#i would need to do something extra to achieve that level of volume

[aahsoka]

first attempt at trying to achieve pre-raphaelite-esque hair . not the best but its something

[skyler10fic]

Public journaling because I need to get this out:

I'm having reflux/GERD induced by my anxiety disorder among other stress related things.

This anxiety is often triggered by spending time engaging with how awful the world is.

I do want to help raise awareness, make the world a better place, be a more informed voter, and do my duty to give everyone resources to do the same.

I cannot keep engaging with this reality at the current rate.

I struggle to set boundaries with my scrolling because it's my highest level/easiest accessible connection point with other people and something for my ADHD brain to focus on.

I cannot simply stay focused because of the ADHD. It is an inability.

At home, I do other things, like household tasks.

But I'm required to be in the office three days a week. Half days are an unofficial/coincidental accomodation.

When I'm at the office, I don't have little tasks to do. Everything is (honestly quite boring) deep thinking, high concentration work.

I cannot "just get a new, more interesting job" in a field that was always highly competitive and has been dying for 20 years. My job is very good for pay and benefits in comparison to others in my field.

So the key is I need a way to engage with people and work with my brain that isn't working against it: neither doomscrolling nor shaming myself into just staring at the screen and forcing myself to work at a slower pace so I don't have so much extra time. I can't just tell my brain not to be bored or not to need distractions.

If I get up from my desk at the office, I'm supposed to count it as break time. So I can't go on walks on the clock. If I take lots of breaks, that adds to the amount of time I'm physically at the office and cuts down on free time. (I do take 30 minute lunch and occasionally 15 minutes here and there.)

My group chats are great, but my friends have busy lives with lots of other things going on so it's not the frequency and volume of Twitter and Threads.

Almost all of my friends are far away, and the people physically close to me have resisted my efforts to increase emotional closeness and depth. They are all in for hanging out, but uncomfortable with emotions or vulnerability or friendship beyond "people I do preorganized activities with."

I can't eliminate the brain need through ADHD meds because of my liver problems (thanks for that, Strattera extremely rare side effects) and other medical risks the doc is not willing to take. Psych doc also says I need to show a positive result on the computerized ADHD $5k test my insurance doesn't pay for (created for hyperactive boys, not high achieving adult women who perform well on tests) to really consider my "attention issues" as for sure ADHD despite EVERY other medical professional verbally diagnosing me. I definitely have ADHD. This is not a question. But there doesn't seem to be a med solution anyway.

Possible solutions I'm working on:

1. More library books I can sneak glances at or listen to on my phone

2. Lists, curated social media experiences, joining more happy/low-stress groups

3. Boundaries, muting words, blocking abundantly

4. Under desk bike helps a lot when I'm not too tired

5. Standard GERD reduction tips and other physical health care

6. Mental health care

7. Listen to soothing ASMR at night

8. Physical self care (food, exercise, hydration, sleep, etc)

I think if I didn't have the ADHD creating a need that the doom sites solve (and by solve, I mean meet the immediate need by creating different problems), this would be easier. It isn't simple "addiction." It's higher up the logical food chain than that.

Today this came to a head with some emotional dysregulation: there is a big personal issue with someone I trusted potentially being a bad guy, and I can't talk about it with my local friends because they won't understand OR they are his coworkers, who can't discuss the situation with me for understandable HR reasons.

Add that stress on to the national / global doom written on the wall for political reality and history and life as we know it, and then there are Oppression Olympics competitors yelling at us that we're privileged , spoiled brats if we're upset because THEY have been marginalized worse than us and THEY aren't fazed or distressed because they are so morally superior to us BABIES who are apparently new here....

Blah blah blah

Anyway. I would very much like to get rid of this stress response in my digestive system so I can eat normal food.

[rewordthis]

Class Saturday Night tonight and the exercises are double for those who feel ready. 🤩

Ok, so the previous class was cancelled because of rl reasons but today I bring you still life as an extra, for compensation.

But first things first. My personal favourite exercise for drawing is the line of vision one. Both other exercises build up to this one and now you’re going to learn how the mechanics work.

Find a can, like a canned tomato one or something. Preferably a closed one. 😬

It doesn’t need to be stripped off, if the scheme and colours are too confusing you can cover it with a blank piece of paper or you know… strip it. 😗

This tin is going to be drawn from 3 different angles:

One: put the can on a surface from where you’re allowed to see its whole front from top to bottom but you can’t see the underside or the top of it and it’s not curved. ➡️ This is your eye level. Anything in this height is viewed in-form and one-dimensional. The main information you get of the object is the height and width ratio.

Two: put the can on a surface from which you can see its whole front from top to bottom and the top of it. The top and bottom will appear curved. ⬇️ This is your under eye level. Anything in this height is viewed slightly transformed in a way where you get more information about the shape, width and depth of an object. The height of the object is downsized.

Three: put the can on a surface from where you’re not allowed to see its whole front from top to bottom (this doesn’t apply if you place it on a glass surface, though!). The top will appear curved. ⬆️ This is your above eye level. Anything in this height is also viewed transformed in a way where you get a false height information, ie: the object appears way more tall than it actually is. From this angle you also don’t get information about the top because it is hidden and the bottom because it is also hidden by the surface it stands on (again, this doesn’t apply if it’s on a glass surface! In this case you see the underside of the object like in the under eye level but the height here is oversized.)

These 3 viewpoints are how we perceive the 3D in general. Along with depth and volume, we get real-life information about our environment and it’s how we also get an instinctual understanding of what is smaller or bigger than ourselves, hence whether it presents a threat or not.

Now, for our extra, I would like to introduce still life to the class. For the setup we will need a bottle (preferably a wine bottle because it has less curves, but beer would also do I guess), a funnel (you know, like those with which you fill oil kitchen bottles?) and a fruit (like my ‘beloved’ orange or an apple. I’m not sure bananas would work the same. Also, if you happen to have grapes, this would look so pretty?! 🥰 but rip your hand, though… oops.) Arrangement for this one is free.

Let the objects blend and overlap; the lines and shades should give a nice recap for what you learned so far. Try to observe and reprint what you see on your paper. By observation, your mind will start to categorise and reprint shapes and volumes naturally, especially if they blend in like this. This will only improve over time and practise so keep it up.

The way you work with your pencil will also adjust to your own personal way of drawing, as you try new things and ways to achieve better control over it. The key is to always try and have a close reproduction to what you see. It’s something you can confirm yourself and that’s also why it’s important to start drawing from life.

BTW, this is an extra exercise and it’s going to blend with the next class one. So don’t feel too overwhelmed about doing it, ok?

What’s important, is to understand how eye-level measurements work. Take your time with this class’s exercise and try to understand how and why it works like it does. The synthesis is more about learning through fun than anything, so only start with it after you’ve finished the three single-object exercises. 🤗

That’s all for today’s class, folks! If you have any progress pics I’d love to see them, so feel free to mention my blog name in a post or send me your pics. Anonymous is fine, too!

Have a nice time drawing! ✨

[donnadng]

My signature hairstyle

I want a clean, well-maintained, healthy and natural looking hair.

I want my hair to be smooth, thick, with volume and noticeable texture with my layers.

I want a 90s butterfly blow out cut in a u-shape with curtain bangs.

I have been alternating between - blow outs, tying my hair in a bun, curling my fringe and light curls. What i need to take it to another level up:

Spray to add texture to the layers with the butterfly cut

Volume spray to hold the volume on days where i make a concerted effort to curl my hair

A digital perm with thick bouncy, wavy volumes

A new straightener

The reason i have built my hairstyle like this because i want my hair to be effortless, low maintenance and quick and easy to pull together in the morning but still look polished.

Try this product: Loreal Paris Elnett Extra Strong Hold

Reflection: Yesterday i went to get a haircut - i essentially asked for a new hairstyle and also a trim. Typically what i do is grow my hair out for 3-4 months and then get a haircut to trim, tidy and a subtle change in my hair style. However the problem i tend to run into this is that when i trim my hair it ends up becoming too short. And i have to go through the process of waiting for it to grow out and it becomes a loop of the above. There are different reasons i can go to a hair dresser for, it doesn't necessarily always need to be a trim. I can go to a hair dresser to - Trim - Change my hairstyle - Keep my hairstyle (and length) and tidy up the style

Yesterday i went to get my hair cut and a default thing i do is to get a trim because i have grown my hair out and need it. However this time, i wanted a change in hairstyle too. I actually wanted long, thick, bouncy layered hair so it didn't make sense for me to get a trim? I think subsciously i think it'll grow out and i will reduce the need to see a hair dresser so often but in the meantime i have to deal with a less than desired shortened hair. This could be something that has been conditioned to me in childhood or what people normally do. However i don't need to do that.

However this doesn't make sense. Because by the time it starts growing out i start to lose the style.

Consider the context and objective of why i am going to the hair dresser. It doesn't always need to be a trim, it can be a tidy up or a change in hair style.

In yesterday's case i wanted a change in hairstyle so i should have asked for a change in hairstyle but to keep my length. The reason why i am reflecting deeper on this is because the learning that i want to take out of this is: that if i want a different result it is silly of me to expect to do the same thing over and over again. I need to be flexible and open to different perspectives and approaches and think about the more effective solution to the problem. If i am trying to achieve a different result than it would require a different approach.

Be flexible and ready to adapt to different circumstances

[lovee-infected]

This idea just hit me like a train. How would twst boys react to WAP from Cardi B?? 😂😂😂

I'm trying to ignore the fact that I might've never discovered WAP without this request...🗿

Warning(s): What should I even tag as the warning idkk ckcjxjsjsjdjdjck- Mentions of WAP's lyrics, mentions of nsfw, Warning for Idia's part bc I think it went a bit too far-

Riddle Rosehearts

Heard of this song named WAP being trending between students -> Searched it up -> Riddle:... Riddle: *Turns off his phone*

Bans WAP from the whole Heartslabyul afterwards, and every student found listening to it will have to face Riddle's: "NOOOOOOO- NO WAP IN THIS HOUSEHOLD - GO TO HORNY JAIL OFF WITH YOUR HEADS YOU UNWORTHY CREATURES- "

Trey Clover

Searches: "What does WAP mean?" before wards and after reading the search results he decides that he doesn't really need to listen to the song itself anymore.

He just clears his browsing history and returns to baking cakes. Nothing has happened, he knows nothing.

Cater Diamond

He is the guy making those "Night raven college react to WAP!!" videos on magicam. His reaction videos get over 100k views and people from all over the Twisted Wonderland start following this dork for them.

Who cares about the WAP itself? As long as he can gain followers over these videos he doesn't care how the song is supposed to be.

But at last Riddle discovers his videos by finding other dorms' students laughing over them and forces him to take them down💀 Man, Riddle really did ruin his once-in-a-life time chance for becoming popular.

Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade

Riddle has banned WAP Heartslabyul so they're going to illegally listen to it. It was Ace's fault though, Deuce is innocent.

Ace searchs up the music video, Deuce just sees the thumbnail and tells Ace that he doesn't think that this is going to be a good idea but Ace cuts him off by asking him not to be such a chicken-

Though they had to stop because Deuce was all shaky and embarrassed after just 20 seconds :"Stop this-STOP THIS- I CAN'T DO THIS- WE'RE STILL TOO YOUNG" and Ace had to stop to shut Deuce because they could've gotten caught at any second because of his unholy screams.

[a few minutes later...]

Deuce: It was saying DOORS in this house

Ace: Bruh what the- we both know it was saying Wh*res.

Deuce: Y-you dirty minded bastard!! It was clearly saying doors in this house!

Ace: Why the hell would they say doors in this house!??? It was wh*res!

Deuce: Doors!

Ace: WH*RES

Deuce: DOORS

Ace: WH*RES

Deuce: DOOOOORRRSSSSSSSSS

Leona Kingscholar

See he might be a jerk but he hasn't yet gotten to the level of appreciating this way of presenting women in songs-

He's just going to pretend that WAP doesn't exist,but most of the Savanaclaw on the other hand are going wild because with WAP, now he can't even take a peaceful nap without WAP being looped in his brain.

Ruggie Bucchi

WAP isn't beyond his power, he's handled stronger songs.✨ He'd regularly rap WAP in public when he's feeling like it.

Now he goes around to recommend WAP to naïve students and taint their virginity by making them listen to WAP without knowing what it is-

Jack Howl

Catches Ace and Deuce listening to WAP and ends up listening to it because of them. He doesn't knpw what to say...

He isn't mad, just disappointed. Disappointed parent noises. Out of all these students, why should he best buddies which these two?

Time to drag Ace and Deuce to a corner and give them a long speech on why young men their age need to be focusing on mastering skills and achieving success through these golden years instead of violating rules and tainting their pure minds.

"Trappola-kun, Spade-kun, you've greatly disappointed me. You need to be more mindful of your actions as fellow freshmen of night raven college. Is this how the future's great magicians are going to be? How do you think your parents would feel about this new habit of yours? Have you thought of how despicable women are being presented through such songs? Are you going to support such a taboo message toward ladies?"

And Ace and Deuce end up having to listen to him and think of their bad actions for the rest of the day...

Azul Ashengrotto

[Before listening to WAP]: He hears of this WAP song being super trending between students. What might it secret be? What kind of magic would make a simple song so hecking popular? He has to find out.

Azul thinks that by learning WAP's ways, he might be able to produce songs that are even better for mostrolounge and even start his very own music company! But before that he needs to listen to wap itself...

[After listening to WAP]: ...He discovers what kind of magic is making it so popular, but decides that it'd be better for him take a step back from the world of music for now. Yes, he's traumatized

Floyd Leech

"Hey hey koooeeebiii chaaannnn have you seen my new dance~?" ah yes, he's got the WAP dance and he's proud of it. These are the time when he's genuinely thankful for getting to have human legs.

But the WAP dance isn't his only target, he realizes that Jamil doesn't seem to want Kalim to know anything about WAP, but thankfully, Floyd is going to be kind enough to bless the young Kalim with his wealthy knowledge on WAP. ✨

Jade Leech

"My...my...that was savage," Jade is amazed, it's quite wonderful how these fragile creatures can go from Micheal Jackson's smooth criminal to WAP in a matter of years.

He's still having trouble keeping up with latest human trends and popular songs but, he's slowly liking humans a lot more than before. These creatures have already reached the level to make put p*rn in music, impressive.

Kalim Al Asim

He hears students whispering about an epic song named WAP during the classes, and of course he'd be intrigued!

He looks up the song but Jamil has already blocked his access to any sources that he might find WAP in, yet Floyd was kind enough to lend Kalim his phone to let him listen to this masterpiece. Later on, Floyd tells him about the WAP dance and bam, Kalim is addicted.

"Everyone watch me! I've got the WAP!"

Poor Jamil doesn't know which is worse, having Kalim signing it loudly in the dorm or watching him showing off his skills in that WAP dance in public. It's time for Jamil to go on a long, long trip and never come back until Kalim graduates from this school.

Jamil Viper

Listens to WAP once, is going to spend the rest of his life pretending that he has never heard or watched it. The most ironic part about it is how he watches the music video instead of just listening to the song and...the snakes. Good lord the snakes- He isn't sure if he likes snakes anymore.

The snakes part seriously traumatizes him but not like Kalim does when he asks Jamil to learn him the WAP dance. And heck no Jamil isn't going to learn him how to dance like a wh*re. At this point, he decides to deny WAP's whole existence.

Kalim: At least tell me what a WAP is!

Jamil:

Jamil: Worship and prayer.

Vil Schoenheit

Hasn't listened to WAP and refuses to do so. He's got standards.

Rook Hunt

"Bravo!!! These Mademoiselles have taken the art of music to a whole nother level! Beaute! 100 points! 💯" (...what else did you expect him to say?)

Just as always, no one can really tell if Rook really liked it or not but from the way he acts he seems to be... intrigued. Apparently WAP starts to get too famous in school and Rook would always be the first one to find out if a student is secretly listening to WAP in public, so he doesn't mind popping up and reminding the students not to listen to such a potentially stimulating song so carelessly: "Monsieur (x), it's adorable to see you appreciating such a glorious piece of art in this lovely day, but I don't think that all of these students staring at us right now are yet prepared for such a beauty,"

Epel Felmier

He just asked Ace for some music that'll make him sound more badass and Ace gave him the WAP:

Epel listening to WAP be like:😳😶😨😕😭

His face is redder than a tomato after the first 30 seconds of WAP, but Ace tells him that he'd be the bravest human being ever if he takes the urge to listen to this in front of teachers.

Tries to dance to WAP and make a video with it to upload on magicam, but Vil catches him in the middle of process.💀💀💀 The video turned out pretty good though. It looks just like a mother (Ehm- Vil) getting into her child's room (Epel-) and finding them doing some crazy shit.

Idia Shroud

He's the silent and seemingly shy dude who's listening to WAP in the highest volume under those head phones during classes.

Divus Crewel: CaF2(s) + Br2(ℓ) → CaBr2(s) + F2(g)...

Inside Idia's headphones: " ~ Wh*res in this house~ there some wh*res in this house~ there some wh*res in this house~ there some wh*res in this house~"

Bonus: He once forgets to connect his headphones to his tablet before playing WAP:

[Wap is being played at max volume inside Trein's class]

Idia: *Thinks that the sound is coming from his head phones*

The classroom: "Beat it up, n*gga, catch a charge

Extra large and extra hard

Put this p**sy right in your face

Swipe your nose like a credit card"

Trein: 😳

Students: 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Crowley about to jump down: 🤭

Idia still not realizing what the hell is going on: 'Lucy lucy baby~ hihihi- wait- why they all staring at me now...? Did they hear me internally flirt with Lucius?'

No need to say what happened to Idia after this...

Ortho Shroud

No WAP for him. You may find him reacting to "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands" if you're interested.🗿

Malleus Draconia

Thank goodness he just finds the censored version of WAP... Listens to the whole song, but doesn't understand most of the lyrics. The "Put this cookie right in your face" part confuses him the most, he doesn't get it. Why would you put a cookie in your face? Is this something humans usually to do with their desserts? Like, would they put ice cream in their faces too?

Virgin dragon keeps on asking people, including Lilia, to tell him what it means to put a cookie in one's face, yet no one seems to give him any proper answers ):

Perhaps human music just isn't his thing, he's getting back to sad violin noises which he listens to when he isn't invited.

Lilia Vanrouge

WAP go brrrrrrr. Our sassy grandpa is legit in love with this piece of gold and all of the humans for achieving such a glory. The beat is superb and the lyrics are: Delicious, motivational and creatively written.

Even better, WAP has an unofficial but smexy dance too. Old man Lilia is never too old for performing a sexy physically challenging dance.

You can now hear savage rock sounds combined with WAP playing in the background coming from his room when he's vibing in the afternoon.

(I can totally see him wearing a neko maiden costume while dancing to WAP and you can't tell me otherwise)

Silver

Finds WAP in papa Lilia's playlist...

