#eh maybe people will educate themselves??

[squadrah]

So you had two asks about La Squadra being toddlers, but what about them being old/older men? Maybe in their 40-50's or as senile old people. And my mind ain't exactly wondering there, but what do you think they'd be like as dilfs?

I managed to find an old post where I was asked what they would be like as old man: here it is! You also reminded me that I had once written about them as parents in general, and I could have sworn I published it, but I ended up finding it at last in my drafts, so I'll make sure to queue it after publishing this ask!

That just leaves the question at the end, ehe... I will try to do these from the perspective of a young adult, probably a friend of their child(ren), while they themselves are in their forties and fifties.

Risotto: His sheer size and deep voice are already enough to set the butterflies aflutter, so the way he wears sleeveless shirts and dirty overalls at home is almost too much. He is best observed in the garage where he enjoys quietly working with power tools, and nobody can look at his work table without imagining him sweeping off the clutter to make room for them instead...

Formaggio: He ages so gracefully he looks like he could still be in his thirties, but the way he cracks open a cold one while giving clever responses and showing at least basic knowledge of just about any topic introduced hints at decades of experience in a variety of areas. Whenever he playfully manhandles his spouse in the kitchen, guests cannot help but chug their own cold beverages in vain.

Prosciutto: Never seen without his signature dress shirts and crisp trousers, and when he's around, the temperature always drops enough that all unnecessarily noise and frolic dies down. Most agree they would not want to live with him as their father, the bar is just too high in that respect, but nobody would mind him in a hotel chair with a bourbon in his hand and ordering them to get to work...

Pesci: At first he seems nothing special, especially because he's not much respected by his children, but as soon as he easily lifts something that he ought to struggle with at his size, and tells you how much he think it weighs by touch, the magic begins, and those who have gone on fishing trips with him on the weekend and watched him reel in that big bass are now smitten for life.

Ghiaccio: Whenever you meet him, he's either preparing to go for a run or has just returned from it all sweaty and glistening, and no real decrease of stamina to show for it. Going to the gym with him is a rite of passage; he will explain every machine and challenge you to various feats of endurance. Spotting is obligatory, and many hit the showers afterwards in greater frustration than they began.

Melone: That one anon ask of "your dad looks gnc af" sums him up perfectly, he is so impeccably and unabashedly A Look and An Icon that all his various issues are easily buried in a tidal wave of gender envy and lust. His children are so confident and well-educated when it comes to sex that their friends can only imagine what a wealth of experience could be gained from the fountain head.

Illuso: He always lets his luscious long hair down at home, physically and metaphorically, and exudes such minor soap opera antagonist vibes that his heckling his children and spouse come off as almost entertaining, a good example of how much people forgive to a pretty face and a nice tall figure. He's not above teasing his guests either, and you will either hate him for it or want to kiss him.

Sorbet: He's not conventionally attractive and seems to love his plants more than his children, but he has a certain Addams Family aesthetic about him that carries his dry wit and odd ways perfectly, especially when he's trimming his bonsai or is outside gardening in the shade in special gloves and up to his neck in dirt. You are welcome to indulge his obscure opera obsession, but watch out.

Gelato: That one extremely friendly dad that claps you on the shoulder and shoves a drink into your hand as soon as (and even before) you hit drinking age, and is always two seconds away from hugging you and kissing you on both cheeks in a fit of camaraderie and general mirth. Watching him grill sausages and cook in a big outdoor cauldron permanently changes your brain chemistry.

[kingdoms-and-empires]

I chose the OP option (because I can't decide which stats I wanna focus on 😭) and I developed a little head canon to explain why my character is good at everything. In his former life he was less than OP. He was one of those people who have potential, but never applied himself, out of a mixture of laziness, procrastination, and a crippling fear of failure! When he died he was extremely disappointed in himself. He always figured that he'd pull himself together in the future, but now he's dead and he never achieved anything he wanted, other than gathering some useless facts (like maybe ancient technology such as the treadwheel crane perhaps 👀). When he got his second chance he decided he was gonna make full use of it. The instant he was able to comprehend the language of the world and was able to read, he'd sneak books and accelerate his education through reading things someone as young as him shouldn't understand. He also would go through physical training, again in secret, and watch the guards train in swordsmanship in hopes of picking something up. Since for years he had little to no responsibilities, and the mind of an adult, he has been able to devote almost all his time to developing his mind and body

TL;DR: my MC went from a procrastinator to a try hard and it payed off

Nice headcanon!

i think alot of people would be similar if they had their old memories and would give themselves a strong head start

Its really interesting to think about how you'd really act in a similar situation to the MC as you yourself.

The MC is canon to be "good" from the start, and its up to the player to choose how the MC progresses over time...honestly the best reincarnation works ive seen out there arent the traditional Isekai protag animes, its actually works that deal with a woman being reincarnated or isekai'd. Either a reincarnated villainess trope, or general isekai trope work, the ones with female leads are generally better in my opinion since it usually aint a power fantasy

Eh idk where i went with all this but it was fun to think about haha, so thanks!

Oh, some of my favorite anime that deal in reincarnation and isekai with female leads or kingdom simulators in general that do it well with male or female leads are these:

Fuuuuuck youre making me break out my old bookmarks and im seeing my mangas are now updated with new chapters...dozens of new chapters!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I WANNA STOP WRITING AND READ INSTEAD

This one has adorable art that I feel in love with as the MC starts as a baby lol, and the MC is competent, which is really nice

The MC is alright, she tries doing stuff to get out of shitty circumstances but the real highlight of the story are the titular Monster Duchess and her husband. Nooo idea how it is now but theres literally double the chapters now from where i left of and im so tempted to read lolololol

OMFGGGGG I FORGOT ABOUT THIS!! This is a fav of mine since it deals with the cinderella story! The MC is a reincarnated chick who plays as the evil stepmother in cinderella's story, but omfg its such a good twist on the trope and it really does alot of things well, and THERES SO MANY NEW CHAPTERSSSSSS

YOOOOOOOOOO I forgot this one too lmaoooo ima bad fan haha

Anyways, this is another great subversion of the reincarnating trope since the MC is on her THIRD reincarnated life, and she actually conquered EVERYTHING in her second life. But she got betrayed and killed by people and she said mannnnnn fuck this, ima get hitched with the dude who was nice to me in my old life and never asked for shit! And so begins a funny as romance story lol, GOD DAMN AND THEYRE ON THE SECOND SEASON NOOOOOOW

Someone either here or on Discord recommended this to me, and whoever did so, I love you! This is a weirdly realistic take on the historical figures of the Sengoku period having to deal with this weird girl who appears to have come out of nowhere but knows a bit of practical modern knowledge that helps Oda Nobunaga win some victories. Honestly, i really appreciate how grounded it is for a manga! The truth of the matter is, we really wouldnt be able to do that much if we were in her shoes either lol!

Bruhhhh when i tell you i squealed when i saw how many chapters this has now! Without a doubt, this is my favorite! The MC is hyper competent, she uses her femineity to her advantage and doesnt fight against it like other works do when they wanna show their female lead "isnt like other girls", and shes honestly such a joy to watch running circles around other people that screwed her over in her past life. Read this one for sure!!!!

Another competent female lead how got reincarnated and has to survive death flags by marrying one of the romance options, but the world system keeps screwing her over and its funny to see how she has to navigate trying to romance obviously shitty romance options who sound really hot (like the enemies to lovers trope would NOT be easy in real life lmao) or (the crazy mfer who makes you scared but horni)

Read this and then decide if you'd survive lol

AHGHGHGHHHH This is so good!!! Basically a girl has to become the stepmother to children how are close in age to her. She tries to do things her own way at first, but she dies. So she gets reincarnated and tries to do better the second time around. If you wanna read a good female lead doing introspection and learning from her past mistakes, read this. Its really good!

Alrighty. This is honestly a guilty pleasure, and should really be read after reading alot of villainess or female lead reincarnation manga to basically cleanse your palate with this funny ass story lol. Instead of playing by the rules of society like the previous stories, the main character does "not like other girls" very well and its enjoyable to watch lol! Use it once you get tired of the previously mentioned ones!

Annnnnnd that's it! Thank you for making me out myself lmaooooo

[weakly-skoodge]

Week Forty Seven!

“Huff…”

At least it’s still nice to be able to stand off to the side and watch. Even as infuriating as Earth is, and how infuriating it can sometimes be to see Zim get stuck in his routine… it’s somehow simultaneously refreshing, for Skoodge to be watching him.

While some aspects of Zim have changed over the years, shifted to better adapt to his environment, his personality has remained almost unchanged. The thing that draws people in – or away – the most, that has been relatively consistent his entire life.

Loud, bossy, pushy, captivating…

… Everything he has been, even way back in the education plugs.

It wouldn’t be too big of a stretch to say that Skoodge is still as absolutely charmed by those same eccentricities as he was centuries ago – even after being separated from them.

“Come now, Skoodge! I know you can do better than that!”

Even if those eccentricities might end up killing him one day. At least with Zim, Skoodge knows that getting killed by him will be more incidental, rather than malicious. Zim tends not to be aware of the radius of chaos that’s always surrounding him.

A shaky wheeze wriggles its way out from his flabby throat. “I’m trying – hhng – my hhhuhardest –”

“Your hardest is clearly not hard enough.” Zim clicks his tongue. “Here, let me.”

Steps sound out in the grass, taken just outside of Skoodge’s field of vision.

Two tiny hands make themselves known as they grasp along his backside, the abrupt sensation causing him to jolt in place.

“– Whuh-at are you–?”

Cccrr-RA-ck-CK!

Skoodge goes limp, stuck in a half-bent position from his failed attempt at touching his toes. His hands hang below him. He can’t feel his spine.

He wheezes. It sounds hollow and utterly dead.

Zim hums. Skoodge can’t look up to see it, but he’s almost certain that the other is stroking his chin in some provoking thought. “Eh. That did nothing. You really are dookie at this, Skoodge.”

Skoodge would love to bite back with some equally sardonic remark – perhaps something that could really give Zim pause. Something along the lines of not all of us can be built like tiny little pretzels, Zim. But, unfortunately for him – or maybe, fortunately – all of his mouth functionality has been lost along with what used to be his back. He can’t even groan without risking more burning, searing pain to shoot its way through his body.

These morning stretches are not meant for an irken with Skoodge’s build. But Zim always insists on doing them right before a big scheme. Different from his regular ones. Doing these today means that something is coming, very, very soon.

Not soon enough, Skoodge thinks. He doesn’t really know what the special occasion is. Not yet at least, since Zim was so insistent on not spoiling the surprise – and Skoodge won’t get to knowing any time soon.

All he can really do now for the next hour or two is stare at the ground and his belly, and at his hands hanging limp, still unable to reach his feet, until his spine regenerates.

Terrible. Cruel.

This is like that Earth ‘Hell’. His own highly specific form of torture. Repentance for his crimes.

Eh. At least he’s not starving. Or dead. He could always be dead!

… He’s pretty sure he’s thought that very specific thought a lot of times, already.

… Well, that’s only because it still holds true!

Yup! Mhmm! I love being not dead! And not suffering too, preferably, but hey! Beggars can’t be choosers!

He’s pretty confident he got the saying right, that time. He mentally pats himself on the back for it, well aware that he can’t actually do it thanks to his current predicament. The still lingering pain tingles that occasionally shoot throughout his body serve as helpful reminders not to move. Aah. Refreshing.

[rubinee]

You're doing it! Randomized kink generator time 😎 Got some interesting ones here I think

Glove Worship

Face Sitting

Macro/Micro

Mutual Masturbation

Dacryphilia/Crying Kink

oh wow an anonymous message! i wonder who mightve sent it, certainly not my beloved mutual 🥰

glove worship

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

i mean i AM into beautification and gloves can be part of an outfit... and i like (my) hands.... it's just never occurred to me. nothing wrong with it i just feel kinda eh about it | edit i couldn't stop thinking about it while typing the other replies so i'm gonna say it might be a nice addition to a scene

face sitting

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know | unrated

sitting on someones face or having my partner sit on mine feels like something i truly cannot know until i know. so i want to experience this before giving any comment on it.

macro/micro

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

i had to look this one up but this is the one with the giant women isn't it. if anyone wants to share and explain to me what they find enticing about this please do for educational purposes my ask box and dms are always open

mutual masturbation

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

yeeh 🥰 i love learning how people touch themselves, it feels really intimate to me. and they get to see me too. overall really nice no notes

dacryphilia/crying kink

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

crying can feel really cathartic so if it happens that's great! but like maybe i'm missunderstanding this but i don't get anything out of the tears themselves (or like crying/ seeing my partner cry)

thanks for the ask thank you for indulging me in this!

[whenimgoodandready]

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! We can not stand ideally by and let this injustice continue! Someone needs to grow a spine and tell those oppressors to shove whatever it is they’re spewing at us up their a**! I’m talking to you Sabrina Raincomprix! You need to end that toxic “friendship” you have with Chloe and be more upfront! And you Ms.Bustier! You need to put your foot down and start disciplining Chloe for her b*tchy behavior! And I’m most definitely talking to you Damocles! You’re the God damn principal! Do your job! You worship an owl themed superhero and you’re not living up to the justice they were trying to preach to you!? Shame on you! Just how are these three gonna do that!? Let’s see:

*Confrontation-The class is taking an orientation assignment on what schools would be fitting for them regarding their future careers. It’s what they call Lycée. It’s how the French educational system works there. If one were to pursue journalism (Alya), they’d be more focused on literary courses. If one were to be a filmmaker or artist (Nino and Nathaniel, respectively), a performing art school is best! An environmentalist? (Mylene) Green Peace! A hairstylist? (for “unicorns”/“dragons” Rose) A beauty school! (Maybe she can style those flying T-rexes that now exist?) A love for helping people? (Sabrina) Nursing school. A spoiled b*tch who can do whatever the f*ck she wants cuz she’s got connections and another who can easily bullsh*t their way into life as long as they don’t get caught!? (Chloe and Lila crickets chirp) Yeah, they got no future for themselves :P. What about Adrien? He’s not modeling anymore, so what’s he gonna do!?…….he doesn’t know…….(whispers) sentibeing. With all these different goals in life, it makes them realize they won’t all be together next year and thus no more Le Resistance. Awww, that sucks.

