#i miss the cicadas chirping in the summer

[sabrinazoarium]

εϊз cicadas εϊз

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prints

[mychoombatheroomba]

Letters From Home

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 40

The Major makes good on his promise.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Boots against the dirt, heavy breathing, the chirping of crickets in concert with a distant buzzing . . . Leon and Krauser circled each other to a symphony that night. The cicadas were a few days early, by Leon’s understanding. They didn’t usually come out until June, if even then. They hadn’t wanted to wait for summer-proper, he supposed, so now that pulsing buzz of the insects rang in the air around them. Singing to greet the new world, earlier than expected. Leon could sympathize, but there would be no songs when he and the rest were forced into their own new world. So, as the cicada-song went on, he put the sound off to the side. Neither he nor Krauser were bothered by it; they were too busy looking for opportunity in each other. 

A moment to strike. 

Ice met sky as they locked eyes, both of their guards down. Waiting. Anticipating. 

“Don’t have all night, pretty boy.” The sounds of the insects weren't nearly as grating as Krauser’s insults. Two weeks of them, and Leon still found that the words got under his skin. Especially when the Major turned those barbed words towards you, or what Leon felt for you; what Krauser knew the two of you shared. “Know you’re used to sparring as foreplay, but-”

With that taunt, Leon’s patience wore out, and he swung his knife - held reversed in his left hand - towards Krauser’s face. He knew not to hold back when fighting the Major, and with his right hand freshly stitched, he didn’t want to risk undoing your work.

Or maybe he should, so he’d have an excuse to visit you alone again- 

Keep your head in the game. 

He reminded himself of that as Krauser leaned back to avoid the strike. A muscled arm came up, aiming an angled stab down at Leon’s now-vulnerable shoulder, and-

Fuck!

Leon blocked the attack narrowly, his arm shaking with the force of the Major’s blow as palm met wrist. The exchange that followed was just as break-neck as Leon had come to expect from the Major, and for all the shallow cuts and near-misses that Leon managed to earn, it didn’t matter when Krauser managed to kick the knife from the younger man’s hand.

“Looking to get your ass kicked one last time before the holiday?” the Major growled with an almost feral smile.

Leon knew that “holiday” was the right word, but still, Memorial Day had never felt like a holiday to him. A day dedicated to remembering the fallen didn’t seem like a holiday. Least of all now that he was faced with being one of those names remembered in future years. 

If anyone knew to mourn his death at all- 

Head in the game.

Krauser’s continuation of his insult made that easier to remember. “Do you just like getting the shit kicked out of you? That what made you like your Sergeant so much?”

“Guess not.” Leon said through clenched teeth, backing away as Krauser went after him again. “Cause I sure as hell don’t like you.” At least not right now.

“Oh, so the rookie has a little bite after all.” Krauser punctuated the statement with a slash to Leon’s face - one that he felt graze his nose as he barely backed away in time. It staggered him just enough that the kick that followed landed in full force. It hit Leon square in the chest, and he wondered briefly if he’d join you with broken ribs as he was sent crashing backwards. 

Another time he’d been sent to the ground, another time he had to get up. He did it fast enough to block the Major’s incoming blows, stopping himself from having what would have been a belly full of steel. Krauser’s free hand went for a punch that Leon blocked, and again he realized he was fucked because it was his strength versus Krauser’s. He strained with all his might as those pale blue eyes bored into his own. 

He felt Krauser’s unarmed hand slip free from his grasp. A callused palm against his face, trying to force his head to the side. Leon didn’t think. All he could think to do was lean his head back and around, his lips parting as his teeth bared in a snarl . . . 

And then he sunk those teeth into Krauser’s hand. 

It was the first time Leon had heard anything akin to a yelp from the Major - likely more from surprise than actual pain. If he - Leon - were a bioweapon, a zombie, then Krauser would have already lost. One bite would have been all it took. As it was, Leon grunted as the Major drove his knee into Leon’s gut, and he felt like he might be sick. Still, months of training, months of you doing the same brutal art with him, kept him up, even as his teeth came free of Krauser’s hand. 

He didn’t taste blood, but Leon grinned like he had. Krauser was good at turning attacks back on his opponents. Leon could at least do that with the Major’s words. “More than a little bite,” he said, breathing hard. 

And the taller man, after a moment of examining his hand, looked up at Leon with eyes that burned a hot-fire blue. 

And then the Major laughed. 

“Fighting dirty, rookie?” he smirked. “Good. Maybe you did pick something up from the Sergeant after all,” the older man mused, and Leon could hear something held back in his voice. What it was, he couldn’t say. 

“I picked up a lot of things,” Leon insisted, because it was true. Krauser had given him the skills, but you had honed them. 

“Like how to fake an injury to have an excuse to go to the med bay?” 

The accusation made Leon’s brow furrow. “Not all that fake. You want an up-close look at the stitches?” He asked Krauser, and the Major just scoffed, lowering his knife, signaling a definitive break in the sparring. 

“Heard your Sergeant already got one.”

Your Sergeant again, spoken with so much disdain. It made Leon’s frustrations strain against the cage he’d herded them into. His response was strained in turn. “That’s what happens when you stitch up a wound, yeah.”

“I warned you two-”

“Look,” Leon hissed, thoroughly done with this game. “If you’re gonna report it, report it. Stop dangling it over my head. I’m tired of it-” 

“Keep your fucking voice down.” Krauser’s words were spoken through bared teeth, and Leon felt his body tense as the Major stepped into his space. “You feel like testing me, rookie?” Krauser was bigger than him, even after the months of training had broadened Leon’s chest and shoulders. All of that, and still Leon would never be as tall as Krauser, and likely never as powerful, but it didn’t matter, at that moment. No matter how intimidating the Major wanted to be, he would never be the worst thing that Leon had been faced with. So, the younger man stood his ground. 

“I do,” he nodded, staring the Major down, feeling like he was David looking up at Goliath as he spoke a hard truth. “If you were gonna report us, you’d have done it already.” 

He knew it was a dumbass thing to do, speaking like that to a superior officer - let alone Krauser of all people. Still, Leon couldn’t find the reasonable fear in him to stop the words, because for all that Krauser had done that Leon hated, he’d shown time and time again that he cared. And so, even as Krauser’s nostrils flared in rage and his eyes sharpened, Leon felt sure of his words. 

He may have lost most fights against the Major, but as he watched Krauser clench his jaw, Leon knew that he’d won this one. 

“I won’t need to report it,” the Major snarled, “if you two keep going like this.” 

It wasn’t the best counterattack Krauser had ever used, and they both knew it. “Why don’t you let us worry about that?” 

Krauser frowned, blue eyes narrowing once more. He looked like he wanted to say something more, something that was eating at him. Whatever it was, Leon watched him lock away the conflict behind his eyes instead of unleashing those thoughts. “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter what I say, does it?” he asked, like he was realizing that it was a losing game for the first time. 

It may have been the first time Leon ever saw the Major accept a defeat. 

“No,” Leon shook his head, “it doesn’t.” 

Something flickered across Krauser’s face - a twitch of muscles that Leon doubted was under the Major’s control. He pursed his lips together and nodded once, looking off into the night towards where the cicadas were singing. It was many long moments before he spoke again, and when he did, Leon found that the Major had one last surprise in store for him, spoken in a low voice so only Leon could hear. “Then if you two have to keep being dumbasses and seeing each other, make sure you do it tomorrow. You’ve got people to remember and you’re both unbearable when you’re miserable alone.” 

Leon’s lips hung open, parted by surprise. He hadn’t been prepared for that one-eighty. Hell, he’d expected Krauser to knock him to the ground and scream in his face, not roll over and all but tell him to spend time with you. 

“I-”

“Guard up.” Krauser gave the order, letting Leon know the conversation was over with a swing at his head. One that might have knocked it clean off of Leon’s shoulders, if he hadn’t ducked in time. 

Whatever was going through the Major’s head, it made him sloppy. Even if he was armed and Leon’s knife still lay in the dirt a few feet away, Krauser was unbalanced. His attacks weren’t as precise as they once were, his reactions just a touch too slow. He was distracted. Enough so that this time, as Leon braced Krauser’s arm against his shoulder, as he turned and leveraged, the Major was pulled clean off his feet, in a move that you had performed on Leon a dozen times. One that left the young recruit in shock as Krauser’s back hit the dust. 

Disbelief wasn’t enough for Leon to hesitate, though, and he wrenched Krauser’s knife free of his hand, stabbing it downwards . . . 

And Leon’s eyes went wide when the blunted tip met Krauser’s chest. 

The two men stared at each other, like neither was quite sure how it had happened. Krauser recovered first, though, looking up at Leon with a creased brow. “Heart’s on the other side, rookie,” he pointed out, reaching up to guide Leon’s hand and the blade both where it belonged. “Remember that.” 

“Yes, sir.” Leon nodded as Krauser released his hand, feeling his nerves refusing to calm. The sounds of people approaching did nothing to help that as Leon offered a hand to Krauser, only to have it brushed aside. 

The Major’s mood only soured further when he and Leon looked up to find a pair of suit-bedecked CIA agents making their way towards them. 

“Son of a bitch,” Krauser muttered beneath his breath, and if Reed or Hellman overheard it, they didn’t show it. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Major,” Hellman said. “We were looking for Mr. Kennedy.” 

Leon stilled, the high of his victory plummeting because why would they be looking for me? 

