dangling from his hip like a gun in a cowboy movie into something.

Figuring Martin will be embarrassed and not want anyone fussing over him, Tim heads in the other direction, looking for Sasha. He lucks out; she’s just coming in the side entrance, stomping hard as she does so before shutting the door firmly. She looks over at Tim and grimaces. “Worms,” she says succinctly. “What’s up?”

Tim glances over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone, then quietly tells her, “I’m worried about Martin. Frankly, he looks like hell.”

Sasha frowns. “I mean, he is under a lot of stress these days.”

“I know, and I don’t think he’s sleeping.” Tim quickly recounts the encounter he’s just had with Martin, as well as what preceded it. “As bad as it is being alone down here in the daylight, it must be a thousand times worse after dark. No wonder he isn’t getting any rest.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

Tim grins recklessly. “How do you feel about a sleepover in the Archives?”

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take him long to get Sasha on board; it’s obvious she’s been worrying about Martin, too, and there’s strength in numbers. Tim spends most of the rest of the day pretending to be working while really he’s plotting out how to stick around for the night without letting Jon know. It’s not that he thinks Jon would mind…well, he does, actually. He can almost hear Jon’s voice in his head: This is a place of business, Tim, not a sleepaway camp. Also, Tim doesn’t want Jon to decide to stay as well; he relaxes—some—when they’re all together off-duty, on the whole one occasion they managed to do that, but if they’re still in the Archives he’s perfectly capable of trying to make them keep working, and Tim very much wants to distract Martin from all the things he’s stressing about tonight, work included.

Besides, he’s also trying to surprise Martin, despite that probably not being a great idea.

In the end, it turns out to be pretty easy. Jon doesn’t linger at the end of the day, so Tim and Sasha walk out with him, calling cheerful good-nights to Martin before trooping out the outer access door. Tim, the only one who drives to work regularly, offers Sasha a ride home; she pretends to grudgingly accept. He offers Jon one, too, but unsurprisingly (and thankfully, as Tim has conveniently omitted to mention that he didn’t actually drive in today), Jon declines, citing as his reason that he lives in the opposite direction as both of them. As they reach the edge of the grounds, Tim slips his hand in his pocket for his keys. Nothing.

“Oh, hell,” he says, trying very hard not to overdo it as he pats himself down. “Where the hell are my keys?”

“You had them in your hand when you got back from lunch,” Sasha volunteers. “Maybe you left them on your desk?”

“Or I dropped them. Hope I didn’t throw them out by mistake.” Tim turns back towards the Institute. “Front door’s still unlocked, I can just pop down and check for them…you want to wait out here, Sash?”

“Not likely.” Sasha falls into step with him. “Four eyes are better than two, and those steps are spooky after dark. I’ll come help.”

Tim glances over his shoulder briefly as they head up the steps. Jon is halfway down the block towards the Tube station. “I don’t think he heard a word of that, actually.”

“Better safe than sorry, right?” Sasha nudges him. “Come on, let’s see if we can slip past Rosie.”

Fortunately, there’s a big crowd heading outside about then, so they’re able to escape attention as they head back down the steps leading to the Archives. The first thing Tim does is head over to his desk and hold up the keys he deliberately left sitting there with an air of triumph. “Here they are!”

“Tim, you’re an idiot.” Sasha shakes her head in amusement.

“But a devious one.” Tim drops the keys into his jacket pocket before hanging it on the back of his chair. “Come on, let’s go find Martin and rustle up some dinner.”

Sasha hangs up her jacket, too, and the two of them head into the Archives. Tim at first is going for the little room where the cot is set up, where Martin’s been sleeping, but then he hears…voices? A voice, at least. It sounds like Martin, and it sounds like he’s having a conversation with someone, but…

“Martin?” he calls, not wanting to startle him again. “You talking to yourself over there?”

“Tim!” Martin’s voice is high and strained. “Y-you’re supposed to—yes! Yes, I am talking to myself, sorry about that.” He pops out from behind a shelf and forces a smile. “Sasha? What are you two doing here? Did you forget something?”

“Yes,” Sasha says. “We forgot that we get to go home safe every night while you’re stuck here in the middle of the spooky, whispering, singing Archives.”

“Singing?” Tim and Martin say in unison.

Sasha frowns at them both. “Yes. Neither of you has heard it? That faint singing, when there’s no other sound to be heard?”

Tim gives Martin a confused look. Martin looks both confused and worried. “No? No, I can’t say I’ve ever noticed it.”

There’s a clatter from somewhere else in the Archives, and Martin casts a nervous glance over his shoulder. Tim stiffens. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s—it’s probably nothing.” Martin runs a hand through his hair, looking worried. “Anyway, you two should—go, maybe. It’s getting dark and all.”

“Nope, not tonight.” Tim slings an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “I’ve decided not to leave you alone anymore. Sasha’s staying tonight, too, it’s up to her if she stays after this, but from now on, I’m not leaving the Institute until you can, too.”

“Erm—thanks, Tim, but…” Martin wrings his hands. “I don’t mind staying alone tonight. There’s something I need to do and—it’s best I do it myself, so—maybe another night? Besides! Besides, you’re not even prepared for this and…”

“Martin,” Sasha says, looking annoyed, “what’s going on?”

Tim should probably be annoyed, too, but he’s just worried. He tries not to show it, though. Whatever it is Martin is planning to do, or whatever reason he thinks he needs to be alone, Martin is pretty damn stubborn and it’s going to take a gentle application of pressure rather than a show of force to get him to yield. Persuasion rather than intimidation.

“We’re friends, right?” he says, as gently as he can. “You can trust us.”

Martin’s shoulders slump. “I know. It’s just…you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

Tim spreads out his hands, palms up. “You were held hostage in your flat for two weeks by a thousand worms wrapped in a trench coat, which followed you home after you broke into a basement to investigate a man who was stalked and murdered by the ghost of a spider he killed twenty years ago. Sasha was attacked by a man with knives for hands and a smile that didn’t fit his face, and now she’s talking about the Archives singing. I haven’t even ever told you why I came to work at the Institute in the first place, but believe me, it makes the rest of that seem normal. Whatever you’re going to tell us, I promise you, crazy is the last thing I’ll think you are.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Besides, you’re wrong about us not planning anything for this. I bought us dinner when I was out on my lunch break, so let’s all head to the break room and eat, and you can tell us what’s going on.”

Sasha loops her arm through Martin’s on one side, and Tim takes the other, so he can’t escape them, and together they proceed to the break room. The halls are set to emergency lighting only, and the break room is completely dark, but when Tim fumbles for the switch, Martin extracts his arm and clicks on a torch.

“The lights are centrally controlled,” he explains. “There’s a master switch somewhere. I don’t know if Rosie or Elias turns it off when they leave, but one of them does, so it’s nothing but emergency lighting, and I’ve only seen that in the Archives.”

Tim wonders how he’s never known that, but then again, it’s not like he stays late all that often, maybe twice in the whole three years he’s been with the Institute. (God, has it really only been three years?) And it’s not like he’s ever gone around looking for light switches before. Never been a priority.

“Well, then,” he says, “I guess we’ll take our food back to the Archives. We can have a picnic on the floor or something and you can explain what the hell is going on there.”

Martin doesn’t say anything, just shines the light on the refrigerator. Tim retrieves the takeout containers he placed there with PROPERTY OF TIMOTHY STOKER, CONTAINS POISON, ELECTRIFIED, DO NOT TOUCH, THIS MEANS YOU, SCOTT scribbled across the tops and sides, then comes back to the door. “If this didn’t work, I’m going to figure out a way to actually electrify them next time,” he informs the others.

Sasha snorts. “You really think it’s Scott who keeps stealing your lunches?”

“It’s either him or the monster under the fridge.” Tim regrets saying it as soon as it’s out of his mouth, because there are times jokes like that don’t feel all that much like jokes.

When they get back to the Archives, Tim is about to suggest a comfortable corner to have their dinner in when there’s a loud banging noise that almost makes him drop the containers. Sasha about jumps out of her skin. “What was that?”

“Who’s there?” Tim yells, despite having already realized that not doing that is practically Horror Film 101.

The answer makes Tim’s blood run cold, for two reasons. One, it’s coming from Jon’s office, the door of which is now ajar…and two, it’s Martin’s voice. “Storage room! Now!”

“Come on, come on!” Martin—the real Martin—grabs Sasha’s wrist on one side and Tim’s arm on the other and practically drags them across the floor. Sasha screams, and Tim follows her gaze and can’t help a shout of fear as well. Pouring out of Jon’s office are hundreds—maybe thousands—of small white worms, wriggling wetly and coming straight at them.

Martin makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whimper and a defiant yell and hauls both of them over to a door off to one side. He lets go of Tim long enough to yank the door open, then shoves the other two in and slams it shut once they’re all inside, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is going on?” Tim demands, wavering somewhere between outrage and fear.

“The worms,” Martin gasps, which isn’t really an answer. “This room is sealed. I checked it myself when I moved in. Also climate-controlled. Sturdy door. Soundproof. These old documents are better protected than we ever were.”

He sounds like he’s repeating a lesson. Sasha shoots him a sharp look. “And that voice from Jon’s office? The one that told us to come in here?”

“The one that sounded like you?” Tim adds.

“It is me,” Martin says, his voice high and sharp. Clearly he’s at the end of his tether. “From the future. He came back to stop the world from ending and this is apparently part of the plan and I, I knew he was going to start it tonight, he told me after we thought all of you had left that he had something to do and I was supposed to help him with it, but I wasn’t counting on you two sticking around. I also didn’t expect him to start this fast, but—” He breaks off abruptly and leaps back from the door. “Christ!”

Sasha looks stunned by the barrage of information. Tim is, too, but he’s also worried about whatever Martin sees out there, so he thrusts the takeaway containers at her without conscious thought and peers out the window in the door. What he sees turns his stomach.

“O…kay.” He takes a deep breath. “That is…a lot of worms.”

“Any sign of Prentiss?” Martin asks anxiously.

“Not yet.” Tim realizes what he just said and turns to look at Martin. “You think she’ll show up?”

Martin makes an exasperated gesture. “No, Tim, I think worms are just randomly pouring into the Archives undirected. It’s just your basic insect infestation. Maybe somebody left food out!”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture.” Tim steps back. He really doesn’t want to see what’s out there.

Sasha hands him back the takeaway containers and steps up to peer out herself. “Martin…are you sure it’s really…you know, you from the future?”