To further sabotage Marinettes life, new class rep Lila and deputy Chloe force Sabrina to falsify the classes application forms with obscure careers (ex.Sporto Kim as a physiotherapist! Lol!) and leave Marinettes desire for fashion school untouched so as to place the blame on her with the excuse that she’s trying to get revenge on everyone for voting for Lila as class rep instead of her. The akumatized victim was Juleka who’s wish to be a mortician, (well, she is goth! But I thought she wanted to be a model!? (“Reflekdoll”). Oh well), is now saying she has to repeat the year! Again! Wait! When was this pointed out that Juleka was repeating the year? Did I miss something!? Another surprise that we were supposed to find out instead of foreshadowing!? Ugh! Whatever, she gets akumatized into her signature akumatized form, Reflekta, with her given miraculous power of The Tiger, and goes on a super megaton punching spree to vent out her frustration. Lame! But hey! I don’t have any ideas either on a villain who’s theme is repeating a school year! What would their look be!? What would their power be!? So yeah, they just…..went with what they know. The only difference is Reflekta can not only turn people into copies of herself, but also with her mind set!…..Eh.

Sabrina Raincomprix! Ms.Bustier! Principal Damocles! Let me just say, on behalf of everyone in the fandom, IT’S ABOUT F*CKING TIME! They say patience is a virtue, but whoever said that probably didn’t have anything good to keep themselves anticipated for next week! Sabrina finally put her foot down and outed Chloe and Lila as the culprits to the doctored application forms and even though Lila countered it by saying she (Sabrina) did it outta jealousy over Lila joining in the group, Sabrina did get one over on the both of ‘em when she and Marinette exposed the two over the crime and reveal Lila’s true colors. Marinette constructed a makeshift restroom with hidden microphones and a two way mirror (where did she get that!?) with help from construction workers and permission from the principal (how’d she convince him?). Although Sabrina had conspired a lot of misdeeds for Chloe, the pressure finally got too much for her as it included her whole class and trashing their future careers and it wasn’t worth it for a petty hatred against a single person. Just wish that inner courage was there seasons ago. For Ms.Bustier, she admitted she was too easy on Chloe for trying to get her to change, but she strictly tells her that from now on, it’s no more carrot! Only the stick! The cold hard stick! (Hmm, must be the pregnant hormones). Was this cathartic like we all assumed it would be!? Am I satisfied to see Chloe get busted and Lila exposed for the conniving little b*tch that she is!? NO! It wasn’t and it wasn’t cuz I was already spoiled by this, but because the girls did not actually get their comeuppance! Chloe easily got away with it through her dads mayoral connections (although Principal Damocles did stand up against Mayor Bourgeois and decided to quit so as not to be abused in hurting his own students anymore) and Lila or Cerise!? Just walked away, dropped her identity and went with another in a new school! WHO THE F*CK IS SHE!? (I’ve heard “Orphan” rumors!) Yeah, NOT SO CATHARTIC! The whole thing with “Cerise” was completely forgotten about during the reveal of how those “useless” anti-akumatizing charms work and there was no mention of anyone calling the ambassador mother about all this! Another sucky moment in all this was only Ms.Bustier apologized for not believing Marinette about “Cerise” and not Alya or any of her classmates cuz that scene was deleted for God knows why even though that would’ve been sooooooo much better for us fans to see and make it cathartic! (breathes) Now that the three I mentioned grew a spine, it’s a shame we’ll barely see any of it cuz of the remaining time the characters have before school ends and how the season is ending too. Despite that, good job Sabrina! You’ll make better friends. Ms.Bustier, show no mercy on Chloe with what little time you have with her in class (even though the next two eps are gonna be Hell!) and farewell Principal Damocles! Hope you find a new job and thanks for teaching us how those anti-akumatizing charms work! (and Congrats on breaking your speech impediment Juleka for encouraging him on that). Maybe next season we’ll see how they stay more confident and assertive?

[lunarsilkscreen]

"An ethical and moral slippery slope"

Whenever you put yourself in a position that you have to make a decision that will hurt another person, you suffer.

Leaders and individuals around the world learned something the Jewish call "chutzpah". Many translate this simply to "Extreme Audacity" when they do that, I (and maybe others), think of the politician or the stock bro. Lying, Rude, taking extreme unnecessary risks, or straight gambling.

"The balls (Chutzpah) on *this* one, eh?"

It wasn't until recently I heard somebody explain it differently. The ability to remain stoic in the face of extreme risk or adversity. Keeping a straight face while on the inside you're in emotional turmoil. Letting nothing show.

Taking risks using other people as the fodder, as opposed to taking risks that could save those same people who would be fodder regardless.

When you put yourself in a position that takes other people's lives in your hands, you suffer.

Making the decision to become a landlord is one. Becoming a police officer, a lawyer, a judge, a politician, even a manager are similar decisions.

But there are people, they don't make the connection. That their decisions directly affect the lives of others. They look at it like "it's me or you, and if I have to choose, it won't be you."

But those positions I've outlined, they're not the kind of positions where it is ethical or moral to have that attitude. You need to have "Chutzpah" yes, to make difficult decisions. But you also need empathy, and the understanding that the job *you chose* (even if it chose you) means that you've taken responsibility for other people's lives.

When you create a dependency like that, where you're in that kind of position, that you choose to remain in. You can't divorce yourself from the wellbeing of the people you serve. Even tho they may be working for you.

That's why we're in a period where we have to make decisions that *hurt people*. Why people are trying to tell themselves that there's no other choice, or to remind themselves that it's not really their fault. The other party was asking for it. Any number of things that could be said to reassure yourself that hurting somebody else was always unavoidable.

"The system will catch them. Sure." It should've.

"These are just the current market conditions."

Even a loan can change somebody's life for the worse. And since humans are empathic creatures, they have to be reminded that loans hurt people who the data *shows* should've been fine. And even though they did all the right things, they would've been better off without one.

Upselling. Upselling. Upselling.

I say this because we millennials, unlike the boomers, have seen the job and market conditions, and have made decisions that hurt people. Decisions that many an educated boomer said "would never have resulted in that".

And we see zoomers take jobs that we know for sure have a risk of creating that kind of burden for them. And we worry about gen alpha and beyond.

Is this really "just the way it is?" That it's not just a dispute, it's a decision of who between two people eat the next day? "And if I can't eat, you sure won't be either".

It is my sincere belief that bullies of all kinds will suffer having to repeat this grade. This life... Some people want reincarnation, I see it as a punishment for not learning the lesson.

[childishzombiejellyfish]

discovered yesterday that the majority of my work just mainly consists of queers and people who’re well-informed on queer identities which isnt something i expected in a cleaning gig (even if it is in an arts-space) and just made me real pleased

(also the irony is that we clean for a lot of rich-people events and they often take pictures of the gender-neutral toilet sign and seem genuinely uncomfortable about going in that restroom, like they’re gonna lose their gendercard)

[chihirolovebot]

i feel like a big problem in the danganronpa fandom and anime fandom in general is japanese and east asian fetishism? i'm constantly coming across people who like, are super obsessed with dr & other similar media and give themselves japanese names and try to be 'experts' on japan and its culture. i'm a japanese-american and this is so frustratingly common where i go to school and i did like a cultural camp this summer and it was just packed with weeaboos who were totally convinced they could be japanese if they tried hard enough. there's a lot of like, racist -- maybe unintentionally but still racist -- danganronpa fans (especially teenage cosplayers on tiktok??) and obv there's elements of racism in the games themselves (rn i can't think of many examples off the top of my head except for angie?) it might also just be an american thing, do you see this very often as a british anime fan? (sorry for ranting in your inbox lol i thought as a fellow dr fan who's kind of like, willing to confront the bad sides of the franchise + fandom you would be able to get what i'm saying :P)

you're all good!! it's an interesting and frustrating topic to be sure. i'll answer the easiest thing u brought up first— as a british anime fan, i would say the subculture is a lot smaller here than it seems in america? conventions and stuff don't seem to be as popular or as often as they are elsewhere. like i've never heard of an anime convention anywhere near me, for example, and i have a few bigger cities near me. STILL obviously anime and japanese media consumption breeds weirdos.

when i moved into my flat for my first year of uni one of my flatmates was one of those people who are. very loud about liking anime? idk i kind of see anime as like, just another form of media, not a personality trait or even the only thing i consume. like, i watch a lot of shows that aren't anime and play a lot of games that aren't japanese, so i personally dont see the point in identifying urself as an anime-watcher or a 'weeb' which. blegh. but yeah he was ur typical 'mommy-misato-dragon-maid-zero-two' fanboy who randomly broke into broken japanese, referenced anime all the time even when he knew the person he was talking to hadn't watched or even heard of what he was referencing, and overall just seemed to have a very distorted idea of what japan... is like? and obviously im english and have never been to japan so, i dont claim to know what japan is like either. but this guy seemed to think it was some apolitical utopia full of 'traditional' women who all adhere to the 'waifu' archetype (which. gross. fucking gross). i mean needless to say i dont speak to this guy anymore. but my point being that yeah, there is definitely still elements of asian fetishisation present in groups here in britain!! it's why i tend to avoid people who make watching anime their whole personality, i guess, because it always seems to lead to other red flags.

i think some of it you can chalk up to healthy fascination. like, japan and most other asian countries are super different culturally to england, or britain as a whole. for me, i think it's fun to learn about cultural differences, and japan has a very interesting history (in good ways and bad) and it's generally a fascinating country. but what a lot of people do is let the way it's portrayed in anime become a representative for how they think the country actually is, which, like. eh. i guess it's kinda like how a lot of non-brits think all our schools are like hogwarts, when if you want actual representation you should look to educating yorkshire or the inbetweeners. but obviously there's a line to be drawn, and i think it's stupid to assume you know what a country and its people are like because you've consumed media from that country.

as for racism in the game. yeah. the mishandling of angie's god (which, i think is a localisation thing?? apparently in the original japanese, she just called her god, 'god.' and 'atua' was done in the localisation as they thought she was polynesian. but this is very weird and i dont see why they would change it when 'god' is used in many, many cultures and 'atua' is a lot more specific). there's also the daisaku bendai, the ultimate farmer, who's design is..... awful. and then there's the anti-semitic imagery, particularly on kokichi's splash-art, where he wears a nazi-esque hat and holds grape fanta (for those unaware, fanta was a drink create by nazi germany) as well as his title being ultimate supreme leader. it's a bit. like. one of those things on it's own would maybe be okay but all three together is a lot of nazi imagery and it's very odd.

in short, there's a fuckton of racism surrounding danganronpa, both in the game and in the fandom. it's awful and disgusting, and disheartening that this kind of stuff should still exist in 2022, and im very sincerely sorry you have come across it so often. i think it's a consumers duty to educate themselves about the media they consume and think critically about it. i dont even really say i 'like' danganronpa because most of the time im sort of fed up with it and all the problematic aspects. it's more just like, i see the potential for something great and it frustrates me a lot that it wasn't developed, as well as being attached to a lot of the characters. but yeah. thank you for this ask, it was actually a good thought exercise and i hope it helped get some frustration off your chest too!

once again. obviously. im not japanese or asian at all, so if i've said anything that comes off as ignorant, please just drop me a message correcting me. and if you have any other thoughts on this, feel free to send them my way ^.^

[hopefulbagelboi]

Designing a showreel

Also includes a reflection at the bottom!

One glaring issue I knew I was going to have with this showreel was, well, I don't have any material for it. Eh, that's not strictly true, I have made animations during my three years at uni but none of them I liked or thought much of, and the grades they had received proved that they were not that great. I didn't want to advertise myself using some of my worst work and, feeling confident at the time, I wanted to make brand new animations with my new skills and sudden passion for the project.

Since I could animate anything I wanted I planned on using characters from games that I enjoy and just putting them in funny situations. There would be some of my original characters such as 'watercolour cats' and various bio-mechanical monsters.

The general plot of the showreel was going to flow from one scene to another with the watercolour cats being the visual bridge between scenes, since the collection of game characters doing funny things wouldn't typically fit together well in one flowing scene so this way the cats act as a bridge, as if they're travelling across the world and seeing lots of strange people.

Plot timeline:

Watercolour cats are sat by a river, they begin to travel and hop across buildings in the rain, leaving golden footprints as they go. They look down and see a pokemon battle between game characters Ghetsis and Black. Ghetsis is a horrible person as always and decides to cheat the battle by casting a cursed spell like the evil wizard man he is. Inspired by these two posts:

(^ Not my art btw)

Moving on from that the cats would travel through the clouds to another destination where they would spot a nest of bio-mechanical creatures, even some robot sky whales, and observe them for a little while before ending up on a strange planet with a large factory on it. They'll see an astronaut exploring with their speedy robot dog. When the cats move on they encounter several pokemon villains having trouble with their respective legendaries. Maybe I'll throw some dragons in their too.

I did want the title to have a strange creature using a human as a horse and the human shoots a laser from their mouth which engraves the title on the screen (this was inspired by an old anime scene which I saw whilst listening to music but I can't seem to find it). The ending of my showreel was going to have a 3D animated dragon burn my contact details into stone, because dragons are cool.

So what happened?

Anyway, since I clearly didn't do all that stuff because I can't draw or animate well, I decided to do the heinous act of scraping some of my old animation work together an editing it all to some music (I picked the pokemon sword 'boutique' theme because by watching my showreel you're technically shopping around for my abilities'). I had so little work to show that I had to did up old COLLEGE projects and shove those on the timeline too, further showing off my lack of skill.

Reflection.

After three years at uni and thousands of pounds later the one thing I learned whilst here was that animation is not for me :) and I will not be going into the industry looking for an animation job. Editing and sound design, perhaps, but not animation of any kind. Hence why my showreel didn't really matter to me, I will not be using it nor needing it. I enjoy animating in small bits, doing tiny personal animation projects that don't take themselves too seriously, not big commercial animations that whole teams have to work on.

At this point I'm rather sick of animation and education in general. What could I do better? Take a break from education for a few years and maybe come back to animation and drawing once I've taken time to practice my skills whilst not under pressure. I burnt out after second year and clearly I'm not bouncing back, hence the mess that has been my third year work, so time to step away from all of this and maybe take a new career direction.

My showreel can be seen below, which also gives away my identity but oh well. As you can see it's not that great but I want to put this course to bed once and for all and I have no passion or will power to refine my work any further.

