#it's seven letters my guys how can you get this wrong

[heartshapedracetrack]

The fact that i have a really not complicated name and yet NO ONE MAnages to get it right

[meowzfordayz]

NSFW Alphabet — Tomioka Giyuu

Author’s Note: ~1.5 months after starting this (and ~3 months since it was supposed to be started 🥴), and it’s finally finished !!!!! 🥳 If these were shorter headcanons, then they wouldn’t take so long 😅, but each individual letter is a labor of love (and lust 😏). As w/ all hcs, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

NSFW Alphabet — Tomioka Giyuu

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~3,500

CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, oral, rimming, spit

MILESTONE 20.0

~faqs~

Aftercare? what they’re like after sex

Giyuu’s very sleepy after sex. If you’ve discussed it beforehand, then he’ll muster up the energy to gently towel wash you, brush your hair (if things got ~intense 😉), and make sure you drink a glass of water, but he’s otherwise hopeless. And by “hopeless”, I mean: he’s passing out with his cock still leaking onto your thighs, warm mouth smooshed into your shoulder, and will moan softly—Hnngg—and proceed to roll over should you attempt to wake him. 😌

Body Part? their favorite body part(s)

Giyuu’s a thigh guy, or GTTG (Giyuu The Thigh Guy) for short. 🦵 Don’t get me wrong! He could totally cum fixating on basically any part of your body 🫢, buuut nestled between your thighs… life couldn’t get much better. 😌 He isn’t huge on marking you (aka: he is, but he typically refrains because one hickey is a sure slide to two, then four, then seven, then- 😇), but biting softly at your thigh, listening to you squeal, halfheartedly attempting to push him away as his fingers wrap around your knees, tongue slipping out to soothe your fresh “wound” — he’s entertained himself with your thighs for literal hours, and not necessarily even sexually. 😆 He’ll often push your legs apart just so he can rest his head on the plush of your thigh, the rest of his body cradled by the curves of your knees and calves.

If you were a vampire, then Giyuu would surely be your first victim, because his neck is just: 😍😋🩸❣️ It’s kissable, nuzzle-able, biteable, and sooo fun to rile him up with a simple swipe of your tongue (bonus points if you suck on his Adam’s apple 🤤). He smells delicious too; a gentle, unassuming fragrance of ripples on a pond (whatever those smell like 🌊) that’s strongest where his neck meets his ears. Step in close and interlock your fingers behind his neck, and he’s certain to wrap his arms around your waist, surroundings fading to a hazy buzz as he murmurs, “I love you.”

Cum?

Giyuu loves cum while he’s still horny (something about the way it glistens and slides down the backs of your thighs, collecting in droplets on your puffy folds, slightly watery and warm as it slowly dampens the mattress beneath you… he’s fixated for sure 😌), but as soon as post nut clarity hits, he’s desperate for a shower (something about its smell and stickiness, clinging to your skin—and his—reminding him of how amazing you felt… and of how messy things got… if you’re taking too long to collect yourself, then he’s scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom for sure 🫠).

Dirty Talk?

He loves dirty talk, but has to pass a certain threshold (of horniness) to really ~get into it. 😅 Before that threshold, a simple So pretty baby while straddling his hips, your fingertips stroking his softly toned abs, will guarantee you a blushing, flustered Tomioka Giyuu, his own grip tightening around your waist. And after that threshold? 👀 Best believe you’ll be the flustered one, low whimpers pushed out of your chest as a cool hand rests gentle around your throat, steadying your body while his cock fucks needy and forceful into your warm, clenching hole.

Experience? their level of experience

Before meeting you, Giyuu isn’t a virgin, but he’s also far from experienced. He knows how to have sex, knows how to make someone else cum, but he doesn’t know how to enjoy himself. He’s always been physically sensitive—always quick to orgasm with enough wetness and friction—but physical pleasure without its emotional counterpart only does so much. And then he falls in love with you. 🥺💙 He falls in love with how delicately you kiss the tops of his shoulder, across his collarbones, tongue swirling in the hollow of his throat. Falls in love with how easily you raise goosebumps on his forearms, his thighs, your fingertips grazing lightly—teasingly—along the seams of his clothing, toying with the buttons on his shirt, the zipper on his pants, not willing to undress him unless he begs. In love with how begging means catching your wrists and holding them above your head, brought to neediness by your tender ministrations, safe enough to seek his own desires in the heat of your breathlessness. “I want to cum,” he whispers gruffly, your pulse warm in his palms, “So help me.”