“Positive. He knows things about me that I haven’t…really told many people? He told me to—” Martin takes a deep breath and looks away from Sasha. “To, erm, tell Jon that I lied on my CV, I don’t actually have a master’s degree in parapsychology, I just really needed the job. He said Jon wouldn’t be mad at me, and…well, he was right. He told me the worms were under the Institute, but they weren’t really after me, so I’d be safe.”

“This is safe?” Tim demands.

“Well, I think he sort of—broke into the walls? He’s going after them now. I’m—I was supposed to set a fire, not a big one, just small enough to set off the suppressant system so that whatever got in here would die.” Martin swallows hard.

“You’re not going out there alone,” Tim says firmly.

“You’re not going out there at all,” Sasha says. She backs away from the door and leans against the wall, rubbing her temples. “God! Tell me you can’t hear that now.”

“Hear what?” Tim asks.

Martin cocks his head. “I don’t hear anything. And we shouldn’t be able to hear anything. I told you, this room’s soundproof.”

“I can hear the singing. Like…” Sasha frowns and moves away from the wall. Her frown deepens and she moves back. “Wait…it’s louder over here. Like it’s coming from inside the wall…this wall.”

“Isn’t that an exterior wall?” Tim asks.

“Should be.” Sasha thumps on it, hard, and manages to put a fist-sized dent in the drywall.

After that…things happen rather quickly.

[crazyspookies]

ZRS7M33-34

Ah yes, RECAPS, IMPRESSIONS, OPINIONS, THEORIES click here to get ur fix ---->

M33

1) SAM YAO: Okay, Five, you’re approaching Pittaway Farm. It was a fungus farm owned by Comansys, the company Moonchild used to run. So yeah, sorry. With this and the Glass Protocol, it’s been like a revisit of your greatest life traumas. But we think Moonchild’s gone now, right? Or just along for the ride.

TRip down memoery lane eh. But Honestly if it were me i would have asked her to call herself a different name and change her voice?? I know we players like moonchild in a way but lets be fair, if brain moonchild says she’s not like the original one anymore then im pretty sure it would be much less damaging to have her in Five’s mind as a new person and not, you know, a constant, inescapable direct connection to their trauma. The literal voice of the source of their trauma.

Like, i’ve always imagined this whole thing with brain moonchild to be the worst thing they could have done to five when it comes to moonchild? And even if your five still hears her for trauma reasons, like they’ve heard sarah before, they at least would have the knowledge that its their own head playing tricks. But in this case? There’s a literal, alive entity inside five’s head. and she still can just, control their body if she really wants to! The threat that their autonomy could be taken away at any moment by the voice of their abuser. Imagine being unable for your very thoughts to be private ever again. I dunno, i think it was a really shitty thing to do.

2) Obviously, I saw that present he sent you, Five. Amazing! Heart’s desire stuff. Did you know he sent Janine Field Marshall Montgomery’s actual desk to say sorry for rogue ANNIE? [laughs] She can’t fit it in her office, so it’s sitting in the greenhouse now.

The idea that valmont sent us presents is so weird and not in a good way. Don’t trust a bitch.

3) MOONCHILD: Five, I never like to interrupt. I’m a very peaceful person, but -

4) MOONCHILD: Those lights are going to erase some of your memory.[...] The bulbs burn out every six days, so someone else has set them up here recently

WELL, GREAT. As i don’t have enough people i suspect with no evidence except extremely vague clues i have never felt so undecided about.

6) an enormous AK-47-style Nerf gun? MOONCHILD: Sorry about that, Five. When we get that memory retrieval device, you’ll understand why you’re holding it.

(can we all just take a moment how dope and funy going around with an ak-47 NERF GUN is because i def would want one)

7) There are 12 levels of that building, Five,

Oh my god. It’s like a videogame. Each level is different, nice pixel art, whole building filled with spores and shit, five with a ak-47 nerf gun dealing with the things they find in the building and the weird things they encounter that are part of it.

8) MOONCHILD: [...] are hallucinogenic if I know my shrooms, and you know I do.

9) "If you knew what you’d seen here, you’d want to remember it.”

WELL YES IM SURE I WOULD HOW CONVENIENT THAT YOU CAN’T TELL ME. Why Can’t she tell us though? Did the thing that just happened mess with our minds in some indescribable way with the effect of messing moonghost up? Or was it the UV lights that had that effect instead? That would be weird, moonghost can rememebr and know things five can’t so i don’t see what could interfere with Her process...does it mena there could be a way to render her mute for good?

10) “But that one is still thick as two short ones. It’s going to walk straight into that spilled liquid”

Nononononononono we shouldn’t be ANYWHERE close to that thing this is a bad idea why do we always do this

SAM YAO: And there it goes, into the puddle! Oh crap, Five. Five, you have to get out of there.

NO SHIT HONEY

SAM YAO: Yes! It’s killing the V-type. Wait, no. No, it’s not. But the V-type definitely doesn’t like it. It’s recoiled like a cat when you spray it with water

WEll at least that’s useful??? Could come in handy later. Also if we keep in mind the thing about the giant fans veronica found out, maybe we could use something like that as a weapon to slow v-types at some point in open field.

M34

1) COLONEL SAGE: Thank you, Sam. It’s good to be back in the field and running alongside you, Runner Five.

He’s...so nice and polite......maybe....im wrong about him.....

2) Jones asked me to pass on his sincere and heartfelt apologies for being taken in by that rogue element in the ANNIE device. He has good in his heart, but he’s suspicious where he should be open and trusting where he should be cautious. I’ve had a chance to talk with him as he works on the cliff excavations, and I think he’s understood where he went wrong. I’m sorry you went through that, Five. I’m pleased to see you.

I mean. The man IS a bit of a wild card...a bit too instense...could have been a trap..or not???? But it COULD.  I’m usually so sure about who is a villain but this time i keep goig back and forth not being sure. Like, the whole annie thing felt SO much like being herded towards a death row like sheep to the slaughter by jones it was uncanny....But Sage always sounds so considerate of other people...hnggg. Jones is so intense that maybe he just sounded creepy?? Sage’s way of thinking is useful but something that could so easily be turned into cult blabber. So, either a) Sage is deceptivly nice and actually a cult leader and told Jones to do it, b) Jones was acting by himself twisting what he learned from Sage , c) They are both innocent and something else is to blame (meh).

3) SAM YAO: Still, lots to celebrate today. Veronica’s got some good leads on the V-type problem. The country’s coming together at last, and the Exmoor Militia are welcoming the Undaunted home.

AwWww They deserve it, its been so long and they’ve had such a hard time, it’s nice that they’re finally together :’) Not that there won’t be trouble, of course... Like, there’s only 2 options: cute fluffy mission where you enjoy the party and the problems are minimal like, ohno the champain’s beens stolen! or it will be the kinda missino that goes oh no there’s assassin’s on the roofs!. We’ll see.

4)COLONEL SAGE: Yes, and I -

JULES: Five, good to see you. As for your company, any friend of Abel’s is… allowed within our borders.

safsdafsfsdafsd is it bad that i felt so smug about this lol. The game has been trying to make me love sage and everyone has been singing praises of his numerous kindnesses and i’ve been both charmed and been a bitter peter about him but it just feels terribly funny that jules is completley unaffected by him and is like“move over My Friend FIVE is here and we don’t know you or care much about you” and it’s so terribly delicious i feel like an old rich woman being shown favoritism and being all smug about it

5)

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Book 2 Chapter 3-Bow-Crazy (Part 2)

*wheeze* *wheeze* It’s finally out...after more than a month...of being with irl stuff...

After finishing this part, I feel like Tsujimine fits the mold of “underdog school in sports anime” more than Kazemai, even though they have more members. It would be cool to get a story from their point of view.

Also, I recently started reading Beastars since it’s getting an anime and I’m amazed that the mangaka somehow made a deer more attractive to me than 90% of hot bishounen out there...

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. An ukeita is a hole set up on the wall for archers to string their bows. They show up in the anime a lot

2. Biku is “ an unconscious and abrupt contraction in kai”

3. The word used here, en ( 縁) is a difficult concept to describe in English. It’s not as grand as “fate” and “destiny” but more like a connection or a bond between people, e.g. the red string of fate. Something like a lucky encounter or a coincidence, divinely preordained. So basically Nikaidou think that Minato was lucky enough to meet Saionji and Shuu, and be enrolled into a high school with its own kyudojo and a kind, helpful advisor. 

4. A zabuton, according to Wikipedia, is a cushion for sitting. In sumo, the audience throws zabuton at the ring when a yokozuna is defeated by a weaker one.

5. A yokozuna is the highest rank in sumo.

6. Minato says sorry but it’s slurred since his cheeks were being pulled. I couldn’t express that in English without making it really cringy so I will leave it alone for now

7. An uchidake is the inner face of a bow

8. This paragraph made me wonder what exactly Masa-san studied in university. Anyways tebanasu is 手離す and hanasu is 話す. And kogoru is 凝る. Apparently kogoru is actually an accepted origin for kokoro.

9. Heki-ryuu is a school of kyudo. Don’t ask me what their specialty is, but apparently some of its branches still exist today.

Previous | Next

Nikaidou chased the flowing clouds with his eyes. The sunlight would be intense today as well.

A non-portable target was set up in a corner of the schoolyard, and there were two tatami mats placed behind it for whenever someone missed. They would have liked the shooting line to be in the shade if at all possible, but as they were limited to the area they could use, they could not expect too much.

Tsujimine High School did not have a kyudojo.

They had been practicing in the gym until last year, but with the new school year, they have been banned from using it. As there were many clubs that used the gym, such as the basketball, volleyball, table tennis, and badminton clubs, the kyudo club, which had never won, was told to refrain from using it. They also borrowed a public kyudojo for practice, but they only went there about once a month because of their bad location, which meant a one-way trip there by car took two hours.

All the third-years, other than those participating in the tournament, had retired, and currently there were twenty-two members. Since their advisor was only nominal and almost never showed up, in the absence of a coach, the form of upperclassmen teaching their juniors continued for generations. Even Higuchi and Aragaki, detached from the real world, could not accept to being driven from the gym in their last year of high school. At any rate, they had to earn results that could be clearly seen with the eyes. Words such as, "Let's do our best," had no efficacy whatsoever.

There was only one thing to obtain.

"Victory" at the national tournament.

Nikaidou smiled and turned his sharp gaze towards Fuwa.

"The regional tournament the other day. We were defeated by Shuu-kun's Kirisaki, but I feel super great for defeating Kazemai, where Minato-chan and Seiya-chan are."

"You sure hate your fellow middle school schoolmates a lot. And they're your kouhai?"