[ardwynna]

Saying “children should not be exposed to sex” is not “infantilization” it is common sense, and has been agreed upon by society at large. And them being exposed to it doesn’t help them “learn and grow” it is traumatizing. It does the opposite of that. Please step outside your bubble and learn more about this before you do something harmful.

Let’s talk about my bubble. I was a health counselor in college. A high school biology teacher for a stint after that. I am a doctor now. Human biological and psychosocial development is a thing I actually have a bit of learning and experience with, if you can imagine. And I have given ‘The Talk’ in quite a few varied forms.

Now, by “children”, do you mean prepubescents only, the way people generally do? Or are you including adolescents as well, like fandom police? Either way, there is a level of sex talk you can give to prepubescents, they do often want to know where babies come from. Some of them even get the Penis-In-Vagina bit of The Talk and handle it pretty well.

Adolescents on the other hand, well, maybe you’re a fan of US-style Abstinence Only education. I am not. So not. Comprehensive sex education all the way. No ifs, ands or buts. They’re literally going through sexual development. How can you stomach keeping people ignorant about what’s happening to them? It’s dangerous, and in my thinking, unethical. They need to be prepared. You ever explained to a class of thirteen year olds what oral sex and dental dams are? I have. You ever described vaginal secretions and ovulation changes to sixteen year olds? I have. And for the record, they brought it up. Curiosity is normal at that age and they had questions. Some of them were already experimenting and putting themselves at all kinds of risk from ignorance. Lucky I have the actual schooling and certification to answer those questions, eh?

Now, lets talk about fandom. Fanfic is entertainment. Fanart is entertainment. Fandom content creators are for the most part a bunch of marginalized amateurs chucking out works for their own amusement and any friends they can make with similar tastes in this rapidly wildening internet. Fanfic is not The Talk. Fanart is not a How-To. You have a better chance getting a decent version of The Talk at PornHub. You don’t expect people to learn sexual behavior from Game of Thrones, do you? Why would you expect them to go learn it from fandom? Why do you think fandom is such a huge influence? Because I promise you, as huge a part of your life as it might be right now, it’s a drop in a bucket compared to the rest of the world. It just doesn’t have the reach or the capability to serve as an ‘educational’ source. Nobody is saying kids should come to fandom to learn about sex. But if they get an eyeful, honestly the stuff they see here isn’t going to be much worse than Cinemax on a Saturday night.

Now, we have established that adolescents have sexual interest, even if it’s just the academic kind for some of them. We have established that knowledge is better than ignorance. We have established that fandom is not nor should be the source of that knowledge, or sure as shit not the only one.

Now let’s talk about exposure.

To sign up for social media sites, and frankly most online accounts, you have to be at least 13. Adolescent. An age of sexual development and curiosity. At 13, you are deemed old enough to leave the kiddy pool and start swimming with the rest of us. And that means learning how to operate in the wider world. It means sharing space with a wider age group than you’re used to. It means learning how to decide what is for you, what is not for you, and what is not for you yet. Same way you pass the cigs and alcohol in the convenience store before you’re old enough, you can bypass a tagged, age-rated and warned-for fic and stick to something more age-appropriate. But you do have to get used to seeing these things, and passing them by, and saying “Not now.” That’s part of living in a society. If you opt to use a fake ID to bypass the barrier, if you opt to lie about your age online, that’s on you. Only you. The adult world does not stop just because minors exist. The protections of prepubescent childhood are not meant to last forever. Adolescence is a training stage.

So if ‘children’ are being exposed to sex in fandom, they’re exposing themselves. And that’s on their parents and caregivers for not giving them proper guidelines, not enforcing those guidelines, or not giving them enough proper education to satisfy their natural curiosity, or counteract whatever fantabulous imaginary sexual escapade they go looking for online. You can’t leave kids’ welfare up to distant strangers on the internet. Distant strangers, I must add, who have EVERY RIGHT to freedom of expression and living their adult lives to the fullest. The presence of teenagers does not change that. The teens have the tools now to protect themselves. They have the tags and the warnings. But they insist on acting like actual children, prepubescents, and not people who should be practicing their basic life skills. The teenagers on social media and fandom sites need to step up and meet fandom halfway. They cannot be babied forever.

So either the ‘children’ hike off to go ask Alice, if Mommy and Daddy completely dropped the ball, or they start practicing some self control. Because wherever the adults go, the kids follow. They follow despite lockdowns, they click despite warnings, they read despite age recommendations, and that’s entirely on the kids. Because nobody put a gun to their head and made them click.

[shadowling-guistical]

Sit and Bleed.

Roman asks Remus for advice, and Remus delivers. In his own, mildly disturbing way. Somehow, bonding ensues.

Yeah idk either. I shared this to one of my friends and they said, and I quote, "Hey mishi i love you but wtf? Did remus posess you?"

So like, enjoy?

WARNING: Extensive blood talk, period talk, mild injury, mild gore, and generally just canon typical Remus shenanigans.

---

"Do you think that it's true?" Roman had asked him one day, "That writing is easy? That you could just sit at a typewriter and… And bleed?"

It had been dusk, and somehow, Roman had Imaginationed the setting sun to send it's final rays streaking across his room. From where Remus had been lying, splayed out on Roman's carpet like a human sacrifice waiting for a malevolent god, it looked sickeningly beautiful. The gold that bathed the room, the warmth and splendour, he thought it was just saccharinely horrid.

Roman turned his chair to face him. Remus turned his head. A heartbeat turned into two before he scoffed.

"Please," Remus idly picked his nose, rolling the products he found jammed up in his sniffer into a small hard ball and flicked it off to god knows where. He hoped it landed on Roman's pillow. "If writing were that easy, I'd twist my foot off and feed it to Virgil's tarantula,"

"It used to be,"

Remus sighed, swinging his legs up before he leapt onto his feet with a soft oof. Roman went back to his writing, ignoring the sound of Remus' spine popping when he straightened himself. The Duke sauntered to Roman's desk, looking over his shoulder to see…

Nothing.

Well, nothing substantial .

Bits of writing here, a doodle there, scratched out ideas at the corner, angry scribbles at another…Oof.

His twin must have noticed, because Roman’s tone was bitter.

“Not anymore,”

"Yeah well," Remus muttered, thinking of glittering yellow eyes filled with mischief and a sly smirk underneath a shadowy hood, "A lot of other things used to be easy too,"

"Well? What do you think?"

Riiiiight, typewriting and bleeding. Remus scoffed, "Well willya lookit that. You never asked me before, why start now?"

Roman groaned, "... Remus I’m serious here,"

"Hey! It's true," Remus swiped the paper and crumpled it into a ball. Without looking, he threw it over the shoulder. Roman scowled when he sees it bounce onto his bed, "What's up, Prince stink-a-lot? You ask me to come hang out. You didn't kick me out when I wiped boogers onto that skinned angora cat you call a carpet, and now you're asking me questions? What gives?"

"...it's just…"

God, it’s just this and it’s just that , Remus wanted to pull his hair out already. He wished Roman would just spit it out. Just vomit it out and get this over with. Really, getting his stupid twin to just spew whatever was rattling in that noggin if his was worse than pulling teeth out of a gator. And Remus would know, he tried it a lot over the years.

"I just wanted to be like you,"

And there it was, whatever thing that had been sitting in his twin’s gut like a 5 foot long tapeworm.

…

Like him.

Like Remus.

The Duke of Dastardly Deeds.

Mr. Dark and Disgusting himself.

Roman "Pretty Boy" Sanders wanted to be like him?

Remus leaned forward, far more amused than shocked.

"...You're fucking with me,"

"No, I am not," Roman was looking at him with those intense green eyes of his and woah… the guy really was serious, wasn't he?

Huh.

Curiosity reared it's head, familiar and cloying somewhere inside of Remus'  stomach. Then again, it could have been the extra potent shaving cream he had over his deodorant earlier today. Who fucking knows.

"Why?" He finally asked.

"Because… You've always made it look so… easy," Shaking hands ran through unruly curls, "It comes easier for you than it did for me. Always did. Just— How do you do it, Remus?"

The other twin considered it for a moment.

Had it really? Admittedly, Remus didn’t really notice it. He hummed. Sit on a typewriter and let yourself bleed , huh?

Well. He apparently had a crisis to handle.

Remus leaned against Roman's desk. Lightly, he ran rough, clumsy fingers on a splotch of dried ink absorbed into wood.

The tone that his Other Half (Don't make it weird Tumblr, he didn't mean that way. So put those pitchforks down and back away. Thanks.) had used while gesturing to the stack of papers and feather quills on his desk now morphed into disgust, "it feels like I just don't have any flowing in me anymore,"

"Well duh," long, dirty fingernails tapped against polished wood, "It's because bleeding isn't supposed to be easy, you doofus," He sighed, and Roman’s expression caused him to nearly want to groan and drape himself over the table. God, it was so fucking obvious that Roman really had no idea, did he? "You know, If you wanna go all gross metaphor with me, you gotta at least not half ass it,"

"Okay, but half ass it how? That how the saying goes,"

With all the tact and delicacy of a blunt axe, Roman’s words were cut off.

"Then it's a shit saying,"Before Roman could protest, "Look do you want me to help or not? Yeah? Then good. Just shut up for a sec and spill the juicy details," Pause, "Okay, what do you know about periods?"

Roman stiffened, obviously beginning to not like where the conversation was steered to. Because not even Jesus could take the wheel when Remus was behind it. However, Roman reluctantly let his shoulders relax when his twin brushed him off with an eye roll. Cautiously, because Remus still needs to be handled much like a skunk would.

"Remus— “

"Oh just relax. This is going somewhere. Trust me. And I won't do any shit I can't clean up. Just answer the question,"

Roman looked queasy, but swallowed heavily. He supposed he did ask, "I guess, just what Thomas learned in Sex Ed,"

Hm, he could work with that.

"So absolutely shit! Great! I just love the educational system in Florida. Wonderful. Wish the Nerdy Wolverine was here to tell you. But you only got me so it'll have to do— Should've prepared a whole musical number about it too—"

Remus held out his palms, and Roman sees the skin tighten. It strained and stretched before it ripped into a bloody gash.  Roman grimaced, the other unperturbed. In fact, he daresay Remus looked curious. Like he was mulling over what to say.

"Eh, Follow up— Have" Remus let the blood pool into his cupped hands. A tablespoonful turned into a cupful and soon it was overflowing. He tipped his hand so that the blood dribbled down. Drip drip drip, a small stream of blood hit the floor in splatters, "Have you seen it before? Period blood?"

"What?” Oh god, he feels like he could gag, “Gross—! No of course not,"

Remus rolled his eyes.

"Unfeminist much?" The dry tone was met with protest.

"I'm not!—" Roman spluttered, "I don't go around looking for what comes out of people's pants, Remus!"

"Yeah yeah, but did you know they're chunky though?"

"I— What the fuck Remus?"

"Just...humour me for a sec. So they're chunky," Remus sort of flicked his hand, sending smaller droplets flying. A particularly large droplet streaked across Roman’s floor, "Thick goopy, disgusting— Hey, think of that the next time you scoop out some Crofters eh?"

Well, there nearly goes Roman's lunch.

"Oh god.” He pushed down the tickle at the back of his throat, “Please don't— Just, get to the point,"

"Okay okay. Jeez. The point is," two scarred, calloused hands rubbed together, letting the blood smear, "Is that even blood flows differently,"

The hands raised up, tinged red and both of them marred with an angry, red, jagged tear.

"Look at this shit. See? Not everything that comes out is the same. Some places will drip. Others flow and some? They're chunky. That's just how it is. you can't expect chunky blood to flow as easily as fresh blood,"

Without letting Roman mull on the morbid metaphor, he ploughed on.

"Oh yeah— And blood coagulates. It dries up and turns to scab. It won't stay bleeding forever. It's not supposed to. And expecting it to is just stupid, so write that down with your fancy quill,"

Blinking, Roman's mind slowly caught up with him.

Flowing blood and drying and scabbing— He soon deflated.

Oh.

Oh…

He just watched wordlessly as Remus wiped his hand against the fabric of his outfit. Flakes of dried blood sprinkled down joining the droplets on the ground like some sort of morbid snow.

" And just in case you forget, because of course you do. Scabbing is good. Personal experience guaranteed. It heals things. Plus…" the hand with the cut waved again. Exaggeratedly, mockingly, and even Roman couldn't help but to crack a smile, "You gotta make a pretty deep cut if you wanna bleed a lot,"

Maybe Roman was imagining the softer tone that Remus had let bleed into his voice.

"And if you bleed a lot, you gotta let yourself scab,"

A long, slow exhale.

He had to let himself scab.

"And… You've kinda been bleeding a lot, didn’tcha?"

"I…" Roman swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "...Yeah...I think so,"

"Been making some huge cut lately to get it flowing?…"

"...Mmmm…" Shaking breaths, fragile and soft. Okay… okay… "Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you… do you think I can… I should—"

Should he stop?

"... Course you could, you stupid bleeding heart…" a hand found itself in Roman's hair, gently carding it. Really, almost petting it, "...But fuck Ro, if that isn't the thing we all love about you, you doof. Of course you can. And you should. In fact, I am telling you to,"

Hesitantly, a pair of arms circled themselves over Roman's shoulder, pulling him close.

Remus didn't mention it when he saw broad shoulders decorated in tassels begin to  shake. He didn't pay attention to the soft sobs that sent a Prince, unwavering and strong, shaking. He didn't care about the way Roman's face had crumpled.

"It's time to let it scab, Roman. And try not to pick at it too much,”

Outside, the figure that had been leaning against the door for the better part of the last 10 minutes smiled.

Heh… Credit where credit's due, he supposed.

He tilted his bowler hat forward and began walking down the hallway. No need to worry.

Who knew that the Duke had it in him.

[magicalshitposts]

Hyrule Pride Week 2021

Day 1 - Gender Neutral

(TW: slight swearing, slight transphobia (not under the cut))

Maybe it was a bold guess, but from the second the two royal researchers met the knight, they knew. Robbie called it instinct, Purah called it seeing Link flinch a little every time anybody referred to them as a term that did not fit.

It was the first time Robbie and Purah had met the champions (Bar the  and Purah’s sister of course), so like the man normally does for both him and his boss, he talked pronouns.