Silver:

Silver:

Sebek Zigvolt

Sweet mother of love Sebek feels like listening to WAP has taken his virginity away-

He is a good boy, no, he once was a good boy. He's no longer the worthy man he used to be now that this unholy song has tainted his soul.

Legit feels guilty and and sinful after WAP, so you can find him praying for forgiveness to that Malleus portrait in his room every night.

"Oh young master forgive my thoughtless deeds, I beg for your mercy upon me now that I've sinned..."

Dire Crowley

Not saying that a drag Queen Crowley dancing to WAP would be a thing, but a drag Queen Crowley dancing to WAP would be a thing- Everyone bow down to the Headmaster, the most gracious of them all 😩😩😩👌🏻

Please, don't blame him. Birby is under too much of pressure after the very recent overblot cases and he needs a way to let go of the stress😔😔😔

Sam

Is illegally selling copies of the WAP because most of the dorms had blocked access to this song for the students...

"Helloooooo little demons I've got the WAP! In stuck now-"

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//missing pieces. miya atsumu//

Warnings: mild swearing.  Feelings of hopelessness. infidelity

Word Count: 2.2K

Notes: imnotcryingimnotcryingimnotcrying.

{Read Part II - "Broken Pieces" HERE}

You heard them before they even entered the door.  The loud shouts and the howls of laughter.  If you sat up enough on the couch, the MSBY training jackets were visible through the front window.  Hinata’s orange hair bounced wildly as he jumped excitedly with his older Jackals.  It was the fifth time this week that the boys had come over after practice.

It was the fifth time this week that the boys had disrupted your much needed study time.  A senior in college, a list of midterms too long to comprehend, and more mental breakdowns than you cared to account for, the hours that your boyfriend was at practice and you could relax and study in the comfort of your shared home was pure bliss.  

The door swung open, giving you a full account of just how loud they were being.  Atsumu was doubled over in fits of giggles, tugging his sneakers off, Hinata and Bokuto shouting bits and pieces of the same story only a few steps behind.  

“Y/N? You here?” Atsumu calls out as he is finally able to calm himself down enough to speak normally again.

“Living room, ‘mu!”

In a matter of seconds, he’s bounding into the room, leaning over your shoulder.  “I’m home.”  You don’t even have to look at him to know that he has the widest grin on his face, just like he always does when he gets back from practice.  No matter how long or how grueling his day, Atsumu never fails to greet you with the biggest smile.

“I see that.  How was practice?”

“Good! My hands are kinda sore though,” he whines, opening and closing his hands in front of you as if to show you the pain he was enduring.  

“Well, you’re new to this pro stuff still, Atsumu.  Your body will get used to it soon.”

“Yeah, I know.”  He sighs a little, resting his chin on the top of your head.  “The guys are here.”

“Trust me, I, and the entire neighborhood, know.  Let me just finish this question real quick and I’ll let you guys have the living room.” 

“Aw, come on!  You don’t want to hang out with us?”

“I need to study or else I would love to.”

He hums in affirmation.  “You’re going to do so well.  I’ll make sure we keep it down so you can focus, okay?” There’s a soft kiss placed on your head as you pack up your laptop and notes so you can go study in the bedroom.

“Thank you, ‘mu,” you say, standing on your toes to give his lips a short peck as you pass.  

But that was then.

And this was now. 

“Are you serious?! You can’t lock me out of my room, Y/N!”

“Our room, Atsumu, and too bad.  I did!”

His fist pounds on the door, the intensity of each knock sending vibrations throughout the room.  “Y/N, this is ridiculous! Open the door!”

“I’m trying to work.  This report has to be done for tomorrow. Please, ‘mu.”

“Don’t ‘mu’ me when you’re literally locking me out the bedroom!”

You roll your eyes, leaning over to twist the lock and tug the door open.  Your boyfriend tumbles into the room as his support is swung away from him.  He doesn’t even look at you.  He just goes straight to the closet, throwing clothes onto the bed.  “Where are you going?” You ask, looking up from your laptop briefly as he throws a pair of jeans a little too far, hitting you in the leg.

“Does it matter?”  He starts peeling off the lounge clothes that he had been wearing most of the day, opting for a slightly more put together outfit for his night out.

You just shrugged.  “I guess not.” Yes.

“Then don’t worry about it.”  Atsumu tugs his jeans up and takes a look at himself in the mirror.  He ruffles his hand through his hair in a poor attempt to give it some extra volume. You watch him make a few dumb facial expressions at himself.  Satisfied, he pulls his hat over his head.  With wallet and phone in hand, he finally turns to look at you.  “Okay.  I’ll see you later,” he states plainly, walking past you and out the bedroom door.

“Do you have your keys?”  The only answer you receive is an annoyed jingle of his keyring from the other room.  

The thud of front door closing is the sole sign that he had left.  There were no final shouts of “Bye, princess! I love you!” “I love you more, ‘mu!” “I love you most!” Those days have long since past.  They had been replaced with eerie silences and quick exits from both parties.  Life in the current household was far from what it had been a year ago.  There were no soft shared kisses just because.  No gentle teases as the evening news played in the background.  No long cuddle sessions on the couch because both of you were too lazy to get up to go to bed. There was no smacking his hands out of the mixing bowl while you tried to make dinner.

Atsumu wasn’t home long enough for those things anymore.  He’d come running in from practice, quickly shower and change out of his sweaty clothes.  And as fast as he came, he would be gone, maybe shouting “I’m going out with the guys!” but usually, he would just leave, the slam of the door echoing through the house.  

You kept telling yourself that this would pass.  He was just excited to finally be achieving his dreams.  Of course he would want to hang out with his new teammates and friends.  There was a level of trust there that he needed to build with them as their setter and if crowding around Hinata’s television, playing video games was how they bonded, then so be it.  Who were you to tell his team how they should and shouldn’t spend their time?  But this had been going on for months.  

Months of no hellos and no good mornings.  Months of Atsumu coming home late, the faint smell of alcohol on his breath as he tucked into bed an arm’s length away from you.  He returned affection with the minimum amount of effort, maybe a short apology as he broke away from a kiss, explaining that the guys were waiting for him.  It felt like a wedge had been shoved between the two of you, the rest of the Black Jackals jamming you further and further away from him.  

Part of you kept hoping that you would wake up, secured in his arms, a gruff “Good morning” whispered in your ear only followed by a soft whine as you tried to get out of his grasp, causing him to just pull you tighter into his chest.  You kept hoping that whatever switch flipped in his head to cause this would flip back and the Atsumu that you fell in love with would come back to you, but it never happened.  He just kept straying away, not even bothering to look back at how far he had drifted.

You had hoped today would be different.  It wasn’t every day that the two of you accomplished four years of putting up with each other’s bullshit.  But, when his alarm sounded and he just got up like nothing was different, that slight bubble of hope that was buried in your chest popped.  Maybe- maybe he just wanted to focus before practice.  Yeah, that’s all this was.  Surely, he hadn’t forgotten, right?  Atsumu could be a jerk, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole.  He wouldn’t have forgotten your anniversary. 

“What’s this for?” he had asked as he took the neatly wrapped package from you as he sat down at the table, his bowl of cereal nearly empty.

So, he did forget.

“I’ll open it later.  I’m going to try to get a run in before practice.”  You didn’t even have the chance to wish him a happy anniversary before he got up to put his bowl in the sink, headed out of the room to slip on his sneakers for his jog.

So, now, as you sat in your shared bed, it felt like the unopened package was staring intently into your soul, mocking you for your failing relationship.  Four years of laughter, excitement, and love seemed to mean nothing to him and you couldn’t figure out what you did to make him choose volleyball.  It was his dream and you understood that.  You would never keep him from being the man he always dreamed of being.  

It tore you apart inside, this feeling of absolute failure.  It had been bugging you for a while now, but this- that stupid box sitting on his side of the bed, was your breaking point.  You didn’t understand what you did.  Why was he pushing you away?  Did you not support him enough?  Did he think that you didn’t care for him? As the questions weighed heavily on your mind, you felt that all-too-familiar sting of salty tears forming in your eyes.  

You shook your head, silently begging for the tears to just go away.  I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry.  I am not going to cry.  He wasn’t upset, so you shouldn’t be either, right?  But, you were.  You were devastated that no matter how hard you tried to put everything back together, the pieces just kept slipping out from between your fingertips and just as soon as everything felt like it was all coming back together, Atsumu would be holding the final pieces to puzzle, refusing to snap them into their place.  In his hands, he held the most important pieces.  Those gorgeous center parts that brought the entire picture into focus, showing off the breath-taking beauty of it.  But, as of now, it was just the background, the few random bits and bobs, scattered around the scene, each beautiful in their own way, but meaning nothing without the center point of the image.  

The worst part?  You didn’t know when the pieces of your relationship went scattering all over the place, leaving you to scramble, picking everything up on your own while Atsumu was at practice or hanging out with the guys.  You just know that it’s felt like ages since everything was put together in perfect harmony.

You wanted to scream.  You wanted to cry.  You wanted to pull your hair from your head so you could feel something, anything, other than this complete and utter worthlessness and despair that had been swelling within your chest, waiting to be let out.

The hot tears rushed down your face in torrents, but apart from your gentle sniffs, there was silence.  There were no sounds of pitiful weeping.  It was an art that you had learned to perfect after many nights where these feelings washed over you, not wanting to wake Atsumu, not wanting him to stare at you with blank eyes and tell you to, “Stop crying and go to bed.”

But, right now- right now, you didn’t care.  You wanted to hear his voice in your ear, shushing you, reassuring you that everything was fine, just like it used to.  The line rings, rings, rings -

“You’ve reached Miya Atsumu.  Sorry that I missed your call, but if you leave me a message, I’ll get back to you!”

The beep that signals you to leave your message is what urges you to just hang up.  You toss your phone to the side, hoping that, just maybe, he’ll notice your missed call and give you a call back or even just a text message would be good enough for you.

But, there never was.  There was no soft ting at the sound of an incoming message.  You never heard the ringtone that had been set to Atsumu’s contact, signifying that he had called you.  You waited hours, your eyes being dry for a long while at this point, leaving just the shell of a broken person in your place.  Your gaze never left that stupid box.  You were entranced, staring at the black and gold paper, watching it sheen as it would catch the light slipping in from the window.  

Not even the sound of the swinging open could pull you out of your emotionless gaze.  Miya Atsumu just stared into your face, eyes red and puffy, streaks in your make-up where the tears removed your foundation. Somewhere deep within his chest, there was a soft pang of sadness.  There was nothing that he hated more than seeing you so distraught that you completely shut down. Yet, he said nothing.  He simply pulled a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his drawer, pulling his clothes off his body to change into something that he could sleep in.  His shirt came off and your gaze became fixated on his toned chest.

But, even your empty eyes knew the bright red lines of scratches and the harsh purple bruises of a hickey when you saw them.

“‘Mu?”

[honeypirate]

Superpowers I Like

An ongoing list of superpowers i like. most from superpower wiki, the stuff in () are my thoughts, the rest from the website’s linked. sometimes powerlisting changes the names so if the link doesnt work let me know ad i’ll update. 

Let me know if you use any and tag me in the fics you write!

Geometric Physiology

Transform yourself or objects into any shape

Universal Irreversibility

Ability to render an action impossible to be stopped, blocked, manipulated, and reversed

Talpidae Physiology

can mimic/transform into talpids, including the moles, shrew moles, desmans, and other intermediate forms of small insectivorous mammals.

Earth Weaponry

can create or wield weaponry with power over earth, which grants the user a wide variety of earth-based abilities

Transcendent Demonic Mage Physiology

The power to use the abilities of demon of godly arcane powers.

Tooth Fairy Physiology

Can transform into and perform acts the tooth fairy does. (Rip out the teeth of your enemies. control every tooth in the room. could also be strengthened to control bone? maybe?)

Psychic Food Manipulation

The ability to manipulate psychic food/edible substances. (technically, animals are edible, people technically.. like this has so much room for creativity)

Contact Force Defiance

can ignore contact forces, forces that require contact with something, like a surface of the ground or an object. They can defy contact forces and not need to make contact with the surface, or interact with objects from a distance without touching them. Like magnets that don’t want to touch.

Life Connection

User is connected to any/all life and living things, so that as long as they exists life does as well. This allows them to have both an emotional and spiritual link to every form of life, so if the target feels pain or is injured all living things would feel the same pain and/or possibly gain the same wounds as the user. If the user ever dies or is killed then life itself may cease to exist as well. Reader needs a bodyguard??

Fine Interaction

The user can interact with anything that that is microscopic, no matter how small it may be, allowing the user to interact with them as if they were objects or surfaces, possibly even causing macroscopic effects if skilled. This can include viruses, diseases, microbes, atoms, molecules, particles, superstrings, etc. reader is a heart surgeon.

Snake Den 

The user can project numerous snakes from their body to eject poison into the target, project snakes as projectiles to attack or otherwise send them to the target.

Chi Manipulation

The user can create, shape, and manipulate chi. By learning to harness this inner latent energy, they can gain superhuman capabilities and use them in cases of extreme combat. Some examples include physically manifesting all of their inner strength and unleashing it through sheer force of will

Dimensional Storage

The user can put items/beings into a separate dimension for safekeeping and can summon them back with relative ease.(I really like this one)

Liquid Transmutation

User can transform any/all liquids, whether organic or inorganic, into any other fluid/liquid and change a liquids inherent properties such as turning water into acid or even make something like soda poisonous. Any liquids transformed by this power would have all the properties of the liquid they become.

Replication

User can instantly and perfectly replicate themselves and/or targets which can be objects or living beings, numerous times, while usually being able to recombine the clones. Most users have both of these abilities (if subconsciously), copying their clothes/equipment along with their body. Original target will normally be able to maintain control over all copies.

Reactive Adaptation

Users can either instantly develop powers or abilities to deal with threats or their bodies dynamically learn from experience. Depending on the user's control of the power or genetic structure, the reactive effects can be permanent or temporary.

Self-Sustenance

Users physical needs are greatly reduced or completely removed. These needs include air/breathing, sleep/rest, food, drink, bodily evacuations, shelter from environmental effects and their lack (heat/cold, dryness/wetness), etc. The user is also able to stay immobile without the normal effects this would have.

Technology Manipulation

User can create, shape, and manipulate technology and technological constructs, computers, robots, hardware, and other devices that can be termed as "technology." Manifested as a special form of electrical/telekinetic manipulation, a special form of "morphing" which allows physical interaction with machines, or even a psychic ability that allows mental interface with computer data.

User can control the flow of intricate machinery, and assemble or disengage their programming at will and operate most technology at distance. A variation of Electricity Manipulation, they control specific electrons and instructs them which items to engage or disengage and may be able to use the electric impulses to gently control smaller metal parts

Matter Ingestion

The user can eat any substance without harmful effects, regardless of what they consume. They can consume matter in any form - solid, liquid or gas.

(maybe what they eat gives them energy, maybe like how Natsu can eat flames?)

Persuasion

can compel people by speaking, the victims are unable to disobey; the seemingly cogent commandment is far too compelling. At a high level, users can persuade people into hurting/killing themselves or even flip around sense of logic, but can never cause victims to achieve what they are not capable of. 

(maybe user has to work up and strengthen it to be able to persuade peoples to do bigger things)

Anatomical Liberation

User can split their own body apart into pieces and control the said pieces however they wish, by levitating them away from the user's main body and using them as they were connected to the user.

User is immune to cutting and being slashed because they can just pull their bodies back together again. They can also remove their own organs without dying and will neither bleed to death nor die if their brain or heart is removed.

Omnilingualism.

User can speak, write, understand and communicate in any language, including computer codes, languages they have never been heard before, sign language (even lip-reading), illegible words, and backwards speech and writing with little or no training. The user may even communicate with non-human animals or read body language.

Item duplication

user is able to mimic and replicate the objects of others around oneself, and be able to use those objects as one's own.

Darkness Manipulation

User can create, shape and manipulate darkness and shadows. By itself, darkness is mostly used to cloud everything into total darkness, but by accessing a dimension of dark energy it can be channeled to a variety of effects, both as an absence of light and a solid substance: one can also control and manipulate the beings that exist there, create and dispel shields and areas of total darkness, create constructs and weapons, teleport one's self through massive distances via shadows, etc.

Density Manipulation

User can manipulate density, which is defined as mass per unit of volume. This allows them to alter solidity, change the size of substances, create or destroy matter/mass in a volume, change inertial resistance (mass), make things intangible, either strengthen or weaken gravity, concentrate or expand matter, or create pressure differences in a fluid (gas, liquid, plasma) to induce a current and possibly use it to move solids.

Some users might even be able to control electrical charge density, which is the amount of electric charge per unit volume. This would, in turn, enable them to manipulate electromagnetic fields. Control over population density might also be possible for some users as well.

Luck

The user is gifted with an automatic and continuous supply of good luck, most have no control over this power as things considered "lucky" randomly and unexpectedly happens to them despite any predestined fate or logical reason. Ergo, nothing bad will happen or if it does, their power will sort it out no matter how impossible the situation is or how high the odds are against them, allowing the user to always be in complete context in whatever situation they are, be free to do as they please without consequences, and be untouched and ineffective to the laws of causality.

All aspects of user's life improve drastically: work, social, romantic, personal, financial, school, and basically life as a whole would become easier, happier, and would excel altogether.

Paralysis Inducement

Users can immobilize the target completely or partially, causing them to be left without movement and sensation. Making motor functions and muscle movement unavailable, the victim may freeze on the spot or crumple to the ground.

Pain Infliction

Pain Infliction is the ability to inflict horrible pain on others with the mind. It is triggered by pointing one's hand at a target, who will be overwhelmed with pain. The pain is described as a thousand tiny blades stabbing the brain. The pain will instantly vanish once the user loses concentration.

Prehensile Muscles

User can make their muscles stretch/extend and hold/manipulate objects like an extra limb. (could be like tendrils)

Liquid Mimicry

user can morph their body into a liquid state, is made up of or can transform their body completely into liquid substances. A user's transformed form is anatomically identical to their normal form, aside of being made of liquid, in which case it contains all to organs and is somewhat vulnerable to attacks. Alternately the user can transform into homogeneous matter, without any part of their form being more important than the other.

Animal Morphing

User with this ability either is or can transform into animals, whether partially or completely, as well as use the abilities, traits and appearance/physiology of animals by rearranging their own DNA structure. They are able to transform into animals that exist, alien animals and/or animals that are extinct, such as Dinosaurs.

User may have this ability from an empty genetic code, allowing them to accept any form from which they have a DNA sample, others may be able to alter their form mentally and change just by seeing and mimicking animal features.

Life-Force Absorption

The user can absorb life-force/energy, vitality and health, while removing it from the source, into their body and use it in various ways, gaining some form of advantage, either by enhancing themselves, gaining the drained power, using it as power source etc., either temporarily or permanently.