“And it can’t wait?” Krauser grumbled, pushing himself to his full height so he could tower over the agents properly. 

Reed answered with that same monotonous voice as ever. “We’ll be brief.” Leon’s worry only grew . . . until Reed reached a hand forward - one holding . . . 

Oh my god . . .

The envelopes were opened, all of them, and Leon could see folded paper inside. Colorful ink. Handwriting that bordered on messy. 

And just like that, his heart was in his throat, choking him. 

“We already informed the other recruits,” Hellman went on, as Krauser eyed the two of them, like this was the first he was hearing of this as well, “but you will be allowed to receive and send letters from friends and family, as the Major requested. Any incoming letters or packages will be searched by Reed and myself, and any outgoing replies will need to be proof-read and approved by us as well.” 

Leon barely heard the words as he reached out, taking the letters from Reed, holding them like he wasn’t sure they were real. 

“Is all of that understood?” 

Leon just nodded dumbly, looking down at the envelopes now in his hand. “Yes,” he agreed without really thinking, because how could he think of anything other than the words staring up at him?

To: Leon

From: Sherry

He didn’t even really hear what the two agents said as they departed, because his heart was hammering so hard in his ears, just as when Hellman had presented one of the letters to him in that interrogation weeks prior. Only now, there was no rage. No fury. Whatever Leon felt now, it was too much. Too much because, after his “recruitment”, he’d never thought to see or hear from Sherry Birkin ever again. 

She was alright.

He hoped that she was alright. 

The answer to that hope lay in his hands, now, written across at least a dozen letters. 

A dozen. 

And he hadn’t known, hadn’t written back to her. Had she thought he was ignoring her? Fewer now, Hellman had said something like that. Fewer letters because why write them if there was no response? The guilt for something else that wasn’t his fault started to worm its way through him, and he had to rip his gaze away from the envelopes.

He found a pair of razor blue eyes fixed on him instead. Krauser’s gaze, for once, held no accusations. None that could compare to what the letters in his hands held. 

The Major studied Leon’s face - an expression that Leon knew must have been a mess of emotion. Emotion brought on because, once more, the Major had kept his promise. “You . . .”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” Krauser scoffed, and Leon felt guilty for doubting him again. 

“Thank you.” The words didn’t do Leon’s gratitude justice, for this and so much else. Still, he had to go. Had to read through the words that had been withheld from him for so long before lights-out. 

Krauser seemed to know it too. With an exhale, the older man cocked his head to the side. “Go on, rookie. You’re dismissed.” 

Leon didn’t need to be told twice. 

⧫⧫⧫

Hi Leon!

The first few letters all started off like that. Leon read them under the yellow glow of a streetlight, shuffling through the letters one by one. Reading and rereading, feeling like a hand was snaking its way around his heart and squeezing. 

I hope you’re doing okay! They won’t tell me where you are. And I’m not supposed to say where I am, either. They say it’s for my own protection, but they said I could write to you! They even said they’d get me some of those movies we were going to watch! I know you wanted to watch Star Wars together, so I’ll wait to get to that one until you can come visit! 

Leon smiled at that - the kind of joy that made his bottom lip quiver because it was beset with something else. A deeper emotion that stopped real happiness from taking root. 

I’m feeling a lot better, another letter said. Are you? I forgot to ask last time, are you still hurt? I hope you’re feeling better.

Another stab of pain went through his heart, but at least he knew she was okay. As okay as she could be, at least. He took every bit of information that he could from the letters, flipping through them desperately, trying to put together a full picture of the child he’d given up everything for. 

I started reading this book I think you’d like-

Another letter.

I miss going to school, but they said it’s safer if I stay where I am-

And another.

I still get bad dreams sometimes. Do you? 

Another.

I miss having you around.

Another.

Are you okay? I haven’t gotten any letters-

They got shorter and shorter, until at last Leon reached the final one in the pile and his vision blurred. 

Hi Leon.

I hope you get this. I hope you can reply. Are you O.K.? Just a yes or no would be good, if you want to tell me. If you can. 

I hope you’re O.K.

Please write me back if you can. 

There were no more after that. None of the letters were dated, leaving Leon to guess how long it had been between that last letter and now. Weeks? Months? He didn’t know. Did Sherry think he was hurt? Or dead? Or did she just think that he was ignoring her? His mind was cruel to him, imagining the betrayal each unanswered letter must have started to feel like. To have Leon there, taking care of Sherry for those few months after Raccoon City, with him sharing silly jokes with her, trying (and mostly failing) to make them both dinner that wasn’t ramen, picking movies to watch or games to play . . . 

And then to have him say a rushed goodbye and not answer her letters . . .

He hadn’t realized he’d been shaking. Didn’t know that his breathing had been so heavy until that moment. 

He hadn’t even really realized he’d been crying until he looked down and saw some of the ink smudged on that last letter. Desperately, he dabbed at the paper with his shirt, trying to save the words. He hadn’t been able to save much of anything, though, had he? Not the people of Raccoon City, not the officers he was supposed to work with, not Ada . . . he couldn’t even save you from the pain you’d suffered on his behalf. Sherry was the one exception. The one thing he’d almost gotten right.

So he clung to the letters and, for the first time in months, alone in the lamplight, Leon let tears fall freely for all that had been taken from him. From Sherry. From you. From everyone that had been dragged into this mess. He allowed himself that, just as he’d allowed himself to fall for you because he needed it. He lamented in a way that he hadn’t been able to in so long, and he cried for what could have been. 

There were still a few hours before Memorial Day, but he supposed it wouldn’t matter if he mourned a little early. The cicadas had started their song before it was time, after all. He’d let himself do the same. 

⧫⧫⧫

The intention had been to study with you. That was what you and the others had agreed on. The meetup had been your idea - Leon was pretty sure you’d asked to do it as a group on everyone’s day off to keep your mind from the holiday and what it represented. To stave off the ghosts. It made him feel more than a little guilty when neither he nor anyone else was in a mood to focus on lock-picking or key phrases in different languages. Not when they all had letters from their loved ones, begging to be answered. 

You’d understood, but Leon hadn’t missed the emptiness in your eyes when you’d insisted that they all take the time to write letters home instead of study. 

“We can all write them together,” Williams offered, smiling. “It’ll be cute ‘n shit.” 

Your smile in response was forced, and Leon felt his heart sink somehow deeper into his chest at the expression. “You all go on ahead,” you said. “I’ll keep myself busy.” 

“You didn’t-” Alenko stopped himself, but Leon imagined he knew what the full sentence would have been. You didn’t get any letters. The soldier’s normally easygoing expression shifted to one of horror at his misstep, and then sympathy in the blink of an eye. “I’m sorry, I-” 

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. Even Leon almost believed you - it must have been a lie you had practice with. You’d never spoken of your family, or your life outside of the military. Leon wondered if there was anything left to speak of - if it would be another story about you with blanks to fill in. Whatever the case, you offered a reassuring look to Alenko and everyone else. “Write home. They’ll want to know you’re all doing okay.” 

It had been a while since you’d given the squad an order, but it was one they all followed. Still, Leon wasn’t about to disobey the other order that Krauser had given the night before and leave you alone. Not when he saw you fiddling with your dog tags already. 

Luckily, Leon wasn’t alone in his concern. That became abundantly clear when, of all people, Valeria pulled him aside. “Give me an hour or so,” she said, “and then go to the med bay. You’ve got a Sergeant to cheer up.” 

His eyes must have betrayed some confusion, because Valeria went on with more of that unnerving sincerity. Unnerving because, up until recently, Leon had never thought to hear it from her. 

“Look,” she began, her dark eyes shifting away from Leon’s as she gathered her thoughts. “I fucked up. I got you both into shit, and I wanna make it right. So I’m gonna help you two freaks out, okay?”

Leon’s lips parted, and he found himself stunned. Still, when the surprise wore off, it left behind only hope. “How are you even gonna pull this off?”

Valeria’s demeanor shifted, because now she had something to poke holes in. “Those CIA bitches want to proofread all our letters? Well, Dina and I got a lot of family to write home to. We can keep them busy for the rest of the day, if we happen to have to rewrite shit because it spilled too much info.” Leon was so caught up in the logistics of the plan Valeria came up with, he almost missed the name she slipped in - one he nearly didn’t recognize, because he never really heard Williams’ first name aloud. 

“Dina, huh?” he couldn’t help but ask, giving Valeria a smile. 

She only realized her slip up in the glint of his teasing look and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, blanquito. Trying to do you a solid, here-”

“And I appreciate it,” Leon insisted, his eyes finding hers, so she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I really do, Valeria. Seriously.” 

The short woman scrunched up her nose as she made a face, looking away again. “Yeah, well,” she shrugged, like the whole act of doing something nice made her uncomfortable. “You can return the favor someday.” 

And for his friends? Leon had every intention of doing just that. 

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Chapter Index

[projectionistwrites]

GESTALT | 1999

YEAR ONE.

pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!babysitter!reader (2.7k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: age gap, slow burn, fluff, no smut in this part NOTES: this part is boring asf but i promise it gets better

next part →

JUNE 12, 1999

You could recall the first day you met him—a blistering hot summer evening in Austin, Texas, with cicadas chirping and the asphalt burning. You were sprawled out on a red-and-white checked blanket—the quintessential picnic accessory. A book was in your hands—Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury—and your nose was buried in it as you laid on your stomach, feet kicking absentmindedly in the air behind you.