They went in a line, starting with the researchers,

“I’m a cis male, go by he/him.” Robbie clicked his fingers in the direction of Purah.

“Oh, you guys can call me whatever, but I lean more to she/her! Revali?”

“This is ridiculous, I’m a man.” The bird spoke, rather harshly.

“Doesn’t answer the question feathers.” Robbie clicked his tounge, waiting for the Rito champion to say something different before Purah jumped in.

“And with an attitude like that darlin’, you’ll be ‘a man’ standing outside while the grownups work”

Robbie smiled proudly, goddess he was lucky to have a best friend like her.

Everyone looked expectantly towards him, so Revali had no choice but to soften up, “I guess that means he/him, yes?”

Mipha was next, she smiled widely, “I use she and her pronouns!”

“Urbosa, I don’t quite uh… get it.” Daruk looked to the other person in the group who might be as lost as him. She was about to answer when she saw the researchers jump at the chance to educate.

“Go on then.” She grinned towards them, “She/her please, by the way.”

“Thank you Chief.” Purah winked to be met with scolding looks by her sister, “So Daruk, pronouns are a set of words that a person -Terrako beeped- or thing uses to be referred to as. So, there are two types of pronouns, pronouns and neopronouns, and there are two type of people who use them, cisgender people and Trans folk.”

Robbie jumped in to continue, “The difference between Cis and Trans is this, I go by he/him and I was born a guy, that means I’m cisgender and I use pronouns that were assigned to me at birth, if you take my apprentice as an example one of them is Trans, means she was born male but was just a girl trapped inside a male’s body. She was born using he/him pronouns, but found out she was she/her instead.”

Purah went on to talk about neopronouns, “Lets take Terrako – She picked the little guardian up and placed it on the table – Terra? Do you like to be called him?” A small movement of the top part of its body signified a no. “What about her?” The same thing. “So when people refer to you, you like to be called it?” A happy flurry of beeps exploded from it. Purah looked back to Daruk, “Right so, Terrako uses what we call neopronouns, it uses it/its which isn’t ‘officially’ seen in the Hylian language as a pronoun, but their Terrako.”

There was a small silence as Daruk put the pieces of information together in his head, “I… think I get it.”

Robbie gave an understanding look to the Goron chief, “Hey it doesn’t matter if you don’t get it right away, the fact your trying is great.”

Daruk’s eyes crinkled under the smile he had on his face, “Thank you Robbie. So I am a cisgender man who uses he/him pronouns?” Daruk looked around expectantly for feedback.

“Perfect Daruk, well done!” Purah grinned, moving on the next champions.

“Are you kidding?” Impa spoke coldly when eyes landed on her, “You’re my sister and my nuisance, you know my pronouns.” Robbie grinned slightly, time to be even more of a nuisance.

“Tough luck sweetheart, I asked, so cough up. Pronouns?”

“You are the bane of my existence.”

“So what do you not know them? Hey if not that’s fine, everyone has to find themselves out at some point!”

“Oh my goddess, stop it!” Frustration was rising in Impa.

“Stop what? Wait you’re not being like the bird are you, think you’re ‘too good’ for pronouns, eh?”

“Robbie. Fucking stop it.” Impa looked up to the researcher, fire flooding her eye.

With an awkward lean back to Purah, Robbie whispered, “found her limit.”

Purah rolled her eyes, god was she unfortunate to have a best friend like him.

“This lil’ munchkin goes by she/her, for those of you who don’t know her.” Purah put her arms around Impa’s shoulders pushing her back next to the princess.

“Your highness-“

“Are you being serious?” Impa interrupted her sister, “The princess is clearly-“

“Impa. Please don’t. It’s my place to speak on my identity.” Zelda stood straight, preparing to talk. “I am a woman and my pronouns are she/her.”

“Thanks Princess.” Robbie winked kindly towards her then turned his head to the last one, “And you, buckaroo.”

“Oh Link goes by he/him”

Alarm bells, the smallest of signals, Robbie and Purah knew something was off. Maybe Link winced their face on purpose for them to notice, most likely it was just a natural reaction.

“Can’t they tell us?” Purah asked looking towards Link and seeing their face immediately soften in confusion.

“Link is mute, he can’t speak.” The princess stated, looking sombrely towards them.

“Oh, well I know sign language, if they could sign it to us?” Purah looked towards Link with a kind encouraging expression. They lifted their hands, hesitant on what to sign. They were scared.

“Purah,” Robbie stood behind her, hands on her arms, “Maybe we should just trust the princess.”

Purah saw the relief in Link face as she said, “Yeah you’re right. Sorry your highness.”

 The meeting was over before it started. With Robbie discussing the Devine Beasts with their pilots and Purah talking about the Sheikah towers the meeting felt like a blip in a long day. Time goes fast when the researchers talk about what they love. The Champions had been gone for a while now. The workday was over and Robbie and Purah sat in their apartment above the lab. Loud music playing and a beer in their hands.

A knock at the door.

“Come in!” Purah shouted, not bothering to move. If it was a guest, they were uninvited.

Link opened the door and coughed slightly to get the residents attention. They waved when the two people looked at them.

“Link, right? Come on in.” Purah waved her arm to usher Link closer, “What can we do you for Linky?”

Link smiled ever so slightly at the nickname. They brought their hand up and signed ‘How did you know?’

Purah and Robbie smiled at the knight. 

“About the whole pronoun thing?” He asked.

Link nodded.

“I don’t know man- Robbie quickly caught himself- pal, the Princess said you go by he/him and you flinched. Me and Pu have had to deal with questioning and closets before so we really just kinda realised.” Robbie shugged towards the knight, smiling, “So you’re trans? She/her or?”

‘Non-binary. You guessed right the first time.’ They signed all to apprehensively.

“Well your safe with us Hylian.” Robbie winked.

“And if you want us to call you he/him around the other champions until you’re ready we most certainly can.” Purah added, tapping on the seat beside her. Link sat down.

“We’ll wait on you Buckaroo.” Robbie got up to get another can, “For now though, wanna drink?”

[mintyfrosty]

A Prince’s Guide To Reading

"Right?"

Ah, his name.

At least the one he preferred people to use for him.

The guard of the Toppat prince turned his gaze up from the door he had his eyes pinned on, studying the engravings of the wood to try and pass the time. He had to admit, being the prince's guard could be dull, since said prince seemed to take much gratitude in working within a quiet environment. Right didn't mind, of course. Then again, the commoner didn't exactly have a choice either way with what he thought or not. As if he had a choice. He didn't; that was the truth. It had been like that for the month he had found himself being the prince's care. Er, at least he thought it had been a month? Time was a bit weird in the castle. Every day seemed the same.

That wasn't to say he found it unpleasant, however.

Their eyes connected, the guard's gaze quickly descending straight after, since it was discourteous for a royal and a commoner to share a glimpse of their eyes. Well, he wasn't sure on that, but Prince Reginald had acquainted him of such. And he trusted him; a terrifying amount. And Right didn't want to get a stern talking from the king about this, that and something else. Despite clearing his throat before he spoke, Right's voice came up as hoarse and uneven like it always did. "Yes, yer 'ighness?"

Allowing his hand to rest, the royal put the quill in his hand down to table, slightly rubbing it as the chains of writing broke free. Putting his hand through so much work was unhealthy to his muscles and bones. However, much like the commoner, the prince didn't have a choice. Not since 20 years ago when the Toppat Kingdom fell under Terrence's rule. Not the time to think about, he scolded himself, bringing both of his hands down to his lap. He could at least say, however, it was flattering on how the guard put so much effort into trying to learn the mannerism that seemed impossible to understand.

"I wanted to ask you..." Started the prince, bringing himself to standing and tucking his chair into the table that sat peacefully in the halls of the library. "Do you-- know how to read and write?"

...

That came off as slightly insulting. But, unfortunately, forgivable to ask.

Crimson rose to the peasant's ears, gaze crunching as he examined the tile grooving on the floor, trying to, pathetically, hide his embarrassment. The prince was entitled to ask such a question; he was the prince for God's sake. It wasn't uncommon for a commoner such as himself to be illiterate. Many didn't have the money to claim the opportunity to educate themselves. It wouldn't be embarrassing if he said 'no', would it? Because, well, he just didn't.

He was a peasant.

A filthy one at that.

"Nah-- I mean-- No. No, I don't." Forced words of respect came out of the guard, slightly gritting his teeth with frustration as he let his accent slip his words into slang. Ugh. He hated trying to keep up with these stupid mannerisms. It was all so confusing. How the hell was he supposed to remember how to use three forks at a dinner table, wait to speak until spoken to AND not let himself slip into his comfortable language of slang? And that wasn't even the full list. "Er-- w'y do ya ask?"

"Well..." Without finishing the answer, the prince's feet waltzed over to one of the hundred books that decorated the library walls. Gloved hands met the cover a soft covered book; a light read. From where he was standing, Reginald waved an inviting hand towards the guard, taking a seat on the couch that was adjacent to the fireplace which crackled calmly. Swallowing the anxiety lodged in his throat, Right's brash footsteps pounded towards the prince, boots sounded like a wrecking ball hitting concrete. Maybe that was due to his mass. He didn't have a mind to care. With the guard now near him, the royal patted the seat lightly next to him, a smile meeting his face. "...if you can't, I'd like to teach you how to read!"

...

Wh-What?

The crimson turned a shade of magenta, spreading like a virus across his cheek and nose. Teach him? Teach him how to read? But why? Didn't the prince already have his hands full? His gaze fell over to the task assigned to Reginald, surprised to see a perfectly piled stack of scrolls. Was he finished? Wow, that was fast then. Incredibly fast. Eventually, however, the guard let his gaze fall back to the prince, eyes focused on the book in his hands rather than the blue sapphires that dotted his pupils. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, pulling on his collar to let more airflow through his clothing.

In all fairness, he didn't believe he deserved such a privilege.

Being literate was seen as such an honour; only the noblemen and royalty got the joy of being able to read and write. And that same offer to him? Definitely out of the question. He, well, he didn't believe he was worthy of such a gift. However, he most certainly didn't want to make the prince upset over the matter; maybe he could blame it on something. Something like: "Er-- I...Would we 'ave the time? With supper happening soon?"

"Oh, nonsense! We've got a few hours! Two! That's enough, I'm sure of it! You're a quick learner, you know!" It only occurred to Reginald that there was a big difference between the prince wanting to teach him how to read and Right actually wanting to learn how to perform such an act. A quick sound of hesitation came from the prince, excitement in his tone dying as his shoulders fell to his sides. "Of course...only if you'd allow me."

Oh, God. He couldn't refuse now.

Because yes, despite reading being hard to master, Right couldn't be more excited about the offer, yet nothing on his face implied so. Lost on the prince's words, the guard nodded with certainty, holding his hands up and shaking them slightly. "Na- No-- I'd be t' rilled ta learn, ya majesty--"

Dammit, he was committed to it now. No going back. Just be on high alert.

Although the guard took a hesitant seat on his side, the prince couldn't be more excited, a large grin dotted his face gently. Reginald opened the book to the first page, their shoulders touching as he held the left side of the cover, gesturing for Right to take the opposing side. Trapped by anxiety, the guard's breath wouldn't come out of his throat, numbly grabbed ahold with his right hand to open the book. Foreign symbols came into his vision when it was a simple text of English. Jesus, how was going to learn this? He didn't understand any of it. He couldn't learn how to read-- this was dumb-- this was stupid. "Alright...let's start at the beginning..."

Gently, the prince's voice hit his ears, voice brimming with excitement.

...Sigh.

Guess he didn't have a choice.

But, at least, this was better than staring at the door engravement all damn day, waiting for something that would never happen.

The story Reginald had picked out was something about a girl from a village. An oddball herself; she knew how to read. How ironic. Then one day her father got kidnapped at an old castle that belonged to a cursed prince that had turned into a beast. And to save her father's life, traded herself to be the beast's prisoner. But, interestingly, the two fell in love and the curse on the prince was broken.

Huh.

What an odd tale. Granted, probably one of the first that Right had ever heard of but...still so odd.

The prince went slow with the words from the text, running his finger under words and pronouncing them slowly, teaching him what letters made what sounds. Vowels were undoubtedly the hardest; some words could have two of the same vowel yet make different sounds. Of course, he'd been speaking the language his whole life but...now it was different. He could physically see how goddamn confusing the English language was. By the time they got to Chapter 3, an hour had passed, the prince looking up to the guard brightly. "Alright, your turn!"

Right blinked.

...

"...you know...your turn to read!"

...

H-Huh? "Eh?" He couldn't. "I can't--"

"Of course, you can!" Cheered Reginald, the prince moving his gloved hand to underneath the first word, written beautifully in ink. Calligraphy made it hard to discern which letter was which. Gaining his breath back from swallowing the anxiety lodged in his throat, the guard gritting his teeth, a crimson colour rising to his ears slightly out of embarrassment.

"Er-- I still don't get a lot of it--"

"That's okay! I'll help you along the way! It'll be fine, just watch!" No matter how much he tried to stop himself, he couldn't help that redness from his ears spreading to his face in a blush. Dammit. The prince's excitement was contagious; spreading and capturing his heart like some sort of plague. It made him want to try and complete this mission he was destined to fail at. He'd been learning to read for no less than an hour, and now he was going to read on his own? Seemed impossible. But that darn smile was enough to make him want to. Want to try. Want to learn.

Okay. He could try.

Hopefully.

"Er-- alright--"

It was slow.  Painfully slow.

The commoner needed more help from the prince than he could read words on his own. Nevertheless, successful. Very slow, but steady, gently drifting his voice across the paper to bring meaning to the written dialogue. Even if he made mistakes and made a fool of himself, he was still having fun. The prince was encouraging, giving him compliments and words of pride at when he could read a full sentence on his own. It was...touching, dramatically so. Crimson on his face turned to a soft, pastel magenta, taking comfort in the royal's presence instead of being on edge. Yes, it was technically not allowed for the two to be so close, despite having their shoulders touching, but the commoner didn't care.

The king and noblemen of the kingdom were still ignorant of the idea that Right had met the prince before the assassin outbreak. Heh; funny that the commoner was just coming for a visit but ended up being roped to be his guard. All because he saved the royal's life in an alleyway.

How curious...

However, it led to one problem; his guard was down. He got too complacent.