Weapon Hands

User can transform parts of their body to form a weapon of their choice onto their hands and forearms, possibly their biceps, triceps, and shoulders.

Vision Manipulation

The user has complete control over the vision of oneself and others. They can enhance, reduce or remove them temporarily or permanently, protect them from being overwhelmed, cause the target to see things that aren't there or prevent them from seeing things that are, cause/remove sensory ailments, etc.

Tactile Teleportation

User can teleport objects and/or beings through physical contact, the user can transfer them to any location they desire as long their in physical contact with the object/being

Disease Manipulation 

The user can create, manipulate, shape, transform, cause/heal, etc. all forms of diseases, including their severity, contagiousness, methods of spreading, etc. They can control the organisms that spread diseases, including germs, bacteria, virus, or other pathogens on a cellular level, including bacteriophages, microorganisms (microscopic organisms), retroviruses, cells that abnormally grow to make cancerous tumors and cysts, and pathogens that produce genetic mutations

Morality Manipulation

The user can manipulate morality, making people ethically good or immorally evil by psychically kindling the targets’ minds so that they succumb to the voice of truth or to the urge of sin. The victim may feel the calling of the Almighty or some other cosmic force of good or succumb to all inner sins. The effect may expire, but that may be years after the evocations.

Dream Manipulation

User can create, shape, enter and manipulate the dreams of oneself and others, including modifying, suppressing, fabricating, influencing, manifesting, sensing, and observing dreams as well as nightmares, daydreams, etc., possibly including past ones. They can produce and modify dreams, bestow nightmares or lucid dreaming, entrap people in REM, and promote spiritual/emotional healing within dreams.

In some cases, user's power extends to the real world, such as wounds inflicted on a sleeping victim, healed damage (mental or physical) affecting the physical form, and other wise blurring the line between waking and dream. They may be able to pull someone from the waking world into the dream world or brings people/things from the dream world into the waking world.

[onyourzeus]

raining | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: raining pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you  genre: fluff, fictional universe words: 4.4k

was listening to this playlist while writing.  author’s note: overwhelmingly cliche, like kdrama levels of it. be forewarned. i am in my youngk feelings tonight, folks. i just wanted to write something sickeningly cute & i think i achieved it lol. do enjoy, regardless.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

The moment you step outside the door, you immediately regret it. You were never one to love the cold, you actually welcome it— but when signs of heavy rain are bound to happen within the hour or so it’s not advisable for anyone to enjoy a walk outside. 

You pull on the ends of your sweaters even more, keeping the tips of your fingers enclosed in the warmth of the fabric. A slight yet wintry breeze whispers against your ear and you shiver involuntarily. It was a win-win situation to cover your head with the hoodie as your hair had seen better days before, and it keeps you extra protected from the cold. 

The convenience store was a mere ten to fifteen walk from your street, it shouldn’t be a big deal. So here you are, shuddering in house clothes, trudging your way to the nearest mart to snag yourself a cup of noodles or two, and maybe buy a drink to keep you toasty on the way back. 

Hands tucked in between your sides, you briskly make your way to your destination. At eight in the evening on a weeknight, there seems to be a couple of people enjoying a chilly stroll outside. 

Well, the only difference is that they’re all dressed for the occasion: thick coats, thicker scarves, and an overwhelming sense of excitement for this weather. 

“They better go home soon before it starts to rain,” you mumble under your breath, costing a fog to escape in front of you. It looks nice, though, that they have one or another person accompanying them tonight. Some with hands held tight and others just comfortably walking side by side. 

The sudden chattering of your teeth makes you question your bitter sentiment. You decide not to think about it any further as you approach the blinding lights of the convenience store. 

Pushing the door open with some elbow grease (they really need to replace that), you’re welcomed with a whiff of plastic packaged items, coffee brewing on the side, and the silent hum of cash registers at the front. 

You’re starting to feel the heat of the inside replace your slight shivering, but you ought to keep the hood on and make the trip as fast as possible. 

Walking towards the ramen aisle, your eyes widen at the sheer possibilities of microwavable meals you can have tonight: curry-flavored, spicy seafood, extra hot with three Xs, it’s shameful that you find these all so appealing. 

Before your mouth waters embarrassingly, you grab three cups of your choice and cradle them in one hand securely. Moving over to the chilled section, you check the price of a small container of kimchi to see if you’re lucky enough to spice up your dinner for tonight. 

Unfortunately, you don’t think it fits your budget, recalling that you just grabbed a couple of coins from the counter before leaving the apartment.

Somehow, while being preoccupied by the fact that you can’t have any kimchi, your head collides against someone’s back. In the most awkward encounter that can happen, cups of noodles drop on the floor. Your hoodie falls off your head, revealing the hair you’re trying to keep away from the public. 

With heated cheeks, you apologize profusely to this person’s back, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking!” You don’t even wait for them to turn around as you quickly bend down and grab your items. 

He picks them up before you do. 

You get a glimpse of him in the seconds he’s bent down; his hair parted in the middle with a little curl to them, roots are dark brown but everything else of a faded grey, his thick brown coat nicely shaping his shoulders, and as he slowly stand upright you have a clear view of a black turtleneck that hugs his neck perfectly, and his face—

“No worries, it happens,” he tells you casually, holding onto your dropped items. His eyes are slanted and yet you see gentleness in them. As he gives you a small smile, you notice his high cheekbones protruding from such graceful features. 

The sudden warmth emanating from your thrift-store find sweater makes your face feel like it’s about to erupt from embarrassment. You scramble over to grab your cup of noodles from his grasp, grazing the skin on his hands. Even that sensation felt so soft for such a short period of interaction. 

You do need to go out and see people more. 

“T-thanks,” you manage to blurt out. From all the apparent staring you’ve done in the past minute or so, you find your eyes glued on the floor intensely. 

“Excuse me…” you trail off almost inaudibly, but he gives you space in the aisle you’ve collided so you can stand in line for the register. 

It felt like an eternity being face to face with him as people have formed a queue to pay already, but you will yourself not to look back. It was a… lucky accident? 

If you can call it that— you still look like you haven’t unearthed yourself from your hermit cave for months. And him— well, to put it frankly, he just looked unreal to be sauntering his way at a local convenience store. 

You shake your head, quickly pull up your hoodie once again and tighten the straps a little bit more forcefully this time. 

It’s hard to hide the shame, but at least your hair will be out of sight again.

Impatiently, you tap your foot with the sound of the clock on the wall. Some problem of some kind with the scanner up front was causing the line to lag, and not to say so first-world problem-haver, but the less time you spend in here, the more time you can scream into your pillow back home. 

A stretch of the neck, you look up, down, and side to side. On your left, your eyes catch something too familiar. 

Something in the universe is clearly toying with you because as soon as you crane your head just a tad bit further, you find the same gorgeous man standing behind you. He’s looking somewhere else, eyes pointed in the distance and his lips pursed together in thought. 

Why. Is He. So. Cute. Just standing there like that?

“Hi,” you see his lips move, voice low but friendly. “Your ramen alright there?” 

“Me?” you squeak out. His eyes train themselves on you, and for a second he looks just as confused. But he comes back with a short laugh, and you feel like shrinking into dust. 

But it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at you, it wasn’t mean or said with a grimace at all. 

He nods his head confirming your silly question and adds, “Yes, the ones you’re holding onto for dear life in there.” 

“These?” you ask again, like a complete dysfunctional human machine. “Oh, um— yeah. They’re fine. Hahaha,” you reply and you sound nervous. 

You shouldn’t be, he’s asking a legitimate question and you’re making it out to be like an interrogation! Snap out of it, reprimanding yourself in the head. This is not how you talk to people at all. 

“Good.” He continues smiling at you, but his eyes shift elsewhere. Well, that’s probably your cue to stop this uncomfortable situation for yourself, and for his good as well. 

But he’s still talking, and addressing you it seems. 

“I think it’s your turn.” 

“Hi, I can take your stuff right here, miss.” 

“Yes, please! Thanks,” you hurry off to the front, out of breath and out of words left to speak. 

There was no point to keep looking back, you’ve done your part acting the way you did. Maybe you should have just waited until tomorrow to get groceries, you would have benefitted from sleeping in earlier than showcasing how clumsy you can be to a complete stranger. (Not to mention someone your type.)

The employee speedily checks out your items and puts them in a paper bag. She asks if there was anything else you’d like, and you contemplate on the hot coffee that you wanted. You pull out the coins and one lone paper bill you had in your pockets to assess if it’s within your budget. 

“Is this enough for what I got?” you lay out your change and then some on the counter. It may be your imagination, but it feels like the guy behind you is watching. You shift to the side slightly to hide the fact that you’re paying with coins. 

She glances at your choice of payment, and says words that could literally be the cause of your death tonight. “I’m sorry, do you have an extra fifty cents? These would only pay for three of your cup noodles, miss.” 

Robbed of one, already cheap choice of dinner tonight, her voice seemed to increase in volume revealing your insufficient amount of cash on hand to everyone in the store. 

She watches as you blink your eyes tight, face squirming hard. 

“It’s okay… I’ll just get those that I can pay for,” you respond meekly, and she nods. You don’t hear anything else anymore, maybe she was offering a coupon or whatever, you had one mission and one thing in mind only: get the hell out of there. 

You take the paper bag, bow your head in thanks, and head out the door faster than you can realize that the rain had started pouring hard for what seemed like a few minutes prior. 

Now your sweater is drenched, your paper bag is starting to crumble from the bottom, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

Nor do you have any money or phone with you to call a cab to your apartment. 

In an effort to keep some parts of you not wet, you keep to yourself just barely outside of the store where the roof is still hanging; just enough to cover half of your body from the pouring rain. It’s amazing, you think, what absolute god must you have angered for you to be stuck in something so stupid like this? 

You can’t go back in the store, the guy is still there— suddenly you realize with a panic in your heart. He’ll see you here, right next to the door, waiting for the rain to stop once he exits out of the store. 

Either way, he’ll recognize you, and to pity you or laugh at you secretly, it’s his choice now. It’s his right to, you wouldn’t care anymore. 

Let the clown music reverberate in your ears, it’s an anthem you’d proudly sing amidst pouring rain.

With your thoughts seeming to come to life for the nth time, the door opens with an annoying chime, and as you look up it’s him, of course, it’s him. 

But he’s not laughing nor does it look like he’s just going to avoid your sorry figure. He stands next to you, opens up his black umbrella at an arm’s reach and puts it over both your heads. His shoulders touch your wet sweater, and you’re inclined to move away but the umbrella can only cover a tiny area. 

You hold in a breath, afraid when you exhale he’d see panic written all over your face. 

“You okay?” 

You nod, keeping your gaze forward, into the dim surroundings and the pitter patter of the night sky. 

“Do you have any means of going home?” He asks again, and you’re sure he’s looking at you. 

“I was planning on walking…” you finally quip, quiet and unsure of yourself. “Once the rain stops,” you let out a shaky breath. Frankly, you feel more stressed out than nervous at this point. 

He doesn’t strike you as a man with malicious intent so far, and if he were to rob you right here right now, well — he should know, of all people in this store (aside from the cashier) that there’s nothing of value with you at the moment. You’re basically of no value as far as you can tell. 

Sad.

“It doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon,” he says, and you take a quick peek at him. He scans the surroundings, eyes focused and eyebrows knitted together. He looks back at you, and you’re frozen in place. 

“Let me call a cab for you,” he tells you with concern. 

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” you say frantically, dismissing him with one hand. The other was still holding the wet paper bag against your chest, and you feel it dampening your sweater each second that passes by. “I can just wait it out in the store.”

He continues to look at you as he pouts, and you stand there next to him feeling small. You appreciate his kindness, really, but you know a guy dressed like that has better places to be at and you’re here slowing him down. 

“Honestly, it’s okay,” you try and ease his worries, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I live, like, fifteen minutes away. I have nothing else to do at home, so there’s no reason for me to be back so soon.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you urge on, smiling at his politeness. “Besides, I don’t want to keep you here. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.” 

“Nonsense. It should be the rain apologizing to us,” he says with a tsk. 

You can’t help but giggle at his silly remark. He’s handling this stress-free while you haven’t stopped sweating since he stood beside you with the umbrella. 

“How about this, I give you my umbrella—” you start to protest but he puts a finger up, coaxing you to bite your lip to keep it shut. “— so that you can walk home without getting rained on too much, and I’ll call myself a cab.” 

It was a tempting offer, but not quite reasonable to you yet. 

It’s the generosity he’s offering which shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, in fact, you should feel relieved. But your guard is still up, even if the rain isn’t letting up itself anytime soon. 

If you keep declining him, who knows how much more patience he has to appease your feigning grandiose modesty? 

“I’d pay for your cab if I had money with me right now,” you admit shyly. “Unless you’re comfortable with an online transfer, I’d have to know your information...” It was a stretch because maybe at that point you’d learn of his name, but you didn’t want to go too far. 

“Don’t worry about me for a moment. You can take my umbrella, and I can take a cab. We get home safely, with one of us less drenched unfortunately, but everything will work out in the end. Deal?” His proposition sounds so firm and settled that you had no reason to deny him anymore. 

So you relent, much to your own benefit, too. “Fine.” 

He chuckles at your unintentional curt response. You correct yourself, “I mean— thank you, for the umbrella. Sorry, I was just stupid to go out without one, knowing it was gonna rain sooner than later.” 

“Happens to the best of us,” he chuckles again while pulling something out of his own paper bag. You recognize it immediately, the cup noodles you had to let go of. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have—” 

“There you go again, rejecting what I’m putting down here,” he chastises. “It would be a shame if,” he looks at the label before continuing, “Savory Shiitake Soup was left out unwillingly with his other cup noodle pals.” 

You stop yourself from internally cringing at how he read it so slowly, as if he’s never had cup ramen in his life. You’d believe it, too, but then again he’s the one parading his sophisticated looks in a local store at a random town. 

“I stick to the basic kinds,” he explains, seeing the meek surprise on your face. 

It is almost twenty degrees out yet your body temperature is steaming hot. You admit defeat (to yourself) and open up the paper bag so he can put the cup inside. Secretly, you’re thankful the whole gang is in there which makes your stomach grumble all of a sudden. And he hears it. 

“I take it, it's almost dinnertime,” he points out. 

“Shut up,” you say, lips pouting. To a stranger. 

He laughs at the bluntness. “It’s the perfect meal for a weather like this. If you have any eggs at home, I recommend cracking one in right before you eat it.” 

“Yes!” You exclaim loudly, eyes shining with interest.

You’ve always done that with your ramen, albeit you hear of some people’s disgust over such a technique. 

“I do have eggs at home, thank god, but I can’t believe you do it that way too,” you disclose. It makes the soup eggy and more creamy, what can you say? 

“I add a drop of chili oil for added spice on mine, that really seals the deal for me,” you continue, feeling a little less uptight being next to him. However, the moment you uttered those words, his face grimaces for a second as he gulps and nods absently at you. 

“You’re not a spicy guy yourself?” It comes out before you register what those words could mean otherwise. 

He doesn’t catch it or at least, he doesn’t mind. He laughs again, and the gleeful contrast of his voice to the harsh rain is somewhat giving you warmth inside. 

(And not the sweaty kind.)

“Not in regards to food, sadly no,” he says. “My friends tolerate it better than I do, so whenever I have the chance to cook for them I have to separate their portions if the recipe called for some kick to it.” 

“You cook?”

“I try to,” he implies sheepishly, cheekbones turning up with the way he grins. It was endearing, watching him explain how it’s become a hobby of his for the past few months and that his roommates have benefited as a result. 

All the food talk continues to make you hungrier, but the way he shares personal stories all of a sudden is a delightful experience for you. His eyes glint animatedly when he recalls the time when two of his friends fought over leftover bulgogi, in which he had no choice but to make some more. At two in the morning.

You listen intently, and laugh when he reaches the punchline and prideful banter about the people he seemed to deeply care about. It didn’t even matter how hard hitting the rain felt against the ground, you were actually covered quite expansively by the umbrella. 

In return, you quickly notice that the side of his coat has been drenched all this time. Instinctively, you pull at the sleeve of his clothing, surprising him by the movement as you butt heads for a moment. It wasn’t hard, but it definitely paused the natural flow of conversation you two were having. 

“You’ve had the umbrella mostly on me this whole time,” you chide almost regretting doing so, “Sorry.” 

“It’s just clothes,” he chuckles upon realizing what just happened, but afterwards his smile returns. “Thanks for looking out for me, though.” 

You feel yourself smiling too wide from that comment. 

You think of something to say before you get too comfortable with this feeling, and then you remember: “You haven’t booked your way home yet.” 

“Oh! You’re right,” he says a little too quickly, and you feel a twinge of disappointment weighting in your stomach at how fast he reacted to that. 

Of course, at the end of the day, he’s just stuck with you due to some unlucky situation you found yourself in. He’s just doing you a favor. 

He checks his phone for a few minutes, the light illuminating on his face. You notice the hard lines of his jaw and the curvature of his nose a bit more definitely now, and it’s amazing how one person can look like that. 

This time, you reprimand yourself from staring too much and so you watch the people passing by again. Hand in hand, raincoats and umbrellas in their grasp as they fight against the current of the rain. 

“Okay, I just finished booking it on the app. It says it should arrive in less than five minutes,” he brings you out of your reverie. 

“That’s great to hear,” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can. You eye the handle of the umbrella in which his hand has been gripping all this time. You know you’re soon to be left with it, alone, as he rides the cab and finally part ways with you. 

“I can keep holding on to this until it gets here,” he says, almost reading your mind. “I hope it is of good use to you tonight, and in the near future.” 

“I’ll keep it safe and useful, of course,” you say, feeling the pit of your stomach get heavier and heavier. You’re not sure what it is, or you’re probably in denial. You start to count the seconds in your head, imagining how to tell him goodbye and perhaps… never seeing him again. 

You don’t even know his name. 

“I’m Younghyun— before I forget,” yet again, he hears the pleas in your mind and you ought to keep the thoughts silent as he suspiciously introduces himself. 

“I’ve been exposing my friends’ and their ways of borderline gluttony to you, I haven’t even given you my name yet.” 

Younghyun, you repeat in your head. Your lips curl upward at the sound of his name, it suits him well. 

“Do you mind if I can get yours as well?” It was a polite question, nothing out of the ordinary of two people meeting each other for the first time. 

But Younghyun seemed to have other, further plans from that. His phone is still on, and it’s facing in your direction. Looking down, you see that he has an unfilled out contact information on the screen. 

“Oh,” you mumble out loud, not wanting for it to sound too pleasantly surprised. He takes it the other way, however, as he tries to retract his phone. “Sorry, I thought— I just wanted to know if you got home safely and—”

“No, please! It’s okay. I’d— um, I don’t have my phone on me right now but I can text my number if that’s alright with you,” you explain quickly before he can put it back in his pocket.