Footsteps padding to your right startled you out of your intense focus, and you lifted your eyes to glance over the top edge of the cover—a young girl was stumbling towards you, laughter bubbling from her throat as her bare feet waded through the grass.

“Quick! Don’t tell him I’m here!”

The child whisper–yelled, narrowly avoiding tripping over you as she skipped up the steps of the neighboring porch, ducking behind the banister and railing.

“Tell… who?”

“Shh, shhh! Just—please.”

The small girl begged, and although you could just barely make out her face peeking from between the two posts, you could see her big brown eyes were round and pleading. With a sigh, you relented, settling in once again to resume reading.

This time, when a pair of footsteps approached, you couldn't be bothered to shift your eyes away from the pages.

A throat cleared to your left.

“Excuse me, miss?”

A rich voice called out, doused in a Southern twang. Your line of sight lifted, focusing in on the pointed toes of a pair of brown leather boots. As your eyes adjusted to the blinding light, your gaze trailed up the length of his thick figure—up his jean-clad legs, the gray fitted t-shirt that clung to his chest and cut into his biceps, before finally landing on his face, which was shaded by a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. His jaw was chiseled and covered with faint stubble, his brown eyes were deep and calculating. You couldn’t help the low whistle that sounded from you lips.

“Well, he-llo there, cowboy,”

you sing-songed teasingly, a small smirk overtaking your pink lips.

The man’s posture stiffened at the comment, but the semblance of a chuckle escaped from his throat.

“Sorry to intrude on your...”

He paused, as if unsure of what to make of you and your setup.

“…afternoon, but I was hoping you could maybe lend me a hand.”

Your lips curled into a flirtatious smile, looking up at him through thick lashes, doe–eyed.

“Of course. Anything.”

Your attempt at coquetry seemed to be lost on the man, as he looked around carefully.

“I’m just lookin’ for a little girl, about yay high,”

he gestured with his hand to indicate her approximate height.

“—thought I heard her comin’ this way. Any chance you mighta seen her?”

“Lemme guess. Curly brown hair, purple tank top, bare feet?”

The man’s eyes immediately brightened.

“So you saw ‘er, then?”

“Nope.”

You answered nonchalantly, shaking your head with a sly grin. The man’s brow furrowed.

“The hell do you mean—”

“Haven’t seen her. But you can go stand on my porch if you’d like. You might have a better view of the neighborhood from there.”

You offered him a knowing look, subtly gesturing with a nod of your head up to your front porch, where a pair of small hands could be seen on the wood, fingers wrapped against the wooden posts.

The man smiled in recognition, offering his own mischievous glance to you as he sauntered towards the steps, whistling theatrically to himself.

“If only I knew where little Sarah could’ve gone…”

He trailed off, ascending towards the front door, until—

“Gotcha!”

A fit of laughter erupted from the girl as she tried to avoid the man as he lunged, but to no avail. He scooped her up easily into his arms, throwing her carelessly over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, smiling as he listened to her contagious giggling.

When he turned back to you, you were seated upright now, a soft smile gracing your lips as you watched the antics unfold. The man approached you yet again, ignoring the pounding of little fists on his back as Sarah continued to laugh.

“Sorry about that.”

The man offered sheepishly.

“No worries.”

Your smile was dazzling as you gazed up at him, and he studied you carefully, finally allowing himself to truly take you in. He’d never seen you before—he definitely would’ve recalled a face as beautiful as yours.

“I’m, uh—Joel, by the way.”

He reached down with his free arm to offer his hand, and you shook it graciously, your palm soft and warm.

“Y/N.”

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. You just move in? Didn’t realize the house was for sale.”

Something shifted in your expression, a sudden darkness cresting over your features, but it was quickly replaced with your signature smile.

“Just moved in to keep my mom company. I’m from California, but I’m going to the state school that’s right around here.”

The man’s brows lifted in slight surprise. College.

“Huh. Is that right?”

Joel pondered, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of Sarah shrieking in protest—something about the blood rushing to her head and pooling in her brain.

“Oh, this is, uh—”

Joel flipped the girl from his shoulder and placed her back on her feet next to him.

“—Sarah. My daughter.”

Your brows lifted.

“Daughter?”

You repeated, although it came out as less of a question and more of a statement.

The girl in question swayed on her feet as her eyes refocused, clearly dizzy from being suspended in the air for so long.

“Hi, Miss Y/N. You’re pretty.”

You blushed.

“Thank you, Sarah. You’re very pretty, yourself. You have a beautiful smile.”

Sarah looked down shyly at that, kicking at the grass beneath her feet. Joel nudged her shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Thank you... I’m gonna run while he’s distracted. See ya!”

"Bye, Smiles!"

You waved, and the man hummed at the use of the newly-found nickname.

The girl was racing back across the lawn in an instant, and Joel sighed exhaustedly, hands on his hips as he watched her go.

“Cute kid. Must run in the family,”

Joel barely registered the comment before you were standing, brushing yourself off as you gathered the picnic blanket in one arm and held your book in the other.

“Yeah, if she’d actually come inside when I called ‘er. But, she’s… I’m lucky to have ‘er.”

There was a softness in his tone that melted your heart, and you joined him in watching the girl as she whipped open the front door and bolted inside, disappearing from view.

“Dinnertime with the missus?”

You questioned, and Joel immediately bristled at the comment.

“No. No, it’s, uh—it’s just me. Just us, I mean. Me and Sarah.”

You nodded gently, attempting to fight off the triumphant, satisfied smirk that was trying to overtake your face.

“Well, she’s lucky to have you, too.”

A comfortable silence befell the two as the sun started shifting across the horizon, the sky morphing from pale blue to a purply red.

You interrupted the moment of pause.

“You seem—I mean, I don’t mean to pry or anything, it’s just—you seem—”

“Young?”

Joel finished for you, and you released a breath, nodding.

“I was. I mean—I am. We were real young when we had her, that’s why—well, I mean, that’s why her momma didn’t stick around, wanted more time to grow up or somethin’ that.”

You offered a sympathetic smile, and Joel scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry. Not sure why I told you all that. Just been awhile since—”

“You don’t have to apologize, Joel.”

He tried to ignore how much he liked the way his name sounded coming from your mouth.

He parted his lips to he speak again, but a somewhat distant shout beat him to the punch.

“Oh, no! Looks like I’m gonna eat dessert before dinner! I sure hope no one comes to stop me!”

Sarah yelled dramatically, very clearly hinting her intentions to the two adults.

You chuckled, before turning to the man.

“Sounds like you’re back on the clock.”

He sighed in acknowledgement, shaking his head slightly.

“Always am.”

His attention shifted when he felt a warm hand grip his arm. His eyes landed on your fingers as they wrapped around his bicep before lifting to meet your gaze. You smiled softly.

“It was nice to meet you, Joel.”

You said softly, tone genuine.

“Yeah. You too, Y/N. I’m sure we’ll be seein’ more of each other—er, at least, with Sarah, and all…seems to like you already.”

You laughed at his slight stumble, eyes twinkling. You ventured off towards your home, calling back to him over your shoulder.

“See y’around, cowboy.”

AUGUST 02, 1999

“Mornin’, stranger.”

Joel was pleasantly surprised to see his neighbor leaning against the column of his porch, watching as Sarah practiced on her skateboard in the street, not too far away.

“Got you up early today, huh?”

Joel chuckled quietly, coming to stand beside you. He was still in his plaid pajamas pants, a mug of black coffee in his left hand.

You shook your head.

“I don’t mind. S’nice, you know? Having someone so excited to see you every day. Said she had some tricks to show me.”

The man hummed in agreement, watching as Sarah tried—and failed, yet again—to successfully ride the curb on her board.

“Well, she certainly does like seein’ you. Talks about ya all the damn time.”

There was a jokingly annoyed lilt in his voice, and you laughed.

“I’m sure you love that.”

You bumped you shoulder into his teasingly, and his lips lifted at the corners, although he didn't offer you a glance.

You watched Sarah in comfortable silence for a moment, before he spoke again.

“School’s startin’ up again real soon. ‘M sure she’s gonna miss days like this.”

You nodded in agreement.

“What do you do? For work, I mean. Sometimes you’re here, sometimes you’re not.”

“I work in construction with my brother, Tommy. Pays the bills, but makes it hard to find time for things like this— ‘specially when she goes back to school, and with soccer practice. It’s a lot to juggle.”

“I can imagine.”

You shook your head, before your eyes lit up.

“If you ever need help with Sarah, I’m always around. My classes are all during her school hours, and my clinicals are only on weekends. I’d be happy to lend a hand if you needed.”

Joel turned to you, brows furrowed in question.

“You’d do that?”

You laughed.

“Sure. I actually happen to like your kid, and besides—s’not like I have much else goin’ on right now.”

Joel chuckled at this, only to be interrupted by Sarah yelling an expletive at another failed attempt at her trick.

“Language!”

The two adults chastised in unison, your eyes meeting briefly in amusement.

“Well, I’d really appreciate that, Y/N. I’d—I’d pay you, of course. Especially with—”

You lifted your hand in dismissal and shook your head pointedly.

“No, no—no need, really. I’m a trust fund baby. My dad’s some big hotshot surgeon in LA, and he covers all my expenses, so really—it’s not a problem.”

Joel pursed his lips, wanting to protest.