Find their shoulders sitting side by side was getting a little too uncomfortable, the commoner raised his, moving closer, then wrapping it around the prince's shoulders. There. Nice and comfy. If the feeling of the royal's muscles tense up hadn't occurred, he would've stayed there and continued. But, of course, life wasn't kind to anyone. Dread settled in his heart, abruptly stopping mid-sentence and pushing himself away and standing. Why did he do that? WHY did he do that!? WHYDIDHEDOTHAT?!

"I-I'm so sorry-- I don't know wot came o'er me!" Stamped the commoner, raising his hands and shaking them as if it were some kind of defence. God-- the king would have his head for this. What was he thinking!? Just, ya know, causally wrap your filthy, peasant arm around the shoulders of the prince of the Toppat Kingdom! No stress! Not one ounce of it! Dammit- Dammit- DAMMIT--

"I-t won't 'appen again-- I was just-- I-- I just--"

"Woah-- Woah! Hey, it's okay, Right!" Exclaimed the prince, quickly rising out of his seat and taking a firm grasp of his hand. Right, still scrambling to find something to say, looked down at their hands, caramel eyes finally connecting with the azure blue pupils that belonged to the prince's eyes. They were holding hands--

This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

A commoner shouldn't have been that close to a prince; let alone even within one meter of him. But to wrap his ARMS around his shoulder!? What was he thinking!? What was he doing?!

Shakily, he exhaled, not making any movement to return the grasp to his hand.

"Jesus-- I'm sorry I-- I just--" Stuck on his sentence, the guard brought his free hand to his face to try and conceal the growing magenta colour that lingered there.

"Just-- this 'ole thin' 'f not knowin' ya. And 'avin' to act like I ain't got a clue who you are or 'o you are aside from all the duties ya got stacked up--- it's kind of-- it's so frustratin'. 'Cause, yer know, ya funny and ya kind-- and ya got this presence about ya. And 've gotta act all manners and other bullshit-- I can't even just sit by ya witho't worryin' that 'm gonna get my head chopped off or you worryin' about 'dis stupid code-- JUST--" The commoner let out a grunt, bringing the hand on his face to his hair, tugging it slightly.

"It-It's just-- I wanna han' out wit' ya-- but-- we just can't. And it drives me bonkers."

A deadly silence filled the room as the commoner let weeks worth of venting material, catching the prince by an immense surprise. Of course, a faint colour of rose pink painted over his cheeks at the brief compliments, but nothing could stop or control the sudden frown forming on his face. In a way, the prince was dreading this. The lack of personal freedom for the guard was probably doing his head in, and the fact that he and the commoner knew each other beforehand probably made the situation much much worse for him. Even if Reginald had nothing to do with it (even though he had everything to do with it), he couldn't help but feel pity. He hadn't had freedom his whole life and, whilst he'd grown used to it, it was terrible in the beginning. Difficult, in other words.

Sympathetically, Reginald raised his free hand toward Right's that clutched against his hair, pulling it down from his face.

"Right...I'm okay-- I should be sorry I'm--" The prince let out a muffled sigh. "Y-Yes...I understand. This whole matter is aggravating. And I do want to spend time with you too! Believe me, I do. Heh, kind of why I asked to teach you to read. It's just-- I'm sorry I...I'm not used to this whole...' being close to someone' thing if you get what I mean? I've never met a commoner before you. And even then, there's all these rules and orders. And yet, you seem so nice and friendly compared to what I've been told what commoners are like. What I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry for my reaction with your arm-- I'm just-- following what I've been told to do."

...

An apology?

Jesus--

Reginald had to be the pure heartiest prince he had ever met if HE was apologising for a reaction that Right caused. In a way, it made his blood completely fire, bringing a low scowl to his face. It made the whole situation worse when you considered how the prince was treated by the king. Like garbage, that's what. And even then, Reginald put himself second to Right, considering his comfort to be more important than his own. Dammit-- that colour was rising back to his face, stifling a cough that rose to his throat.

The guard let out some sort of chuckle. "Heh-- we're both tryna follow rules 'ere-- Ehehe--"

Right didn't laugh a lot, but when Reginald heard it, it filled his heart up. A small smile itself met his lips, sharing his laughter. And only for an impossibly short amount of time, the prince's eyes shot purple, but far too quick for anyone to take note of it. They were both kind of messes; wanting to talk and laugh and NOT do something royalty related. The prince held up a hand. "Okay-- Okay. How about this. If I finish tomorrow and we have enough spare time, do you...want to spend that time finishing this book with me? To 'hang out', as you called it. We'll go out to the gardens; where no one can find us."

...

A smile met the guard's lips, putting a hand to his chest and bowing slightly.

"It would be ma greatest 'onour, my prince." ~~~XxX~~~ MEDIEVAL AU FLUFF BOYSSS!!

Thank you so much for reading this fanfic!!

For those wondering, this takes place in the transitional period between Right’s arrival and Galeforce’s arrival x3 

Also, yes I know that Beauty and The Beast didn’t exist yet but shh its cute

Oki have doodle!

[shoichee]

Star-crossed

[Midorima x Reader]

[Hanahaki!au]

Word Count: 8840

Warning: attempted angst, death

Note: This is my first time writing angst, oh dear. Even after years of bawling over other people’s works, I still have no solid idea on how to create heart-wrenching writing. Here goes though.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“I’m really excited!”

“Ne, ne, I honestly can’t wait to bloom…”

“What kind of flowers would my body grow do you think?...”

You only drone out the incessant bustlings of chattering from your classmates as special health education class ended as you sat there patiently waiting for the next teacher to walk into class to start the next period.

Next is… ah, math…

You sigh, heaving out the bulky textbook out of your bag and drop it on the desk with a thump, making a few students flinch at the near proximity. You lay your elbow on the hardcover, allowing your thoughts to drift away as your fingers gently thrum. This teacher, you knew, was the type to start class unceremoniously late.

It was boring. Everyone already knew about the stage of blooming. It had been incanted incessantly to you by adults around you ever since grade school. Yet, Shūtōku high was one of the many high schools that still insisted in “teaching” the basic knowledge of what’s to come soon.

Maybe these classes don’t teach, but rather, serve as a reminder of the inevitable that all growing teenagers will face sooner or later: blooming.

Some people have already experienced it as soon as they graduated out of middle school; they were called the “early bloomers.” That was one of your closer friends.

So what’s it like? you once asked, turning to your new friend at the time. You said you bloomed…

And you recall her nodding her head fervently.

Yeah! she eagerly replied. While it may be painful at first, it went away after a few weeks for me… it’s not so different like getting a period, you know?... I heard it’s different for everyone, but for me, my heart thumped super loudly! And I get these tingly sensations!...

… It’s just like a sign that you’ve become totally mature!

A frantic clang from the doorway interrupts your train of thought as you eye the expectant teacher, completely out of breath as he tries to arrive on time but completely failing miserably.

Unlike in special health ed, most of the students groan at the thought of continuing the onslaught of derivative lessons. You don’t really care either way and promptly open your textbook to the appropriate page.

As class slowly ticks by, your mind wanders off from the subject of class again, drifting to the constant destination of your recent curiosity of bloomings.

You are what everyone calls a “late bloomer.”

You aren’t the only late bloomer, obviously, but it does make you quite anxious at the fact of potentially being the “last one” in your class, or perhaps out of the entire school.

No one wants to really hang out with a late bloomer; they were often stereotyped as “immature” or “abnormal.” After all, this was a normal stage of life, a sign of growing up out of childhood. No one wants to hang around with someone seen as a “kid.”

A soft cough pulls you from your daydreaming as you subtly glance at the desk to your left. It was a classmate of yours, as well as an acquaintance.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying to not bring attention to yourself. “... Are you okay?”

She gives a quiet clearing of her throat before she nods, hand still pressed against her lips. She then shakes her head side to side, her long hair swaying slightly with the motion.

“Ah, don’t worry about me getting sick,” you quietly reassure. “But you should really go to the nurse’s after. Have you tried tying your hair up? I heard doing so can help cool off and keep a clearer head…”

She cautiously drops her hand back to her desk before giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“Thank you, (l/n-san). I’ll be fine.”

“(l/n).”

“Yes!” You stand up from your desk the moment the teacher calls on you, relieved at the fact that he didn’t seem to notice your hushed conversation.

“Could you please come up to the board to solve this problem…?”

---------

Lunch time is always the time you come out of class to search for Takao. As you walk briskly in the hallways, you try to avoid staring at everyone’s floral tattoos located at the side of their necks, imprinted underneath the canopies of their jaws. Each individual’s flower mark showcased what their bodies grew during their stages of blooming.

And each plant was unique to the individual. They could represent their personality, their prospective future, what their future soulmate would be like… anything goes, and every student constantly gossips about what the other’s marks would exactly mean.

You, markless, walk faster, hoping that no one would spot you and flit their eyes to your blank neck… although everyone at school already knows those who have still yet to bloom.

You envy them.

“(y/n)-chan!!” Takao waves you over when you enter the cafeteria. “Over here!”

You briefly scan the tables before you spot him, begrudgingly noticing his pink hyacinth at the crook of his neck, even though you’re happy for him that he passed that stage of his life.

Pink hyacinths… they symbolized playfulness.

You would know; not only did special health classes painstakingly educate students since young for the anticipation of blooming, you took the extra effort of researching many more flowers on your own time, patiently abiding your time to have a striking plant engraved onto you one day.

As you carry your tray and slide into your seat, you finally notice a grumbling greenhead besides Takao.

“Shin-chan! So you do care about having a flower mark after all, eh?”

That’s right, huh. Midorima, too, was markless.

Just like you.

“Your assumptions are getting ridiculous, Takao.”

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that when your eyes always land on people’s necks when you talk to them—pfffft—” He breaks out into guffaws as he clutches his stomach helplessly, which cued Midorima into reaching for the point-guard in an attempt to strangle him.

Pink hyacinths are perfect for someone like Takao. You couldn’t help but let a smile slip from your lips.

“Whoaa!!” Takao peers over to you, ignoring his predicament of being restrained to death by Midorima. “(y/n)-chan! You should smile more!—ow!”

“Worry about yourself first,” he scowls, before tentatively letting him go with a defeated sigh. He opts to hold his lucky charm for the day (a terracotta pot).

“Shintarou-san,” you call out to him, after several minutes of comfortable silence as all three of you ate your lunches. “What do you think your flower would be?”

“Man proposes, God disposes. As long as I always provide everything to maximize my opportunities and follow the order of fate, I do not need to worry about such baseless things.”

You mildly snicker at his typical response. “Is that so, horoscope man.”

“Why waste time worrying about something that’s not in your hands?” He pushes up his glasses with his taped hand. “You should be focusing on what you can do as of now, nanodayo.” When he finishes, he looks up from his lunch to glance at you, noticing your widened eyes.

“Ah…” you stare at him at a loss for words, caught off guard at the fact that he sounded… almost concerned for you. “I’ll keep it in mind, Shintarou.”

“There’s no way that’s our Shin-chan!” Takao rushes to try to feel Midorima’s forehead. “That’s way too good of an advice to be you—”

“Shut up—get off of me—!”

As the two basketball players struggle in each other’s vice grips, they fail to notice the ruddy color having its own moment of blooming onto your cheeks.

---------

“... and what this means, class, is that having your first love is a monumental sign of blooming. That being said, having to experience love for the first time does not automatically guarantee blooming. This natural phenomena is still being studied by scientists around the world. What’s also interesting is that we humans are the only ones with this unique…”

More basic information? You yawn, covering your mouth in hopes no one notices, but as you look around you, your classmates are too engrossed in the lecture to even pay attention to anything else.

Of course they’d pay attention. It’s a special event that will happen to everyone at some point; even though you were sure they all already knew the information to heart, you knew they would take any opportunity to learn more about themselves in any way. You don’t blame them, however. You’re curious about your own body’s idiosyncrasies of not blooming yet.

“... Lies.” You snap your head to the source of the quiet remark to see your classmate on your left, arms crossed on the desk with a minimal scowl on her face.

Noticing your piercing stare, she turns to you before widening her eyes at realizing that she was heard. She abruptly turns her face to the front of the class, trying to pass off the act of suddenly paying attention to the teacher.

You turn your head to face the front as well but you still glance to your left from time to time.

“Are you feeling better?...” you hesitantly whisper.

Not expecting you to show concern, she jumps in her seat before eyeing you warily. As soon as she decides that you were merely concerned, she gives a polite nod and a smile.

“It was just a little flu I caught… Thank you for worrying about me. I’m just a sickly person but I thankfully recover very quickly.”

And with that, she ends the conversation with you to finally genuinely pay attention for the rest of class.

You try to do the same, but you feel knots of lead settling in your stomach.

… Lies?

What was that about?

---------

“(y/n)-chan! Wanna come and watch our practices today?”

You were stopped in the hallways by a grinning Takao, with a trailing Midorima not too far behind with a bundle of faux peacock feathers.

You’re not too sure if you should be concerned with a clinging Takao on your arm and attempting to kidnap you or a stoic Midorima displaying around a ridiculous souvenir.

“Huh? W-why?”

“You’re obviously free right now, obviously.”

“That doesn’t make sense—wah!”

Before you can put any further word in, Takao is dragging you to the gym, with an exasperated Midorima being figuratively pulled along with you two as well.

“Here we are, (y/n)-chan!” Takao ushers you beyond the gym doors and indicates the bleachers for you to sit and watch.

“You really think I’m going along with all of this, Kazu?”

“I know you better than anyone.”

“No you don’t,” you frown, turning away from him with a huff.

“Takao.”

Takao immediately gulps at the call of his name from Midorima and both you and him turn around to see a particularly hostile green-haired person.

“Sorry, sorry! Please don’t hit me!” And Takao races to the lockers in an attempt to escape from his fury.

Midorima relaxes his stance after he leaves and turns to you.

“Thanks, Shintarou.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “He was just being more troublesome than usual.” But the way he clumsily handled his frames told a different story to you.

You laugh at him. “If you insist, Shintarou-san.”

“R-right…”

“Hey! Shin-chan!” Takao yells from the opposite side of the gym. Get over here! Captain is coming!”

At the captain being mentioned, Midorima straightens up before jogging over to warm up.

You suppose you can watch their practice this evening.

---------

You’ve never seen anyone handle a basketball like that.