With an openly relieved expression, Younghyun changes the app to his messages and gives you his phone. You type in something easy to recognize in addition to your name on it, and send it to your number. Right as you give it back to him, a car with its headlights on park upfront, beaming the two of you with its brightness. 

“I guess that’s my ride,” Younghyun hesitates. “I know it seems odd, but I really enjoyed talking to you despite…,” he finishes by looking at the puddle forming underneath where you both stand. You agree with a hearty laugh, the uneasiness you feel inside dissipating. 

“Thank you, for the umbrella. And my cheap shiitake noodles,” you humor him, but your words are laced with sincerity. 

He hands you the umbrella, enclosing his fingers over yours as you grip onto the handle tightly. His hand is just the right temperature, cozy and warm. It immediately sends your head reeling. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the ride with me? I think I’ve proven enough to you that I’m just a beginner in the kitchen, and not an evil person,” Younghyun suggests. You nudge him just enough to tip him over the edge, playful and amicable on your end. 

“I’ll text you, I promise. Is that good enough for you, Younghyun?” With the sound of his name coming from you, lips widen in the most cheerful grin he’s shared to you today. 

If you’re being really honest with yourself, you feel a little special.

“You better stay true to your words.” 

“Go home, Younghyun!” 

You watch his ride pull out of the parking lot, and drive into the night. It’s funny because the rain went from hazardous conditions to gentle whispers of droplets which makes walking back home easier for you, probably even without an umbrella. 

But you hold onto it tight, knowing that Younghyun had his hands on the same spot makes you squeal like a teenage girl on the way home. You walk faster than normal, pools of water on the pavement splashing at the ends of your sweatpants. It’s disgusting, you most likely need to change completely, but it was far from your concern. 

You get home and head straight for your bed where your phone was, disregarding the drenched clothes you have on dripping on the sheets. 

The text from Younghyun’s number came through, and inspecting further he texts you two more times. 

You giggle, finally letting out giddy feelings where no one can judge you. You text him back. 

And you think that’s the end for today, and you think of things to say for tomorrow that wouldn’t make you seem like you’re overstepping it. But your phone vibrates in your hand, and your eyes stare at his quick response. 

Your heart pounds in your chest; it’s heavy, weighing down on you but for completely different reasons. 

You plop down on your bed head first, pillow against your cheek. You actually do it, you scream. Not of what you thought you’d be doing, but the complete opposite. 

Before you pass out in excitement, you manage a reply. 

You do end up staying up late at night, eating your well deserved hot cup of noodles. But the laptop isn’t on, and you decide you can catch up on shows some other time. 

You and Younghyun text the night away, it’s not awkward anymore. You feel yourself easing up to his banter through messages and gifs which you try to one up him every so often. 

The rain had stopped sometime in the night, and instead your heart continued to pound heavily in your chest. It was exhilarating, to say the least, but you welcomed the feeling of having something to look forward to. 

You remind yourself to not only do groceries tomorrow, but also do your laundry. (You never got to change into something more dry that night.)

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 2

Chapter Title: Home

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

He wakes to the sound of knuckles rapping against the bedroom door and the voices of his two youngest daughters. A hearty, home cooked meal and a soak in the hot tub had been exactly what his weary and aching body had needed. Barely managing to pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before exhaustion had taken over; passing out -face down- in the middle of the double king in the master bedroom. It isn’t an easy feat; napping in a house filled with seven kids. There’s always some level of chaos; near constantly bickering between the four oldest, the three littles shrieking and giggling as they chase each other around, the sound of the television or the explosions and gunfire coming from a video game being played. The latter accompanied by the occasional outbursts of profanity as Declan and TJ argue over who is beating who. If he has been away or been logging way too many hours handling things behind the scenes and DOES manage to catch some extra sleep, Esme does her best to keep the volume down; usually taking the kids down to the water or into town for a few hours. In the same way he does for her; giving her much needed ‘mommy breaks’ from time to time and letting her have the entire house to herself. It's the least he can do; let her have the house to herself to catch up on sleep or just sit and read a book on the back or to have a glass of wine while indulging in a bubble bath by candlelight.

Life is crazy in their home; noisy and chaotic and their schedules filled with work or running the kids around to their extra curricular activities. It’s tiring and often extremely frustrating; dealing with THREE preteens, a kiddo with Tanner’s additional issues, and both Brooklyn and Declan so high spirited. Addie and Takota are the easiest to deal with; one very bubbly, affectionate, and extremely social, the other quiet and thoughtful and extremely mild mannered. It’s an existence he’d never thought he’d have. Losing his first child -and the horrible mistake he’d made leading up to it- had nearly destroyed him; the combined feelings of profound grief and guilt eating away at him and leading to his addiction issues. He’d never thought he’d get another shot at a normal life; a chance to be a husband and a father again. And while he regrets the years he spent putting his family last and running away out of fear of failure, he knows many more ahead of him; many more chances and opportunities to make things right.

“Daddy?” Addie’s voice accompanies the continued knocking on the door. “Are you awake?”

He rolls over onto his back and presses the heels of his palms into his weary eyes. “Yeah…” he pushes his hands through his hair and stretches; wincing at the pain and stiffness in his lower back. “...I’m awake.”

“Mumma says dinner will be ready in about half an hour. She sent us to tell you.”

“I’m here too!” Brooklyn pipes up. “Can we come in? Can we come see you?”

“We want snuggles,” Addie says. “We haven’t had daddy snuggles in a LONG time.”

“In a really long time.” Brooklyn adds.

“We really want to snuggle with you,” Addie’s tiny voice has a pleading quality to it, and he can’t help but smile; picturing that pout and those sad little eyes and the way she tucks her chin into her chest.

She is definitely her mother; the petite stature and the small, delicate features and that smooth, pale skin accentuated by the dark strands of hair that frame her face. Their personalities are a match as well; bubbly and social and easily excitable. And the smile. So beautiful. Pure, even. Always genuine; brightening their entire face and making those dark eyes sparkle. Perhaps it’s why...out of all the kids...he tends to baby Addie. Not just that impossibly tiny build and that sunny and light disposition that never fails to make him smile, but because she IS so much like her mother. A constant reminder of the person who single handedly changed his life; saving him in every way a person CAN be saved.

“Daddy?” Brooklyn raps her knuckles against the door once again. “Can we? Can we come for snuggles?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You get to see us!” Addie gives a dramatic huff. “You’re two most favourite girls in the whole world!”

“Get in here, then. If you’re going to put it like THAT.”

The door swings open and the girls come rushing in; giggling as they toss themselves onto the bed and scramble up towards him. Gathering them into his arms when they settle on either side of him; showering their cheeks and foreheads with kisses and running his hands over their silky, dark hair. Despite being almost a full year old, Addie remains the smaller of the two; petite in stature, possessing her mom’s small, almost dainty features and those enormous dark eyes. Esme in every possible way; appearance, personality, even the same body language and facial expressions. Brooklyn is a mix of both mom and dad; tall and lanky with his eyes and Esme’s dark hair and pale skin. She’s feisty and fearless; a lot of energy and tenacity packed into the skinny frame. She reminds him of TJ; stubborn and temperamental, yet loving so deeply and profoundly.

The girls settle in next to him; each of them with a hand resting on his stomach and their heads on his chest. His palms smoothing over their hair and then settle on the middle of their backs. It’s the greatest achievement of his life. If not the ONLY achievement. Being a dad is the one thing that he can truly be proud of; having a hand in creating seven beautiful human lives and being entrusted to bring them up to decent adults. Nothing drives him to want to be better and do better than his family. Wanting nothing more than to be the kind of father that his kids talk about and remember fondly when they have their own children. Seeing him love their mother with everything he is and everything he has; respecting her and treating her well and insisting they do as well teaching them what they should do and expect in a relationship.

It’s what he wants for his sons; finding someone they love and they want to devote themselves and who make them happy. And the same goes for his daughters; hoping the way he treats their mother teaches them what they should expect from the men -or women- in their lives. He never wants them to settle for less; end up with someone like Mark that will degrade them and abuse them in every possible way. They’re strong; like their momma. And being taught how to respect and take care of themselves. But he’d gladly take an assault charge and do time in jail messing up something that hurts his girls.

“Daddy?” Addie places her chin on his chest and reaches up to run her palms along his cheeks. “Why’d you have to go away?”

“I had some business to take care of.”

“You had to go be a boss?”

“I had to go and do a favour. For Uncle Anil.”

“What kind of favour?”

“Did you have to kill someone?” Brooklyn inquires, and lifts his arm and slips under it, pushing her tiny fingers through his much larger and longer ones.

“Why would I have to kill someone?”

“TJ said that before you became a boss, you used to go and kill people,” she explains. “Really bad people. That hurt good people. Is that true? Is that what you used to do?”

“Once in a while, yeah.”

“Is that why you went away?” Addie asks. “To kill someone?”

“I went away to do a favour for Uncle Anil and that’s all you two need to know. You been having a good time? Being back in the city?”

“It’s not as fun as when you’re not here,” Brooklyn says. “Mommy tries, but it’s hard for her to have fun with ALL of us at that same time. That’s a lot of kids; for her to try and make happy all at once. Especially when Millie is being Millie. She never wants to do anything with the rest of us.”

“She’s been really mean,” Addie adds. “To mummy. TJ got mad at her for it; he freaked out and threatened to kick her ass.”

He stares at her pointedly. “Pardon me?”

“Kick her butt, I meant. He was really mad. He said when you’re gone, he’s in charge. And that if you wouldn’t let Millie talk to mummy like that, he wasn’t going to let her do it either.”

“Then they had a big fight,” Brooklyn chimes in. “ And mummy started yelling at Millie and then Millie said she hated her and it made mummy sad. She locked herself in the pantry. I think she was crying. TJ said to leave her alone; that she’d come out when she felt better. Then he made us a snack and took us into the backyard to play in the snow. Why is Millie being like that? Mean to mummy? Mummy doesn’t deserve that. She’s an awesome mummy.”

“If we got to pick our mummies and daddies, I’d pick mummy over everyone else,” Addie muses. “She loves us. She cuts the crusts off our bread and makes dinosaur shaped pancakes and puts chocolate chips in them. And she always gives us the biggest pieces of cake or pie and just takes a little bit for herself. And she’ll make herself something different to eat, if there’s not enough for all of us. Even if it’s just a peanut butter sandwich. She says it’s what mummies do; make sure their kids have everything first. “

“She’s a good mummy,” Tyler agrees. “She’s an amazing mummy. I couldn’t have asked for a better one for you guys. And you’re right; she doesn’t deserve Millie being that way. Is that why mummy sent her out? With her friend?”

“Mummy’s feelings were really hurt,” Brooklyn pouts. “Because she tries really hard to take care of us and Millie acts like that.”

“I’ll talk to mummy. Cheer her up. And I’ll talk to Millie too.”

“Millie told us not to tell you,” Addie informs him. “She said she’d kill us. In our sleep.”

“Well, she won’t get the chance. Not if I kill her first.”

“You won’t kill Millie. She’s your daughter.” Brooklyn’s fingertips trace the tattoo that takes up the entire length of the inside of his left forearm. A permanent version of the stick figure drawing that Millie had inked onto him five years ago; their entire family -at the time- including the two dogs. The last set of twins had been added afterwards; Millie reluctantly adding two new siblings to the mix. “Maybe you can just lock her in the attic. Just feed her once in a while.”

“I can’t do THAT either. I’d go to jail. You don’t want me going to jail, do you?”

Brooklyn shakes her head. “I don’t even like when you go away for a weekend. I don’t want you to go to jail for the rest of your life. We’d never see you.”

“Mummy would bring us to visit,” Addie says. “She’d make sure we got to see him.”

“Mummy isn’t going to take us into a jail,” her sister argues. “That’s not a nice place, Ads. There's a lot of bad there.”

“Daddy’s not bad. But he’d be there. If he killed Millie or locked her up.”

“Mummy still wouldn’t take us. She wouldn’t want us in a place like that.”

“We would have to Skype then. Or Zoom.”

“Not the same. That’s not like seeing him in person. I want to see him in person. That’s why he CAN’T lock Millie up. We’d never see him again. Would you want THAT to happen?”

“No. I’d be really sad. If I didn’t get to see daddy again.”

Tyler grins. “You two do realize I’m right here, yeah?”

“Who would get the spiders and snakes out of the house?” Addie frets. “Mummy freaks out when she sees them. Remember the time she screamed and woke us all up? Almost made me pee my pants. All ‘cause there was a Huntsman on the stove.”

“Mummy was so scared!” Brooklyn giggles. “Remember she was crying? And swearing? And was yelling at daddy to get the spider? And daddy put in the container and chased her outside with it? She said she was going to divorce him because of it. She never did though.”

“But did he have to sleep on the couch for a week,” Addie says. “ I do remember that. Because he tried to sleep in my bed and it was way too small for both of us. His legs were hanging off. ‘Cause he’s like ten feet tall.”

“I’m only six three. But that was funny, wasn’t it? Chasing mommy with the spider? Even if I DID have to sleep on the couch for a week. It was worth it. Seeing her freak out like that.”

“It was hilarious!” Brooklyn enthuses, then turns serious. “But don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want her making me sleep outside. It’s cold out.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise.” He presses a kiss to one forehead, then the other. “What’s mummy making for dinner?”

“Chicken parm. Yummm.” Addie rubs her stomach enthusiastically. “It’s the one thing she cooks REALLY well. Well, the only thing she cooks well.”

Tyler can’t help but chuckle. “You’re savage.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for. You know what mummy said?”

“I’m kind of scared to ask.”

“She said you’re taking Brookie and I d\to the American Girl store. For lunch. Two days after Christmas.”

“That’s news to me.”

“She said it’s your turn to do it,” Brooklyn says. “She did it two years in a row. It’s time for you to take one for the team. That’s exactly what she said. Are you? Are you going to take us?”

“I guess I am. Any other dads go to that place?”

“I don’t know,” Addie shrugs. “I’ve seen a couple, I guess. You’ll really do it? You’ll really take us?”

He nods. “But I am NOT wearing a tiara or anything girlie. Got it?”

“What about a fancy hat?” Brooklyn suggests. “Or one of those feathery scarves? Like we have in the dress up bin.”

“What did I just say? I’m taking you there. Isn’t that enough?”

“I told you,” Brooklyn grins victoriously at her sister. “He doesn’t know how to say no to us.”

“*****

She’s in the kitchen; denim clad ass on full display as she leans against the island. Forearms resting on the granite counter top as she flips through that day’s copy of the New York Times; a glass of white wine and a half eaten bar of chocolate within reaching distance. The littlest girls remain upstairs. Their hysterical laughter and the pounding of footsteps echoing through the house; Declan and TJ chasing them throughout the second story while roaring like dinosaurs. In the living room, Tanner teaches an intensely focused and intrigued Takota how to play checkers; the board placed on an ottoman in front of the gas fireplace.

Esme gives a small start when he curls an arm around her waist; his free hand moving her ponytail away from the nape of her neck and his lips pressing against the soft, supple skin. “Hey sleeping beauty,” she greets, as both of his hands settle on her hips and she leans back against him. “Feeling better?”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to her temple, followed by the cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “Thank you. For letting me sleep.”

“You needed it. You’ve had a hell of a five days. That’s a heck of a lot of travelling; tons of hours in the air. I’m surprised you didn’t just want to stay in bed. You could have said that you know; that you just wanted to sleep. I would have understood; I wouldn’t have been offended.”

“I spent five days away from you guys. I don’t want to miss another minute. Although, I gotta say, I had quite the wake up call. You throwing me under the bus.”

She tilts her head back and grins up at him. “Girls must have told you about the lunch at American Girl.”

“They did. And I have to say, that place? My own personal hell.”

“Every year since we started having Christmas here, they’ve got to have lunch there. I’ve taken them there both years. And besides…” she turns around to face him, hands coming to rest on his sides. “...the only day I could get reservations, was the same day that I’m taking Millie, Declan and TJ to the Rangers game.”

“What about Ovi? Or Riya?”

“Ovi is taking Tanner to the American Museum of Natural History. They do it every Christmas.”

“Riley?”

"She and Shaena aren’t arriving until two days after. Come on…” she repeatedly rubs her palms up and down his ribs. “...I’ve done it two years in a row and I can’t do it a third. Do you want me to be an alcoholic? Or to eat my weight in cheesecake? Or both? Because if I have to go to that place again…”

“What do I get out of it?”

“I’m sure we can...arrange...something. I’m not above doing favours.”

He grins. “What kind of favours?”

“Sexual ones. EXTREMELY sexual ones. Unless there’s other favours you’re thinking about.”

“No. I think sexual favours would work just fine. I won’t turn those down.”

“I’d probably die of a stroke if you did.”

“Well, we don’t want that, do we.” His palms slide around to her ass and he pulls her even tighter into him; her hands settling on his biceps and she stands on her tiptoes and into a kiss. And he both hears and feels her giggle when his fingers dig into the flesh of her ass.

“So is that a ‘yes?” Esme asks. “You’ll take Addie and Brookie to American Girl?”

“You really thought I’d say I wouldn’t do it?”

“Everyone has their limits. I thought that just might be yours. They really DO have you wrapped around their little fingers.”

“Who do you think they get THAT from? Their ability to do that?”

“I have no idea. I have no clue where they could have gotten that from. Must be a gift.”

“Yeah, a gift their mother gave them. I was pretty much wrapped around your little finger from that first day, so…”

“Only took you twelve years to admit it. I mean, I’ve known it this entire time. It was pretty obvious. To everyone BUT you.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. And what’s up with these?” She reaches between and slides her hands under the front of his t-shirt; fingers toying with the ties on the waistband of his joggers. “Gray sweats? You know my weakness for gray sweats. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is that what it takes these days? Me wearing gray sweats?”

“You could be wearing a garbage bag and you’d manage. You’re pulling out all the stops. Flowers, gray sweats. Although the latter? I already know what’s under them; not like it’s a secret.”

“I thought you liked unwrapping your gifts?”

A grin slowly spreads from ear to ear. “Oh, I do. And it’s the gift that keeps on giving. You know, you didn’t have to try so hard. I was going to put out anyway. I mean, it’s been almost a week. I’m a little...frustrated...to say the least.”

“That makes two of us. You didn’t bring one of your little ‘friends’ to New York with you? One of your special toys?”

“Nope. I wanted to wait for the real thing. So you better not disappoint me, husband. I have very high standards. And expectations. If you don’t live up to those…”

“Have I ever NOT lived up to them?”

“That was a very good point.” Her fingers hook in the waistband of his sweats, once more standing on her tiptoes, giggling into his mouth and then pushing him away when his hands clamp down on her ass. “Thank you. For agreeing to you that. Going to the doll place. You’re a real trooper, husband. I owe you one.”

“I’ll add it to the list. Of the favours you owe me.”

“You have a list?”

“You don’t?”

“Maybe…” she sing songs, then turns back to face the island. “...and you’ll have to put up with them going on a little shopping spree. My mother send them gift cards; to American Girl.”