“I really couldn’t ask you to give up your time for free, that’s—”

He felt your fingers skate across his forearm teasingly, and there was a smirk on your lips as you leaned closer to him.

“Well, I mean, if you’re so adamant about paying me, I’m sure we could figure something out.”

Heat flooded his cheeks as you fluttered your lashes at him, but before he could respond, a loud CRASH! sounded from the asphalt. The pair looked to find Sarah on the ground, cradling her knee to her chest in pain.

“Ah, shit.”

Joel mumbled, and the two adults made their way down to the girl, who had tears pearling in her eyes.

“You okay, Smiles?”

You asked calmly, kneeling at her side, opposite of Joel. Sarah gritted her teeth.

“Skinned my knee.”

She huffed, looking up at her dad with her lip quivering. Joel’s eyes were soft as he took hold of her ankle, pulling at her leg to have her straighten it out. He examined her knee carefully, watching as small droplets of blood began to freckle across the scrape.

“Whaddya think, cowboy? Is she gonna make it?”

You asked dramatically, causing Sarah to giggle.

“Dad can fix it. He’s magic.”

You feigned shock.

“Magic, huh?”

Sarah nodded vigorously, and Joel smiled sheepishly.

“S’true. It’s a Dad superpower. Magic kisses.”

You felt your heart melt to a puddle when the man leaned down a pressed a soft, tender kiss to the child’s knee. She sniffled before a grin found it's way on her face.

“All better?”

He asked, and Sarah nodded, wiping clumsily at her teary eyes.

“All better.”

Moments later, Sarah was back up on her skateboard, and the two adults were settling back onto the porch, sitting beside each other on the steps.

You knocked your left knee against Joel's right.

“Magic kisses, huh?”

You teased, and the man rolled his eyes, face flushing.

“Spare me, please.”

“It’s sweet.”

You assured, leaning forward to find his eyes. He glanced at your softly, a barely-there smile forming on his face.

“Wish my dad had magic kisses. He was always more of a rub some dirt on it kind of guy, which is ironic, seeing as he’s a medical professional... at least, he was when he was actually, you know, there.”

Joel stayed silent at the confession, watching you through the corner of his eyes as you leaned forward on your knees tiredly.

“How ‘bout your mom?”

He asked hesitantly, afraid to overstep, but you just shook your head.

“Mom is... sick. Been sick for as long as I can remember. That’s why she stayed here in Austin when my dad got the job in Cali. She stayed with my Aunt, who took care of her, until... well, you can fill in the blanks.”

“M’sorry.”

Joel offered quietly, but you just shrugged, seemingly unfazed.

“Nah, it happens. That’s life, I guess. Besides, I always knew I wanted to come back to Texas for college. Didn’t plan on having to take care of my mom, too, but—well, everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”

You smiled at him again, and he offered a sympathetic smile in return.

“So, nursin’, huh? Followin’ in your dad’s footsteps?”

The subject change came easy, and you snorted in response.

“No. Absolutely not. My Aunt was the nurse, but I can’t lie... being a nepotism baby definitely has its perks. Probably wouldn’t have even been accepted into the program here straight outta high school if my dad hadn’t—”

Joel blinked once, then twice, the sound of your voice fading into the background as a low buzzing noise filled his head.

“I’m sorry, but—did you just say ‘straight outta high school’?”

The man’s brows were furrowed, his lips parted slightly in confusion. Your smile melted fairly quickly.

“I—yeah. Why?”

Concern was laced in your words as you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling your heart pump just a little bit faster at the look on Joel’s face.

“What’s—what’s that make you? Eighteen?”

“Makes me old enough.”

You joked, although your ordinarily witty and playful attitude had dampened significantly.

“S’hat a problem?”

Joel shook his head a little too quickly, and you watched on, helpless, as he began building a wall up between you two.

“No. No, just—thought you were older.”

“Oooh, the classic mature for your age line. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel watched as you stood up and straightened, hands pressed to the small of your back as you stretched yourself out.

“Well, I’ll get outta your hair, then. I know Smiles told me you were taking her to the soccer fields, later.”

The man nodded, although he was clearly distracted.

“You just let me know when you need me to watch her, and I’m there.”

When you were granted no response, you looked back at the man, who was glaring into his almost-empty mug of coffee, deep in thought.

“Hey.”

You nudged his shin with the toe of your sneaker, and he finally looked up at you, where you smiled at him teasingly.

“If you’re lookin’ for a way to pay me, you certainly have a few skills that would be good for a nurse to know.”

Joel stared, clearly confused, causing you to laugh as you started off across the lawn and towards your home.

“Magic kisses. You’ll have to teach me some time.”

Joel’s cheeks flushed bright red.

[natalynsie]

Just You and Me (Trody Oneshot)

“So… Gwen and Courtney, huh?” Trent brings up.

“Yup,” Cody responds with a sigh.

The two were sitting on a park bench. It was approaching nine P.M., the sun had just set, and there was a cool breeze relieving them of the summer heat.

Trent lets out a forced laugh. “We’re in deep shit, huh?”

“Most definitely.”

It was silent besides the faint bird and cicada chirping in the distance. Trent and Cody’s conversation had been dead for the past few minutes, but Trent didn’t really mind. Nothing ever felt awkward with him.

Silence was kind of peaceful. Trent couldn’t think of a single time silence was uncomfortable with Cody. Trent just loved spending time with him.

Which was why they were here. At nine P.M. Trent was busy earlier that day with his parents out of town. But Cody just came back from vacation. Trent missed him that week. So, he decided they could hang out from seven to whenever Cody had to be home.

“I can’t believe I’m still not over her,” Trent began. “I can’t believe I dated her a year ago and I broke up with her and this is her second partner after me and I still can’t let go. And we’re friends now and I have to pretend that I don’t like her anymore and everything’s okay.”

Trent felt sick to his stomach. It felt like something was resting in the bottom of his throat. God, he couldn’t stand this feeling.

“I just want to take all of my feelings out, you know? I wish I could forget about it. I want to cut her off sometimes, but I can’t do it. Not just because I like her, but because she’s my friend and I care about her that way too. Sometimes, I wish I could be as emotionless as Duncan. He could just forget about every girl he ever cared about with a snap of his fingers.”

Trent turned to Cody, who he hadn’t realized was staring at him as he ranted. Cody’s eyes were a little wider than usual, his mouth hung open just slightly.

He wasn’t expecting this.

Trent didn’t even ask if he could rant.

“Sorry, you didn’t need to hear all that,” Trent mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed.

“No, it’s okay,” Cody assured. “We all need to do that sometimes. I… kinda get that.”

“Is this how you felt when you set me up with her?”

“Not as much as you, but yeah, kinda,” Cody responded. “I like her, but I think you’ve always liked her more than I do. Uh,” Cody paused, “have you been writing a song?”

Trent chuckled. “Yeah, you know me too well.”

Cody smiled back, his tooth gap prominent. Trent focuses on it for a moment before shaking his head and taking out his notepad.

“I could fit a quarter between the gap in your teeth,” he joked.

“Hey!” Cody exclaimed, covering his mouth. “It's not my fault my teeth are fucked up. My parents just don't have the time to get me braces.”

“I'm not saying you should get rid of it. I'm just saying I could fit a quarter in there.”

Cody stuck his tongue out. “Whatever. Can I see the song?”

“Yeah,” Trent handed him the notepad. “It's really rough right now, but that's how it always begins.”

Cody ignored him and read through the lyrics. Trent watched his face, waiting for any sort of reaction. Cody could read and recite a thousand of Trent's songs and Trent would still be nervous when he handed him the next one.

Cody got to the last line and placed the notepad next to himself.

“So…?” Trent asked.

“That's really good looking,” Cody smiled. “Do you wanna work on it with Justin and Harold?”

“No, I was more thinking maybe just you and me could do it?” Trent suggested, hopefully.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Cody smiled. “When you get the lyrics finalized we can start.”

“Great,” Trent grinned.

Don't get him wrong, Trent loved making music with Justin and Harold as well. But sometimes he just wanted something just for himself and Cody.

Trent was closer with Cody than Justin and Harold. Cody just understood him more. And he helped set him up with Gwen last year without a second thought. And he was just so nice to him without ever thinking twice.

He was so supportive when it came to his music. And his parents. He was just always there when he needed help.

And he was here when he was writing yet another song about Gwen.

“I’m so sick of myself for this,” Trent sighed.

“I get you,” Cody agreed. “I just wish I knew how to write songs like you. I can’t write for the life of me.”

“Well, it’s never too late to start. I can help you out if you need.”

“I don’t know,” Cody replied sheepishly, picking the notepad back up and skimming through the lyrics again. “Maybe I could try, but I know I wouldn’t like them as much as I like yours.”

Something fluttered in Trent’s stomach.

And it hit him like a train.

He always wanted to hang out with Cody, preferably alone. He didn’t care if they had anything to do or not. He got nervous when he showed him anything. And they way he thought about him- for god’s sake how did he not notice it before.

He liked Cody.

Trent turned away from Cody and stared forward, closing his mouth. He folded his arms and kept quiet.

“Trent?” Cody asked.

“Huh?” Trent broke himself out of his daze.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Trent responded. “Just getting tired.”

“Me too,” Cody sighed. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Same here, I guess.” Trent stood up. “Can I have my notepad back?”

Cody handed the notepad back to Trent. “See you later.”