What the hell? His range was damn near impossible.

You were thankful that you allowed Takao to drag you over to the gym to watch. Otherwise, you would’ve never learned about this side of Midorima.

Wait… Midorima?

No, you shake your head. It’s only because it was a lot more interesting than all of your classes, that’s all.

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra, yet every time your eyes land on Midorima’s shooting form, your mind goes blank.

You were absolutely captivated… not that you would ever admit it though.

---------

“... scientists are still doing social experiments on the blooming stage of humans. You may be wondering, if it’s been a part of societies for thousands of years, why are we studying it? Well, during old times, they were often explained using myths and folk stories…”

It really sucked that special health ed class was a mandatory requirement for all first-years. All of this was old news to you still.

“... new recent findings came out that answered the everlong question of whether the bloomings can actually be dangerous for humans, and how dangerous.”

Oh? That was new. But you suppose there was no way they’d tell little kids about the possibilities and risks with bloomings.

“Obviously, we know it can be fatal, just like pregnancies going awry and such. While we don’t know the exact mortality rate, researchers are trying to develop new medicines to curb away the potential amount of deaths associated with bloomings. But other scholars suggest not to drain precious resources into medicine development when they can use it for more pressing medical issues, and I know many of you believe this as well. Their take on this issue is that ‘blooming is something that should not be tampered with and the success of bloomings rely solely on the individual’s abilities and willpower to come of age since it’s unique to every person’...”

Unique… He was right. Even the signs and symptoms of a blooming vary greatly for everyone. The only thing everyone had in common was that their bodies grew plants. Even the way plants grow vary from person to person. That’s what they taught since the very beginning.

“... since blooming is unique to every individual, creating a standard medicine and procedure for all would be impossible, or at the very least inaccessible due to high expenses in accommodating medicine for every patient.”

Most of the students in the room nod in fervent agreement, and pretty soon, the room was filled with chattering at the new information they took in.

You glance to your classmate on your left again but you were surprised to see that her seat was empty.

Was she not here from the start?

You sigh and chide yourself for not noticing at the beginning of homeroom, but quickly dismiss the casual thought for more immediate problems like your upcoming exam for chemistry in a few periods.

Ah, oh well.

---------

“If you’re looking for Takao, forget it. He’s in detention for causing a disruption for one of the teachers last period.”

“Sh-shintarou?!” You whirl around to find Midorima alone with his bear plush. “You’re not at practice?”

“We practice tomorrow.”

“I see,” you say, not knowing how to continue the conversation from here.

“I guess I’ll be going home early then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you try to walk past Midorima, he sidesteps quickly to block your pathway, and you walk right into him before stepping back out of embarrassment.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—!”

“(y/n).” He averts his eyes while sliding up his glasses. “You’re walking home alone?”

Still in a state of flusters, you promptly nod your head as you stare down at your shoes.

“Come. We better get going before it gets too late. Cancers will have unlucky encounters after dusk.” Midorima jerks his head to the direction of the exit, motioning for you to follow before he turns on his heel and walks away.

“Sh-shintarou?”

“I-it’ll only be… troublesome if something were to happen.” He stops walking and looks back at you. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”

“R-right. Coming!”

---------

It wasn’t completely unexpected that the walk home would have an awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Usually, Takao would be the social “buffer” and the proxy between you two, but now that he was out of the picture, neither of you knew how to strike up a casual conversation. That was more of Takao’s specialty.

“... I’ve thought about what you said.” At his voice, you turn to look up at his contemplative face. You give him an inquisitive look to encourage him to continue his thought. “... Although I’m not so certain what kind of plant I would grow. Not even the Oha Asa could predict it.”

“Ah, I see…” You turn your face to face the front as you gaze at the sunset ahead. “Are you afraid of the uncertainty?” At your question, he falls silent, giving you the confirmation that he was, indeed, scared.

“Shintarou,” you murmur. “You’re not alone in feeling the uneasiness of blooming.”

“Wha—I never said anything about blooming, nanodayo—”

“Sure,” you interject. “Well, for me, I really hope I’d get a gorgeous flower, a flower so breathtaking that would make everyone stop in their tracks to admire the mark. I want to change those stares of pity and disdain into those of admiration and envy…” You can tell he’s hanging onto your every word despite the fact that he wasn’t facing you, his steps slowing down ever so slightly to be as close to you to hear what you had to say without deeming it suspicious.

“I envy Takao… a lot,” you sigh, and Midorima turns his head slightly to you at the mention of Takao’s name. “He already has a flower mark and he’s so put-together despite his cheerfulness… He’s really reliable.”

“I see.”

“... and the truth is, I’m really scared. I feel like I’m going to be the last person to ever get a mark. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, with my body—”

He stops in his tracks.

“That’s a foolish line of thought.”

You turn to face him, ready to glare at him, but you stop when you make eye contact, startled at the intensity of his gaze. You swear you can see your figure reflected in his viridian irises. A few seconds of suffocating silence crawl by, and you break away eye contact, intimidated by his gaze and the possible implication of his words.

“Sorry about that.”

He says nothing in return.

The rest of the walk home became even more uncomfortable, with Midorima walking slightly ahead and you making a wordless effort to constantly match his stride.

You don’t know why, but seeing his taut back to you squeezes your heart ever so slightly, the mute badumps ever feeling like a constant dull sore.

“Shintarou…” you softly call out after you arrive at your house. The sun had left the horizon shortly before you arrived at your destination. “Thank you for walking me home, and… sorry, it looks like it’s past dusk now, but will you be able to get home safely?”

“Fool,” he huffs. “I have my lucky charm to compensate for my misfortune today.”

You smile at him, relieved at the thought that maybe that moment before was all just your overthinking.

“Of course, Shintarou.”

---------

It was hard looking at Midorima without losing your cool from that point on. It wasn’t like the two of you did anything out of the ordinary yesterday, excluding the fact that he volunteered to walk you home. But you knew he just cared for you in his own way, as a friend.

As a friend.

“(y/n)-chan!” Takao tries to pounce on you, pulling your cheeks apart. “What’s with the nasty frown on your face? Didn’t I tell you that you should smile more?”

“Shtop—pawling—Takow—!”

As he laughs at your stretched face from his pulling, you manage to pry his hands off of your cheeks and take refuge behind the sour-faced shooting guard. “Shintarou! Save me from Takao!”

“Takao, come here.” He gave a harsher punch to his head than usual, and Takao did not fail to comment on it.

“Sheesh, that hurt even more, Shin-chan? What did I do?—oh, ohhhhhhh.” His grimace lit up to an expression of realization and mischievousness. “I see.”

“Your antics are getting more and more preposterous. If you have that much energy, you should expend it during practice, nanodayo.”

“Right, right, Shin-chan!” He waves Midorima off before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “But (y/n)-chan, don’t think you're off the hook just yet!”

You can only sigh as he dramatically waggles his finger at you while Midorima clicks his tongue, opting to walk to his classroom instead.

“H-hey! Don’t leave me behind!”

And with that, the duo disappeared right before the warning bell rang.

---------

You sense an uncharacteristic aura of hostility directed at you right when you entered class, but you shake your head before plopping at your designated seat. As much as you try to mind your own business, the hostility you felt peaked even more. You glance around before your eyes fall on your classmate to your usual left.

She was silently seething, but particularly at you.

“Is… something the matter?” You shot her a worried look. “You were gone yesterday, right? Did your flu kick up again?”

“What’s with you?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do you care so much for me? I never asked for it.”

“Wh-what? I’m just worried? Did I say something wrong?”

“You are—”

“I am?”

And the bell rang with such convenient timing to interrupt the two of you.

“It’s nothing. Forget it.”

And class started without a further word from her, and as lectures progress, you peek over to her desk to see her never looking your way. The least you do, you decide, is to try to apologize and talk to her afterschool.

“... a revolutionary finding was published all over the news yesterday regarding bloomings. He proposed the most controversial proposition yet: bloomings neither affect the human body’s growth and maturity physiologically nor psychologically and that these ‘effects’ from blooming are merely all placebo. His conclusions have caused an uproar in the world of scholarship, but what I want for you students to do is to write an in-class paper about your reaction to these potential revelations…”

You sit up straight, and for the first time, you listen to his lessons with utmost attention. Your mind racing, you rush to grab a suitable pencil before you start to write your thoughts for the assignment. You peer over to your classmate to see her already writing furiously. You do the same.

She was the first student to screech the chair as she stood up, daintily holding the paper to bring it to the front desk.

All you could discern from her paper, even despite the neat writing, was:

I am ultimately relieved.

---------

“W-wait! Please!” You dash out of the classroom, trailing after your classmate who hightailed it out as soon as possible.

“Leave me alone already!” she heaves over her shoulder, willing her legs to run even faster.

“Your… homework! I have to give… work that you… missed!” And you had relatively no problem speeding up to match her pace.

“Can you just stop following me?! I can just get it from my teachers! What’s your deal?!”

“I want to apologize—!” But before you can finish your sentence, your classmate drops onto her knees, clasping her mouth in complete desperation. “H-hey! What’s wrong?!”

She wheezed into her palms before she got up and ran again before you could completely catch up to her.

She busted open the main doors and ran into the secluded areas of the school courtyard, hoping to lose your trail of her, but as soon as she turned from looking behind her shoulder to the front again, you managed to cut her way off.

“Your… homework…” you gasp for air, shakily handing her the papers that were clenched in your hand.

The next thing you register are splatters of blood on the sheets. And your classmate desperately holding her coughs in.

“Hey!...” You hold her frame, slowly dropping the two of you onto the ground in kneeling positions to try to ease the burden on her body, soiled papers already discarded to the side.

Cough. “Don’t—” Cough. “Fucking—” Cough. “Touch me…”

As she spoke, her hands loosen up their grip against her mouth, but as soon as she did, petals and buds cascaded from her lips. Which were all soaked in blood.

“I…” You dumbly look at the pile of flowers in front of her. You couldn’t even tell what type of flowers they were from all the blood. “You’re blooming?” You always thought she already did.

She slaps your hand, which was on her shoulder the entire time, before tucking her strands behind her ear to prevent them from being further drenched in crimson.

Her neck, being exposed for the first time, was blank.

“C-congratulations!” You say, holding both her shoulders this time with excitement. “You’re—!”

Slap.

The sound resonated through the area, which luckily was mostly empty. Your face pulsates with a stinging heat.

“I’m fucking dying!” She stands up shakily from her kneeling position. “How could you say such an awful thing—I’m dying, I’m fucking dying…”

You can only stare at her in shock from her being so volatile for the first time since you met her, or the fact that she said such a morbid thing.

“I don’t… I don’t understand—?”

“I’m sick!” she seethes, her throat struggling to choke out words. Tears run silently down her agonized face, diluting the thick blood smeared across her face.

“I’m so sorry…! I didn’t know your flu was this ba—”

“You’re the reason why I’m dying,” she hoarsely spat.

The silence was so palpable that even the labored breathing from her was unnaturally loud.

“What? Why me?”

“I…” she hesitates, before dropping to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to—it’s not your fault, I…

… I’m so scared.” Hiccup. “There isn’t any medicine to help me…”

You hand her a tissue from your bag to try to clean up the bloody mess off of her, but before you can dab the tissue to her face, she gingerly grabs your wrist.

“I… love Takao.”

What? You held your breath, anticipating to hear what she’d say next.

“But he rejected me not too long ago. I thought I could get over him and be done with blooming relatively quickly but…” She pointedly looks at you. “Whenever he’s so close to you, especially as of late… my heart hurts. It hurts, it hurts so badly and I don’t know, and then I just start coughing more, and more, and more.”

“It’s just a stage of life,” you insist. “Maybe your case is the most extreme, but—”

“Oh, stop it already,” she snarls. “You still believe in whatever they feed you about this ‘blooming’? It’s a disease, for fuck’s sake.” She tries to get up again. “I thought… I could be friends with you because you were the only one who wasn’t being sucked into their rhetorics… guess I was wrong.”

You were still on your knees when you tried to stretch out your hand to her, but retracted it after seeing her stumble away from you. But as she did so, she hacked out a new bouquet of flowers, but this time, you could see tiny white flowers rimmed with pale blue.

Morning glories…

They meant unrequited love.

“(y/n)...?” she softly asked, for the first time using her usual mild-mannered tone of voice with you today. She disregarded the mess of petals she made around her, appearing to be accustomed to the unsettling sight.

“... yes?”

“Do you love Takao?”

“I would never see him that way.”

“That’s… good to hear…” She gives you a defeated close-eyed smile.

“Wait… you still need to get cleaned up.”

You got up on your feet to try to guide her face your way to wipe off, and as you try to scrub the dried clots of blood away, she manages to croak a laugh.

“I thought that you were trying to rub it in my face about Takao the entire time whenever you talked to me… I was so wary of you, I was so blinded…” You silently listen as you pour your water bottle over the next tissue.

“Do you know why teens in particular have to pay attention to when they’ll bloom?”

“No…” You furrow your brows, already reevaluating about everything you supposedly already knew about blooming. “I don’t.”

“Teens are more likely to have their first love than any other person. If they can overcome their first unrequited love… that would mean… they are ready to apparently to survive and carry on with their lives…

… tell me… am I not good enough to be alive? I can’t even get over—”

You only hush her as you scrub away the last remnants of blood from her skin. Her clothes were unfortunately already stained.

“That’s the best I could do,” you quietly say. “Please get home as soon as possible. And take care of yourself.”

“The paper we had today in class… When our teacher talked about the new findings of blooming research, I was so happy. But looking around class, no one seemed to share the same sentiments. Even still, I am glad about the possibility that one day, we’d stop emphasizing so much on these marks…

“Although I wish I made the attempt to become closer friends with you sooner, I have no regrets now… I’m so glad you’re here…

 “I feel so relieved…”

---------

The next day of school, you had an ominous feeling settled within the pits of your stomach. You come to school early, deciding to sit at your desk the entire time and reading to pass the time. You did not feel like talking to your happy-go-lucky friend and his grumpy pet, as much as you usually enjoy their company.

Ever so often, you would glance at the clock and wish for it to come faster.

The bell eventually rings and most of the students crowd into the classroom into their seats. The homeroom teacher promptly follows after and puts her bag onto the front desk. But the seat to your left… was empty.