“Your mother actually sent them something?” He moves to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water before briefly stepping into the pantry; resurfacing with a handful of pills. Meds to control the mild to moderate pain and the inflammation from the arthritis that inhabits his body and an antidepressant AND psychotic. It’s old hat now; four times a day to control pain, the others taken twice a day to ward off any issues from his mental health problems. And it’s been five years of pretty good success; no major depressive episodes and only a handful of panic attacks. A far cry from the life he HAD been living.

“I actually think it was my step father. Have you noticed how things change every time they get back together? The emails start up, the birthday cards and money start rolling in, the Christmas gifts arrive. It’s like clock work; they hook back up, she attempts to come across as a normal grandmother.”

Uncapping the water, he swallows half with the handful of pills, then stands across from her and leans stomach first against the counter. “We both know there’s nothing normal about that woman. How you turned out relatively sane is beyond.”

“Relatively sane? Are you trying to say I’m just a tad INSANE?”

“I’m saying you have a tendency to be a little...high strung. A little neurotic.”

“Yet you still married me. Imagine that.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for big brown eyes and freckles.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t my eyes and my freckles that you first noticed. But whatever helps you sleep at night. But yes. My mother DID send them something. Shockingly, she sent them ALL something. I can’t believe she even remembered we have seven children. I thought maybe she stopped counting after Declan.”

“Well she stopped caring after TJ and Tanner. Remember how pissed she was that we named one of them after me?”

“Oh, I distinctly remember the epic hissy fit she threw in my hospital room. When we told her what their names were. I completely remember her meltdown.”

“Wasn’t it something about that name just setting the kid up for failure? I think I remember a part about me being a black cloud over the whole family and just bringing bad luck on the kid? Something like that, anyway.”

“She’s fucking insane. She always has been. I warned you; before we moved to Colorado. I told she was nuts. You thought I was overreacting.”

“I will never, ever doubt you again. And I’m going to regret even asking, and don’t take this as a sign I actually give a shit, but how is the old bitch doing?”

“Well, she’s still alive. Alive enough to grate on my nerves and make me want to drink. Alive enough to undergo her sixth round of chemo. What ever happened to the whole ‘she won’t live past a year’ scenario? That’s what we were told. SIX years ago. You think she’s THAT evil? So evil nothing can kill her?”

“I think she’s got a few horseshoes up her ass. She’s not done tormenting people yet, I guess.”

“Well she can right ahead and torment someone else. I’m not in the mood for her shit.” Picking up the glass of wine, she downs half of it, then moves to the fridge to grab the bottle out of the fridge.

“Something tells me that isn’t sparkling cider.”

“It’s the real deal. I actually had it delivered. It’s been a long day. Between dealing with my family and their attempts at reconciliation and your daughter between the spawn of Satan, be thankful I’m not already passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“Shades of last New Years Eve. She’s been that bad? Millie?”

“Bad doesn’t even begin to describe what she’s been like. Bad times...oh I don’t know...a thousand?” She fills the wine glass to the brim, then takes another long swallow. “Did you hear about my meltdown? How I locked myself in the pantry of sorrow and self pity? I know for sure the girls told you about that.”

“Yeah, they told me. Something about Millie saying she hates you.”

“Remember how she told me she hated me when she was six? Over the whole not telling her you were in the hospital thing? Remember I told you that nothing could possibly hurt more than your six year old telling you she hates you?”

Tyler nods.

“I was wrong. I was SO wrong. It hurts much worse when your eleven year old tells you. Because when they get to THAT age and you actually see and hear the hate they have for you? Yeah, that’s the real deal. And you know why it started? I asked her to unload the dishwasher. That’s it. She threw a fit; freaking out about how I’m lame and boring and stupid and I’m ruining her life and she hates me. That’s the kind of day I’ve had.”

Sighing heavily, he runs his hands over his face. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Oh that will go over real well. Like a fart in church. You know what that’s going to do? Cause an even bigger freak out. Over me turning daddy against her. You know that’s what she’ll say. She says it every time you get on her about something. She calls me a rat and a snitch. A cry baby. For running to you and whining about things. Her exact words.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t switched at birth? Are you sure they didn’t fuck up at the hospital and our real daughter isn’t out there somewhere? How did we have a kid like this? Neither of us are THAT bad.”

“I’d accept the switch at birth theory if she didn’t look just like you. If she didn’t have the same body language and facial expressions and all that. It’ll just make things worse; if you talk to her. She’ll just hate me even more and there’ll be even more drama in the house. Can we not have a nice Christmas? I’d like to have a nice Christmas.”

“With her acting like THAT? Won’t be too nice if she’s pulling that bullshit. She can’t get away with that, Me. She can’t talk to you like that. Disrespect you like that. I don’t let strangers disrespect my wife so I’m sure as hell not going to let my own kid do it. I’ll talk to her.”

“By talk to her, you actually mean put the fear of God into her.”

“If I have to. Is she home now?”’

“Up in her room sulking. Because some boy called her for her and I wouldn’t let her talk to him.”

“A boy called? Here. For Millie? Our Millie. Who doesn’t give a shit about boys back home. That’s who we’re talking about, yeah?”

“Some boy she met at the movies,” Tanner says, as he wanders into the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge. “Aaron. What a dumb name. I bet he IS dumb. You’d have to be dumb to like Millie.”

“Okay, Nugget, that is not nice,” Esme gently scolds. “I know she’s been a holy terror since we got here, but that is not a nice thing to say about your sister.”

“She’s evil. She told Declan he’s adopted and that’s why he has red hair and doesn’t look like any of us. And she made Takota cry; she told him an alligator lived in the toilet and that the next sat down on it, it was going to bite his penis off.”

“And this was all on the first day here,” Esme addresses Tyler, and sips her wine. “And you wonder why I’m drinking.”

“I bet you it’s puberty,” Tanner says, as he turns on his heel and heads back to the living room. “I read about it, you know. It’s all about the hormones. Some people go totally off the reservation. I bet that’s Millie’s issue. She’s probably going to get her period soon.”

Esme scowls. “Thank you, Nugget. We really need to hear that. That just made things so much better.”

“I’m just saying, mum. It would explain A LOT. Didn’t you used to get all nutso when you had your period?”

“Not that my menstrual cycle is any of your business, but how old do you think I am? WHEN I had it? I still have it, thank you very much. Why do you think your dad comes home with cartons of ice cream and bags of chocolate bars at the same time every month? He knows it tames the beast.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I am NEVER getting married,” Tanner declares. “Too much craziness. I’m not dealing with THAT shit.”

Esme gives a derisive snort and looks at her husband. “Have kids they said. It’ll be fun they said.”

“I told you we should have stopped after the first one. But you didn’t want her to be an only child. You said she’d be lonely and hate us for not giving her siblings and people to play with. And now here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are. Seven later. And as much as they drive me insane and as feral as they are and even though I could run away sometimes, I love them. They drive me to drink, but I do love them. I’m not a perfect mother. I know that. But I try. You know I do.”

“You’re an amazing mum. Don’t don’t doubt it because Millie is being a bitch. Don’t take it to heart; I told my old man I hated him tons of times.”

“Your father used to beat you on the regular and lock in a shed for two days with no food. This is hardly the same thing. He gave you many reasons to hate him. Am I giving her reasons? To hate me?”

“No. You’re not. You’re a great mum, Me. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. This is her. All her. And she doesn’t hate you. She loves you. You’re her mother.”

“I saw it in her eyes, Tyler. I heard it in her voice. She does hate me. And…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...and it hurts. Because I have tried so hard over the last eleven years to be a good mom. I’ve tried to be the complete opposite of what I had growing up. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. To make her hate me? What have I done? What mistakes have I made?”

“Me...come on…” Walking around to the other side of the island, he plucks the wine glass out of her shaky hand and sets it on the countertop. “...this isn’t about you.” Cradling her face in his palms, his thumbs brush against her cheeks as he presses a kiss to her forehead and then draws her into his arms; tightly pressed against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other on the nape of her neck. “None of this is about you.”

“Where did I go wrong with her? What…?”

“Nowhere. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know it hurts, babe. I know it makes you feel like shit; hearing her say those things. But it’s not your fault.”

“Something had to have happened. For her to be like this. I must have done something.”

“Hey…” he once more takes her face in his hands. “...stop. You didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong. This is all her. Whatever the fuck is going on, I’ll find out. I’ll talk to her.”

“Try not to make things worse.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t.”

“I just don’t get her. When I found out she was going to be a girl, I had all these plans. All these little daydreams. About how close we’d be and all the things we’d do together and how I’d be so different from my own mother. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard. Not to be anything like her.”

“And you’re not. You’re nothing like her.”

“I just don’t know what happened. Between Millie and I. And if I don’t know what happened, how am I supposed to fix it? She won’t talk to me. Not without fighting, anyway. And when she gets started in on me, TJ loses it. He flips his shit.”

“He’s protective of his momma. He always has been.”

“He is so much like you. It’s like watching and listening to a mini you. It’s scary sometimes; how alike the two of you are. Could you get him to rein it in a bit? Because he snaps and it’s not a nice thing to see. I’m afraid he’ll hurt her one day. Really hurt her.”

“I’ll talk to him too. He’s just protective. He’s trying to take care of you. But I’ll talk to him; get him to tone it down.”

“I thought he was going to beat the shit out of Jacobi today. That would not have ended well.”

“Yeah, he would have destroyed Jacobi.”

“He’s seventeen. TJ’s ten.”

“Don’t underestimate that kid. I’ve seen him fight. He took on four kids when he was five. Older kids. And beat the shit out of all of them. He could take Jacobi. No doubt in my mind. Should have let him try. I would have loved to have seen that.”

“Don’t encourage it. The last thing we need is him beating the crap out of Jacobi and Jacobi’s mother showing up on the doorstep.”

“Imagine how embarrassing that would be? Your seventeen year old son getting his ass beat by a ten year old?”

“We are not going to encourage our ten year old to beat anyone’s ass.”

“Ask me the kid deserves it. I know about his little crush on you.”

“He’s a teenager. I have seven kids. I’m forty one years old!”

“A very hot and sexy forty one year old.”

“In your eyes.”

“In A LOT of peoples’ eyes. What? You think I don’t know. That my wife’s a MILF? I’ve known it for eleven years. It’s nothing new. I’ve got thirsty women at the soccer park and on the playground, you’ve got horny seventeen year olds.”

“Only seventeen year olds don’t stand a chance. The women at the soccer park and on the playground? They’re all grown up.”

“And I don’t give a shit about a single one of them. I only have eyes for you, babe. Do I wear my gray sweatpants for anyone else?”

She grins. “No.”

“Do I wear them out in public? Or do I just wear them at home?”

“Just at home. Because you know I love gray sweatpant season. Especially YOU during gray sweatpants season.”

“Only you, Me,” he says, and cradles her face in his hands as he kisses her softly. “It’s always only been you. It always will be.”

*****

Despite having their own bedrooms, the three littlest insist on sleeping in the same bed; all climbing under the covers in Addie’s room and then settling down for a round of bedtime stories. They’re still excited from both his return and what it means now that he’s under the same roof. Christmas activities are now able to commence; decorating inside and outside, going to pick out a tree, a visit to Rockefeller centre, skating and sledding. The seven had all banded together, insisting that no lights or decorations be put up until daddy got there. It will be a whirlwind of activity; only a week before Christmas day and so many things that need to get done. An attic full of presents -shipped from Australia throughout the year and intercepted by Ovi and put into hiding- that need to be wrapped, lights that need to be put up outside, his own shopping that needs to get done. Never learning NOT to save getting things for the wife at the last minute.

He used to hate Christmas; too many memories -both good and bad- that tied him to his mother and in turn, the loss of her and his father’s torment and abuse. Even during his first marriage and when Austin was alive he’d sucked at ‘getting into the spirit; attempting to be happy and trying his best to enjoy the moments with his little family. As a single guy living in the shack in the outback, he’d simply ignored the holiday altogether; spending it drunk and high off his ass or taking jobs that no one else would. And it had been a struggle; getting used to a wife that loves Christmas and everything associated with it. But seeing the joy in her face and how excited his kids get leading up to the days before Santa’s visit had helped repair the wounds inside of him. Using their happiness as a way of igniting his own; quickly and effortlessly finding his own joy in the season and in making new traditions and memories with his family.

By the end of the third bedtime story, all three littles are asleep; girls passed out under each arm and Takota stretched out on top of him. It’s a feat to get away without waking any of them up. Somehow managing -despite the discomfort and tightness in his back that has him wincing- to set up and gingerly place his son in the middle of Brooklyn and Addie before slowly and cautiously climbing out; tucking Addie’s pink and frilly unicorn themed comforter around all three little bodies before turning out the light and slipping from the room. Door left slightly ajar; Mac taking his usual resting place in front of it. He’ll stay there until he’s certain his tiny charges are safe and sound, then will make his way into the master bedroom and find his usual spot at the end of the bed.

He checks on the older boys; still awake and busying themselves in the twins’ room; mindful to keep the noise down so as not to wake their siblings. The room is enormous; twice the size of the master and consisting of its own full bathroom with double sinks and showers. Declan has his own quarters but often bunks in with TJ and Tanner; making himself comfortable with just a sleeping bag and a pillow on the floor and insisting that’s all he needs. Tanner is already ‘locked’ in his own little world. A safe and quiet place that Tyler had created for him on the bottom bunk; enclosing it with a sliding barn door easily opened from both inside and out, and strings of white mini lights giving the kid the calm and soothing ‘ambiance’ he needs when overwhelmed. He’s good at managing it; knowing ahead of time when he’s starting to become overstimulated and always finding a quiet and safe place to ‘decompress’. He often handles it better than even his parents do; learning how to cope with the things that trigger him and being his own best advocate.

“Hey...Nug…” he raps his knuckles against the wood. Giving Tanner both the chance to answer and to decide if he wants his ‘safe space’ breached. “...you alive in there? Give me a sign.”

He gets a knock back in response, followed by the rustling of blankets before the door slides open and Tanner’s face greets him; his shoulder length hair messy and knotted and a beaming smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Hi dad.”

“You good? Everything alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to be quiet.”

“I don’t blame you. Those two…” he casts a glance towards Declan and TJ; one climbing the ‘rock wall’ that had been created a year ago and the other slithering his way up the rope that dangles from the ceiling. “...can be damn noisy.”

“Just a bit,” Tanner agrees.

“What’cha doing?”

“Just writing a bit,” Tanner holds up the leather bound journal -one of many he’s owned and are already full and packed away in a locked box in the back of his closet back home- he’d been scrawling in. Some are used to document his daily life; passages about his struggle being ‘different’ and his brain not working like everyone else’s, others gushing about something fun and exciting he’d gotten to take part in. “I had some really cool dreams while you were gone. That’s what I’m writing about. Will you read them?”

“I always do, don’t I?” He’s in fact the only one who DOES get to read what Tanner writes. Tanner trusting him wholly and completely and enjoying the fact they have a ‘secret’.

“I’ll bring it with me tomorrow. So you can see it. We’re still going right?”

“It’s our thing, right? Always what we do. Breakfast and time out. Just the two of us.”

“It’s a bit different this year. It’s always been the first morning after we get here. But you didn’t come with us this time.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that. That I had to go and take care of himself. We still buddies?”

“Best buddies. I know you couldn’t help it. That you HAD to go. I’m just glad you’re back. I miss you when you’re gone. Do you have to go away again?”

“Not for a very long time. If ever. I’ll do my best, okay? To not have to go away again.”

“Okay. I’m excited. About tomorrow.”

“Me too, Nug. You need anything? You got your snuggies?”

“I’ve got them all here.” He nods down at the array of stuffed animals arranged at his feet.

“Blankie?”

Tanner holds up the corner of the weighted blanket already stretched out over top of him.

“You’re getting good at this. You won’t need me to check on you much longer.”

“Yes I will. I like when you check on me and we chat. Makes me feel special.”

“You ARE special. Very special. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Take your meds?”

“Mummy made sure. I’m not sleepy yet though. I’m going to write some more. So you have lots to read tomorrow. Don’t forget your glasses.”

Tyler grins. “Your mom is rubbing off on you.”

“You need them to read. And to go on the computer. And you probably should wear them when you’re on your phone too. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Speaking off glasses, make sure you take yours off BEFORE you fall asleep.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re even starting to SOUND like your mother. You in the mood for a hug?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically. “Yup.”

Leaning down, he curls an arm around the ten year old’s slender frame just as two arms encircle his neck. It’s best to never push anything on Tanner; let him call the shots even when it comes to something as simple as affection. “Love you, Nug.”

“Love you too, daddy. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So I am. You sleep good okay? I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll go to our same place.”

“I can’t wait! They’re pancakes are the BEST. Well, not as good as yours and those ones mummy makes with the chocolate chips. But still really good. Will you give mummy another hug and kiss from me? I don’t think I hugged her long enough. And she deserves a long hug and an extra kiss. She had a bad day.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And tell her I love her? To the moon and back?”

“I will tell her that. And she loves you too. She loves you so much.”

“I know. She doesn’t even have to say it. It’s all the things she does for me. Making sure I have my meds and double checking to make sure I brought all my favourite snuggies and that I always have enough pens for writing. And it’s when she smiles at me and calls me ‘Nugget’ and she plays with my hair when we snuggle. I know mummy loves me. She doesn’t make it a secret.”

“She’s loved you right from the start. When you were just a little bean in her tummy. You sleep good, alright? Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.” Tanner gives his dad’s neck one last squeeze. “I love you, daddy. See you later alligator.”

Grinning, he lightly tousels Tanner’s hair. “In a while crocodile.”

*****

Millie answers on the second knock; a terse ‘come in’. She’s been moody and towing a very thin line since she emerged from her room at dinner time. Snapping at her younger siblings and calling them ‘stupid’ and ‘annoying’ if they so as much asked her to pass them something; rolling her eyes whenever her mother spoke to her or just flat out ignoring her altogether. Eventually Tyler had had enough. What should have been a happy return home and getting to have dinner with his family after five days away turned into a screaming match; him ordering Millie up to her room with her dinner and her accusing him of hating her and always taking everyone’s side when ganging up on her. What used to be easily managed behaviour when she was six has become increasingly difficult to put up with; her attitude and her mouth almost unbearable. And she’s come to realize that those big blue eyes and that pout don’t immediately cause daddy to cave; he no longer buckles to the faux remorse or the feelings of guilt he’d get whenever he’d raise his face or scold her.

He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest; his daughter avoiding all eye contact as she silks in the middle of her bed. “What’s up your ass?”

“What’s up yours?”

Tyler scowls. “Excuse me? You did not say what I think you just said.”

Millie chews nervously on her bottom lip. A habit she’d inherited from her mother. “Sorry.”

“What is going on with you? You’ve been acting like an asshole for four days. Don’t even try and deny it. You really thought I wouldn’t find out? You have six brothers and sisters. You really think they wouldn’t talk? You really thought you could tell Addie and Brookie you’d kill them in their sleep if they told me?”