“Bye,” Trent waved as Cody walked in the other direction.

Trent waited until Cody walked into the woods that led towards his house before he sat down again. He clutched his brow. He couldn’t do this right now. He didn’t want to do this again.

He thought that the next time he got a crush would at least be after he got over Gwen.

Well, maybe it could help him get over her. That’s as much as he could hope.

He was going to finish the lyrics tonight. Then, they could work on the song. One on one.

Just you and me.

[liminalhymnal]

Manga talks again: I love The Summer When Hikaru Died because it is a REALLY good ghost story with interesting visuals. Imagine this:

You're a teenager. You love your best friend. You don't say it, but you do. Summer is long and hot, but you have fun with him despite the humidity weighing heavy upon your shoulders. A storm could even be expected on days like these.

Your friend mysteriously disappears during such a storm. Despite assuming the worse, you wish that you could see him again with every fibre of your being the more time goes on.

A miracle happens then; there he is in front of you once more with his signature smile. This person has the same hair and eyes. It seems like he knows you, and even his family are overjoyed to have him around again. You had wished for this and should have been happy at that. You had been for a while. He likes the same things, know's what he should about your friendship, but....something about this seems too perfect.

You start to notice small details that don't match up with that same friend of yours. Reactions. Memories. What may have been miniscule details lost on others were now quickly accumulating into something far bigger.

You test out your assumptions one muggy afternoon with him, cicadas chirping as you take this gamble.

You learn not to ask questions when you aren't ready to witness the truth about miracles.

This being at your side is definitely not him; for he isn't even human. But this imitation of him–he still loves you just the same. He wants you to treat life as you did last summer, to eat ice cream and ride bikes with him once more, and isn't that what you want too? Don't you want him around? Need him around? Even if he isn't the real thing?

Didn't you miss your best friend? Didn't you love him? And whatever he is, does it not love you back enough to try being what you wished for?

You're a teenager. You loved your best friend. You didn't say it, but you did. Summer is long and hot, but you have fun with him despite the humidity weighing heavy upon your shoulders. The sunset guides you both home.

You love your 'best friend'.

[feyofmay]

Hello!! I absolutely love your writing and was so excited to see your requests are open!! 💛 I was wondering if i could request a platonic amy march x reader (gn or fem is absolutely fine) with the prompt "i missed you so much". i was imagine maybe reader had been travelling for a while or just hadn't been spending much time with amy recently, and they both miss eachother alot and just have a fluffy reunion! though of course feel free to go whichever direction inspiration takes you!!!! (i also don't mind whether its just best friends or reader and amy are siblings, though i am very biased to the latter)

Even if you don't end up writing this, thank you so much for the things you have written because I'm absolutely in love with them!!!! and of course an extra big thank you if you do write this!!!!

— aubrey!! (@yokolesbianism/aubeystawby) 💛💛

AWWW tysm!! Literally you’re the sweetest & it warms my tiny little heart!! Of course I will write your little request, but I made it a little different. (for flavor ;0)

Word Count: ~800

(not edited, so there’s some grammatical errors. sorry not sorry)

The ache of the youth spent in the twisting thorns of blackberries & dashing madly down dusty paths like deer fleeing from the maw of a greater beast is not felt until, when waking up one morning, her bones are stiff & wooden. As if, if she were to bend her elbow, she could hear a creaking sound from the rusty nail between her two joints. Ever since Amy had left for France to pursue her dream of becoming a great artist,- one who, in her triumphant cries, “would rival Renoir and Boticelli and Thomas Lawrence!”- y/n, the youngest March, has awoken to the splintering ache of an accosted youth.

To say she misses her sisters is an understatement to the highest degree. Everything is far too quiet without the constant chirping of her sisters, a never ending symphony of adolescent conundrums & complaints. Once an eternal twilight, with her sisters playing the role of singing cicadas, the morning had risen with their departure from the best. Several things, which she previously thought were silent, have now shed their fear, & the appliances remind her of her creaking bones with their squeals & whines. The only thing that ever eased her mind was Beth’s piano, a reminder that, although her sisters have grown, she still remains young & a girl.

However, one early morning, the noise of chittering like field mice in a barn snuck in from underneath her door. Like a puppet, her wooden bones acted in the same order that they always have. Planting her feet on the ground, she threw her- well, it was first Marmee’s, then Meg’s, and then Jo found it far too “girlish”, so it was lastly Amy’s- shawl, a soft blue & green woolen piece, to keep herself from freezing in the morning sun.

“Marmee! What’s with all the clamor?” Y/N shouts out as she rubs the last grains of dreams quickly forgotten, a gift from Sandman in the night. Their voice is scratchy like an itchy wool scary as they waddle toward their door. Before Marmee can even consider replying, a shrill squeal fills the house.

“Sister! How I’ve missed you!” the shriek makes the wallpaper curl into itself, & the pounding noise of, what can only be assumed to be, heavy iron weights plummeting onto their creaking wooden stairs grows closer & closer to the half-awake Y/N. Immediately recognizing that voice before she can even register the smell of fresh air streaming in from her open window or the sticky feeling of morning dew on her face, Y/N snatches the door knob & swings it open wildly with reckless abandon.

There, standing before her, in a voluminous, almost cartoonishly large crinoline skirt with tiers upon tiers of ruffles & lace-trimming in differing shades of porcelain blue & silver, her sister & part of her soul, Amy, stands before her like a statue carved from marble & opal. With a toothy grin that reminds Y/N of all the long summer days spent rolling around in the vibrant green grass by the meadow, Any doesn’t waste a second as she barrels towards Y/N & catapults her arms around her little sister, who is unsure if she’s simply still dreaming or actually awake.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you! I’ve missed you so so dearly! All I could think of was how I wished you were beside me. Oh, I’ve so much to tell you! ” Amy rambles on as she digs her face into the nest of locks that rests upon her sister’s head like a rabbit burying into fresh earthen dirt. Curling her fingers around the poofy & seemingly floating sleeves that hug Amy’s sleeves in ways Y/N didn’t know was even possible, the cool touch of the soft, buttery linen kisses her fingers like a distant memory of childhood that’s been lost to the breeze. The fabric leaves a tingling sensation that reminds her of the bells that decorate the Church during Christmas time.

As the folds of linen ripple between her fingers, it’s then she finally feels her mind recenter. The colors around her bloom like the first day of spring, & everything falls into focus. Amy is back. She is real & home & here, in her arms. Slowly, Y/N tepidly wraps her arms around her sister & presses her face into the fabric of her dress. Something hot dribbles down her cheeks, & her silent tears collapse into Amy’s dress. The rust melts off of her joints as she feels her youth soak back into her bones. Her sister, her person, is home.

“I missed you, as well, sister.”

[strawbebehmod]

Something's changed

I miss cicadas.

I miss the cricket chirps.

I miss the wild sunflowers that litter the ditches as I drive down a dusty gravel road.

I miss the frogs that croaked at night as I walked home from class and the birds that sang as I got up again in the morning.

I miss sticking my ear buds in listening to an anime outro as I walked along the sidewalk in february way too early for me to reasonably be awake only to notice the fuzzy little pussy willow buds getting ready to bloom and inevitably being late for a class I won't be able to pay attention to anyways.

I miss intentionally breathing out on a cold day to see my breath and pretending I'm secretly part dragon.

I miss a hot summer day when the AC was being fixed and I'd eat popsicles in my bike shorts on the patio, listening to the sound of lawn mowers and the whine only seems to come when the sun is beating down on you.

But the funny thing is, I could still enjoy all these things, hypothetically, theoretically.

But for some reason it seems impossible.

I could sit out side, listening to the crickets, the cicadas, and the frogs at night...

But by the end of the day I find I never step outside, my commission work requires my body for some reason to huddle up into the corner of a room.

I still have the song on my phone, could still listen to the birds as I head out the door, or look at my neighbor's pussy willow buds. but I don't have the time to walk anywhere or be late to anything anymore, Can't lose my job after all. and keeping up with what horrors the world has brought with the new morning leaves no time to revisit old favorite tunes...So enjoying any of that gets sidelined for awareness and punctuality.

I can't look at the sunflowers in the ditch on the dirt road anymore. I have to keep my eyes ahead, make sure my car doesn't slip on the loose gravel, and worry what that crunching, popping sound was, oh god am I gonna have to drop another 400$ to get it fixed?

And...when I tried to just sit outside in the summer heat, enjoy a Popsicle, on a lazy hot Sunday...when the cicadas were crying, the crickets chirping, the frogs and birds singing in kind...I couldn't stop thinking of how lazy I was being.

I could be working on my next commission...

Exercising instead of eating empty calories...

Networking to forward my career

Cleaning my room

Feeding my pets

Keeping up on news

Balancing my monthly budget

Paying bills...

....and suddenly the Popsicle became less sweet.

Something has changed fundamentally.

Is it the world? Or is it me?

Is it simply becoming an adult?

Then why could I still enjoy these things at 21...

Has the world faded in color

has time naturally worn down my sight

Or has my mind darkened so much the world seems more dim

What pill can solve this malaise?

And how much is it? Will my insurance cover it?

Will it even make a difference in the end

For a pill can't solve a busy schedule or keep me driving safe

And a pill won't end wars or fix economies, or end climate change

All I know is

I miss cicadas.

I wish I could listen to them like I used to.