“Everyone… I have some unfortunate news to share,” she solemnly says. No, no, no… it can’t be.

Your mind goes blank as you stare at the teacher, vaguely reading her lips as one thing went in and out the other ear.

“... she unfortunately passed away. She wasn’t able to bloom.”

Your heart, already struggling to keep afloat on the last shreds of optimism, sank.

“Wha…? She’s gone?”

“That’s such a pity…”

“She was in our class? Since when?”

“Yikes, she wasn’t even able to bloom? That sucks for her, honestly.”

You stare blankly at your desk, not registering the fact that the special health ed class teacher took over the class after homeroom.

The whispers around the gossiping students only serve as a cruel reminder that late bloomers did not get any sympathy from others.

You needed to bloom, and fast.

---------

You only manage to exit out of class and find the cafeteria out of pure muscle memory, but your mind constantly goes back to yesterday evening with her. Were you the last person she got to speak with before she died? Was she scared? Did she truly die happy? You will never get to know.

You stop before the cafeteria doorway, inhaling and exhaling to bring your conscience back into the present day, and slowly stroll in. Takao and Midorima were already deep in conversation, so you stop, waiting for the perfect opportunity to join them.

“Shin-chan, have you heard?” Takao says, holding up his fork. “A student our year died from blooming.”

“It’s not in my matters to worry about, although I would like to give her family my condolences.” Midorima takes his time to cut his patty cleanly with a knife.

“It must suck though, to think this would happen… isn’t it a bit sad, Shin-chan?”

“It’s easily preventable, nanodayo.” He chews a small piece before continuing. “I would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love. I’d rather be markless than fall in love.”

He would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love…

He would’ve never made such a mistake…

He would’ve never fallen in love.

And certainly not with you.

Your heavy heart spikes in a pulse. Your heart was now racing for the wrong reasons. Those dull sores were now nothing compared to the incessant squeezing on your heart. And it won’t let up. You try to steady your breathing to calm yourself but your intake of air almost feels as if it’s being cut off.

You feel as if you can’t breathe.

You step back a couple steps before you dash to the nearest restroom, ignoring the stares of a few students around you.

“Speaking of the girl, wasn’t she in (y/n)-chan’s classroom? I actually haven’t seen her around today.”

“Takao, let me eat in peace.”

“Sheesh, you’re such a downer, Shin-chan.”

---------

You not being able to breathe was not just figuratively.

You ran to the restroom up on the 3rd floor, where you knew it was always mostly empty. You opened the door of the furthest stall and locked yourself in before you tried to heave whatever was blocking your airway.

1… 4… 7… 8 fern leaves—fronds—were choked out in a string of forced wheezes. They all floated seemingly innocently on the water of the toilet bowl.

Your body trembles, not able to take the sudden physical burden on it.

You should be happy, you really should. This was what you wished and prayed for all these years. But whatever you coughed out wasn’t even pretty-looking; hell, it wasn’t even a flower.

“I’d rather be markless…”

With Midorima’s words playing back to back in your head like a broken record, your lungs had the visceral reaction to gasp for more air before throwing up the rest of the leaves. It took the rest of lunch for you to stand up properly and collect yourself before you headed back to class.

You wished and you wished for your blooming to come, but now that your signs became apparent, you suddenly don’t want to bloom.

---------

Classes became harder to focus on, especially with the persistent dull stabs echoing in your heart. You feel that this pain was being constantly amplified and spread to the rest of your body.

You’re tired already, and it was only the initial stages.

School finished before you even knew it. Maybe it was because of the constant distraction your pain provided. A benefit from this new situation, if you were trying to be hopelessly optimistic, is that you wouldn’t be bored anymore at least.

You walk out of class in a slight daze, loosely scanning your surroundings until your eyes land on Takao and Midorima, although your gaze lingered on Midorima longer than you want to admit.

You hate this. The moment you figured that you fell in love with him was also the moment you learned that it was unrequited. If that wasn’t the unluckiest thing that ever happened to you, you don’t know what else is.

As you walk towards them, you toy with the idea of carrying around lucky items and taking Midorima’s advice in doing whatever you can to make your life easier (especially as of late), but you decide against it, trying not to dig your own grave by purposely doing things that reminded you of the green-haired boy even more.

“Kazu! Shintarou!” You casually wave over to them, masking the pain you felt at the sharp jabs you felt every so often in your chest.

“Oh? There you are,” Takao walks to your side to drop his arm on your shoulder. “Where you been, (y/n)-chan?”

“Been busy with… assignments and school.”

“Ah, well that can’t be helped. Speaking of busy, our captain is upping our practices, so we’re going to be gone a lot of the times.”

“No, no, don’t worry about me, just focus on basketball,” you say. “After all, that’s what you’re most passionate about. Don’t let me stop you.”

“You sure are understanding,” he laughs as he ruffles your hair. “But so—wah? Shin-chan, where are you going? Don’t leave me behind, damn it!”

Midorima won’t even speak with you…

“Seeyah! Nice seeing you!”

“Yeah… bye, Takao and… Shintarou…” By the time you spoke Midorima’s name, it barely came out as an audible whisper.

Somewhere within your heart, you hoped to be able to speak with Midorima but you wonder if he’s avoiding you on purpose.

As you walk home, alone, you think about the conversation you and Midorima had when he walked with you.

Had you misinterpreted Midorima in thinking that he wanted to bloom?

Was Midorima not the type to even want a mark?

In the end, were you just projecting your own desires and insecurities onto him?

The more you think, the more you realize how little you truly know about him. Right on cue, your windpipe constricts and spasms, signalling for you to find something to throw up in.

The nearest trash can was sufficient, and besides, no one was out in the streets to see a pitiful you hacking out with atrocious noises in an attempt to coax the leaves out. You pant in an attempt to calm your breathing, noticing the small spots of blood already staining dots on the vibrant fronds. Viscous blood mixed with your saliva hangs precariously from your lips, waiting to separate and fall into the bin with the leaves.

Your hands, grasping the trash can’s rims, shake in trying to hold your body up. And they tremble harder when you squint your eyes to start sobbing.

Your thick tears managed to fall into the bin before the ropy strands of blood dangling from your lips.

---------

You decide to spend most of your free time, at home and at school, researching about blooming beyond what your education system fed you. At school, you properly utilize the library, scouring every book on the subject you could find. But you weren’t surprised to see only books that talked about topics that were already covered in class.

Your fervid research took your mind off of Midorima, which subsequently stalled your stage of blooming.

You were going to start at the foundation of blooming: what exactly was it?

While the question is still being debated among the top scientists in the country, you took it upon yourself to try to come with an answer for yourself. For all you were concerned with, everything you thought you knew about blooming felt like an intricately-woven lie.

All the theorizing in your mind halted when you coincidentally found Midorima in one of the library sections.

“Sh-shintarou…?”

At your voice, he jumps out of his skin and then freezes. “What are you doing here?... Don’t you have practice?”

“Obviously I do, nanodayo…” he mutters, sliding his glasses up. You hate that you’ve noticed his habits even before you fell for him, but now that you did, you were even more hyper aware of everything he does. “But they insisted I rest for the actual games.”

“... while the others continue practice like normal?”

He ignores your question as he turns around to walk away. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll be going.”

“W-wait!” You unconsciously grab the back of his uniform shirt. Shit.

He turns around, eyeing you and waiting what you had to say.

“Well, I… I have to go home—right now! And well, since Takao is at practice I was wondering if you—”

He frowns before calmly replying. “No.”

No?

He leaves.

You stand there completely devastated. You don’t know whether to be furious at him and hate him to get over your pain or to do nothing but collapse against the bookshelf and silently cry your heart out.

You did the latter.

---------

The more you think about your unrequited love, the faster you will bloom. The faster you overcome and mature, the faster your blooming will pass. That’s what the books say.

But if you think about them more, isn’t that just a first-row ticket to accelerating to your death? Perhaps your late classmate was right in which blooming wasn’t something to boast about.

Your eyes have been puffy for days, although you mask it quite well with skincare and a dab of concealer. Nonetheless, you still look unwell and unnaturally pale at other parts of your face.

Your other classmates don’t pay attention to you, and for once, you’re grateful that your markless status helped you in flying under everyone’s radar.

You think you’re getting delusional. To ease your own pain during class, you now make it a little hobby to come up with different scenarios in how you would be saved from this.

What if you stop coming to school for a few weeks to see if anyone notices that you went missing?

What if you collapse in the hallway while walking with your friends and then Midorima panics and confesses his undying love for you?

What if an earthquake hit the bustlings of Tokyo and you were one of the only students who couldn’t be rescued by professionals and you were trapped because of your blooming body—and then maybe perhaps Midorima—

“(y/n).”

“Y-y-yes?” You immediately stand up without missing a beat.

“Could you read the passage from lines 37 to 49?...”

“Yes!...”

This was stupid. What were you even thinking at this point?

Honestly, your best option was to do everything in your power to get over Midorima and get your long-deserved mark.

---------

It’s been a couple of days.

While you still fantasize a few “damsel in distress” scenarios sometimes, you feel numb in a good way; your body was accustomed to the dull thuds, so you don’t even feel them as much anymore, and your mind has been clearer ever since the passing of your acquaintance, but at this point, you’re more inclined to call her your friend. You still hacked up a few ferns, though.

You decide to visit her grave on the weekend, which was freshly dug and cemented; it’s been a few weeks since her passing after all. As stupid as it sounded, you got her morning glories. Her spirit might hate you for constantly reminding her the cause of her death, but it’s the only flower that truly reminds you of her, and the only flower that made such an impact on you.

You pay your respects and spend the afternoon with her, murmuring how she was right after all and now it was your turn to finally go what she went through. You also talk about how Takao was doing, and how Shūtōku was competing right now against the big schools. You affectionately rub her gravestone before you leave.

You happen to pass by the stadium of where the esteemed Winter Cup was being held. That was where your team was competing wasn’t it?

You stop, however, when you see a particular greenhead near, with an unfamiliar blonde… and a pink-haired girl, a gorgeous one at that.

Thump… thump… thump…

You were supposed to be over him. You weren’t supposed to care about his affairs. But you saw him being so casual with her while she was holding a baby husky, you suddenly felt as helpless as the you back in the cafeteria, at the doorway, when you heard what Midorima said.

You already told your late friend that you got over Midorima. The last thing you wanted to do now was to end up lying to her that you never did.

You tear your eyes away and bolt, tears blurring your vision as you run in the general direction to where you thought was your home. You hoped that your parents were still at work, because you did not have the courage to tell them that you were a disappointment because you couldn’t even do the bare minimum of blooming. And you certainly hoped her spirit wasn’t following you somehow, because you didn’t want to be the reason for her suffering again, as unreasonable as it sounded.

By the time you arrived at your gates, you couldn’t control the resurfacing of ferns from your lungs as you felt the blood spilling in bursts with the leaves, along with the loud hiccups and desperate wails that escaped from your body. You had left a visible trail of complementary colors of red and green. But you didn’t care. Guilt and rejection wracked your body to the point beyond properly functioning.

Despite the muddy colors that fill your vision, you manage to clumsily use the keys to enter into your house, but walking beyond those gates proved to be more troublesome as those muddy colors soon became even hazier and your legs wobbled weaker. You stumbled and tripped and slipped yet you made the effort to get back up again. You knew you were going to have to hide the dark bruises that formed from you constantly crashing… and probably come up with excuses if you couldn’t obscure all of them. You beg your body to make it to your room at the very least.

I’ll… just sleep it off… it’ll all be okay… I’ll wake up, and everything will just be a dream… a dream…

You collapse onto the floor of the living room, your house door still completely open from moments before.

It must be your room’s bed, right? How else would it explain why you felt so at ease right now?

You feebly choke, too lethargic to even hold up a hand to stop the contents of your blooming from spilling all over the floor.

Ah… won’t they be mad when they’d get back from home?... Maybe you should clean up your bed.

But a short nap sounds heavenly at the moment, and your body has the same idea, your heart relaxing and easing up on the painful thuds for the first time in a while.

You peacefully flutter your eyes, registering amongst the haze the brilliant shade of greens the fern exhibited, which truly reminded you of the person who ultimately could not return your love back… a true sight for sore eyes like yours.

“Sh… ta… rou…”

You vaguely felt your throat tickling from the inside before you lost complete consciousness.

The fern that represented eternal youth… new life… new beginnings… even until the end, you could not comprehend why your body decided to grow ferns.

The sight on the floor was eerily ethereal. Your face was completely serene as your lips were parted by long, elegant ferns emerging from your esophagus, watered by fresh crimson. Your body looked like it was made to be a delicate, asymmetrical vase for the newly-sprouted foliage. There was nothing but silence, save for the wall clock’s ticking that signaled your death.

---------

“Midorin? What’s wrong?” Momoi tilted her head up at Midorima, who started to palpitate. “Did the games pump you up?”

“Obviously not.” He glanced at her pointedly before he excused himself.

“H-uh? Hold up—Midorin!”

At her voice, he took longer strides to outpace, even lose, her, and he sharply made a turn to a deserted area behind the stadiums. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe—

A cough. Two coughs. Then his floodgates bursted, with a yellow petal fluttering into his hand before he coughed up the rest of the hyacinth flower, its scent steeped in the headache-inducing odor of metal.

The yellow hyacinth… while the pink hyacinth tattooed on Takao meant playfulness, his own flower meant jealousy.

The first time he felt it was when Takao dragged you to the gym and proclaimed that he knew you better than anyone. His own heart thrashed in its place at the sight of Takao being so confident and easygoing around you. While beating Takao managed to subdue his inner pain, a seed of doubt was still inevitably planted within.

The second time he felt a stronger wave of envy was when he saw you patiently waiting for Takao to come out of his class.

The third time he felt his heart do an awful kick in his upper rib cage was when he heard you spoke so highly of Takao as he walked you home. No matter how much he tried to get close to you, he knew he could never outdo Takao socially. The fact that he could only get as close as he did to you was indirectly thanks to Takao. He was silent that evening, his mind swirling from the self-hatred and jealousy of his innate friendliness to everyone… especially you.

You both ironically envied Takao for different reasons.

As soon as he waited for you to safely enter your house, he widened his eyes as his throat started to twitch. Clasping his lucky item, he bolted to the nearest grass area outside a fence to barf up his umpteenth whole hyacinth flower, with crushed petals and stems.