"No way, I love them. I have no interest in almost any of the Kirisaki guys, but Shuu-kun and Minato-chan are special."

"I'd like to avoid your special in particular."

"Same. Even I might not like my special. You understand well, Koushirou."

Fuwa pulled on the edge of Nikaidou's hood, which he had pulled over his head.

"More importantly, why the hell are you wearing a hoodie in this stupidly hot weather?"

"This white hoodie is a UV cut type for summer. You don't want to get a half-baked sunburn, right?"

"Are you a girl?"

"I look like a girl to you, Fuwa? Your eyesight is amazing."

"You're twisting words all on your own. If you hate getting a sunburn, then put up a parasol."

"Aah, a parasol might be good, actually. There are only two girls here, this kyudo club. I guess if you aren't fanciful enough, you won't join."

"Well, I guess it'll be creepy to see a corpse rolling around."

Beneath the shade of a tree, Higuchi was sleeping while lying face down. If someone who didn't know him saw him, he really would look like a corpse.

"Higuchi-senpai, you should at least lie down on the picnic sheet."

"Nnn, got it!"

The sloth-like Higuchi quietly got up and curled up on the sheet. He was like a rechargeable battery with a small capacity, quickly exhausted. He seemed to be especially bad with sunlight, and he needed to diligently take naps.

On the contrary, there was another man who vigorously did muscle training whenever he had spare time. He was always moving his body, and his love of muscles knew no bounds.

"Conscious breathing is strongly inhaling with the assistance of the serratus posterior superior muscle, the pectoralis minor muscle, the trapezius muscle, and the levator scapulae muscle, adding the rectus abominable muscle, oblique abdominal muscle, and serratus posterior inferior muscle, and strongly exhaling. Breathing is closely connected with muscle action. Ooh, it's the very mystery of the body!"

"…Kuro-chan sure is knowledgeable."

"Oh, just leave it all to me. This is love too, it is."

Good grief. Even my backhanded compliment didn't get through to him.

Seeing Nikaidou getting guilelessly brushed off, Fuwa's mouth slackened.

Aragaki arrived late. During this period, third-years could not devote their undivided attention to club activities because of teacher interviews and the like after school.

"Aragaki-senpai, I will help you string your bow."

Aragaki raised his hand in a gesture of thanks, and then Fuwa held the top part of his bow, the urahazu. Normally, an ukeita (1) that was installed on the wall of a kyudojo would be used, but in their case someone else would hold up the bow for it to be stringed.

After he finished preparing his equipment, he finally took off his mask. He always used masks of the same brand, and his spare was also flawless. It seemed that it didn't hurt his ears, the texture was nice, and it made him look like he had a small face—all things that he refused to compromise on, but Nikaidou and Fuwa couldn't tell the difference between it and a special bargain sale brand.

Nikaidou took out his phone and recorded everyone's shooting forms.

Aragaki was glued to his own image. From Nikaidou's point of view, there couldn't have been much difference between his face yesterday and today, but Aragaki was immersed in delight every time he saw his own profile.

Nikaidou himself also had a video of his shooting taken by Fuwa.

"Thanks, Fuwa."

"The other day, I was on a trip and I took the opportunity to stop by Shigeyuki-san's kyudojo, but it was closed. Was the practice day changed?"

"Yeah, apparently he's busy with work."

Even as he was saying that, he put away his phone in his bag after he confirmed that everything was saved.

Fuwa was watching him as he did so.

Nikaidou passed through the automatic doors.

As soon as he entered, he was met with a large aqua terrarium.

Without looking at the colourful fish swimming in the miniature garden tank, he searched for his familiar favourite. The dark, ugly fish that always stayed still in the shade of a rock. He didn't know its name. It did not move, as if it was stuck there, and its form could not be identified unless one went all the way around to the side of the tank, so it made little sense for it to be an aquarium fish. It was irresistibly lovely how it did not care at all about the intentions of humans.

After he announced his name at the reception desk, he climbed the stairs, not using the elevator at all.

The hospital room was on the fifth floor.

At the destination to which he climbed step by step, there was a room.

"Shigeyuki-san."

"Hey, Eisuke. You're visiting a lot."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling especially good today. Since no matter what, you got a twenty-shot kaichuu at the regional tournament. I'm so proud to have such an excellent nephew."

"It looks like your shots, since I've always been watching you shoot, Shigeyuki-san."

"Is your eloquence like me too? How strange, I'm supposed to be a quiet man."

Nikaidou Shigeyuki was Nikaidou's uncle.

He was an archer with a muscular body and whose specialty was extremely sharp shots. His love of kyudo grew so intense that he even constructed a kyudojo on the premises of his own home, and a lot of neighbourhood children came to play there. Nikaidou was also one of those children.

The hand-crafted kyudojo, with space for two people to shoot, had its range become a vegetable plot, with different kinds of vegetables planted in it for every season, and many insects, such as butterflies, gathered there. The sight of an arrow flying above all of that was idyllic, more like something from the leisurely and quiet life of a mountain hermit than a strict discipline. But, Nikaidou thought that if he really was a mountain hermit, he wouldn't have gotten sick. Stress and pressure were major factors for the damage to his internal organs.

After they had chatted for a while, Nikaidou took out his phone from his bag.

"It's the usual thing, but please do it for me again."

"Oh, I wonder if everyone has improved? Ooh, Fuwa-kun has a great hanare. The pushing of his left hand is also good. I think he should lower his left shoulder just a little. Higuchi-kun's kai is as long as ever. It is rare even for hanshi-level masters to maintain it that long, but as long as he doesn't get motare or biku (2) then it can stay as it is. And then…"

Shigeyuki was the shadow coach of Tsujimine High School.

The Tsujimine High School Kyudo Club had an advisor, but no coach. For that reason, Nikaidou turned to Shigeyuki. He was currently hospitalized, but readily accepted Nikaidou's request.

Shigeyuki spoke.

"Eisuke, you seem to want to master the way to use your right hand at hanare."

"I don't think my technique can be imitated by the high schoolers over there."

"'Kakehodoki' is making a grinding noise at your right thumb and then shooting the arrow, but there are many archers who don't do that."

"Is that so? I thought it was something everyone did if they were skilled."

"It depends on the shape of the yugake, and there is a wide variety of shooting techniques. It's not like my knowledge is absolute. Fujiwara-kun, who does shoumen uchiokoshi, is not made to do kakehodoki, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Fujiwara-kun truly is Saionji-sensei's best disciple. And besides, the left hand is essential for hitting the target, after all. To begin with, you should learn the correct way of using your left hand."

"Okay. Thank you, Shigeyuki-san. I'll pass it all on to everyone."

Nikaidou loved talking about kyudo with Shigeyuki. On the other hand, he also felt uncomfortable about it, because he did not genuinely love kyudo.

Sometimes, he wondered why he was doing kyudo. He started in fourth grade, and now it was his eighth year doing it. In middle school, he had accomplished winning the individual competitions, but honestly speaking, he had been shooting while thinking, I want to quit, I want to quit. The time of it being incredibly enjoyable and him being happy about winning had already passed. On the other hand, he also did not want to go even farther with it.

He had seen his limit.

Always hitting, never missing—that was only aiming for the absurd.

Even professional archers couldn't make a living from kyudo. Almost all kyudo teachers were volunteers.

He wanted to shut up those who said ridiculous things like, your wishes will come true if you want them strongly enough. Things like not putting in enough effort or putting in effort in a different direction were the objections of winners, and the great majority died without ever being able reach the heights. They were insensitive words from someone who did not notice the heaps of corpses that were rolling at their feet, and spat on them.

He wanted to be free of it all soon.

He wanted to put an end to his archer life.

But despite all that, the biggest reason for why he hadn't quit yet was the existence of Shuu and Minato.

Fujiwara Shuu even had Saionji as his master. He probably had the power of his family and money. It wasn't bad to utilize what he had to the fullest extent, and in fact it was what he should do. However, Minato was different. Even though he was supposed to be a commoner and an average person like himself, why was he the only one who was blessed?

What Nikaidou didn't have and Minato did was "chance." (3) What other people would call the love of a god. Something that couldn't be obtained with effort.

The love of the god of archery? How laughable.

Shigeyuki-san, just watch me. I'll end my career with victory.

I'll strike an arrow back at them.

Minato held the leash and headed for the main street.

It had been a long time since he walked Bear in the evening. Bear cheerily walked ahead.

Ultimately, Minato took a break from club activities. After returning home, he had himself examined at Seiya's father's hospital, and brought Bear along with him. He would have ridden his bike, but gripping the handlebars made his left wrist hurt from the strain. It seemed that he had no choice but to obey his orders until he was completely healed.

He left it to Bear to lead him forward. Honeybees and flower chafer beetles gathered at the white flowers blooming in the buckwheat fields, and white-tailed skimmer dragonflies flew back and forth by the waterside. When he went on a path lined by spotted bellflowers, he came to a place with a good view.

There was a new shop. Enticed by the delicious smells of homemade bread, Minato opened the shop's door. He was told by a shop assistant that since not only locals, but also trekkers and cyclists who drop in, it was common for things to sell out in the early hours.

When he left the shop, Minato was holding cinnamon rolls, its hallmark product. Drawn in by the sales message of "they go amazing with coffee," he bought them before he knew what he was doing.

What should I do with these?

There probably isn't an opportunity for me to give them to him.

Ever since Masa-san took up the job of being the coach for the Kazemai High School Kyudo Club, there had been no opportunities for the two of us to shoot together at the Yata no Mori Kyudojo. He doesn't drink coffee during the practices at school, so even if he was in Yata no Mori, he would definitely turn them away. And my pocket money is tight this month, so I really am a hopeless idiot.

"Bear, what should I do? Is it better even just to go and watch practice? But I can't really concentrate on it…"

For Minato, the kyudojo was a place where his mind felt at ease. And yet, seeing the unfamiliar pairing of Masa-san and Shuu made him feel irritated.

Their levels were so different that it was like looking at something unreal. The sound of the flying arrow sent out from that gifted body was sharp, and it could only be thought of as something done by an inhabitant of another world. Even for the things that Minato couldn't easily improve at no matter how many times he was told to, Shuu could clear them extremely easily. After all, even for those who taught, there was probably worth in teaching people like Shuu, who picked things up quickly.

Minato sat down on the ground. He stroked Bear's thin eyebrows, and he licked Minato's hand. That naturally led to him rubbing Bear's head and back. Bear had always comforted him like this since a long time ago, but perhaps sensing something on this day, he stood up all of a sudden.