[beneaththetangles]

First Impression: Summer Time Rendering

As Shinpei nods off, he dreams of his childhood friend Ushio. But this Ushio isn’t quite right. She’s glitchy, and tells Shinpei that she won’t be able to go with him before asking him to take care of her sister, Mio. Alas, it’s just a dream. Ushio is dead, having drowned while saving a young girl, and Shinpei is on his way to his island home for the funeral. But the melancholy and pain of loss aren’t all that await Shinpei on the island of Hitogashima after two years away. Other things are awry. And concerning. Strangers have come to the island. Ushio was found with ligature marks around her neck, indicating strangling. Mio is sighted outside of her home, looking upward at the house with a dazed look. The girl whom Ushio tried to save goes missing the day after the funeral, along with the rest of her family. And Mio explains that Ushio was being followed. Nezu, an old man, explains that the threat is not human but a shadow, a curse that may have returned after many years of absence.

Nearly nine months after it premiered in Japan, Summer Time Rendering finally hits our shores! And boy oh, does it land with a splash! In the 22-minute run time, the series goes from dreamy and ecchi to violent and terrifying, setting the stage for a big adaptation of one of the most popular horror series of recent years. I’ve read the first two volumes of the manga, and based on them, I’d been highly anticipating the anime: it is full of surprises. Episode one captures the opening of the original work well. In fact, I appreciate how concerned the animators seem to be to capture a certain tone. This series feels very much like a throwback. The animation is excellent but not in a 2023 way; it looks like it’s from 2010 or so based on the character designs, line work, and muted colors. Other facets establishing the atmosphere go back even further, evoking the feel of a horror anime work from the early 2000s. Like the original Higurashi, there’s lots of quiet and focus on intentional, stilted dialogue. It all adds up to an uneasiness that lasts the entire episode. This is purposeful but admittedly takes some getting used to. It’s also not quite as uneasy as it should be, though I can’t pinpoint quite why. Nevertheless, I was able to get into the appropriate frame of mind by connecting this series immediately to a beloved classic, Evangelion, which also makes use of silence but also sometimes fills it in with loud horror music or the constant chirping of cicadas. Summer, regret, nostalgia, curses, fright: all these ideas are established not only by the actual plot, but by the animation and sound. The care demonstrated in this adaptation through episode one has me optimistic for the series as a whole. I’ll continue forward with it. In fact, I can continue immediately right through to the end—the entire run is now available on Hulu. - @animepopheart​

=====

Summer Time Rendering can be streamed on Hulu in Japanese or English.

[k--havok]

Day Five: Nature

| Day One | Day Two | Day Three | Day Four

Alright, the longest one yet. I have no idea why, I guess I just was getting into the groove of the scene.

Day Five: Nature

I still remember how the gravel crunched beneath my shoes. My short socks were falling low beneath my heel, rubbing blisters as I stumbled down the pathway, back toward the amphitheater. 

We were running late, and would miss the psalms, songs, and prayer if we did not speed up. But we did not, as my feet ached. We had hiked through the forests and foothills of Oklahoma, splashing through streams, dodging poison ivy, and slapping mosquitoes away as we both baked beneath the summer sun. 

I was not alone. A boy had joined me for the adventure, several years my younger. He had a bright smile, kind eyes, and straight, white teeth. 

So straight and white. Unlike my own teeth. Already yellowed from coffee and days of unclean depression that hung over me like a cloud. 

He held my hand to steady me, despite my own girth and height overwhelming him. 

He, also, did not care that we were running late. Not as straight-laced as I thought. He pulled me to the side before we could reach the building. 

The camp had rented out a cover Christian band, and the creaking guitar and scratching vocals could not be contained within the white plaster building. 

He stared up at me with those kind eyes, his lips pulled into a smile, showcasing those straight, white teeth. 

I scratched at the mosquito bites at my knees, blinking sweat out of my eyes. Annoyance crept through me. I wanted to go inside. Drown in the terrible music and air conditioning where mosquitoes could not find me. 

He tried to capture my eyes, which I avoided at all costs. The depths were too deep. But he did not let me. 

“I like you,” he said. 

“I like you too. You’re very nice,” I said back. 

He shook his head. “No, I really like you. I wish we went to the same school.”

My brain short-circuited then. And instead of hearing him say how I helped pull him out of his shell, how I made him comfortable in his own skin, all I heard was the birds chirping against the dissonant sounds of the amphitheater. Fat cicadas chirped in the trees around us, buzzing for mates. 

I smiled at him. My yellowed-from-coffee, dirty-from-depression smile. 

“Thanks,” I said. 

He kissed me on the cheek. A kiss I did not expect. Not like my mom’s kisses. Not like my aunt’s. Not like my dog’s. 

A dry peck from an unloved one. My entire world changed in that moment, a skipped beat within the universe that started an arrhythmia that could not be corrected. My entire world crumbled around me. 

The cicadas continued to buzz for mates. The mosquitoes continued to bite me. The pain of my blister and sunburns still rubbed raw against my cotton clothing. 

But I did not feel anything.

A boy liked me. 

And I did not feel anything. 

[pawjamas]

Number 13 please I’m so excited for summer

13. What’s your ideal summer aesthetic?

ohhh i love like.. i have suuch huge nostalgia for chirping cicadas in the evening time.. keeping the window open listening to them, a warm summer breeze and a very beautiful sunset can be seen.. also i haven't done it in quite some time but i used to enjoy going to the beach, seeing the ocean is such a wonderful experience. the smell of salty air and sunscreen scent 💛💛 especially having a picnic at the beach, the food that you bring tastes especially yummy ^^ under a big umbrella with the ocean waves roaring in the background !! and when you spend time in the ocean once you get home i love that leftover feeling of being rocked back and forth by waves you get because you were in the ocean for so long 🌊💕💕 thinking about this made me miss summer too..

[kokiafans]

Returning for a summer meeting

Source: KOKIA.com/blog, July 17, 2022

I haven’t updated in a while, as I’ve returned to Japan.

And just as I was thinking, huh? I haven’t heard the cicadas yet, I heard the cicada chirp for the first time this summer today.

When I hear the cicadas, it gives me the feeling that summer is here.

Have you all been doing well?

I hope so. I’ve been working on my fourth fun album about animals as I think of all of you.

I have some happy news today.

My paid livestream concert ‘History of my pieces’, which had a set list comprised of only songs I’ve done as tie-in songs and went live on June 25, was received favorably, and it was quickly decided to have a rerun.

The rerun will start on Saturday, July 30 at 20:00 JST.

The price for the rerun will be a bit cheaper.

Tickets are for sale on livepocket here.

I have received some questions about it here and there, but unfortunately there are currently no plans for this concert to be sold on Blu-ray or DVD in Japan.

Currently, I’m planning on distribution exclusively through the Chinese online webshop ‘Masadora’, considering my Chinese fans have trouble watching the livestream due to the system used.

If you’ve missed the previous broadcast, I’d be happy if you were to check out the rerun this time.

Of course I want you to enjoy the concert, but I’ll also be sitting behind my computer at the same time watching it, so I’d like it if we got to chat together in the chat.

It will be my birthday soon.

I had been planning on another concert to go along with it, but unfortunately, some plans have gotten delayed...

It’s a bit small, but I’m currently planning on a performance at the ‘otonami house’ as I’d like to have a live ‘music time’ in August.

I’ll soon share more news about it.

P.S.: Today I wrote the song ‘Hamster’ (Hamusutaa). One more song to go. Once I’ve written to last song, it’s time to actually record them.

As of the moment, I’ve got... An octopus, crocodile, capybara, turtle, dragon, polar bear, migratory bird, hamster, sea angel... a lineup with a small number of fluffy, cuddly animals. That’s why I’ve been wondering whether to write a song about a bit more familiar next for the final one. Stay tuned!

[luvpogl-music]

[I read part of a story just recently where one of the characters offered the claim that all children dream of their birth, and if you want to know something of them just ask them about their birth. Although I thrown crafted words at the imagery before, it was meant more as words to just carry the story to more important things, nothing creative or substantial. Words meant to impress on the mind equal no scare meant with intent. I thought this an interesting position though as I had never really thought about a story behind it before; so then on my walk today, I began to find a thread that would add a seam to others I have already stitched and sewed. All pieces in a quilt meant for someone else; that is one of the mysteries of God, He'll take what you hate, turn it into love, then tell you to give it away, just so he can see how faithful you'll believe I think. Let's see how this looks now, and although it's not the story of my birth, it is a story about a boy and a girl that helps fill in some of the missing pieces.]

In this minstrel of life, lets start at the beginning and tell this story, about a boy child and girl child and just how they become…

...on a dark stormy night, the thunder pounding louder than normal in small town, anywhere USA a lady born of fire went into labor. Familiar with the pangs of birth something inside her trembled; something was wrong, this was just different. Rushed to the hospital there were some complications during birth, but what could be expected when their were born twins when there should have only been one. The doctor being highly skilled with his hands though made sure that no life was lost that night and not long after mom and dad returned home with both boys in hand.

Excited by the news the family couldn't wait to see the new additions to the family, and not long after returning to a shack in the middle of nowhere at the end of run down street; the family packed up and rushed of with all the kids kids to visit newly christened aunts, uncles and grandparents. Settling into the new mother's childhood home, kids resting in sleep as all babies do when their not eating or being changed, mother and father sat down for a well deserved visit with her family from the past. The days slipped by through the week they spent and before it, a few card games later the night before they left had finally come. As the afternoon slipped into the dark of night under the chirp of cicadas they all made their way to bed.