That’s when he knew that not even the Oha Asa could not save him from this, not unless he took a different approach.

He hated it. He could not emphasize it any further than that. The way you allowed Takao to get so close to you, the way he saw how Takao knew what was going on inside his head. He hated yet envied his natural ability to read people.

 So what did he do? He only did what he only knew how to do in social situations: walk away.

He’d never admit that he was in love. Certainly not to Takao. He’ll keep denying it to him to the bitter end. He told himself that he would show Takao someday, that he was, without a doubt, more suitable to be by your side.

He wanted to get over his love for you as soon as possible so he could adorn a flower tattoo…

If he did… would you notice him too?

Would he be a man worthy of your love?

Avoiding you broke him in many ways. Every time he did, he kept rethinking about his plan. Was this a good idea?

But being the stubborn person he was, he decided to not budge. He’d figure that the Oha Asa would give him the ultimate blessings for Cancer someday soon, and he could act accordingly then. For now, he figured he should lay low.

He’ll never breathe a word of his blooming to Takao. He didn’t want to be the next person making that same mistake as your classmate, yet here he was, a perfect example of falling for the exact same trap, despite knowing the consequences.

He couldn’t help it. Not if it was you.

Yet, Takao being the sharp point-guard that he was, noticed how Midorima had trouble keeping up during practices. Midorima didn’t know what Takao told the captain, but the next thing he knew, he wasn’t allowed to practice under the pretense of “saving his strength before the games.” As much as he wanted to argue, he couldn’t do much when the captain’s glare pierced through him, daring him to defy the captain’s order. He couldn’t even play basketball anymore in order to distract himself from thoughts of you.

As he continued to think back about all the failed interactions he tried to initiate with you, his lips leaked petal after soaked petal onto the concrete as he propped his forearms and head against the wall.

“Damn it… damn it… damn it…”

He slowly slid his down, his fisted arms and head still against the wall, until he dropped his knees onto the hard floor. He tried to regain his composure, but it was difficult with his knees mushing the bloodied flowers already on the concrete and the fresher flowers ever so continuing to fall on his lap.

He kept hacking up hyacinths blossoms, hoping he could clear his throat and stabilize his breathing again before he could go back into the stadium. Even after nonstop regurgitation, its glaring yellow color kept mocking at his macabre predicament, taunting him to try to stop the flow of its fatal petals.

He slammed his fist against the wall. He had to tough it out… how else could he ever face you?

But the strength of his wall pounding told a different story. It lacked physical strength even with his unwavering conviction. Midorima was dying. He was dying and he wasn’t even able to have a single thing in his favor.

For the first time, he cursed his fate, cursed the horoscopes, cursed astrology and all the unseen deities in the cosmos for concocting up such a horrible thing for only humans.

“... It’s really frustrating… being like this…”

Midorima gave a final, painful rasp before his body completely slumped, his raised arms going limp at his sides. His body eventually fell onto his side, unable to hold up its own weight without support.

His viscid blood slowly soaked his verdant hair, his orange jersey jacket and sweats, and his golden hyacinths. Warm colors ironically encompassed his ever-growing cold corpse, illustrating a striking yet haunting still-life painting, lying in wait for the next person to discover at the back of the stadium…

[shini--chan]

1p (yandere) allies or axis The (country)reader gives them love and affection, because she knows they in love with her. They have a relationship, for few months. One day they come home and in the private office are really important documents missing. And they see the reader in the next meetings not (for years?). One day they see her again, what would they do?

Yandere Allies

America

He grinned menacingly at the sight of you. Anger was already slithering through your veins, the harsh snap of it causing his mind to fall into a familiar calculating state. He had fantasied about this moment for a long time, yearned for your touch for a long time, desire to crush you for your transgressions for a long time.

Maybe he was a moonstruck fool that simply couldn’t let go for feeling his heart palpitate upon the sight of you. Or he was just plain sadistic by the blissful way his blood rushed upon seeing you pale with fear.

Running away wouldn’t work at this point, since Alfred would be dead set on obtaining you and making you repent for your sins. He wouldn’t take espionage lightly, especially since you represented a honey-trap. All the memories he would have about you would be pleasant ones, and he would reflect back on those times where you were so perfect fondly. America would aim to recapture those moments and mould your persona to his liking.

He may or may not meet you again by chance, or he would have been actively hunting you down. If there is anything that can enrage America, it would be being bested – something you would have somehow accomplished with frightening ease. And something you would have to pay for. In Alfred’s eyes, it would just be fair play.

Canada

One moment you were calmly going through the aisles of the store, the next you were staring into indigo eyes. There was a smile on Matthew’s face – the soft, considerate kind that didn’t reach his eyes. There, an icy glint lingered, dangerous and subtle like frostbite in the bleak mid-winter.

Internally, you knew that was far more deadly than the usual temper tantrums, that people throw once they are betrayed. By the likes of it, you had made a fatal error in your calculations.

If you thought you’d be facing a flimsy little wallflower that has no backbone, then think again. Matthew’s anger is ice, and therefore he isn’t as blinded by emotions as others would be. Sure, deep down he would still love you (or rather be obsessed with you), yet that doesn’t mean that you would be off the hook.

No way in the whole world would he let you get away with what you did. However, with his kind words and sugary tone you wouldn’t be aware of the full extent of his rage. Unluckily for you, Canada is a hunter and he would know exactly how to pin you down and ensure you wouldn’t be able to escape until he would have his justice.

 China

“It has been a very long time, hasn’t it, my little rabbit?”, a silky-smooth voice inquired behind you. Startled, you whipped around, nearly spilled the champagne that you were delicately holding, and stared him in the eye.

The amber was cat-like, just like the tight smile on his lips. Feline as he was, no doubt he had all intentions to play with his prey. The music being drawn from the piano would be the requiem of your pride, and the other guests to the gala the audience to applaud the abrupt turn of your fate.

“When you went away, you broke my heart. I was struck by betrayal and I couldn’t keep my thoughts off you.

“Often, I would fantasize about you – what I would say, what would you say. But in the end, that is all irreverent. I’m simply a victim of the circumstances, here to set matters straight and you have gone ahead and set the stage. I am most touched”, he drawled, genuine hurt in his light tone.

The other people had started to look and whisper, the impending fall from grace too delicious to pass up. Such negative attention made you clutch the fragile stem of the flute even tighter.

Glass shards could never evoke as much pain as Yao’s sharp tongue.  

China would be smouldering with rage underneath the artfully crafted theatre mask. First of all, he would angry at himself. Due all the experience he has under his belt, he should know better than to fall for the tricks of some young fledgling. Still he did and the implications infuriate him. Nonetheless, the whole affair would be analysed and carefully catalogued in his mind to prevent you from ever having the upper hand again.

Secondly, he would be upset with you. Did all those kind words really mean nothing to you? All those tender moments, all those affections – a magnificent lie? He’d hope that deep down you had sincerely fallen in love with him. Through he wouldn’t be so foolish to act on that assumption. As old as he may be, he isn’t senile.

Try as you might to wriggle out of it, he wouldn’t let you. In an indirect way, you would have brought disgrace to his name by making him look like a fool. That means he wouldn’t hesitate to thoroughly humiliate you in public. Then he’d ensure that you would wind up in his gracious custody – with no means of ever leaving him. Having then isolate you, he would use that precious time with you to re-educate you. Whoever did it before he entered your life evidently did a measly job.  

England

When you switched on the light to your living room, you nearly tripped over your own feet in shock. Malice danced like fae fire in the pair of eyes that scrutinized your every move and drank in your terrified expression like it was whisky.

Eventually overcoming the initial shock, you seethed: “What are you doing here. Decent people knock on the door and don’t simply invite themselves in!”

“Strange for you to say that. Even hypocritic, if I may remark”, Arthur lightly said, words slow as if he was weighing every word against gold. No doubt he was barely holding all the insults back.

He gestured to the armchair opposite him. “Have a seat. There all a lot of things we need to talk about, and loose end to tie up.”

Out of all the nations, England would be the most volatile. When your relationship would have started, he would have been cautious, even suspicious to a degree. His paranoia would have been well-founded, especially with how many times he’d been backstabbed in the past. That he had invested his trust in you only for you to abuse it would reaffirm his belief that it would be best to keep his hackles raised. Never tiring, he would hunt you down, constantly torn between the desire for revenge and how he would yearn for your love. That mixture would be potentially lethal.

Arthur might kill you with the justification of “if I can’t have you, no-one can” or also “a fitting punishment for your crime. However, that option would just be further down his list. If you act polite, then he would largely reciprocate the favour. If you lash out or even just insult him then he would rain fire and brimstone down on you.

The conversation would be like an interrogation, with only a thin veil of civility leaving room for something else. Should you beg for his forgiveness, then he would be pleased and even a bit lenient. That doesn’t mean that you’d evade the punishments he’d have instore for you.

France

You saw Francis before he saw you, a lucky thing on your part. Your former lover looked lost. Not that it was the initial impression that a random pass byer would glean from him, but you knew him better.

For a brief moment your thoughts darted to the documents you had leaked to your government – damaging, condemning information if it were to land in enemy hands, which was exactly what happened. If you didn’t know better, then you would pity poor France for the travesty that happened.

You prowled forward to him. Such a sappy fool, you could probably convince him that you still loved him. Maybe you could glean some more information from him.

Your hubris would really be the end of you. Naturally, France would be overjoyed to see you and immediately welcome you back with open arms and a giddy smile. Just remember that love, or rather obsession in his case, isn’t harmless. The limerence he would have with you would entail that he would squirrel you away and hoard you.

In the beginning, you wouldn’t even fully notice where the whole matter would be heading, either blinded by your own false pride or by Francis’ suave manner. Either way, if you wouldn’t wake up to his counter machinations fast, then you’d have all the information you could wish from him but no means to reporting it to your superiors. Your foolishness would land you in a gilded cage.  

Russia

Once he reached the top of the hill you noticed him. Ivan was strolling down the same path that cut through meadows and forests, just a few metres ahead of you. Of all times to meet him, you had least expected it to be during your evening stroll.

You halted in your tracks, contemplating if it would be better to wait until the danger was far away or to immediately turn around and head back home. Russia ended up making the choice for you, and it was neither of the options you had in mind.

He must have somehow sensed your presence, for he glanced over your shoulder. Recognition flashed over his defined visage and it evoked a sense of dread in you. Especially when he pivoted around and approached you.

With some difficulty, you swallowed your fear, because you knew that Ivan was like a wolf that would mangle you if he whiffed weakness. Meticulously, you adored your lips with a picture-perfect smile, a painter adding the finishing touches to their masterpiece in your own right.

“It is a wonderful evening, eh?”, he asked you, in that soft voice you were so well acquainted with.

Russia would first play on pleasantries. However, don’t be fooled. He can hold a grudge and once in his grasp, he would shy away from making his displeasure known. You’d have to be very lucky to escape him and more to permanently evade him. The chance would be slim, yet it would be there. And don’t think that he would be stupid enough to point it out to you.

Your betrayal would have been a smarting blow to him, even if he would have half-expected him. And to him, petty little information thieves are surprisingly worse than cold-blooded murderers. The threat you would represent wouldn’t be obvious, yet that wouldn’t stop with from curbing all those bad habits. He’d miss the person you had displayed yourself as when you had been wooing him and he would do his best to build you to be that person in reality.

[skyerie]

WIP Whenever

thank you for the tag for WIP Wednesday, @fiadhaisteach! I couldn’t get to it in time for Wednesday, but here’s yet another recent excerpt from Fragile World that actually might not be posted in the main story. Not sure if I want to go this route, but... Here ya go!

Her head hurt.

Like something had slammed it into a rock, then decided to slam it into a cliff for good measure.

“Ugh…” She shifted, the annoying chirping of birds… annoying her. She opened her eyes, her wrists catching them –

She remembered. Sitting straight up as she eyed the symbols on her wrist forbidding her to use magic, Leilani recalled getting ambushed on her way back to Skyhold. The assailants had the upper hand of completely blindsiding her and… smashing her face… into a cliff.

“I have way too much head trauma,” she muttered to herself, wincing a little before she glanced outside. Sprawling gardens below met her gaze, a warm, oceanic breeze dancing through the air.

Something was wrong about this. Her mind was a bit too sluggish to respond, though – Leilani figured she could get out and get to Skyhold maybe within a day or so, figure out how to despell the bindings, and she’d be good to go.

Thinking that, Leilani carefully slipped out the window, senses on full alert.

“Fuck,” she said, spotting the bindings on her wrist turn red, hearing the brief click of armor, almost soundless to anyone else. Leilani let herself drop onto the ground, listening as hard as she could.

She wasn’t the Air Legion’s former leader just because she was Mythal’s daughter. She wasn’t a Sentinel just for that reason, too.

No. Leilani had been chosen because she was a fucking badass, okay, especially trained by the most renowned sword-master in the world, and two thousand years of retaining and refining her sword skills and physical arts meant that Leilani could soundly beat… Several people?

Maybe not the entire gardens-full of soldiers that wore a familiar armor Leilani couldn’t quite recall, but eh.

Leilani was used to the odds being against her.

She identified the leader, crawling over to him before launching herself at him viciously.

Taking him down quick was the absolute easiest thing Leilani had done in a while. The guy just went down.

“Wow,” she said, surprised at the ease.

The rest of the guards launched themselves at her.

Leilani took the first guard’s staff and grinned, before her staff collided with another’s. Adrenaline shot through her as she began to enjoy this, thinking of this mostly as an educational fight after a moment, and holding her hand up.

The guard blinked as she yanked him forward.

“Don’t hesitate, moron,” she growled, straightening his stance again. “It is far too easy to kick your ass. Keep your damn guard up. Maker’s breath, you lot are as trained as shit!”

The guards traded looks, then proceeded to try to kill her again.

One yanked on her hair. Leilani punched him in the face.

Somehow, it became a brawl. Leilani dished out as much damage as she could while holding back, a few hits to her face doing little to correct the smile on her face.

Elvhen. Wherever she was, it was a place with Elvhen.

A presence appeared behind her. The guard currently in her grasp paled so white he actually looked a bit grayish.

Leilani felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck as she dropped the guard and whirled, just as a commanding voice rang out.

“Enough!”

Her fist was caught.

Her eyes widened.