“I knew they’d rat on me. And I knew SHE’D rat on me.”

“Who is she? And you better not say your mother. I know you’re not talking about her like that. Especially to me.”

“You always take HER side. Always. You used to on my side. Now you’re kissing her butt and…”

“Okay, first of all…” He leaves the door open as he stalks into the room; keeping his temper in check as he stands at the foot of the bed. “...SHE has a name. And to you, it’s mum. You don’t talk about your mother like that. Especially to me. Second, check your tone. You don’t talk to me like that. Ever. Got it?”

Millie nods.

“What the fuck, Amelia? I leave for four days and THIS is how you behave? Didn’t I warn you BEFORE I left? About treating your mother right? Did I not tell you I better not find out you were mouthy and disrespectful to her? I’m pretty sure I did.”

“You did.”

“You don’t talk to your mother like that. You don’t treat her like that. She doesn’t deserve it. Do you know what she went through to even have you? Do you know how close she came to not ever knowing about you? She gave up her entire life for you. She has loved you from the minute she found out she was having you. Do you know how lucky you are to even have a mother? Never mind one that loves you as much as she does? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. It’s her! It’s all her!”

“I know your mum isn’t perfect. She’s the first to admit it. But I also know you’re full of shit. What has she done? What has she done that’s so bad that you think you can treat her like you are? Give me an example. One thing that is so bad.”

Millie shrugs.

“You’re going to knock your shit off. And not just for a couple days either. You’re going to apologize to your mum and you’re going to mean it. And you’re going to start helping her out and you’re NOT going to ruin Christmas for her or your brothers and sisters. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but until you can talk about it calmly and rationally, I don’t want to hear it. Got it?”

She nods.

“And by the way, that Aaron called back. Only this time I talked to him.”

Millie’s eyes widen.

“Imagine how surprised I was to find out he’s sixteen. And imagine his surprise when I told him you were only eleven. For some reason, he thought you were fourteen. Is there a reason he thought that?”

“No.”

“You want to try again?”

“I told him I was fourteen. Because he’s really cute and I wanted him to call me.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be calling back. Because I told him if he ever called again, he’d regret ever getting your number. That if he ever came near my daughter...my ELEVEN year old daughter...I’d beat his ass into the middle of next week. Then I’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass and drop his corpse on his mother’s doorstep.”

Tears of both anger and despair well in her eyes. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re eleven. And no sixteen year old should be calling an eleven year old. What the hell is wrong with you? How’d you think you’d get away with that? Giving OUR number to a boy? What the hell, Amelia?”

“Why do you and mom want to ruin my life?”

“We’re your parents and we are trying to protect you. Do you not know what could have happened to you? Talking to this guy? What if he’d wanted to see you? You know we wouldn’t have let you. What were you going to do? Sneak out of the house?”

“I don’t know…”

“Say you did. And say this guy decided to take advantage of you. What then? What would you have done then?”

She shrugs.

“We’re not trying to ruin your life. We’re trying to keep you safe and sound. We’re trying to keep you alive. Sixteen? Really? Nothing good was going to come of that and you know it. You need to smarten up, Monkey. You need to get your head out of your ass and stop treating your mum like shit. And stop terrorizing Kota. You know he takes everything seriously. Now he doesn’t want to sit on the toilet.”

“It was a joke. He doesn’t have to be such a baby about everything.”

“He’s FIVE. He practically IS a baby. If you don’t have anything to say to him, don’t say anything at all. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m being serious, Amelia. You need to check that attitude of yours. And that mouth. Don’t talk to your mother the way you do. Don’t disrespect her. I’ve told you tons of times; no one disrespects my wife. That includes my own kids. Knock it off. Now. You better wake up tomorrow an entirely different person. Because I’m not going to put up with it. Understand me?”

“I understand.”

Journeying around to the side of the bed, he runs a palm over her hair and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Regardless of what you think about me right now, I love you.”

“I love you, dad. And I’m sorry. About everything. Especially about that boy.”

“You’re smarter than that. WAY smarter than that. Can we at least try to have a good Christmas? Think you can do that? Make it a pleasant one for everyone? Especially for yourself?”

She nods.

“I DO love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will. Just...I don’t know...stop being such a shit. Stop being so…”

She grins up at him. “So you?”

“That sounds like your mother talking.”

‘Well, she IS really smart.”

“Be nice to her, okay? Because that is the love of my life. The mother of my kids. And no one treats her like that. She loves you. Don’t ever forget that. And I know you love her.”

“I do. I do love her.”

“Well why don’t you try telling her THAT once in a while? Because she’d rather hear that , than you saying you hate her. Get her some slack. She’s got a lot on her plate. And she’s trying really damn hard. If you’re still hungry, there’s leftovers in the fridge. And lots of ice cream. Candy cane crackle. Your favourite. It’s in the freezer in the basement. Don’t tell your mum I told her.”

Millie smiles. “Our little secret?”

“Our little secret.”

“I missed you, daddy. I was angry. That you left. You said you wouldn’t leave again. That there’d be no reason to. That once you became a boss, you wouldn’t have to.”

“I’ve left before. I’ve been gone a few times.”

“A few times in FIVE years. And this is the second time this year alone. And you promised. That you wouldn’t do that anymore. Go after bad people. You PROMISED.”

“I know. I know I did.”

“What if something happened? What if you really DID die this time? What then? It would just be us. Seven kids and mum. And that’s not fair. Especially to mum. She loves us, but she loves YOU too. And she shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

‘“You’re right. She shouldn't.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Is that what this is about? The way you’ve been behaving? Me being gone?”

“Some of it, I guess. I was mad. At you. But I missed you at the same time. You told us you’d never go back to it again; going after bad people. You said you were done with that. You promised mom. That you’d stay home.”

“And I have been. Staying home. It’s nothing like it was before.”

“But it still hurts her. Whether it’s once or twice a year. It still bugs her. Because she loves you and she’s worried about you. Why would you promise her stuff and then turn around and do the total opposite it? Why would you promise us stuff and not stick to it?”

“It needed to be done. Anil asked me to help out. He needed me.”

“WE need you. Mum needs you. Can’t he get someone else? He can find someone else. Mum can’t find another husband. We can’t find another dad. It would hurt us a lot more to lose you than it would hurt Anil.”

“I know it would. And I’m sorry. For leaving. If there was someone else or another way…”

“I don’t want you going away.” The tears finally come; large, hot tears that spill down tanned cheeks. “I don’t want you going away and dying. I don’t want to lose you. You’re my dad. I don’t want another dad.”

“Come here, Monkey. It’s okay. Come here.”

Tossing off the blankets, Millie scrambles out of bed; perching herself sideways on his lap and wrapping both arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Millie.” He hasn’t used the nickname in over a year. At least not in her presence. Ever since his then ten year old daughter announced she was finished with it and just wanted to use her full name. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to break my promise. And I’m sorry. That I did. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, daddy. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her temple; hand pressing down on the back of her head and drawing it down to his shoulder. Tightly holding her as she cries; letting her release all the tears and the pent up fear and worry and anger. Allowing her to cling to him; her sobbing turning into whimpers interspersed with loud sniffles.

Tightly and protectively holding her until body stills and her breathing slows and evens out. Not having the heart to let her go even long after she’s fallen asleep.

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 5 OF 22

It’s not on purpose.

Theo isn’t intentionally testing her determination or anything of that sort. He just can’t wrap his head around her persistence.

He doesn’t purposefully make himself hard to contact to shrug her off. It’s just that he’s not as fond of social media as the next person. Sure, he does have accounts for the biggest names in the industry—Instagram, Facebook, the works—but he doesn’t use them regularly, or posts on them at all. The easiest and more surefire way to contact him, really, is through the usual, plain old messaging app on the phone, or maybe through a call.

(And he’s not so sure about giving her his number so suddenly.)

He doesn’t give the most roundabout answers to Arthur’s questions to keep her hanging. He just doesn’t want Arthur sticking his nose in business that isn’t his to begin with. He doesn’t find any reason to tell his coworker anything about their book exchange, even if—after Arthur’s admission—this entire friendship began with his orchestration.

He’s not doing it on purpose.

He knows how easily this could lead to understandable frustration. Maybe even the vague feeling that maybe he’s only attending their little book exchange sessions at the Grove because she gets Vincent to tell him. Maybe she won’t have the patience for him. Maybe she’ll just drop it.

But she doesn’t.

And that makes it even more confusing.

“Why are you taking this so seriously?” Theo asks one day, after they’ve handed the next week’s books to one another. He’s looking at her with a stern gaze, as if calculating every minuscule twitch on her face.

She only shrugs her shoulders and looks up at him innocently. “I’m having fun, aren’t you?”

As if the extra steps he’s making her take are not wasted time. As if she sees that she’s already slowly melting ice. It’s not that Theo is shunning her—but it’s safer like this, keeping her at a distance. Theo has his own priorities, and all arrows point to Vincent. The least he can do is make sure the books he lends are good; make sure he has the appropriate insight to bring with him. And she, in turn, sends every pass-the-message text (to Arthur, to Vincent), leaves all the notes in between lent and borrowed books, shows up to every meeting with that unbeatable smile on her face.

And in truth, Theo isn’t sure where this is going. Theo isn’t sure what she’s going to do to him, why they’re doing all this. But for now, he’ll just let her keep on doing this. For now.

They just both have a good feeling about it.

--

There is a certain art of choosing books to recommend to people. There is, of course, the matter of having a certain level of being well-read, as choosing from a hundred books allows more elbow room than choosing from ten.

But she knows better; there is more to it than just that.

If there’s one thing she is absolutely sure about the world, it’s that books—fiction, nonfiction, poetry, name it—all have the ability to bring people elsewhere. It’s magic she wishes she could have in real life. Sneak in between the pages and find yourself transported to an entirely separate timeline of the universe where these things happened. Slip a hand at the center-point and find yourself in a different world, where things are different.

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

But it’s not just about the bringing into, but also the bringing with—what do the books carry with them that will be useful to the reader? Which of its commendable qualities will match the receiver? Is it its storytelling, the way it weaves each character through their growth and journey? Is it the message, the core of it which it carries throughout the text through every plot point that happens? Is it the imagery, the space between the real and the imagined, where the infinite possibilities exist?

This is the tender part. This is the part that feels the most raw.

Romance has never been at the top of her priority list. She’s no newbie to it, but it’s just never been the most important thing in her life. It’s never been on the list at all. Getting into a relationship, the dating scene, being romantically attached to people—she understands the joy of it, she’s definitely dipped her toes into the water, but it isn’t what she wants right now.

She figures choosing books for people is the closest she can get to that feeling for now.

It’s not only Theo, of course—sometimes Arthur asks her for some recommendations too, and sometimes Dazai does, as well. To her it’s nothing more than a way of showing her affection, a little, “I had you in my thoughts,” as she matches a book to its recipient. It becomes more than just another title, not just another author.

She clutches the book Theo’s lent her for the week close to her chest as she crouches in front of her bookshelf to browse her own collection. She thinks, matching their theme to her heart: which book would best suit Theo’s needs? Which things might he benefit from hearing?

Pulls a book out from the shelf and wonders—which one would grace his life with a little bit of stardust?

--

That week, Theo asked her to “lend me the book you wish everyone would read at least once”—and when she answered with “no, that’s impossible, I can’t lend you 39 books at once?”—he clarified, “the one you’re still coming to terms with.” And that’s a really odd way to describe a book you’d want everyone else to read—Theo himself knew that—but somehow it made perfect sense to her, and the week later she hands him the small bound book.

She had passed onto him Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair.

An interesting choice, really, for that book to have fit under the said category, but Theo’s stopped trying to make sense of the surprises she brings up for him at this point. The book isn’t really lengthy—this particular volume is less than a hundred pages long, and it only took Theo a good hour to go through the contents, even while relishing every word of it. (She does the opposite, speed-running every book as fast as possible, because she “can’t be patient about what happens next”, a concept he cannot understand—“The book is not leaving, why don’t you enjoy what is written?” “I can’t wait! I need to know!”)

It’s not a complicated book.

But it sure has complicated feelings.

So he kind of understands why she had chosen that one.

Theo has a complicated relationship with love. Not that he’s had any sort of traumatizing past relationship or a lingering resentment for an ex, but there was just something about the concept of romance that doesn’t sit…right with him.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what it is, he does. There are books he loves—books he is very thankful for having found in this lifetime. There are food he loves, food that fills his stomach with warmth and makes his heart flutter and makes him feel like maybe world peace is achievable, and it’s in a spoonful of this creamy sugary pancake after all. And most importantly, he loves his brother very much; would like to see Vincent do great things in the future, or, if not that, then at least be happy, and live the life he wants to live—that’s what love is, isn’t it? To enjoy something wholly for what it is, and what it does to you. To want the best for a person.

His problem with love is he doesn’t know what to do with it.

In the same way that he still loves his parents even if they don’t understand why he’d go through such lengths for Vincent. In the same way that he still loves the people who’ve left him behind in the past, friends, old lovers, even when his heart was still pouring. And isn’t that what love is? To love something wholly for what it is, what it does to you, to forgive it of its mistakes and shortcomings?

Even when the cost is yours to bear?

What to do with a love that can live in his heart when the other no longer wants it?

Theo reads Neruda’s poetry book once. And then reads it again. And then reads some of his other books for good measure.

--

It’s pretty common to find Arthur walking around the campus with his hands in his pockets and the many eyes of adoring (or maybe loathing) girls on him—for all the understandable reasons. Today was a little different though, because he is outside the Arts Building in the late afternoon, reading some sort of a flyer.

“Arthur!”

He hastily keeps the flyer into his bag as she jogs up to him. “Hello, little miss. Nice to see you around.”

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, trying to peep into his bag.

Arthur, instead, pushes himself off the wall that he’d been leaning on, smoothly slipping his arm around hers. Months of friendship had gotten her used to him being touchy; she lets him. “Labor of love. Walk me back to the bookshop?”

She’s not surprised, but she asks anyway. “Are you on your shift?”

“It was an important errand to run, no need to be so incensed,” he says, half-laughing. “Let’s go back before your boyfriend has more than words for me.”

Pinching Arthur’s arm, she quips back: “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Why, that’s exactly what he told me! You know you don’t need to keep it a secret from me.”

“You’re the absolute worst, Arthur.” The two of them fall into an even pace walking down the sidewalk. She relies on the silence to get them there, but there is something about the biting intrigue that snags her. “…What did Theo say?”

Arthur smirks. Openly. “Curious suddenly?”

“He doesn’t exactly talk to me about things like this,” she huffs. “It’s just books and literature with him.”

“That just means you haven’t cracked him.”

She pouts. “You’re not supposed to need to crack people.” She tugs at Arthur’s sleeve, insistent. “C’mon, tell me. He has to have told you something, right?”

Confidently, Arthur says, “Theo tells me everything.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I suppose my information is subpar, then, so why should I—”

“Arthur!”

“Yes, yes, okay,” he says, finally relenting. “He won’t say it to your face, but he really enjoys spending time with you, little bird.”

Her face lights up like a little sun. “Really?”

“Oh, dear. Whatever will he feel, ratting him out like this—”

“Please, we all know you do not care because we are your source of entertainment,” she says, elbowing him. “…I was doubting it, honestly, but that’s a relief.”

“He never stops talking about your book club, actually.”

“No way.”

“Always masked in a complaint, but always about it all the time,” Arthur says, watching the smile grow on her face. “You’re a good influence on him, at least he’s not brooding away in a corner all day long. The customers have enjoyed his new, refreshed presence. All the lovely girls coming in now, what a joy.”

She squeezes his arm as they round the corner. “Why do I feel like this is going exactly according to your plan?” Arthur does not attempt denial. 

--

Theo does not stop asking for poetry books.

Only because he knows that even if she doesn’t voice it out loud, she’d want to lend him poetry books anyway. She, on the other hand, changes genres every week. Poetry, nonfiction, YA fiction, children’s fiction. She jumps from Ariel to A Little Life to The Girl Who drank the Moon to On Earth we Were Briefly Gorgeous. She has so much to say and so much to ask.

It’s just about driven Theo insane.

(It’s a good thing he enjoys her company.)

He won’t admit it, of course, but he shows up anyway. He frowns at every text she sends Vincent but he’s there. Every single Saturday. Reads every stray fast-food receipt note she slips in between the pages of the books she returns. Spends time on the books she lends him.

Ah, what did he get himself into?

Whatever.

Today, he’s brought with him Kerouac’s On the Road because she asked for a book that made him want to go away.

“Why am I not surprised that you brought me a Kerouac?” she asks while taking the book into her hands. She always holds them so gently. “His style is so interesting, though. Is it a shame to admit I’ve only read his poetry?”

“Only a little,” Theo says, but he’s joking because the corner of his lip is curled up ever so gently.

She flips the book to read the summary at the back. “Beat Generation, huh.”

“They wrote about liberation,” Theo says, sounding somehow defensive of his choice of a book. “Gritty and maybe even sloppy writing, but they wrote about freedom. Breaking the norm, finding yourself, facing the reality… doesn’t that fit your criteria of making one want to go away?”

She turns to him curiously. “Have you ever wanted to go away, Theo?”

He doesn’t turn to her. “I’m more the kind of person that stays.”

“Well, being a househusband isn’t bad work,” she comments, to which Theo snorts. “You know, I’ve really found that you have some sort of… classical, helpless romantic kind of aura on you.”

That makes him turn towards her. “What.”

“I mean, the books you’ve lent me—they all have some sort of romantic quality to them, you know? No matter how serious they get. I’m still recovering from A Little Life, you know.” She laughs. “Plus, all you’ve been asking me to lend you is poetry. Have you perhaps changed your mind about poetry?”

He narrows his eyes. “I don’t see how that makes me a romantic.” He sighs. “I didn’t think lowly of poetry, it just wasn’t my priority,” Theo clarifies. “We agreed to let the borrower decide the genre of the book but you’re so insistent on poetry that I’d rather take what you have instead of asking for something else. You’re pretty annoying when you’re insistent.”

She doesn’t deny the fact that she’s always saying about how she already has a poetry book to lend him every week. “I’m not annoying,” she says, pouting. “Geez, Theo, all you need to do is be honest and say you love poetry now and it’s because of me.”

“Is this a cause of yours? Getting people into poetry?”

But then, the banter stops. She falls silent for a moment that feels too long. Theo feels like he has to take back what he says, when, “Yes, something like that,” she says, softly. “They’re like love letters to the universe, I think they’re great.”

“That’s an interesting take.”

She frowns. “Do you not like love letters?”

Theo shrugs. “They’re classical.”

“That’s a non-answer,” she huffs. Holding her palm upward to the sky in a gesture, she says, “I just think they’re neat. It’s like a different experience in every book, every collection. You ever get a feeling that some poems find you, instead of the other way around? Like you were meant to find it at that exact moment?” Theo lightly shakes his head. “Really? Maybe you’ll experience it with some of the stuff I give you.”