Something stirred in the house that night, a spirit that had never been present before slipped in under the door at the command of one who lived there; knowing the time had come. As the entire house sat silent in the dead of night feeling almost like Christmas Eve on that hot summer night; the grandfather awoke, quietly slipping out of bed and into the room where both boys slept. Standing atop their cribs he stirred back and forth, lost in the miracle of life when his soul began to cry. Both children lay silent staring up at him as he ran the aged fingers down the crowns of their heads. Everything was at peace, but the gift they had yet to receive. He took hold of both boys in each arm; their premature size making it easier to accommodate both boys at once.

And as they lay cooing in his arms, the smile only a grandfather can give came across his lips and with a bit of a twist took form of a most hideous beat. Fire threw itself against the curtains and that little man took a form twice the size of his with the ugliest features only a troll could equal in looks. As the flames in the room grew higher and higher, stoked greater by the force of his brother; one child lay quiet still looking up at him and the other began to stir and get restless. Just then the floor opened up below them nothing but a a pit of raging flames chomped at their feet. The old man grabbed each by their ankle and held them dangling above the flames. Chanting words in a language the world and their experts had long forgot, he held them there as the blaze reached its arms higher and higher approving the sacrifice being offered before them.

Before the old man could finish, the child in his right hand began to scream and cry and the beast quickly tossed him aside. Looking back at the boy still watching in his left with a bit of curiosity, he paused and ran the nail of his finger across his chin and claimed "It is you that shall bear the mark. You are the one that shall die tonight". With a stab of the walking stick he held in his hand the floor shut up at his one word command. The room fell silent again, nothing but the sound of rain and wind pounding at the windows outside in chorus of the other child still crying.

He pulled the boy up from his left foot and as he did this was once again transformed into the little grey bearded man who was their proud grandpa. He held the child close to his chest and whispered softly these words in that ancient tongue:

"In the beginning there were two tribes, male and female under God's love they were. Of those two were born three, one named Abel who died young to become the father and guardian of all children that die young". He continued "from the tribe of Adam though is your line, of which there is ever only one; within you alone runs the blood of the first and the last, marking your holy and sacred past. With this kiss, you shall forever bear the mark of Cain, it is your cross to bear; once I am gone. Forever cursed to walk this Earth. Cast aside from family and friends forever seeking that which was lost in the Eden. This my son is the blessing of the Jew; and may it now be passed on to you".

Hearing mother's footsteps tumbling up the stairs to answer the cries of the child that was still in tears, he placed them both back in their sheets and silently clambered back into bed; his wife asking where he'd gone. "Just to the kitchen dear, I needed another piece of that lamb you prepared this evening it was just so good, and I hadn't had it since I was a child not much older than those two new grandsons.

Mom rushed in and began to coddle the weeping child as the other drifted back into rest, the fear of the dark seemed to bring him ease.

[There is more to this kids, but for now, let's end the story of a boy and see about this special girl that wanders the Earth too.]

[gdayinla]

Sunday, January 29, 2023

I miss the sounds of Cedar Park at night. When we’d climb out my bedroom window to sit on the roof. Spread out on a picnic blanket drinking cheap champagne and wine. I hated the taste.

But the sounds of the birds who were still awake cooing softly. The crickets chirped and the cicadas screamed during the summer night. I can family remember the way the fresh air smelled.

It doesn’t sound like that here.

[forthetaintedsorrow-whump]

Whumpmas In July 2022 Day 3: Lost

Filling in some of the missing days for this event ^^

Here’s a snippet from my WIP Spirited Away/Princess Mononoke AU: 

Chuuya was lost in the forest when he was five years old.  There’s a legend that something lost will be kept by the spirit world.  Chuuya does not meet another human again for 17 years.

The buzzing chirp of cicadas filled the air as the sun slowly inched its way toward the horizon, the muggy summer air thick with the noise.  A thin breeze wafted through the pine tops carpeting the mountainside, and the trees brushed together and spoke softly.

There is a folktale that something lost in the forest for over twenty-four hours will be lost to the spirit world, when the sun transits below the horizon to give way to the twilight, the space existing between night and the day at the edge of the shadows, where the eye glimpses movement and then turns away, unwanting to see what strange things lie at the edge of perception.  No one knows if the tales are really true, but everyone seems to know someone who swears it is, even if they don’t quite know why they believe.  

It must be something my granddad told me.  

I left behind my satchel accidentally when I was out hiking with my boyfriend.  I went back the next day but it was gone.  What animal would take a satchel with books in it?  

My son went out hunting for interesting rocks and left them piled in his hat when he got tired and forgot to come back for them.  When he came back days later, the hat and the rocks were gone.  Who would take a bunch of rocks?  

My friend took his watch off when he went swimming in a lake near the forest and completely forgot about it.  He came back the next day, but it was gone.  No one lives around there.  He said the forest stood still, like it was watching him the entire time. It was in the light of day, but it still looked dark and he didn’t want to wait around.

The forest, silent among the cries of the cicadas, says nothing.

A cry breaks above the noisy stillness under the orange sky; the cicadas pause in their chattering.

“Mama!  Papa!”

Too far away, and too late, a voice calls, unheard, “Chuuchan! Chuuchan!!”  A mother buries her face in her husband’s chest and sobs.

Somewhere, a lost child’s voice wails.

[kudouusagi]

Timeline theory

I know I’ve been confused about the timeline of when this show takes place so I’m using background clues to help decipher when things happen! It’s really just a rough idea of when the episodes take place. If you can think of any other details, feel free to chime in with more!

We know they start after the school year has started, because Reki is already a second year in high school, and since the school year starts in April the beginning has to be in April or after.

I found a few things that show the series starts in April.

The most obvious one, Miya’s calendar in Reki’s intro says April.

Another thing is that they are wearing their winter uniforms. Winter uniforms are worn in April and May, before the switch to summer uniforms on June 1st. The black jackets are called gakuran. (Okinawa actually switches to summer uniforms a month earlier than the rest of Japan... but it seems like the anime ignored that from how long they wear them after this. So more proof it takes place in April? They wear them so long lol)

As a side note: The uniform Langa wears in the first ep is his uniform from Canada!

Another Okinawa specific thing they seemed to miss that make it more confusing is that there are cherry blossoms blooming when Langa first starts school, but cherry blossoms bloom very early in Okinawa. They bloom around February there. So for them to be blooming in April seems weird. But that would be a normal time for other parts of Japan.

And so I think episodes 1-5 all take place in April and May. Through a lot of the training montages Reki has a lot of different colored hoodies that are meant to show the changing of the days.

Episode 6 is a little harder for me to determine when it’s supposed to take place. It is obviously supposed to be summer and they had been wearing their winter uniforms up until that point. Since I already decided they ignored when Okinawa changes to summer uniforms, I’m going to guess it takes place at the beginning of June, right after summer uniform change, because the date on the calendar for when they go is the 8th of some month.

The beaches in Okinawa open at the end of March and close in the middle of October but since it’s the rainy season until May, most people don’t start going till the end of May. Also the paantu festival usually takes place in real life in October, but based on everything else they probably just placed it whenever they wanted to in the Anime timeline...

Episode 7 starts with them in their summer uniforms! No more gakuran tops, they have short sleeves now!

There is a shot of a calendar at the beginning of this episode that is set to July and August so this is probably July.

We can hear the cicada chirping in the background, and they start to come out at the end of June and beginning of July. Also, when watching a video of Langa, Reki comments that it has been a few months since he started teaching Langa to skate.

So, Episodes 6-10 must take place between June and September because once we get to episode 11 they’re back in winter uniforms. It’s October already!?

I assume this must mean that episode 12 has to take place in October too since Shadow is still injured enough to have still been in the hospital. It can’t have been that long since he was injured and he was injured in an episode where they were still wearing the summer uniforms.

I know I’ve seen a few people say that the party at the end is Langa’s birthday but it’s just a party to celebrate Langa winning the tournament. I know they mentioned this in one of the magazines but I’ll have to track it down again >.<

[kamotoshi]

reminders [fushiguro tōji x reader]

pairing: fushiguro tōji x fem reader

genre: fluff

warnings: a bit of swearing; brief mentions of past trauma, manipulation, and financial instability/struggles

word count: 2.3k

overview: a sunset picnic reminds him to stop for a moment and remind his wife how he truly feels about her

note: just another fic to serve as evidence for my obsession with making big, beefy 2d men with tough exteriors completely soft for their significant others (wives especially)

“Aren’t we just the cutest couple ever?”

Tōji’s eyes move from the spread of food laid out across the patterned blanket beneath the two of you over to either side of him, where a few other couples and families have set up their picnic spots for the evening, then, to your phone. A glance at the screen displaying the timed photo you’d just spent the past five to ten minutes setting the scene for and perfecting brings a smirk to his face.

“Just the right amount of nauseating.”

“Like, to the point where people are a little envious, but they don’t think we’re being too over the top, right?”

“Right.”

You hum in understanding as you pop a piece of fruit into your mouth.

“But, I would say err on the side of caution and don’t post the super lovey-dovey ones. Actually, please don’t. That’s a request now.”