Foreplay?

Giyuu thoroughly enjoys foreplay, to the extent that he has trouble lasting through it. 😅 He actually fares better when you go down on him, because he can guide your movements and pace. His large hands—normally cool to the touch and tender in their intentions—firmly cup your nape, sweaty and needy as your hair tangles soft between his fingers. When you choke on the sensation of his cock nudging against the back of your throat, he can only whimper and groan, hips chasing the quiver and wetness of your breath, grip ensuring you remain planted between his thighs. And when he’s close to cumming? He’s strong enough to gently tug you away from him, your lips shiny and insatiable, a low whine kissing his skin as you pout. But when he goes down on you? That same attention dissipates. Lost in the heat and clench of your thighs, the ache in his scalp as you cling to his hair, the incoherent babble of pleasure spilling from your mouth while you tremble and arch before him… is it really his fault for cumming with you? 🙃 After all, you didn’t stop him from thrusting his hips into the mattress, the edge of the couch, his own fist, as he flicked his tongue over your clit. You didn’t stop him as he whispered about how Beautiful, Stunning, Divine, Fuck… I think I’m gonna cum… you were, your moans rising in pitch as you met his dazed expression, his eyes dark and determined, the tip of his nose glistening with your essence. You didn’t stop him as his body shuddered before you, his cum splurting sticky and pearlescent, the taste of your orgasm gushing tart and warm onto his tongue.

Goofy? their sense of humor

In the beginning, Giyuu’s uber serious… mostly because he’s worried about dying of embarrassment should he fumble while trying to get/keep you in the mood. 🫠 That’s not to say he’s incapable of smiling! He doesn’t want you to think he’s having a terrible time either. 🥴 But gosh forbid he accidentally fart, or nudge himself against the wrong hole, or elbow you in the face, or- 😭 Eventually, however, he slips into a deeper comfort and trust with you, which inevitably leads to him smooshing your hair, chuckling when you queef, and taking a breather when you become literally tangled in the sheets (you can’t stop laughing, and he somehow finds himself grinning adoringly at you vs running out the door in mortification). 🥺

Hair? pubes maintenance

Giyuu keeps himself well groomed due more to habit and personal comfort, but hey — you benefit too! Plus, you know you’ve reached peak closeness when you’re showering together and you randomly ask, “My love, could I trim your pubes tonight?” and instead of shoving you out of the shower, curtain rod and all, he just blushes a deep red and mutters, “Yeah, okay.” 😶

Intimacy? their degree of intimacy

Intimacy and Giyuu are a complicated duo. 😅 On one hand, Giyuu definitely isn’t casual; casual and physical closeness, casual and feelings, casual and sex, are not how he prefers to pair such concepts. But intimacy is difficult for him too, because intimacy means trusting, and trusting means revealing his nakedness — not just undressing his lover. While you know from the get go that you aren’t just a one night stand, friends with benefits, or connected in some other vaguely defined manner, you also initially aren’t entirely sure exactly how deeply rooted his intentions and desires are. After all, he’s shy about meeting your gaze, keeps the lights dim, and hardly moans or closes his eyes… until you finally, finally ask him about it. “Giyuu, what am I to you?” 🥺 “I don’t understand.” 🙃 “I… well, I feel like when we have sex, you make love to me, but I somehow can’t make love to you.” He doesn’t properly answer you, seconds from dreamland after tiredly wiping his cum off your thighs 😴, but he was listening, and the next time he finds himself sliding slowly into you, he cracks a smile—rather than glance away—when you catch him in his contented daze. 💓

Jack Off? masturbation

Giyuu goes through phases of jerking off every day of the week to not touching himself for upwards of a month. There’s no pattern to the duration or frequency of each phase, and he doesn’t really consciously think about it either. Sometimes he’s horny, and other times he’s just not. That being said, solo masturbation and sexual acts with others (others being you) are separate entities to him. Whether he just came that same morning, or hasn’t cum alone in a couple of weeks, he’s always more than willing to feel your pretty cunt (or throat, or hands, because he’s not about to be picky) flutter and squeeze around his cock.