He doesn’t know what’s hiding behind that serious expression, that other reason she’s so attached to poetry that she isn’t quite ready to say yet. He can feel it though. He doesn’t have the right to ask yet.

Instead, he raises his eyebrow and says, “You seem awfully confident.”

“I’m planning to make you read hundreds and hundreds of them, so it’s just a matter of numbers,” she says with a grin. “C’mon. Have any of the books I’ve given to you at least had a poem that resonated with you?”

And Theo pauses. Resonated, that’s a heavy word, it carries a lot with it. One could wish what they create would resonate with a lot of its consumers, whether that’s paintings or poetry or philosophies, but it’s not an exact art, and sometimes it’s all just a question of luck. Theo hesitantly shakes his head. “Not that I can think of,” he says. Thinks of the lines he’d copied out of the books to be remembered later. They were good lines, but hardly ones that resonated.

She hums, not sounding too put down by his answer. “Well, that just means we have to keep looking, right? I hope today’s at least gets some emotion in your face, Mister-Statue-Face-With-No-Feelings.”

“Hondje… What did you just call me?”

--

That day, he gives her his phone number.

--

She doesn’t know why everyone keeps asking her about it.

Sure, she had a crush on him, but it was really only entirely out of aesthetics. There was no denying he was hot, but he’s rather rough on the edges and has a rather sharp personality to be someone would want a boyfriend out of. Really, at this point, all she wants is to hang out with him and maybe reads some of the books he reads. Again—she doesn’t have space for distractions right now.

But everyone keeps asking her about it. Non-stop.

When she goes to the bookshop and Theo is at the back, Arthur comes up to her and asks her how The Friendship is going—as if it were something more special than just your regular old friendship. Most of the time she doesn’t know what to tell him, because somehow all he ever says to her after hearing about it is a small hmm like the answer didn’t quite fill in what he wanted to hear. Well, Arthur, sucks to be you, but you’re not hearing what you want to hear, she says to herself. Arthur’s a secret sucker for romance, the playboy that he is, and she’s not giving him a show.

But it’s not just Arthur. Vincent, too, asks her regularly. And considering she spends a good amount of time in the café he works at, the questions aren’t exactly that avoidable. She’ll order her drink and a pastry and Vincent will go, “is Theo being nice to you?” or any other variation of that sentence. (Somehow that feels like Vincent knows Theo is just mean in general, and that’s a kind of relief she doesn’t know how to explain. If his brother thinks he’s regularly mean, maybe that’s really just who he is, and also kind of forgivable.) Of course, she can’t exactly tell Vincent that Theo isn’t being nice to her, but oppositely, Theo isn’t really being mean to her either. He’s tolerating her every attempt to annoy him—or really, not annoy him, just hang out with him—and he hasn’t pushed her away exactly, so it must be going alright, right?

Of course, Dazai is curious as well, despite his earlier misgivings with Theo. (Dazai’s had bad experiences with business majors and romance in the past.) He’s not as persistent as Vincent and Arthur, but every chance he gets—say, an offhanded remark about a book or the bookshop, any little topic he feels he can reasonably steer towards the direction of Theo—he does ask. He asks in the way a friend would be curious of a new relationship—it is one, just not romantic, she insists—all full of worries for said friend. She appreciates this in many ways, because she knows Dazai can give her advice that will be very valuable to her. Still—the attention the thing pulls is kind of ridiculous, to her.

It doesn’t end with Dazai though, and at this point, it’s just going to be a long laundry list of people who are looking for gossip between her and Theo when—there really isn’t any. Despite being a literature major, she’s actually part of the campus’ local astronomy club, because why not? Stars are neat and she can’t quite catch up with the rest of the astrophysics majors that is actually with her, but the stargazing with the telescopes definitely makes it worth it. It’s just that Dazai is friends with their club head for a reason or another—a graduate student in astrophysics, Isaac Newton, and when Dazai knows there really isn’t any much harm, he runs his mouth, so—Isaac’s asked her at least once about Theo as well. Luckily Isaac is more on the awkward side—and they really aren’t that close quite yet, club aside—so he asks once, sees her reaction of despair and exhaustion, and never asks again.

She wonders if Theo gets the same barrage of questions as she does. From Arthur, for sure, but—Theo doesn’t exactly talk about other friends of his. Maybe they just haven’t gotten close enough for him to bring them up. Besides, whether or not people ask him about them or not, he’s sure that he already knows about the little crush—he’s just playing at it. Playing for what, she doesn’t know, and somehow, she’s fine with that.

That was all it was ever meant to be, anyway—a passing crush, a nice face, a sight for sore eyes, something to fall back on to refresh herself after long days of pushing her mind to the limit, working herself to exhaustion.

He was meant to be a breather, not a distraction.

To be friends is more than enough.

She screams into a pillow and grins.

[weightlossblogd]

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[itsclydebitches]

(1/?) I'm curious as to your thoughts: was there a good way to write Ironwood as CRWBY intended him, 'fundamentally good person shows signs of instability and a worrying commitment to the idea that everyone should be willing to make a sacrifice as long as he is, takes this to unacceptable extremes when a great sacrifice is called for'? I've been reading all these posts that actually make it seem like a coherent character arc, and I don't consider myself a 'bootlicker' or someone who

Always happy to explain my thoughts! Though Ironwood’s situation is incredibly complicated and I’m tired as hell right now, so apologies if this attempt at working through things is more than a little messy… 

You’re right that Salem herself fundamentally changes the heart of the “well-meaning but ultimately misguided general” setup. Meaning, normally when we see a character like Ironwood, someone military-minded and driven by pragmatism, whoever it is they’re fighting against is us. It’s a war against other humans, or at least another intelligent (and sympathetic) form of life. Ironwood’s attempted archetype here relies heavily on the assumption that he’s taking things too far when there are better, more peaceful options open to him. No, general, don’t nuke all those people even though we’re at war with them because they’re still people. No, general, don’t blow up the alien ship even though you perceive them as a threat because they feel just like we do and I, the protagonist, believe that I can make peace with them. Though RWBY doesn’t have quite that same conflict—everyone agrees that Salem needs to go—it’s nevertheless worth acknowledging that his archetype is built on a history of unsympathetic characters… who are unsympathetic because they’re choosing to harm others for needless reasons. The hardened military general is an antagonist because he takes the violent route either due to greed or a lust for power. He makes sacrifices not because they are truly necessary, but because they’re easier or better for him. He believes that this violence/sacrifice is the only answer when the audience can clearly see another, better route. Think characters like Miles Quaritch from Avatar whose goal is, ultimately, to force a peaceful people out of their home/outright kill them in order to gain access to a natural resource on their world. Even if there is, broadly speaking, a “good” reason for doing this (humanity needs that resource to solve their energy crisis) there’s no confusion that his reasons are far from justified and that he’s taken things way too far. Not only because gaining resources is, you know, not a reason to kill people, but also because Jake Sully, our hero, provides him with alternative routes that he then rejects. These people are peaceful. We can negotiate with them… but Quaritch says no. 

So this is, broadly speaking, the archetype Ironwood and Team RWBY are thrust into. He’s the general supposedly taking things too far and they’re the heroes standing in his way. Problem is, RWBY’s enemy isn’t a sympathetic, potential victim. The grimm are literally mindless beasts and Salem is a classic Big Bad. She might have a tragic backstory now, but that hasn’t impacted how we read her as a threat. She isn’t another group of humans we should be making peace with. She’s not an alien race who we just have to extend a hand to. Defeating her—in a literal way—is thus far the only possible route and that undermines the archetype Rooster Teeth wants to chuck Ironwood into. He can’t be the cold-hearted military man choosing violence over peace when peace is simply not an option.

So we have a setup where every single one of Ironwood’s decisions is automatically both sane and justified because there is an immortal grimm queen trying to kill them. And she cannot be reasoned with. Extra security? No duh you want that. Suspicious of others? No shit Beacon fell precisely because it was infiltrated. Making sacrifices? What else is there to do except roll over and let Salem win? The options presented to him were “make sacrifice” or “everyone absolutely dies” so no, in this case the sacrifice is not deemed “unnecessary” and therefore something that we can criticize him for. Ironwood is not fighting a powerful but also potentially sympathetic enemy, inviting a perspective that his actions may be too severe in the face of that threat. Salem isn’t a Darth Vader who is going to turn back to the light when she sees her child. She isn’t a Sauron with a convenient Achille’s heel (as of yet anyway) thereby inviting an easy solution that doesn’t risk too many lives. The grimm are not the Klingons who, if you just take the time to know their culture, you can find common ground with. They and Salem are more akin to the Borg: a relentless, unreachable, immortal force that seeks only to destroy everything. She is RWBY’s devil and thus by default any question along the lines of, “But should Ironwood really have..?” is answered with an emphatic “Yes.” Because the only other option is total annihilation for the entire world, not just the one city you’re worried about. RWBY’s villain is such a massive, unarguable threat that the setup doesn’t allow debate in regards to what’s going “too far.” By having Team RWBY and Oscar parrot those views from other stories they just come off as sounding naive, foolish, and arrogant. Salem is not an enemy that you just need to try really hard to beat in battle. She is currently immortal. She is not someone you just need to talk down. She will annihilate you and laugh while doing it. “Unnecessary sacrifice” only exists in a world where you have a chance of taking another route with success. RWBY hasn’t provided that route yet. 

Thus, most military archetypes don’t have to face the level of threat that Ironwood does. In fact, their status as antagonists largely relies on the belief that the threat isn’t severe enough to warrant whatever horrific order they’re giving. Rooster Teeth has written a character based on tropes that do not work within the scenario they’ve set up… and a good chunk of the fandom aren’t critical enough viewers to see the disconnect. They just watch that collection of tropes and characteristics and fill in the blank based on what they know from the rest of popular culture. Like a really messed up Mad Lib. “Ah! I recognize this character! He’s a military man. He’s strict at times. He’s taking control of a situation and achieving that with an army. This is all a Bad Thing and I know that because I’ve seen it a thousand times before in a thousand different stories. The powerful military man is the antagonist and the heroes are the ones who fight for the marginalized!” And thus the viewer is encouraged to prioritize that assumed reading over the actual context of this particular story. Few are willing to admit that “Leaving marginalized people behind because otherwise we will all be slaughtered” is not the same situation as something like “Outright attacking a marginalized people because I want something from them. Or abandoning them because I just don’t care.” They see the basic, surface characteristics and think they know the answer to this story. Team RWBY = good and Ironwood = bad. 

That’s only the tip of the problem though. It’s a big problem, but literally every step of the way Rooster Teeth would need to change things if they actually wanted to give Ironwood this arc in a way that made any sense: 

They would need to change how they portray Mantle going all the way back to Volume 4 because we knew straight out of the Fall that Mantle has had a lot of problems for a very long time. That’s not all on Ironwood—it’s not possible for it all to be on Ironwood—and thus it’s neither correct nor fair to paint Mantle’s dystopian-like state as his doing, as we saw at the beginning of Volume 7. 

They would need to convince us that Ironwood is actually paranoid/being overly cautious, rather than what we actually have which is… completely logical safety measures against everything that has done them in up until now. Everything Ironwood implements is in direct response to something that killed people or felled a school. 

The story would need to give Ironwood better solutions that he then rejects. Obviously this is crucial for the leaving Mantle situation. As I’ve said numerous times before, you can’t paint Ironwood as a horrific person for following the only plan they had. “Stay to die” is not a plan. If they wanted him to read as in the wrong for leaving, Team RWBY needed to give him a good reason to stay, one that doesn’t automatically equal everyone dying, especially when Ironwood’s own solution is “save at least some.” However, this also needed to happen in regards to Amity. The fandom keeps pointing out that Ironwood took resources from Mantle, painting it as this cruel and awful thing… without acknowledging the necessity of that. Or that our heroes likewise demanded that he finish. Ruby is equally responsible for taking those resources. Again, if they want to paint Ironwood as unhinged and cruel in his decision, they need to provide him with alternatives: “Hey, general! Why don’t we just use these other resources instead?” “No. They must come from Mantle.” or “Hey, general! We’re just going to let you know that finishing Amity is fundamentally useless because you can’t defeat Salem with a giant army. Maybe stop taking resources now.” “No. I don’t believe you. I’m going to forge ahead with my own plans, ignoring this new information.” Neither of these things happened. We weren’t told that there was another way to build Amity and Ironwood wasn’t told that his plan was flawed… making his decision both necessary and justified, given what he knew. To my mind, Team RWBY is far more responsible for Mantle’s state since they encouraged that drain on the resources while knowing the use of those resources wouldn’t achieve what Ironwood assumed it would. Which, while failing to paint them as heroic, likewise undermines Ironwood’s supposed villainy. Why do we hate him for this again…. when Ruby is doing the exact same thing…? 

They would need to have established, all the way back in Volume 2 and onward, a personality that allows for him to go to certain extremes, such as shooting Oscar. I don’t have the energy to dive into this one in great detail right now, but suffice to say the fandom has decided to horrendously miss-characterize Ironwood in an effort to justify an illogical action based on what we know about him. I’ve seen the “He once said he would shoot Qrow!” so often I’m literally astounded by the reach there, but I’m also seeing a lot of “Ironwood has never shown any sympathy towards children!” Which… okay. The absence of interaction is not proof of hatred. Meaning, having watched seven volumes in which Ironwood doesn’t interact with kids only tells us we don’t know how he feels about kids, not that he obviously despises them. A lack of scenes wherein Ironwood expresses his adoration for everyone under the age of twenty is not evidence for dislike, nor more than making a claim like, “Well Ruby obviously hates pears” would be. Why would she hate pears? Because we’ve never once, ever, heard her say that she likes them. She’s never spoken positively about them. Never stood up for them! So clearly they’re her least favorite food. Sound ridiculous? Same situation here. To say nothing of the fact that we do see Ironwood interacting positively with kids, if we define “kids” as “characters significantly younger than him.” We watched him desperately protect large groups of students at Beacon. Stand up for Weiss at the party despite how much that threatened his political situation with Jacques (as seen in Volume 7). Send Yang an expensive new arm purely because he knows what it’s like to lose a limb. The narrative has gone out of its way to demonstrate how kind and compassionate Ironwood is, all of which would need to be changed—if not outright erased—to give us someone capable of shooting Oscar like that. 

The fact that the fandom chooses to ignore characterization doesn’t mean it’s not there and that characterization, at its core, fundamentally hinders the “military man goes off the deep end” archetype. Because Ironwood is nothing like his parallels in popular culture. His situation is not one that he can resolve peacefully. He was not given better options that he then rejected. He has never been a cold, manipulative, cruel person. Honestly, if they wanted to write this arc then they needed someone other than James Ironwood living in the world of RWBY. We’d need a different kind of war and a different character introduced all those volumes ago. Because as it is, the story Rooster Teeth wanted to tell simply isn’t a story fit for the Ironwood and the Remnant they created. 

[dragynkeep]

ironwood vs yang

Kiwi, I know why you asked and I’m here to give you the tea for your birthday. I don’t know when your birthday is but I’m saying it’s today.

The most notable thing with Yang and Ironwood is that they have similar MOs when it comes to fighting. They’re both tanks that emphasize on strength in their attacks, with both implementing boxing moves and have shown to be agile with ease in advancing through changing terrain. Yet the similarities stop there when you look further in.

Going off their similar fighting styles, Ironwood has the advantage over Yang in that he actually fights with proper form and stances. I’ve highlighted it in my Taiyang vs Yang match up, but Yang has terrible form. It’s way too easy to knock her off balance or sweep her legs because she doesn’t provide a stable ground to build herself off on, too often flinging herself upwards with the risk of her enemy just blocking and disrupting her attacks. When you compare that to Ironwood, he clearly has not only the weight but the stance behind his attacks.

This case of superior experience and knowledge goes into how they use their weapons too. Yang continues to risk toppling herself while Ironwood uses that stability.

Yang’s back foot it off the ground, no longer able to support the force pushing her back from Ember Celica’s shot .Meanwhile, Ironwood has both legs planted firmly on the ground, ready for even distribution of not only his weight, but the recoil of his weapon. No knocking this man over.

And this feeds into their experience in battle. Ironwood is over twice Yang’s age, and had fought far longer than she had. Given that he’s the General of the Atlesian Military, he would’ve had to graduated from Atlas Academy and worked his way similar to Winter and the Ace Ops. Compare this to Yang, who has not even finished her first year of Beacon and hasn’t been given formal training after that, as well as having only been trained by Taiyang since she was old enough to fight. 

The first serious fight for Yang was the Breach, before that she was fighting petty criminals and low level Grimm. Compare that to the numerous battles that Ironwood had been in, one that had cost him half his body and given him PTSD, and it’s clear just how different their experiences are.

Another point is that CQC makes up a good amount of Yang and Ironwood’s fighting. They can both go longer distance away with Ember Celica and Due Process, but both their respective fights show that they prefer to get in close and pummel their opponents. While boxing is shared by both Yang and Ironwood, Ironwood has shown some judo moves from his fight with the Beowolf in Volume 3. Yang is the strongest physically of Team RWBY, but Ironwood outclasses her in weight and strength without even taking into account their prosthetics.

Also a side note: If they cannot rely on Aura to protect them, Yang is at more risk of damage with her prosthetic arm compared to Ironwood. While the metal has been built to withstand higher levels of damage, the muscle and bone around it has a lower threshold. This means increased risk of damaged muscle, tendons, and even fractured or broken bones. Ironwood’s prosthetics covering half of his body has the plus of being stabilized to his core rather than an external limb.

Back to the CQC, Yang would need to get close to use a wide range of her fighting skills, and that’s the worst place to be with Ironwood. Watts was smart enough to keep his distance from Ironwood for a majority of their fight, and use the Arena to trip Ironwood up, because he knew that if he got into a straight up fight with the General, he would lose. Yang doesn’t have the technology that Watts has, she needs to get up close to fight. 

Going into their weapons, Due Process and Ember Celica are quite similar despite not looking it. Both are dual weapons that are used by their owners to speed themselves up and traverse through changing environment. Yang uses shotgun blasts to fling herself through the air, Ironwood achieves the same effect with gravity bullets. Both give them a bonus to their speed and movement, but come at the cost that their ammo is limited. 

However, if Yang runs out of bullets, Ember Celica is purely defense with her prosthetic adding damage due to being made of metal. Yang can’t really use them as a weapon due to their positioning on her arms. If Ironwood runs out of bullets, he can still flip Due Process around and use the butt of the pistols for extra damage, and we’ve seen how damaging they can be on his own robotic soldiers. 

As mentioned before with Yang’s slimmer frame giving her more natural agility at the cost of strength, and Ironwood’s larger frame giving him more strength at the cost of movement, there’s also the fact of energy conservation. With my previous match up, I’ve already mentioned that Yang tends to waste energy and momentum with unnecessary spins and telegraphed attacks. Seeing Ironwood fight shows that he is way better at judging attacks and conserving energy when needs be.