Your hand flies to your chest to match the look of feigned shock on your face at his words. He doesn’t miss how the diamond on your finger sparkles in the amber glow of the setting sun. The thought crosses his mind that he wants to buy you a bigger one when he has enough money to set aside—something that would shine just a bit brighter. Almost as brightly as that beautiful smile of yours he had the pleasure of seeing each day, if he was lucky.

“You mean… I can actually post a picture that I took with my notoriously elusive husband?”

With a nod, he shifts his gaze to the horizon—or whatever he can see of it peeking around the sides of each building—for a moment. “Just know it’ll probably end my job,” is his response given with a sigh, “Nobody’ll fear me after they see that I enjoy sunset picnics with my adorable wife, now, will they?”

“Or,” you offer with a grin, scooting closer to him so his arm can snake around your waist, “it could give you an advantage, people thinking you’re kinda sweet. Like, oh, he’s a cold-blooded killer who takes care of business, but he’s got a soft side, too. And then, bam! You swoop in and they’ll never even know what hit ‘em.” Sweeping a hand dramatically across the landscape in front of you, as if you want him to picture the scene in your head, you add, “Suddenly, you’re the talk of the town. Women want you. Men want to be you. Hell, they’d probably want you too.”

“And that’s the story of how I end up on the front covers of magazines, right?”

“Exactly. This is just the start of your success story, baby.” Tenderly, you place a hand on the side of his face to bring it closer to your lips. After pecking him on the cheek, you whisper, “Just try not to forget about me when you’re famous, okay?”

He turns to look directly at you, his eyebrow raised with incredulousness in an expression you’ve seen many times before. “You kidding me? I would never. Be famous, I mean.”

The teasing smack you land on his chest doesn’t deter him from leaning down towards you to press a kiss against your lips that you readily return in spite of your complaints at his devious comment. He relishes in the sweet taste lingering on his tongue when he pulls away, and the affection present in your half-lidded gaze brings a comforting warmth over him akin to the feeling of finally crawling into bed after a long day. In his moment of distraction, you’re able to sneak in another meeting of your lips before grabbing one of the snack boxes you’d meticulously crafted and dropping it into his lap.

“Since I’m nice, unlike you, I’ll still let you eat the food lovingly prepared by your loving wife.”

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, giving your thigh an appreciative squeeze, “You know I love you.”

“I mean, I hope you do. You did marry me, and stick with me all these years, after all, you weirdo.”

He chuckles and pats your leg before shifting his attention to the delicious food you’d put together for the two of you, and you settle down beside him after collecting your own. His free hand plants on the ground beside your opposite hip, closing the gap between you.

Each day that he gets to spend with you he’s thankful for. But there’s something different about those where the sight of the sun slowly descending toward the horizon is beautiful enough to draw both of you out of the house to sit and watch it. He can’t quite explain it, but everything about these days feels different. The harshness of the city seems to fade away for a bit. The air smells sweeter. His breaths come a bit more deeply. The absence of your body against his in some way is felt more intensely.

In between gazing ahead at the sunset—allowing his eyes to flicker to his meal, the kids zipping past every now and then on their bikes, or other passersby—he finds his attention being drawn back to you. Each feature of your face bathed in the golden light of the sun’s last rays brings an unexpected flutter to his heart. He’s never surprised by how gorgeous you are, but, still finds himself in awe of just how lucky he is each time he stops to take it all in.

Lucky that he gets to wake up next to you and see you in those quiet moments of the morning when your eyes are still struggling to focus and your cheek is stamped with each wrinkle of your pillowcase, but you look beautiful all the same. Lucky that the arms and legs he has draped around him until you both wake up sweaty in the middle of the night are yours. Lucky to be offered a refuge wherever you are. Lucky you’re one he promised to love for the rest of his life.

In the busyness of your days, sometimes things are assumed rather than said. He assumes the parting kiss he presses to your lips each time he leaves the house translates into a small, “I love you, I’ll be back soon.” Just like he assumes the way he pulls you onto his lap while you’re sitting together, watching a movie, sends a small message of, “I need you here, close to me.” Or the pause he takes to gaze into your eyes after your more passionate displays of affection means, “I love you more than I know how to say.”

He realizes, given the risky nature of his work, that thought alone isn’t enough, though. Maybe he’s too afraid of saying something that’ll curse you for his lips to form the words he’s thinking as often as they should, but if he was one to let his life be ruled by fear, he wouldn’t be sitting with you in the first place. He would’ve let his family wreak havoc on him for the entirety of his life, weighing it down with constant reminders of his failures. He would’ve let his fear of being vulnerable keep him from getting close enough to you to fall in love with you.

Yet, here he is, making relaxed conversation with you—his wife—as the two of you sit together beneath a sea of brilliant oranges, candied pinks, and the gentlest hues of lavender. With the way you use your steadily built and strongly maintained trust in him to speak so freely and be so vulnerable without fear of judgment, he feels it’s only fair that he shows his trust in you by doing the same. That he reminds you of his feelings rather than lets the implications behind his actions speak for him.

When he decides to mention it, most of the sky has lost its fire and quite a few of the other picknickers have packed up and returned home. But the two of you choose to remain out just a bit longer in the warmth of the summer night, bathed in the sound of cicadas chirping incessantly. “Hey babe?” he calls, giving your hand resting in his a gentle squeeze as his cheek drops to the blanket so he can look at you.

“Mm?” You shift onto your side and scoot closer to him, moving your interlaced hands to your chest, holding the back of his against your gently beating heart. On instinct, your other set of fingers find his face to brush a few strands of dark hair away from his eyes, and he presses feathery kisses to your palm.

Sighing against your skin, he asks, “Do I tell you I love you enough?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you assure him, “I know you do.”

“Because I say it?”

You hum with uncertainty, fingers gliding from the scar at the side of his mouth down his neck, and to one of his broad shoulders. “More because I can see it in the way you look at me. But, then again, I also see you look at a really good meal the same way. Makes me kinda jealous sometimes,” is your answer given with a small, teasing smile, “Besides, I feel like I can safely assume that you’ve stayed with me all these years because you love me, right?”

“Of course,” he says, the strength in his voice contrasting the subtle, pained look behind his eyes, “But I don’t say it enough, do I?”

There’s a short pause before you murmur, “Not usually unless I say it first. But it tends to be more of a reflex for both of us, anyway. Like, ‘I’m heading out now, love you!’ or, ‘Goodnight, I love you,’ y’know?”

A gentle tug on your wrist pulls you towards him, until you’re propped up on both elbows, body leaning over his. Wrapping an arm around your waist brings your chests flush against one another and your faces mere centimeters apart. The way he’s regarding you as nothing else is as important as you are to him in this moment has you melting into the kiss he plants on your lips.

“You’re the love of my life.” Heat radiates from your chest all the way up to your face at his tenderly spoken words accompanied by his thumb skimming along your cheekbone. “And you deserve to hear me tell you how much I care about you more often because you’re the only person who’s made me feel deserving of love.”

The hand on your back slowly moves up and down, his fingers tracing along your spine. It was once deemed as a mindless behavior in your eyes, but after many years with him, you’ve come to learn that sometimes it’s a means of comforting himself or finding the courage to speak about something that’s been on his mind. To reassure him, you place a soft peck against the corner of his mouth and run your fingertips across his jaw.

He seems to find the strength he needs to speak the rest of his truth, since he continues, “I remember being terrified when I first realized how much I loved you. Because here I was, thinking I was only gonna marry someone as a way of erasing my connections to my family, and that falling in love would weaken me—make me easier to be manipulated—but you changed my mind. And I don’t think there’s a damn thing that could ever happen to make me wish I did things differently, even though we got married young, when we barely had enough money to our names to get ourselves through the week.”

A pang of somewhat bittersweet nostalgia ripples through you at the memories of sleeping on the floor, clinging to one another to keep warm during the cold, winter nights. Of how you’d both worked so tirelessly to make a living that sometimes all you’d do was cry into his shoulder when you got home. But soon, there was a couch. A bed. A table. A lamp that didn’t flicker. Then, a new place in a safer part of the city, filled with all the furniture and appliances you could need. Jobs that paid enough for the tears to subside.

The impulsiveness the two of you had displayed in your early twenties had gotten you into a lot of sometimes unbearable situations, but you wouldn’t have changed a thing had you somehow been granted the power to alter the past. While unpleasant, those events had helped the two of you get to where you are today, happier and more in love than ever.

“After all we’ve been through, and that you’ve stuck with me through, I at least owe it to you to remind you how much you mean to me instead of just assuming you know. Because you really do mean the world to me. So, this is me telling you that I love and appreciate you a lot more than I might feel capable of saying sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

With that same, bright smile of yours that he adores, you take your weight off your elbows to wrap your arms around him while he gives your body a tight squeeze in return. “I love you so much, Tōji,” you hum, heart swelling with joy.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

There’s a few moments of peaceful silence while the two of you remain wrapped up in a tight and much-needed embrace. Eventually, a deep exhale fans across your neck before he mentions, “That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

“Just a bit. But I promise not to tell anyone you’re secretly a bit of a sap, okay?” you comment, sending the two of you into a small fit of snickers. Your tone is more serious, however, when you mention, “It made me really happy to hear, though.”

“Good,” is his response as he moves his head so he can press his mouth to your temple. His next words are spoken quietly, as if just to himself, and nearly lost beneath the layers of environmental noise surrounding you, but you’re glad you hear them.

“That’s all that matters to me.”