"Bear?" a voice came from behind.

"…You surprised me. Why are you in a place like this, Onogi?"

Kaito took out his earphones.

"Shouldn't I be the one surprised? I was wondering if Seiya was here. I'm heading home from club. My mom dragged me here to buy some bread filled with red bean paste, which is limited to one per customer, for Nanao's house."

"Then, Seiya will be home soon."

"Narumiya, you came when you were told not to, and didn't when you were told you could come. What exactly do you want to do? Didn't they talk about how useful it is for you just now? Simply watching practice is also valuable."

"I know that."

"You know, so what's up with you?"

"…I hate having my own lack of skill spelled out for me when the current Shuu is right before me."

"Hah, so stupid. I can't believe you're letting this rare opportunity get away for that kind of reason. Ultimately, you still have no excuse. Why do you think Tommy-sensei invited Fujiwara?"

"Wasn't it a request from Shuu? Ryouhei invited him too."

"Did you already forget what you yourself said? Didn't you say that watching skilled people shoot is one way to gain knowledge? Since Kazemai doesn't have cutthroat battles to become regulars like at a powerhouse school, so we lack the enthusiasm to 'absolutely get better.' There's no air of tension from being overwhelmed by a skilled guy. Isn't Tommy-sensei trying to fire us up by showing us Fujiwara's shooting from up close?"

Indeed, Shuu never lost focus at any time.

Even in practice matches, he showed his relentless strength. He maintained his unashamed attitude of being the one to stand above all high school archers for three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Could it be that the reason why Tommy-sensei said that he couldn't praise us even if we all got kaichuu was—"

"Because our minds were 'slackening.' And, we settled the reasons for why we lost with 'it can't be helped.' Seiya and the others were also talking about that during today's practice. They were saying that even if we didn't intend to, somewhere in our minds, we might have been thinking something along the lines of 'we don't really have to win this regional tournament by overextending ourselves.' Isn't that attitude putting down the other archers who are shooting their bows seriously? Well, you felt angry, unlike us."

Minato bit his lip, and then pressed the package from the bakery into Kaito's hand.

"Sorry. Take this."

"What? Isn't this all of it?"

"I didn't put it in a backpack, and I'm carrying something in my hand even though I'm walking Bear, so it's a bother. Well then, I'm going home now."

Minato broke into a run without waiting for Kaito's response.

"That guy, why did he buy this even though he's not eating it…?"

Kaito's muttering, as he held the bag of bread, did not reach anyone's ears.

It was the last day of Shuu's practice at Kazemai High School.

Minato showed up at the kyudojo for the first time in a week. Seiya, Kaito, Nanao, and Ryouhei were practicing while commenting on each other's shooting forms.

Shuu and Masa-san were shooting in a two-person tachi. The two, who were tall and had similar builds, worked together smoothly as though they were old friends. Masa-san raised his bow, parted it, and released his arrow as though tracing Shuu's movements. The tsurune resounded loudly. No ordinary person could imitate the both of them, who shot right through the center of their targets. It was most likely a state only those who had fully honed their skills could reach. It was a beautiful dance of only two people.

Minato was the only one not wearing kyudogi there. Even though he felt like quickly leaving as soon as possible from the loneliness of being left by himself, on the other hand, he also wanted to stay.

The archers he admired were here.

Even being reproached for watching them was no different from being told to stop breathing.

When Shuu finished zasha, he approached Minato, who was standing in the corner.

"Minato, are you going to shoot today?"

"No, I still didn't get permission."

"I see, that's a shame. This is my last day here, but I learned a lot from being shown Masa-san's shooting. Saionji-sensei never talked a lot, but I realized that we were instructed with a good deal of meaning put in."

"That's good to hear. I'm really sorry for being completely useless… I'll be going to the hospital from now on. See you another time, Shuu."

Shuu moved his face closer to Minato's shoulder, who had looked away.

"Don't show it on your face so readily. It'll make it too hard to see you off."

"What do you mean?"

"Seiya's father is examining you, right? It's fine, you can shoot once you've healed. Let's shoot together next time we meet."

"…Yeah. You really are cool, Shuu. You're like a samurai."

Shuu opened his eyes wide.

"…Of course I am," he said, then lightly bumped Minato's right hand while it was hanging by his side with his fist.

Now that he was taking a break from club, the days passed in a blink of an eye.

They had just entered the suspension period of club activities that took place before exams, and because he thoroughly did the practice that did not involve using a bow when he had hayake, it became his specialty.

On the day the end of term finals was over, Minato was at Seiya's family's orthopedic surgery clinic. A sumo wrestling match was showing on the television in the waiting room. In it, there was a scene of zabuton (4) flying after the match was over. A young boy, seeing that, spoke to a man sitting next to him who looked like his grandfather.

"Grandpa, why's everyone throwing their zabuton?"

"That's because the stronger wrestler won by using a technique used by the weaker wrestler, so the people watching that got angry."

"Huh, why are they angry even though he won?"

"Sumo is a martial art, after all. The wrestlers are too proud to win by cowardly methods, of course, but also by cheap techniques. Even if they get hurt, if they don't show the true power of a yokozuna (5) when standing in the ring, then wouldn't that be rude to their opponents?"

Minato secretly kept the two's conversation to his heart.

In the examination room, the doctor, Seiya's father, spoke.

"Does it really not hurt anymore? I don't want to get scolded by Seiya if I don't find out you're lying."

"It is true. I wouldn't do anything like lying since I of course also don't want to drag this out."

"It was worth it for me to ask Tommy-sensei to have you take a break until you are fully healed, since you would probably not be able to endure watching kyudo without being able to shoot, Minato-kun. Though, in the beginning, Coach Takigawa seemed to have thought that it would be good for you to study by observing, at least. Alright, your examination is finished."

When Minato returned home, he threw himself down on his bed in his second-floor bedroom. He raised his left hand high above his head and tried moving his wrist. There was no more pain.

The sumo conversation he had listened to in the clinic's waiting room not long ago had something in it that could be related to kyudo. If it was someone who never did kyudo, they might think it was great as long as your hitting rate was good. However, it was different for archers. They would feel irritated at seeing a person resolutely hitting with a messy shooting form.

What Seiya's father had said was unexpected. Masa-san had not said anything like that at all to him. He would have obediently accepted it a little if he had heard that.

Minato shouted on top of his bed.

"Masa-san's an idiot! That shitty dirty old geezer——!"

Even if he denounced his master in a nook of the countryside, he keenly felt the insignificance of his own ability, and it only felt all the more futile.

A sound poured down on him when he closed his eyes.

A cold and tender melody.

He wanted to hear it by his side rather than in his memories.

His phone that had rolled to his pillow was ringing. Perhaps Seiya had heard his roar just now. When he looked, he saw that the sender was Masa-san. The text read, (look outside your window).

He got up and saw Masa-san holding a bow and quiver below the window. From the design of the bow cover and other things, they were without a doubt Minato's. Minato rushed down the stairs and opened the door.

"First of all, I guess I should say, good evening."

"What, um, why are you here, Masa-san?"

"I was adjusting everyone's equipment today. Though when I planned on doing it for Minato as well and stopped by, I heard a distant howling from somewhere. 'Masa-san's an idiot!' or something like that."

"Oh. …So-sorry."

Masa-san lightly pinched Minato's cheeks and pulled them.

"You're half right, but don't shout that while your window is open, since it's embarrassing."

"…I'm so sorry." (6)

Minato led Masa-san through the front door.

"My dad still isn't home yet. Should we go upstairs?"

"No, here is fine. More importantly, try gripping your bow."

Masa-san took out the bow from the bow case.

"You have relatively large hands, so I put in a piece of paper about as thick as a postcard for the grip to try to make it a bit thicker. It's a semi-cylindrical shape, but there's also a way to slightly raise the right side of the uchidake (7) so your fingertips will reach the corners more easily. I had everyone else do it by themselves, but to celebrate you recovering from your injury, I did yours myself."

Minato received his bow with a new grip.

The original leather grip wrapping (nigirikawa) was used for a long time and became slippery, but this new leather felt good to the touch. Though it was easier to grip it when it was thin, thanks to its raised height, the fitting of his little finger was good as well.

"It feels great. Thank you, Masa-san."

"Your arrows were also the length of those used by beginners, so I had them shortened a little at the kyudo equipment store. Even a slightly lighter one would decrease the burden on your wrist. I also took the opportunity to expose your arrow feathers to steam and straighten them."

"You knew my yazuka really well."

"Well, it might not seem like it, but I am your master after all."

Masa-san grinned.

It felt like it had been a long time since he saw Masa-san smile like that. His heart hurt a little.

"Masa-san, I want to try shooting."

"Do you want to go to Yata no Mori?"

Minato got the backpack he used for kyudo, and got into the passenger seat of Masa-san's car.

The stars were twinkling above the mountains. From the slightly open windows came the lively sounds of insects carried on the wind. The frogs rejoicing in the rainy season made up the background chorus. The stretching lights illuminated the streets at night. Their distant destination was covered in darkness, but there was a road in the range where the lights reached.

A road that appeared by moving forward.

Minato tugged at his seatbelt for no particular reason, and Masa-san gave him a sidelong glance.

"Does your seatbelt feel uncomfortable?"

"No, that feels fine. Um, Masa-san. I'm sorry for calling you a shitty old geezer the other day and just now…"

"Were you worrying about those kinds of things?"

"It's not just that."

"You still have other insults for me? Since we have the time, I'll listen to them."

"Masa-san, I'm happy that you became the coach for Kazemai, but I'm also not."

"Why is that?"

Minato exhaled loudly.

"…Because I can't keep you to myself."

When the car stopped at a red light, Masa-san ruffled Minato's hair.

"You really are just a little kid after all."

"Don't call me a little kid! And don't mess up my hair!"

"Alright, alright."

"The light turned green, you know!"

As Minato was fixing his tousled hair, the car began moving again.

"It's just the story from when I was in high school, but because I couldn't do what Grandpa told me to do very well at all, so I had other teachers take a look at me. Even so, whenever I went to get taught by other teachers, Grandpa would always get in a bad mood. I couldn't understand why, but now I can understand his feelings."

"What kind of feelings?"

"The feeling of 'don't you meddle with my student.'"

"Huh?"

"I know that your hitting rate will increase if you improved your right hand. However, even though we were working hard on correcting your left hand first in order to not harm your left wrist, some outsider had the nerve to tell you to do something uncalled for. Even though he never saw you everyday, what could he understand from only seeing you shoot one or two arrows?"