Look at that combat roll. He moves with the forward momentum when he goes too far and uses the roll to keep on going, that’s hot af.

The same issues as before rise with Semblances. We don’t know Ironwood’s, and Yang’s has serious drawbacks as it does with Taiyang. However, rather than it being Taiyang’s previous knowledge of Yang’s Semblance and ability to redirect the powered strikes, Ironwood has shown to have serious endurance and could tank the hits. This is the same man that degloved his own arm and managed to stay conscious, and more importantly coherent, not slip into shock, and finish the fight with Watts by slam dunking his face into the dirt. All without Aura. 

Meanwhile Yang was rendered unconscious when her arm was amputated and she slipped into shock. The sheer difference between their endurance plays a lot when it comes to fighting, and more importantly when they can no longer rely on their Aura to protect them.

Final point is their mindset in battle. As not only the General, but a military man, Ironwood would’ve gone through training to control himself properly in combat, but Ironwood is still human, and a flawed one at that. Especially with his deteriorated mental health and PTSD, Ironwood does get more sloppy and favors strength and finishing a fight quickly over skill when it nears the end, as seen with his slip in standards near the end of his fight with Watts. On top of lowering his guard and underestimating Watts as a threat even when his gun had no ammo left, Ironwood does still make mistakes.

And so does Yang. She has improved since her time in Beacon, but she is still susceptible to letting her emotions push her, especially her anger. She can still grow impatient and rush into things, even if it’s been pulled back, and she can lose heart if certain buttons are pushed like when Adam temporarily gets to her by reminding her of Beacon. Would Ironwood do something like that when he knows what it’s like? No, but that doesn’t erase the fact that Yang can, and has, faltered in a fight, no matter how short-lived it is.

So considering all of these, the fight would have to go to Ironwood. He has the strength, the smarts, the experience, and the same fighting style as Yang with added perks. General Thicc got it.

As usual, special thanks to my friend Spec for providing the screenshots and for helping out with my thoughts

[thetinypsychologist]

SURVIVING UCAS / APPLYING TO UNIVERSITY

So, it’s that time of year where everybody is stressing about university applications and UCAS. I was in this position about a month ago, but I’ve sent off my UCAS now and have started getting offers back (4/5 so far!) So here’s a guide to surviving the process!

PREDICTED GRADES

What are they? These are the grades sent by your school to the university, telling them what they expect you to get. From my experience, they are usually higher than what your teachers may predict you on school reports etc. These grades help universities 👀 which students are capable of the course and mee the entry requirements.

They are very important. Predicted grades are quite possibly the most important factor in determining the likelihood of offers. Of course, your application and personal statement are important too, but to universities, grades speak more volumes. BUT you are still likely to get in if you slip a grade on the day - the universities want your money at the end of the day.

Get them as high as possible. At lots of schools, predicted grades are based on trial exams or mocks done earlier. Mine were based on Year 12 mocks and how I had performed throughout the academic year. It’s possible to negotiate these with your teachers - I went from BBC to AAC (which levels out to ABB). If your grades are also based on any mocks - really really study and try hard.

They are a guide. If you know your predicted grades are CCC, you shouldn’t look at unis with AAB, because it’s highly unlikely you will get an offer. Stick to universities with entry requirements you know your predicted grades match - you can always go through adjustment or clearing later! However, you don’t stick to your predicted grades completely. Try applying for universities with slightly higher grades, and definitely go for lower unis if that’s what you want. I applied for universities with a range of predicted grades from BBC-AAB so I’d have a solid insurance, but can also apply to the universities I aspire to go.

PERSONAL STATEMENTS

Overwrite. Yes, there is a 4000 character limit and a 47 line limit. DO NOT think about that when you first write it. Write down everything you can think of and then cut down.

Academic heavy. Some people say the ratio for academic: extra-curricular should be 60:40, others say 80:20. I say it should be whatever works for you. If you’re applying for medicine, go for the 80:20. If you’re going for something like social work, work experience and skills may be more valuable in your personal statement.

Over-exaggerate. Don’t lie! Universities WILL catch you out, and this won’t work in your favour. Instead, ‘big yourself up’. Talk about how you mentored younger GCSE students - even if it was your little sister and her friend, or how ‘recently’ (Year 10) your work was published in a book (a collection of poems by students).

Extra-Curricular. Don’t just talk about your subject, talk about yourself as a person. What makes you stand out? Have you done any relevant work experience? (Anything can be made relevant). Link singing in your bedroom to confidence, or working at the bar helping you to manage sensitive situations.

It’s yours. Your teachers and peers and whoever else will give you feedback, but at the end of the day, it’s your statement.  Don’t change things that make it personal to you, but amend grammatical errors etc.

INTERVIEWS

Not everyone gets one. Only certain universities/subjects ask to interview.

Clothes. Dress smart, but dress casual. Jeans are fine - it’s not a meeting with the queen, but be modest. Don’t wear anything revealing. Most people wear what they would to sixth form or an open day so don’t dress about an outfit.

Knowledge. Go with as much knowledge about your course, and university as possible - enough to show interest. Flip through the prospectus and module choices etc for the university and know what’s on the course. For example, if you’re doing psychology, talk about how you love the choice of the psychology of sleep module, as other universities don’t offer it.

Personality. The university already knows how intellectual you are, but they want to 👀 how you’d fit in at the school. You don’t need to be a genius, just be you. Be smiley, confident and be yourself.

OFFERS

Conditional Offers.  It’s in the name - these offers are given on the condition you achieve certain grades. It could be your predicted grades, it could be UCAS points, or it could be lower than your predicted grades. They can also be negotiated - AAB can be a BBB if you put the university as your firm choice.

Unconditional Offers. These are basically where you get the offer no matter the outcome of your grades. You might get one like me, where a university said they will give an unconditional if you accept them as your firm.  This is such a benefit and while you’re doing your exams, you will wish for this to reduce stress. However, if you’ve got an unconditional offer, don’t let it ruin your motivation - you still need your grades. Equally, you shouldn’t accept an unconditional offer just because it’s unconditional - would you really love going to study at that university? Do you like the modules? Accommodation?

Accepting.  I accepted the day I got my last one - because my mind was already made up, but some people wait longer.  Some people can wait so long, their first choice uni change the offer from a conditional to an unconditional - don’t think this will work every time though. Take your time, really think about it. You will spend 3, 4, maybe more years there, so don’t pick somewhere you’re not really interested in. Pick a solid insurance too - in case you miss the grades of your conditional. My insurance is 2 grades below my firm.

It’s your choice. Pick somewhere you want to go, not somewhere your parents or teachers think is best. It’s your choice and your future.

Rejections. Don’t worry! You can apply again, either next year or through UCAS extra. Maybe this will show you you need to work harder, or that university isn’t for you. Just remember everything will work out.

All that’s left to do after all this, is study as hard as you can to maintain your grades and hopefully go to university! I hope this helped! If you want a separate more detailed post on personal statements let me know in the comments! If you have any questions, message me or comment! Disclaimer: my interview advice is based on things I have read/heard as psychology rarely interviews, so I have not experienced one first-hand.

Good luck to everyone applying for university! It’s not as scary as it seems!

[chippokenabokura]

World Trigger Ch191 ‘Yuba Squad 4′ Translation

First of all, as always, thank you to everyone who sent me nice messages!! You’re all so kind and I’m honestly a bit amazed you guys are still here so thank you <333

Secondly, I finished this translation a lot faster than the past few times, sadly because it’s just one chapter again this time (but no word of hiatuses yet so best of wishes to Ashihara’s health), but hopefully this means I’ll have time to post the volume extras before the next release.

Panel 1

Sakurako: Now, one by one, the pieces are falling

Sakurako: And the progress of battle has undergone immense developments!

Panel 2

Sakurako: Ikoma squad is now wiped out!

Sakurako: It has become a conflict between 3 teams!

Panel 3

Sakurako: For Tamakoma Second, who needs ‘3 more points’ Sakurako: It is painful for them as the number of people decrease while they remain unable to earn points!

Panel 4

Sakurako: On that point as well Sakurako: Can it be said that Sakurako: Agent Obishima’s decision here will have an effect in the future?

Ouji: Mhm, that’s right

Panel 1

Ouji: Both Kai-kun and Obi-nyan

Ouji: Had probably predicted where Tamakoma, who wants points Ouji: Would be butting in

Panel 2

Ouji: With Tamakoma deliberately showing himself there

*wind howling*

*rustle*

Ouji: And aiming to try and earn 2 points through his own power

Panel 3

Ouji: And Kai-kun’s aim of trying to mess things up and create a chance for himself

Ouji: Since he’s injured

Panel 4

Ouji: Obi-nyan did a good job calmly evading them and earning a point

Ouji: Is what I thought

Panel 5

Sakurako: I see…!

Konami: Ngghh…

Panel 1

Sakurako: In that case, for Agent Kuga

Sakurako: Would it have been better Sakurako: For him to use Bagworm and enter the scene with a covert attack?

Panel 2

Kurauchi: That would be difficult to judge

Panel 3

Kurauchi: This season, Agent Kuga Kurauchi: Have shown multiple times a surprise attack with Bagworm

Kurauchi: So the level of vigilance of the other teams should be fairly high

Panel 4

Kurauchi: Even if he takes 1 person down with a surprise attack

Kurauchi: I think there would have been a risk of him taking damage from a counterattack

Panel 5

Kurauchi: The result this time is that Agent Obishima took a point Kurauchi: But, with Agent Tonooka down, it doesn’t change the fact that Yuba squad has it tough

Panel 1

Kurauchi: How they conduct themselves from here is very important

Panel 3

Inukai: With Tono-kun down, Tamakoma’s running free right now

Inukai: Is it okay not to go to Obishima-chan?

Panel 4

Yuba: That guy’s doing her job properly

Panel 1

Yuba: I can’t be sitting on the fence here

Yuba: Riiight!?

Panel 2

Inukai: Your face is scary, Yuba-san

Panel 3

*bang bang bang bang*

Panel 4

*impact impact impact*

Panel 5

Yuba: !

Panel 1

Fujimaru: Right side!

Panel 2

*whoosh*

Panel 3

*turn*

Panel 4

*impact*

Panel 1

*bam bam*

*impact impact*

Panel 2

Inukai: Thank you, Tsuji-chan, you saved me

*rustle*

Tsuji: Thank you for waiting

Panel 3

Sakurako: Agent Tsuji joins up here! Sakurako: Has Agent Inukai’s full-on running born fruit!?

Panel 4

Konami: We don’t know yet

Konami: Because Yuba-chan is the ‘Attacker Killer’

Panel 5

Sakurako: By ‘Attacker Killer’ you mean…?

Panel 1

Ouji: In the first place, Yuba-san’s style Ouji: Is so that he can have the advantage against Attackers who have Senkuu

Panel 2

Ouji: This was devised

Ouji: By referencing Suwa-san’s double Shotgun

Panel 3

Konami: The range of effectiveness of Yuba-chan’s revolvers

Konami: Should be a bit more than 22m

Panel 4

Konami: This is just beyond

Senkuu Kogetsu Range

Konami: What an Attacker can reach ‘stepping into a Senkuu Kogetsu’

Panel 1

Konami: If he can maintain that distance between them

Konami: Yuba-chan can beat the Attackers up one-sidedly

Panel 2

Konami: By the way Konami: Born from opposing Yuba-san’s style was

Konami: ‘Ikoma Senkuu’

Sakurako: What…! Such history behind the technique…!

Panel 3

Izumi: It’s true that Tsuji-chan Izumi: Can’t unleash his firepower when Yuba-san’s the opponent…

Panel 4

Izumi: But if the 2 of them devote themselves to defence and buy enough time…

Panel 5

*wind howling*

Panel 1

*bang*

Panel 2

*roar*

Panel 1

*wind howling*

Izumi: The ace will finally arrive

Panel 2

*impact*

Panel 1

Fujimaru: Ninomiya squad fucking assembled! Fujimaru: Can you return!? Yukari!

*rustle*

Obishima: I’ll try!

Panel 2

Obishima: I’ve achieved my goal having taken Minamisawa-sempai down Obishima: I’ll pull him along like this

Obishima: And pit Kuga-sempai against Ninomiya squad…!

Panel 3

*twist*

Panel 4

*step*

*whirl*

Obishima: !!

Panel 1

Obishima: Mikumo-sempai’s Spider…!

Obishima: I was too preoccupied with Kuga-sempai…!

Panel 2

Sakurako: Oh my! In the fight on the eastern side, Agent Obishima Sakurako: Is caught in Agent Mikumo’s Spider!

Kurauchi: He read where Yuba squad would meet up and set it in that location

Panel 3

*turn*

Sakurako: Now, In the Spider Zone, Agent Kuga’s

Panel 4

Sakurako: Wire High Speed Manoeuvre unfolds!  

*impact impact impact impact*

Panel 2

*zip*

Yuuma: !

Panel 3

*impact impact impact impact impact*

Panel 4

Sakurako: Oh!?

Sakurako: Agent Obishima counterattacks with Omnidirectional Shooting!

Panel 5

Ouji: A countermeasure that aims for a draw even if she can’t follow his movements with her eyes

Panel 1

Ouji: On Kuugar’s side, he can guard against it if he widens his Shield

Ouji: But perhaps she intends to break it open with Kogetsu if that happens?

Panel 2

Ouji: Considering that Ninomiya squad have an entire 3 people remaining

Ouji: Kuugar probably doesn’t want to take damage here either Ouji: So it might have gotten a bit difficult to attack

Panel 3

*machine whirr*

Panel 4

*whiz*

Panel 5

Obishima: Scorpion Throw!

Panel 1

*dash*

Panel 2

*turn*

Panel 3

*wind howling*

Obishima: !!

Panel 4

*ping*

Panel 1

Yuuma: Grasshopper

*machine whirr*

Panel 2

*rustle*

Panel 4

*bang bang bang bang bang bang*

*light*

Panel 1

Obishima: …!!

Obishima: Scorpion Pinball…!?

Panel 2

*impact*

Panel 3

*wind howling*

*whirl*

Panel 4

*bang*

Panel 1        

*crack*

Yuuma: You’ll become strong, Obishima-chan

Panel 2

Yuuma: I guarantee it

Panel 3

*bam*

Sakurako: Agent Obishima bails out! Sakurako: With this Tamakoma Second needs 2 more points!

Panel 4

*wind howling*

Sakurako: Yuba squad is left with 1 person!

-

1. Sakurako calls Osamu 'Mikumo Taiin' which is why I translated it as Agent Mikumo but it's probably a typo since otherwise it's always been 'Mikumo Taichou' which I translate as Captain

2. As always, thank you Ashihara for giving female characters these chances that usually go to male ones. To have Obishima be the lesser rival to the protag that has him promising she'll get stronger, he will guarantee it...this is what I love about World Trigger's female characters

3. In conclusion, I think chances are better than ever that Chika will have a pivotal role in this match, especially against Ninomiya since I think this chapter has built up Yuba getting something in against Nino but ultimately losing to him which will make it easier and more likely for Chika to also get something in against Nino since he won’t be at full power.

-

And since it was just one chapter this time, I also translated the Ouji Nickname guide that came with it:

Ouji Kazuaki’s Nickname Collection Spring ‘20

Captain Ouji Kazuaki of Ouji squad, serving as commentator for ROUND 8 as it sparks with fierce fighting. His strong style of throwing in nicknames he made himself without hesitation into the commentary, something that is required to be easily understandable, is just like him but also deadly for first-timers. I have made a summary, I hope it can be of assistance.

 +

Tamakoma 2nd

Mikumo Osamu = Ossam

Kuga Yuuma = Kuugar

Amatori Chika = Amatoriciana

Hus = Huston

 +

Ikoma Squad

Ikoma Tatsuhito = Iko-san*

Mizukami Satoshi = Mizukaming

Oki Kouji = Okky

Minamisawa Kai = Kai-kun

 +

Ninomiya Squad

Ninomiya Masataka = Ninomiya-san*

Inukai Sumiharu = Sumi-kun

Tsuji Shinnosuke = Tsuji-chan

 +

Yuba Squad

Yuba Takuma = Yuba-san*

Obishima Yukari = Obi-nyan

Tonooka Kazuto = Tono-kun

 +

*As expected, with those older, you can see his prudence in not cutting loose too much

 +

And Many Others! A spirit that burns for naming!!

Though there exists many nicknames created by Captain Ouji, it seems he did not give them much thought in their creation. Among them there are those, like ‘Pokari’, that have permeated widely throughout Border. In addition, it appears that the one that has spread the least is ‘Jakuson’.

Katori Youko (Katori Squad) = Katorine

Wakamura Rokurou (Katori Squad) = Jakuson

Teruya Fumika (Kakizaki Squad) = Teruteru

Hokari Atsushi (Arafune Squad) = Pokari

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I can't believe I didn't realise until now that Pokari is an Ouji Nickname. It's so obvious in hindsight

[shiftperception]

Was anyone going to tell me pipe organs could do infrasound or was I supposed to see that in this month’s sideways video on why organs are associated with horror/Halloween myself?

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Highlights of the video:

“It isn’t the instrument itself that’s scary”

Are you sure? Are you SURE about that??

(from wikipedia, on first organ in recorded history) “It was a huge machine with 400 pipes, which needed two men to play it and 70 men to blow it, and its sound could be heard throughout the city.”

“It’s not just that they’re loud, but that they can achieve incredibly low pitches. Lower than what humans can hear.”

Like... below 20 hz low? The frequency range associated with raising cortisol levels, vibrating your eyeballs and causing hallucinations at certain frequencies/high enough volumes? Lower than what humans can hear like. The type of sound that can induce anxiety and make you see ghosts? A literal scary sound? These instruments can do that? Or at least do something in that range? Is that what you’re saying. Are you CERTAIN?

*video of pipe organ making objects nearby in room shake*

“Some of these pipes can be stories tall.”

“The organ itself is over 150 tons of equipment.”

*talks about how the pedals aren’t effects pedals but basically extra KEYS people have to play with their feet on top of the rows of stacked keyboards you already have to play with your hands*

“You’d think that each key would correspond to each pipe but NO that would be too easy!!”

“The whole point was to basically replace a whole orchestra with one performer.”

“That’s because there’s NO standardization in the organ world.”

“You have to be some kind of freak of nature genius to manage everything going on with an organ.”

*shows pic of organ that ALSO has effects pedals tho??*

“The scary thing about organ music isn’t the organ,”

Listen I get what you’re saying about the twisting of religious symbolism and making something holy unholy and needing an evil genius to play it and all but I HAVE to disagree cause based on everything you just said that sounds like the most terrifying instrument imaginable. I get what you’re going for. But if you wanted me to walk away from this with the knowledge that there’s nothing scary about organs you have failed.