Sorry, Minato murmured in his mind.

"But, didn't you make Shuu touch your belly?"

"If anyone else heard only that, I would sound like a pervert, wouldn't I? Did you want to touch it too, Minato?"

"I'm not a pervert, so I'm fine."

"To begin with, you have too many weak spots! Your thinking is too naïve! Your range of behavior is strangely wide, you act way too recklessly, you're an airhead—I can see why Seiya got so overprotective of you."

"There's no need to go that far…"

"Because of that, I was waiting for you to say something, but I should have been the one to act. I suppose a coach who can't even manage his athlete's health is less than third-rate——?"

Masa-san put his left hand to his temple to cover his eyes.

Minato grabbed that hand with the wristwatch and brushed up the strands of hair hanging by his cheek, driven by the urge to look into those hidden eyes. But, he quietly swallowed.

"My master will always and forever be Masa-san. I want to listen to your tsurune forever——. Please take care of me from now on, Master."

"I should be the one saying you shouldn't be too hard on me."

Their mouths loosened.

"I sort of feel more relaxed when I talk with you, Masa-san."

"Oh, since ancient times, conversation has been a kind of therapy. There are various theories on how words came to be, but with 'o' standing for big, and 'ko' standing for small, o and ko have lingered in people's ears and became 'oto' and 'koto'. 'Oto' doesn't have any meanings such as an idea or concept, and 'koto' does. The origin of kokoro (heart, mind) is 'kokoru—kogoru (to congeal, to stiffen)'. Kokoro meant something heavy in the first place. 'Hanasu (to talk)' was to release a stiffened heart, let go of it (tebanasu)." (8)

"It seems like the 'hanare' of kyudo is also connected to that."

At the Yata no Mori Kyudojo, the blue hydrangea flowers were in full bloom. His heart danced at reuniting with Fuu the owl. Fuu, perched on his shoulder, tilted its head as usual.

Minato and Masa-san stood side-by-side before the targets. Minato lightly drew the bow in his hands, making a bang sound.

"I think that I was acting proud because I've been doing kyudo for a bit longer than everyone else. Not being able to shoot well because my wrist hurt was just an excuse for me to say. If I'm standing at that place, I must not make excuses for myself, not to mention for the people who are watching me."

"Do you have an answer for what is the responsibility of your own ochi?"

"Yeah. It's rare for a beginner to be an ochi. As a senpai, it is my duty to show the 'way of the bow.' I have the role of lighting the way from behind, so that everyone would not go the wrong way."

"A good answer. I learned something as well."

Masa-san smiled.

"I won't overstretch myself and copy Shuu, and I'll commit myself to strengthen my left hand like you said. And then, I want you to tell me how to do dantian breathing once more."

"Well, when you thinly exhale at 'kai,' I believe that you can personally feel the useless power in the shoulders going away, and force being applied to your abdomen. Your dantian is fulfilled when you exhale eighty to ninety percent of your breath rather than all of it. The moment that leads to the time of hanare from nobiai is called 'yagoro' in Heki-ryuu, (9) and there is a good practice for remembering that timing, but these days you might get scolded by the other archers for being noisy."

"Oh, could you be talking about 'yagoe'?"

"Yes, shouting 'aiiee!' or 'yaa!' or something like that when you're releasing your arrow. Fujiwara was talking about Saionji-sensei also teaching it to you guys in the past."

"Yeah, we practiced producing our yagoe."

"Hanare is not done when you completely exhaled at kai, but at a good time when you are able to let out a yagoe."

"Can I try shooting together with you, Masa-san?"

"Yes, of course."

Minato stood in front of Masa-san.

The two simultaneously spread their feet, parted their bows, and lifted them. They slowly spread their chests.

Words were not necessary when a person becomes one with their bow. The long breaths that occurred over and over and the back that bended as it was stretched. Letting go of the unorganized words, the "feelings," packed in one's chest, abandoning one's body to sensation to the point of outrageousness, and waiting for the moment to fly off.

The two's yagoe dashed into the night sky.

When they finished after who knows how many rounds, Minato opened his backpack.

"Masa-san, here's something to drink."

"Oh, is that a new brand of canned coffee? Thanks. That's right, I also have something to eat."

What Masa-san took out was a bag from the bakery Minato went to the other day, and it did not contain cinnamon rolls, but homemade oyaki.

Previous | Next

[taehyungiesnoona]

02 | My Life With Bangtan

⇢  pairing: female reader x OT7

⇢ genre: luckyfan!au

⇢ rating: SFW

⇢ warnings: very minimal uses of profanity

⇢ word count: 6.3k

⇢  A/N: Welcome back to another chapter of MLWB. I’m glad you guys enjoyed my rewrite of the first chapter! I have so many plans for this series that it will be my main focus. I am working full time so I won’t be able to pump out chapters in the way I want to. Please bear with me. Also this story takes place around the LY: Her era, keep that in mind. Anyways lets see what will happen next for Y/N, shall we? Happy Reading~ 

Chapters 01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05

»»———— CHAPTER TWO ————-«« 

I continued to stand there in complete awe.

Bangtan Sonyeondan was literally standing in my checkout lane! Was this truly reality or was this a figment of my imagination? Was I that worked up over dealing with rude customers today that I began to hallucinate the seven beings that brought me joy? Those seven pairs of eyes now began to grow extremely wide from the sentence that had slipped from my lips. I was still not one with the world, my mind still trying to put the pieces together.

“Someone has a dirty mouth.” Suga scoffed to my comment in Korean, a smirk evident on his face.

It then occurred to me, all those lessons and self studying had seriously paid off. I was able to comprehend every word that he said! Which brought me back to the situation at hand, I just cursed in front of them. I was the worst when it came to first impressions, this was merely proof of the fact.

“I-I-I’m so sorry! Where are my manners? You all just took me by s-surprise.” I fumbled with my words as I dipped my head low.

Their eyes seemed to grow even bigger knowing I was able to speak the same language as them. I could have sworn that I saw V’s jaw drop a tiny bit. I never really got to talk much in Korean, so for them to just stand there as I attempted to speak it, made me worry a bit about any errors I would have made or if I just sounded flat out weird.

“Wow! She speaks Korean!” Jimin’s eyes lit up, a wide smile growing across his face.

“She sounds almost like a native speaker!” J Hope added as his smile grew in size as well.

I was still very much confused as to why of all places, they were here at my shitty job. Taking a look at their empty hands it was clear they weren't here for groceries. So what exactly was the reasoning for this encounter? A small part of me had a feeling that it was far more than just a coincidence.

“May I ask...what brings you here?”

“It’s quite simple actually.” RM was the one to answer my question, smiling as he exposed his dimples. “We’re here because of your letter.”

He held up an envelope that was indeed the one I sent two months ago. A little worn out from the trip it must have gone through but was mine nonetheless.

“Which by the way, was written very well.” he added. “We assumed you had someone write it for you but it seems you proved us wrong, knowing now your Korean is spot on.”

I couldn't help but become shy at the compliment that was presented to me. I had been so worried that I was saying something grammatically incorrect. His praise said otherwise, a rush of relief making its way over me.

To be honest, I had completely forgotten what the contents of that letter was. I wrote damn near a book to them, my heart pouring out on the front and back of each page.

Forcing my mind to go back in time, I had to replay the events of that day, remembering myself sitting at my desk as my pen was flowing across the lined pieces of paper that were in front of me. I had already begun a tangent and was just spewing whatever the hell was on my mind. While writing that letter, a thought came to me, reminiscing on the dream I had the night before.

I had the craziest dream ever last night.

It got me thinking of what it would be like to go on vacation with you guys.

I bet it'd be so much fun! I’m sure we’d have so much fun! I need to soak up a bit of the outdoors more.  I need to intake some more UV rays.

Because...I actually don't go out much. Or at all. Quite frankly it's due to the fact I don't have any friends.

The only ones I consider to be my friends, are you seven...

Sounds pretty lame, right?

We've never met and... in our lifetimes, the chances of such an event are pretty slim.

This letter is my way at reaching out to you. To vent to you what I normally hide from others.

Thinking back on certain parts of that letter, I couldn't help but cringe. What the hell was I thinking that day? I had no clue whatsoever. I knew I had a lot on my mind, everything literally pouring out.I felt super embarrassed for what felt like the millionth time, wanting nothing more to do than hide myself under a rock for the rest of eternity. Breaking my train of thought was RM’s voice, noticing that I remembered the contents of the letter.  

“We’d like to make your letter a reality. We were all touched by your words that instead of just writing back to you, we came up with the crazy thought that we just meet you in person, something we really haven't done.”

“What RM Hyung is trying to say is that, we’re taking you on that vacation you mentioned~” V chimed in.

No fucking way. There's just no fucking way this is real!

The sentences that seemed to never want to leave my mind. This time of course, keeping it to myself. I needed to fully be able to process everything that was being said, it all was hitting  me pretty head on and I still felt like this was just a dream or something. My eyes soon found themselves looking over at Jungkook, who had been pretty quiet the whole time. Our gazes met while he offered me a soft smile. That’s when I realized, how would any of this happen? My head swung back to make eye contact with RM, the person who had been doing most of the talking thus far.

“Wait, but how? I mean. There’s no way that I can ask for time off. My manager is kinda a prick.” My faced frowned a bit at the thought of the boss, the one responsible for my paycheck every two weeks.

Though he rarely came out of his office, he enforced pretty strict rules from time to time thus making the working environment like some sort of prison. And with those strict rules, he never would allow anyone to request time off without a good enough reasoning behind it. You literally had to be on your deathbed in order to get an approval from that man.

RM nodded his head. “You’re absolutely right. Which is why you’ve already been approved for the next thirty days.”

My mouth flung open at his statement. “What? Really? A whole month???!”

J-Hope scooted closer to RM, patting him on the back. “You can thank this guy for that. He spoke to your manager and let’s just say he was quite...persuasive.”

Impressive. I was indeed quite impressed with them. The fact that not only they convinced my boss to give me time off but a month at that...was truly astonishing. But my thoughts, once again, started coming up with the “what ifs”. It seemed like I had a question for everything.

“Okay, but what about you guys? I’m sure you all are super busy. Would you even have time for something like this? With just a normal girl like me?”

Bringing out of his silence, Jungkook spoke, spooking me a bit in the process. His voice was so calm, more so in person versus when I would hear it while watching a video or something.  

“No need to worry. It’s all been taken care of. Besides we’re on a bit of break from promoting anyways.” that sweet smile was once again on his face.

“There might be a few appearances planned out, but you’re more than welcome to tag along with us.” Jin finally made his presence in the conversation as well.

It was then at that moment that I was finally able to come to terms with everything that was happening. This was no dream at all, this was very much real! I had to have been the luckiest person on the earth. The fact that I was going to spend not one, not two, but thirty days with my ultimate group still blew my mind. Of all the letters they received on the daily, what made mine so special? The urge to ask them this question lingered on my mind but I took it upon myself not to proceed with it, to just go with the flow.

I needed a vacation anyways, it had been long overdue.

“I’d love to!” biting down on my bottom lip, my cheesy smile presenting itself.

We then went on to introducing ourselves, getting the formalities out the way and what not, even though I knew who they where. One by one, they stated their stage names as well as their actual names, giving me permission to call them by it. In addition, their ages were given, their Korean ages that is. Seokjin was twenty-six, Yoongi was twenty-five, both Namjoon and Hoseok were twenty-four, Jimin and Taehyung were twenty-three and Jungkook was twenty-one. After they gave their introductions, all seven of them looked to me, waiting for me to take my turn. No longer feeling awkward, I raised up a hand and waved to them.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Y/N. I’m twenty-five years old….internationally??”

The last part coming out more as a question. I knew I must have sounded silly but it seemed like it was overlooked as Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook’s eyes grew once more in size.

“She’s a Nuna!” Taehyung pointed at me, his voice becoming a bit high pitched.

Hearing the word nuna and being called one, felt a bit weird at first. I’d always hear that word being used in a drama, having it being directed at me, took me back a bit. Not in bad way, just a little surprising to be referred as one. I was pretty sure Jimin caught on, grabbing Taehyung’s hand and lowering it as he spoke.

“Are you okay with being called Nuna?”

“I am.” a light chuckle came out. “It was just a bit weird hearing it for the first time, that’s all.”

“Well we definitely want you to feel comfortable around us, so call us whatever you’d like to~” Hoseok adding into the conversation with a radiant smile across his face.

Looking back down at my register, I noticed that it had been roughly around fifteen minutes since the end of my shift. It wasn’t long but time really seemed to fly by since Bangtan made their appearance. Would this mean that our time together would fly by also? I was really hoping not but I would save that thought for another point in time. My main priority would be to just live in the now, there was no need to question what the future would hold for me.

The boys and I decided to meet up after I clocked out. We were going to share our first meal together, and to say I was excited was an understatement. I was ecstatic, getting the opportunity to spend any time with these seven, I knew I would cherish these moments so much. I’d go to my grave with these memories so I wanted to ensure that I was making the most of out them.

Originally I had planned to clock out at an extremely alarming rate but knowing I was now going to meet up with BTS to have dinner, believe me when I say I did it Sonic fast. I wasn’t in the best shape and I could feel my chest heave from the small bit of vigorous activity I had put it through. As soon as I opened the door to my cute little light blue VW Beetle, my body almost gave out from the exhaustion I had placed upon it. Still attempting to catch my breath, I pulled down the visor above me to take a good look at myself, turning the ignition on in the process.

My cheeks were red, and strands of my now frizzy hair were sticking to my forehead from the small amount of perspiration that was apparently visible now. I looked absolutely horrible. A bit terrified seeing myself disheveled, I opted to open my glove compartment and search for something, anything to fix myself up. To my relief, I kept an “emergency kit” there in case something were to ever happen while I was on the road. Rummaging through it, I managed to see that there was minimal makeup, a few feminine hygienic items, some spare cash, a flashlight and lastly a package of those wet wipes.

Snatching them as soon as I had them in my sight, I took a few out and placed the cool toweling against my skin, easing my cheeks from the hot sensation that was present on them. Shortly after I took another one out and folded it neatly before placing it against my forehead, allowing the sweat to soak up as bit as I threw my noggin against the headrest of the driver’s seat. My eyes remained closed as I continued to enjoy the effect the wet wipe was having on my poor skin.

Bringing my phone up into view, I noticed the time. It was a little after 5:30 PM. It had been already thirty minutes since I was face to face with my bias group, shocking still that I was the lucky one who was given this opportunity to spend a whole month with them. We were supposed to meet up at a local dinner, since we all agreed upon eating burgers and I knew of the perfect little spot to do so. It was a Ma and Pop kind of place. Very small, but the experience there was like none other. The owners really took care of you, making you feel right at home as soon as you walked through the entrance.

Also, since not too many people in town knew of this hidden gem, it was a perfect way for the boys to relax and not have to worry so much about being bombarded with fans. Something that seemed to happen more frequently since their popularity was on the rise. To be completely honest, I also intended to make a better impression on them since I kept replaying the scene in my head, how my sailor mouth made its appearance within the first minute of meeting them.

Cheeks returning now to their normal temperature as well my heart rate finally coming down to a normal pace, I removed the wet wipe from my forehead and placed it in the passenger seat. I grabbed for the few cosmetic items I had stowed away, nothing extravagant, just an eyeliner pen as well as an extra tube of my favorite mascara. Normally I didn’t care too much as to physical appearance, that due to my lack of self confidence but having seen how terrible I looked, I opted to just apply very minimal makeup.

Quickly swiping a thin line across my eyelids and applying a few coats of mascara to my eyelashes, I looked back at the reflection before me. I wasn’t drop dead gorgeous but for the simple occasion of having a casual dinner, it would definitely suffice. My hair no longer was an unruly mop on my head, I patted it down with the palm of my hands and slightly detangling it with my fingers. Looking once more in the glove compartment I was able to score a loose scrunchie I had lying in there and wasted no effort in styling my hair in a simple side braid. I was successful in making myself look like I put a lot of time in when in reality it was the complete opposite.

Satisfied with how I was able freshen myself up, I brought my phone up to my view once more to check the time. It was now roughly 5:45 PM and I had about fifteen minutes before we all were going to meet. The diner we were going to be at was not far from the supermarket, so I knew I had a few more minutes to spare before taking off. I took it as an opportunity to compose myself, shake the jitters that seemed to spew up periodically throughout that past hour.

Inhaling and exhaling a few times, my eyes found themselves shut as I looked back on everything that had happened that day. What I presumed to be a crappy one turned around in the end. The corners of my mouth found themselves curling up, just from the thought of the end of my shift. The thought of Bangtan Sonyeondan. After relaxing for a bit, I shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot I was in, shifting the gear into drive and took off with a huge smile on my face as I made my way to the diner. I’d never been this excited about dinner in my life.

Pulling into the diner’s parking lot, I noticed a white van on the side. Instantly I knew it was the boys. I hurried to get the parking spot beside them, despite knowing this place wasn’t a busy one. I felt the urge to make sure that no one would occupy it but myself. Easing my way next to their van, I begin to see waves being thrown my way by Hoseok. It surely got the others attention since soon they were exiting the van and waiting right outside the driver’s door.

“Ayeeeeeeee!” they roared in unison, not even letting me get a foot out the door.

My eyes couldn’t help but grow large from their enthusiasm, causing me to release a faint chuckle. Even only having officially met, I noticed a definite change in my mood. The very affect they would have when I would see them on my laptop screen. I seemed to have forgotten about the negativity I was feeling before they approached me. It was as if their very presence flushed all those toxic feelings out of me. Something that I seemed to struggle with so much over these years.

Soon after saying some brief hellos, the eight of us entered into the restaurant and was quickly seated in a large booth that was in the back of the diner. I occupied the very center of it while the members of Bangtan surrounded me from left to right, making me feel a bit nervous once more seeing their gazes upon me. Our waitress came towards us and recognized me right away.

“Oh, Y/N right? You’re dining in for a change?” Her eyebrow rose in curiosity as she grabbed for her pad and pen from her apron pocket.

She then took notice of the seven men that accompanied me, her eyes taking in each one of their appearances and then found its gaze stuck on a particular person, Yoongi. She looked down at him and smiled, her sight not leaving him. I picked on immediately that she took a liking to him. It looked like he didn’t seem to pay any mind to her, his attention was firmly on the menu that was in his hands, skimming over the different burger options there were. She proceeded in taking our orders, each one of the boys giving their order to her in English, which to be honest, was actually really adorable to see first hand. Namjoon was able to do so very smoothly, which was to be expected, but the other members took their time when they spoke in English, making sure not to make any errors. After our waitress went to put in our orders, I found myself looking down laughing,Hoseok noticing right away.

“What’s so funny?” he asked while smiling my way.

“I was just...you guys have come a long way. Your English has definitely improved. I must say I’m quite impressed.” Returning the smile given to me, I looked at the others as well.

“Y/N, may I ask how long you’ve been an A.R.M.Y?” Seokjin’s voice causing me to turn his direction now.

“Oh! Let’s see...it really has been a while. I’ve been a fan of yours since...a little after your debut.”

I could feel my cheeks rise in temperature as I looked back on all the years that had passed since I first came to know who Bangtan was.

“I was casually browsing on Youtube and the MV for No More Dream was in the recommended,I got really intrigued by the concept you guys went for. From there...there was no looking back. I’d been supporting you guys ever since.”  

“We truly appreciate all your support Y/N” Namjoon brought his hands up in a gracious manner, his dimples indenting each cheek of his. “Like that means so much to us knowing you’ve been here since the beginning.”

“I’m glad to have to seen you guys grow so much over the years, as cheesy as it sounds.”

Our waitress had came back and began handing out our drinks, still paying extra attention to Yoongi. As she placed his cup in front of him, her arm continued to linger there, most likely looking to gain his attention or something. I felt a bit bad for her, though her attempts were really subtle, none of them seemed to be successful. Yoongi was lost in thought, his gaze seeming to be anywhere but in that booth. What he must have been thinking about? I couldn’t give the answer to that.

Tuning out the other’s chatter around me, I found myself glancing his way, studying him. His tongue seemed to be clicking on the side of his mouth, he was seriously lost in whatever thought he was having. His facial expressions were a bit hard to read from the angle I was viewing him at, up until our eyes locked onto one another. Shock hit me as my eyes grew large, was he a mind reader of some sort? Did my glances burn at his side causing him to look my way? Whatever the reasoning, his piercing eyes bore into mine and my only reaction was to jump a bit in my seat and look down, hoping his attention would go elsewhere once more.

To my knowledge, it did.

Taehyung’s voice would be the next I would hear, his question was one I was not expecting to asked.

“Since you’ve been supporting us for all these years, do you have a bias? I know many other A.R.M.Y do.”

Quickly shaking my head in response, I replied to his inquiry. “No bias here. I’ve always had a hard time with picking favorites or anything of the sort. Besides it’d be super hard to choose one of you over the other. I adore you all equally.”

Jimin brought a hand up to his mouth, covering the pretty evident smile that was growing across his lips. “That’s so cute Nuna!”

Looking to my left and right, not only Jimin but the others began to smile due to the response I had given. Taking a quick glance his way,  even Yoongi grew a sly smirk in the corner of his mouth. I was glad that my answer was one of their approval, the way those seven reacted made it seem like it was something they had never heard before.

Had they never met someone who wasn’t biased in any way or fashion?

Gaining all of our attention now was the enticing aroma of our food being brought to us. I could feel my mouth beginning to water as one by one our waitress handed our plates to us. As if right on queue, she placed Yoongi’s plate in front of him, subtly brushing the tip of her finger against his arm. I wasn’t sure if anyone else caught on, but for certain I did. As well as Yoongi. His shoulders seemed to tense up from the contact, his eyes growing some in size as he slightly flinched his arm.

“Let me know if there is anything else I can get for you guys. And I mean anything.” the last word coming out of her mouth was in a very flirtatious manner.

Though she was failing to capture her intended target’s attention, I had to give this girl props. Never in my life could I do something as bold as flirting with a member of BTS. Well...anyone of the male species to be more accurate. It had been an awfully long time since I had been in a relationship, not that it was a problem. But when it came to guys in general, I was a mess when it came to flirting or making moves. If I ever got the courage to do that one day would be the day that pigs can actually fly.

“So Y/N..”

As I was bringing up a french fry to my mouth, Namjoon called out to me causing me to turn towards him mid chew.

“A little more about our vacation together. As you know now it’s going be thirty days and the location has already been picked. Also, aside from hanging out with all of us as a group, you’ll get the opportunity to spend some time with each member individually.”

I don’t exactly know what it was about what he had said but it made me very nervous on the inside, my stomach turning completely upside down as I dropped the fry I was holding in my hand, gracefully landing in the center of my lap. I tried my best to play it off coolly, and it had seemed to work with the others, that was until I heard Yoongi’s voice from the edge of the booth.

“Is there a problem?” he asked while taking a sip of his soda.

“N-No. Not at all.” I struggled to get out sounding as normal as possible.

Yoongi looked my way once more before smirking and returning to his plate of food as did I. Keeping to myself for a while, I took this as a chance to just sit there and observe the members of Bangtan. Just like Yoongi, Jungkook mostly stayed to himself, throwing in comments here and there. Seokjin, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung seemed to be quite talkative compare to the rest of us. Hoseok always beaming that smile of his, Jimin and Taehyung playfully bothering Jungkook while he tried to eat, and then Namjoon and Seokjin seeming to have a interesting conversation about something I had no idea about, Seokjin throwing in his dad jokes at the most random times.

They literally were no different than what I was accustomed to seeing at home, a bunch of dorks despite the fame and popularity they continued to experience. It didn’t feel like I was sitting at a table with a group of idols, instead it felt like something that was a bit distant to me.

It felt like I was just a casual dinner with friends. My heart grew happy at the thought.

Several days had passed since meeting Bangtan and I was putting in the final touches as far as my packing went. The boys had been extremely helpful in the whole process for me, even going as far as to speaking to my landlord and informed them of my extended vacation. They truly had their way with words, the end result being my landlord giving me a prorated amount to cover the rent while I was away.

As the day I was leaving was upon me, I hurried around my apartment making sure I didn’t forget a single item for this trip. Scurrying around in a frantic mess, I checked my bags then went off the bathroom making sure to grab my toothbrush.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot this” I chuckled as I moved my hair out of my face.

Making my way back over to the living area of my place, I stuffed my toothbrush into whatever space I had left. Sifting my gaze to the side, I noticed my phone vibrating. Picking it up, I unlocked it to see a new message. After our dinner that night, we all exchanged numbers and began a group chat amongst ourselves. I was truly shocked that I was able to even obtain confidential information that was their phone numbers. They all assured me that management was completely fine with this and there was nothing to worry about. Opening up the group chat, the new message was from Taehyung.

Taehyung: Nuna~

Taehyung: Are you excited?

Taehyung: We just wanted to let you know that we will be waiting for you at the accommodations. Here’s the address we had been given---

A map attachment was then sent showcasing the address I was to meet them at. The location where our home would be for this vacation wasn’t a super far drive from where I lived. From the address that was sent to me, it looked like we would be heading to a secluded getaway that had access to a small but somewhat busy city that I had heard of before but never took the chance to visit it beforehand. I had heard so many things about that city and was really looking forward to exploring it with the boys.

I had really become excited about this whole trip. As I was about to respond back to Taehyung’s message, another incoming one appeared on my screen, this time from Namjoon.

Namjoon: I thought we all agreed I would be the one to inform Y/N...lol

Taehyung: Oops. You snooze you lose~

Seokjin: Taehyungie is going to hear it later

Hoseok: Right? haha

Y/N: lol

Namjoon: Be careful on the road Y/N. We’ll see you when you arrive.

Y/N: I will. I’ll see you guys later then 😊

Seokjin: Take care!~

Hoseok: See you later~

As I placed my phone back down, I looked around at my place one last time. This would be the first time I ever would be away from my sanctuary for so long. Normally, I would have done everything in my power to make sure such a thing would not happen. But given the circumstances, I was more than willing to step foot out of my studio. I couldn’t wait to get to my destination. I couldn’t wait to spend the next thirty days with the men who brought me joy through my darkest times.

Me stepping foot outside with the few suitcases I had packed was all the confirmation I needed. Opening the driver’s side door, sitting down and buckling myself made me realize once more: this really was happening. I was about to drive off onto the road to meet up with Bangtan Sonyeondan. The excitement was literally taking over my body as I drove out of my apartment complex, heading towards the highway that was close by. The goofy grin I was very much used to now made its way onto my face. I couldn’t remember that last time I was able to smile for that long. To be quite honest, I really didn’t care.

I opted to drive with the windows down. I mean, that’s what you normally did on road trips right? Not wanting to play any music in the background, I held one arm out of the window allowing the wind to brush against my arm. The road seemed to be never ending but that wasn’t enough to faze me. I had never been on this highway before so when I had the chance, I’d take a quick peek at the scenery. It was like a desert out there. Canyons could be seen and there wasn’t a sign of any wildlife or people for that matter. A quick glance to my GPS that was mounted to my dashboard, I looked at the remaining time that was left for my drive. Approximately two and a half hours were left. I had already been on the road for about three.

It amazed me that time was zooming on by on the road. I noticed that I was soon going to be needing gas so I looked once more to my navigation to see where the nearest gas station was. If there was one. Thankfully, there was a small shop that was about six miles from where I was at and they offered gas. Shifting my attention back to the road ahead of me, I continued to drive down the straight road ahead of me. Once I got to this shop, I made a note to grab a few snacks as well as a soda because I could begin to hear my tummy rumble a little bit.

Those six miles seemingly flew by and I soon found myself pulling up to the one pump that was available at that shop. After coming to a halt, a short older man wearing a navy jumpsuit came from out the store and towards my car. He waved towards me as I was getting out of my car.

“How much gas you needing sweetie?” he asked me as he grabbed for the gas pump.

I had always been so used to self service pumps that I was shocked to see that these types of services still existed. No one’s  ever pumped gas for me so I was a bit surprised that this sweet old man was willing to do it for me. The wrinkles that were spread over various portions of his face stretched as he looked to me, smiling as he awaited from my response.

“Uh...thirty dollars should do the trick.”

“Thirty dollars, you got it. You can go inside and look around while I get this taken care of for you, sweetie. It’ll be about five to seven minutes.”

I smiled back as he gestured towards the shop behind us. As I opened the door, a bell chimed signaling my entrance, a friendly elderly woman on the opposite side of the counter greeted.

“Hey there hun! Go ahead and have a look around and let me know if you need anything.”

The hospitality at that place was simply wonderful. The elder couple that ran this place were some of the friendliest people I had ever come in contact with in a very long time. Aside from the nice couple who ran the diner back home. I began skimming the aisles, picking up a bag of chips and a few candy bars before making my way over to the coolers that held all the drinks. The cool air hit my forehead as I swung the glass door open and reached for my favorite soda. Both arms fully loaded, I made my way to the counter and placed my items down neatly.

“Long trip?” the gently woman asked.

“Not that much longer left.” I nodded towards her. “I have about two and half hours left.”

“Oh?” she rang up my candy bars. “I’m assuming you’re going to the next city over then? Seems the tourism there has really picked up over the last few years.”

“Yup. I’ll be on vacation for a whole month and can’t wait to explore it.”

I noticed a few items she kept behind the counter with her. A bunch of cameras were aligned as well as some stationary and souvenirs. My eyes felt compelled to the polaroid camera that was directly behind her. It was one of the newer models and it was a cute bubblegum pink color. Directly next to it was a journal of the same coloring. The urge to get both the items was very strong, I didn’t try to resist the compulsiveness in me.  

“Can I get that camera and journal as well? Oh and also thirty dollars worth of gas?”

The elderly woman turned her back to me and grabbed for the items I requested. She placed them in a separate bag from my snacks, not even ringing them up which stuck confusion for me. I was about to bring it up when she stopped me.

“These will be on the house as well as your gas. Think of it as a little gift from us. Just promise me you’ll make the most out of you trip and create beautiful memories.”

I was extremely touched by the generosity that she offered to me. I felt tears wanting to well up in my eyes because I was extremely touched by her kindness. Both the woman and man would be two people I would never forget from that day on. I looked to her and smiled, my heart growing soft in the pit of my chest.

“I promise.”

As I walked back to my car, the older man waved once more to me before heading back to his wife.

“Take care now sweetie.” he yelled.

Sitting back in my seat, I leaned back and thought what the woman had said to me. To make beautiful memories on this vacation. Thinking of the group of guys who were waiting for my arrival, I knew that these next thirty days would be just that.

Memorable.

I wanted to make sure that I would cherish whatever happened for the rest  of my life. Which is why I wanted to grab the journal and camera as well, I was going to record this trip as much as I could so when it was over, I would always be able to look back on it. Revving the car in motion and shifting the gear to drive, I was once more on the road. In two and a half hours my life would begin an exciting new chapter. A chapter that I only thought would happen in a dream.

That chapter being--my life with Bangtan.

A/N: The real fun is about to begin! Ahhhhh! So sorry this took me long to update, work has really been draining me plus I’m preparing to see the boys in concert in September, making sure my accommodations are all set. Now that the intro stuff is pretty much out the way, we can finally enjoy vacationing with Bangtan! Also nice to see Y/N in better spirits. Bangtan really does have that effect on her. Stay tuned for the next chapter~

♡ masterlist

[captain-oblivious]

3, 4, 6, 7, 34, 35, 43

3: Do you smoke?nope, never have, and I doubt I ever will.

4: Do you drink?nope. I say it’s for medical reasons but actually I just don’t want to. also doubt I ever will.

6: Age you get mistaken forit’s not too bad now; anywhere from 17 to 25 these days. (I’m 23.) people sometimes give me those sick under-18 discounts without asking, fuck yeah

this got a bit long, so more under the cut

7: Have tattoos?nope. I have this thing where the idea of marks on my skin freaks me out (freckles and such can stay but they’re on thin fucking ice). I would freak out when I had to get stamps on my hands as a kid for admission to places and such. even the invisible ink ones that only showed up under UV light. I get bothered when I have pen marks on my hands nowadays, although it’s much more tolerable thankfully. the idea of wearing makeup also terrifies me for this reason (aside from the general societal stigma for dudes in makeup too, welp)

34: What I find attractive in women35: What I find attractive in mengonna combine these both bc there’s a lot of overlap - first of all, this is gonna sound lame, but at the risk of sounding cliché: a nice personality and generally being a decent person; my ex became hideous and repulsive to me literally the second I realized that he was an asshole.- physical strength, so they can carry me while I swoon or something lmao. maybe they could take me to the gym with them so that I could also become physically stronger bc I wouldn’t mind being more muscular but going to the gym is hard - an appreciation for science. not that they have to be a scientist or ‘’’intellectual’’’ or whatever, but I wouldn’t be interested in someone who wouldn’t be willing to listen to me talk about my research occasionally. (I would be interested in listening to whatever they like too, since I like listening to people talking about stuff they’re passionate about, esp if I like the people doing the talking!) I couldn’t date anyone with anti-science views either (eg anti-vax, climate change denial, etc).- being good at something. playing an instrument, solving rubik’s cubes, underwater basket-weaving? anything tbh. just the ability to stick to one thing and become v good at it bc that’s something I seem to be unable to do. - sharing my interests. I mean, not to the point that we’re basically the same person bc that’s kinda boring, but it’s nice to have some common ground. or similar interests with different sub-interests. eg maybe they also play music but different instruments than I do. - having their shit together. ofc I am a disaster and I wouldn’t want my partner to baby me or whatever bc that’s just weird, (and unfair to them, I really side-eye the ADHD articles that say to get a partner who does the organizing for you) but it would be nice to have someone who could provide me with encouragement and inspiration to get my shit more together and become a better person and all that shit.

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediatelyuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh idk I don’t really think of people as “sexy” (I find the word weird and awkward for no apparent reason) but the most attractive person I encountered as of late (aka the one I’ve had on my mind for the past couple of days) was this cute dude I talked to at the networking thing I was at who ofc is a) straight b) in a long-term committed relationship; just my luck, as usual, lmao. anyway yeah I should stop thinking about him soonish but in the mean time I can sit around and feel sorry for myself for a bit

[kidsviral-blog]

Here's Undeniable, Irrefutable Proof That Owls Are The Best. Courtesy Of Their Biggest Fan.

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/heres-undeniable-irrefutable-proof-that-owls-are-the-best-courtesy-of-their-biggest-fan/

Here's Undeniable, Irrefutable Proof That Owls Are The Best. Courtesy Of Their Biggest Fan.

Redditor RAVENous410 loves owls, like really, REALLY loves owls. But who can blame her, they are adorable.

She works as an owl researcher and yes, I know what you’re thinking… “Owl research? really?” But she gets to record awesome things like this:

“[6:52pm – Owl still adorable]”

Sounds like a great job, but let’s let her excitement take it from here. Read on.

Myself with one of our research subjects.

A student took this, I’ll admit. I’m going to give a bit of info on our project, since people were curious, but I’ll try to intersperse it with cute photos throughout.

Our location. It’s nothing world-famous but I really love it here, especially in fall. It’s a special place.

Oh?

One of our nets. What? You can’t see it? Yes, that’s sort of the point.

Owl momentary caught in the net.

Video monitors. This way, we can go get owls as soon as they’re in the net (we usually chill up in the banding station, where it’s not 30 degrees). Even if we don’t see owls on the video, we still check the nets at least once an hour.

Getting weighed. This was one of the fluffier posteriors I encountered this year. Owls can generally be determined as male or female depending on their weight and a few other factors.

Getting banded.

Brand new band!

“I am going to kill you as soon as I have a chance.”

The secret of silent flight: The front side of the owls primary (flight) feathers are fringed to break up the air moving over the wing, making them silent. Or nearly so.

Aging the bird using the molt pattern of the wing feathers. Sort of a bad photo.

Aging an owl using UV light. Feathers have a molecule in them called porphyrin, which reflects UV light. It breaks down in natural light over time, so pink feathers (high reflection) are new and full of porphyrin, while blue feathers (no reflection) are old. The feather patterns tell you how old the bird is (All new = bird that hatched this year).

Saw-whet owls are one of only 5 species in the world with external ear structures. That little arch is part of their skull. It helps them hear, as the ears are cocked in different directions so sounds can be pinpointed. Contrary to popular belief, owl vision isn’t that much better than ours! It’s their hearing that’s great. Edit: I suppose I should be more specific in saying that owls have a ton of rods, so they’re very light-sensitive, but they’re not color sensitive, and don’t really hunt as much using their eyes. They’re more reliant on sound. A lot of times they’re hunting things under brush which they can’t even see, so vision wouldn’t be that helpful. So I misspoke/was incorrect. Hope this helps! I’m still a youngin’ in the field, relatively speaking. Please forgive me!

After I took this, she shit on my hand.

One of my favorite photos of the year.

Madame, I really must protest.

Another favorite. I was snapchatting the picture to my brother, never got a chance to get a proper photo.

Babe, please.

A good shot of the facial disk and whiskers.

Taken from above, not upside-down!

These are some photos I took outdoors, when the owls weren’t in hand. I’m an aspiring photographer, so I’m rather proud of these! Still have a ways to go, skill-wise.

Owl butt. Wanted to share.

Bonus photos of some short-eared owl spotting I did at the end of the season! They hunt in open fields around dusk. I took this picture through a spotting scope.

And another! 🙂

Here are some common questions about my work on owls:

Q: Is that a baby owl?

A: No! It’s a Northern Saw-whet Owl. They breed in Canada and often winter in the US, ranging widely. They eat a lot of red-backed voles, and never grow much larger than a potato. They’re good to research because there are a lot of them, they migrate fairly dependably, and they don’t try to rip your fingers off. Many other owls (including even smaller varieties!) will try very hard to do this. Saw-whets can certainly hurt (especially if they hook a talon into your cuticle, that’s the worst), but it’s nothing too serious.

Q: How do you catch them?

A: We put a speaker system out in a low pine woodland, surrounded by 4 mist nets in a square formation (see below for info on mist nets). We play a loud territorial Saw-whet call, and birds migrating nearby hear the call, come to investigate, and get trapped in the nets.

Q: Mist nets?

A: Yes! They’re nets that are about 12 ft tall and 20 ft long (they can vary depending on the net size you want, as well as how stretched out they get over time). They have four panels that each run the length of the net, with “bags” at the bottom to catch the birds. They’re very fine and hard to see, hence “Mist”.

Q: But doesn’t that hurt the owl?

A: Incredibly rarely. The birds hit the vertical part of the net, and fall into the loose “bag”, getting tangled. Due to the clever structure of the net, the bird usually is resting most of its weight on its belly or back, thus putting little stress on the wings and legs (however, owls are pretty hearty as it is. I feel that there’s more to be concerned about with songbirds, which are much more fragile). This year we had a single bird that caught its wing funny, and so my supervisor kept the bird overnight and fed him up a bit (Note: HE IS PERMITTED TO DO THIS by both the state and federal Gov’t). The bird flew off fine the next day.

Q: What do you do with them?

A: We weigh and measure them, age them, band them, and sometimes take blood or feather samples for DNA-related stuff. The band is so that, if/when the bird is recaptured somewhere else, there’s info on where else the bird has been, and its condition at that location. Pretty dang useful. After that, we let them go! We usually have a given bird for about a half an hour.

Q: Why are there pictures of the owl in a can? That seems cruel!

A: For the benefit of the owl and for us. If its head is in the can, it can’t bite or claw at us very effectively, making our work much faster and more efficient. We try to keep the owls for as short a time as possible. Also, it’s dark in the can. The bird can’t see much, and this limitation of stimuli makes the process much less stressful for the bird (AKA it can’t see giant humans doing weird stuff to them). Ever seen a hood on a hawk or falcon? Same deal, except hoods don’t really fit on the owls’ fat heads.

Q: SO CUTE! Can I have one?

A: Naw, sorry. The Migratory Bird Act protects the crap out of birds like these, and almost all other birds as well. You can’t touch them, keep them, or even pick up and save their feathers without a permit (a lot of people don’t even know that)! I was sub-permitted federally, and had my own state permit to do this work. If you ever come across an injured bird, please call a wildlife rehab center.

So what have we learned today kids? Owls are just as awesome as we always thought! Source: imgur.com

Read more: http://viralnova.com/owl-research/

[gothlolivamprose]

First of all don’t get all bitchy.

First of all don’t get all bitchy.

But you are anyways for several reasons.

Your color coordination looked terrible following: dirty ugly greenish & brownish clothes that’s never been washed like 6 days, along with ugly curly color smelt like homeless Rose, and for a white person you seemed never cared to protect form harmful UV rays. 

Sorry that I asked if you were looking for something. Guess that’s why staff just ignores customers because like this woman I encountered was too stupid and ignorant at the same time.

Also, like this bitch and other dickheads are so dramatically needy that they get offended that I can’t help them when I really don’t know and I kindly offer someone to help they go CUMMING. Oh, what a shitty shame.

Fuck customer service, the only customer service will be given to those who has respect for themselves and know how to count their money and knows how the reward system works and are well neat at how they shop.

You customers and patients can be pure pain in the ass imbeciles that you have to need to verbally attack or say something SO retarded. Get your manners detoxed while your mentality is fresh.

I don’t need your stupid “freedom of speech” or this “free” land we live in reason shit, “spoonfeeding” behavior and especially playing games with me and my co-workers.

If you’re alcoholic &/or smoker I hope you die soon. 

#SorryButNotSorry

You can kiss my sexiest corset to ass. xoxo