Kink? ~specific turn ons

Lace. 😍 Giyuu knows lace is often rough and uncomfortable 🥲, but there’s just something divine about seeing your breasts in lace and satin; about running calloused palms up your scantily clad thighs (if you ever want to buy a(nother) garter, then Giyuu will always hand you his credit card — no questions asked 😌), snapping your frilly waistband against your plush, warm hips; lapping at the delicate material covering your nipples till they’re perky and damp, gushing about You’re absolutely stunning and Can’t decide if I’d rather fuck you with these beautiful panties on or off. Sometimes, he’ll literally stop and stare (or make you ~model for him 😵‍💫), breath caught in his chest at how perfectly the floral embroidery matches your eyes; at how ethereal and whimsical you appear, the facade of angelic elegance dissipating as you perch on all fours before him, teasing fingers tugging at the sorry excuse of a string between your cheeks. “The longer you wait, the more likely I am to ruin these panties,” you purr, craning your neck to stare over your shoulder at his awestruck expression, “You wouldn’t want that, hm? Wouldn’t want me to have to buy a new set of lace for you?” Spoiler alert: of course he wants you to buy another set of lace for him 😖, but he quite likes your current set too 🥴, so he’s quick to lean over you, mouth messy and hot as he kisses you thoroughly, clever hand slipping underneath you to cup and knead your tit while his other maintains his balance on the mattress.

Location? where they prefer to have sex

Call him basic, but Giyuu likes having sex in bed. 🤗 It’s comfortable, safe, and a sturdy headboard (+ a couple of velcro straps and/or handcuffs) can make it not-so-vanilla too. He’s the reason you have so many pillows, because while he’s okay with taking one for the team and sleeping in any cum spots 🫡, he refuses to sleep on a stained pillow (understandable 😝). As a man who gets extra sleepy after sex, changing sheets/pillowcases usually isn’t in the cards for him, so he’d rather just have plenty of pillows and swap them out when necessary.

Motivation? ~general turn ons

Being nice to him. Giyuu’s got a bit of a praise kink, albeit less so that he’ll get go from zero to erection emergency zone if you compliment him 😆, and more so that he remembers your kindness and attentiveness throughout the day, and returns your care and affection tenfold at night 😉. He also appreciates clean and tidy nails, genuine smiles (although your fake laughter—when not targeted at him—does make him chuckle 🫢), and when you playfully tug his hair to redirect his focus. “Oi, babe, I said left,” you huff amusedly, pointing across the street. He nods slowly, smirking faintly as he promptly continues heading in the wrong direction (if only to get you to tug on his hair again 😌). 

No? turn offs

Giyuu’s pretty flexible. 😌 He can be kinky (after reading a dozen or so ~articles about how exactly to go about exploring X kink), he can be vanilla, but he isn’t into cheating/cuckolding. 😓 Not even for a roleplay scenario. He could be (pretty easily) discussed into having a threesome, or simply a voyeuristic counterpart 👀, but No. Cheating. He trusts that you love him, and he knows he loves you, but it just feels a lil too real to even think about, let alone play out. 😕

Oral? giver or receiver

Giyuu tends to be the receiver, because he has a 50/50 chance of lasting through foreplay whenever he’s the giver. 😶 That being said, he doesn’t exactly have a ~preference, and definitely doesn’t perceive giving oral sex to be a chore, annoying, or tiresome — he just doesn’t want to disappoint you by cumming too soon should you still desire penetrative sex after oral sex. 

Position? their favorite position(s)

Doggystyle, because Giyuu can’t get enough of hearing his thighs slap against yours. 🫢 From cupping the tops of your thighs and pulling your body toward him to both steady himself and fuck deeper into your cunt, to gripping the inside of your thighs to spread your legs farther apart while spitting lazily on your back Fuck, so fucking filthy for me, to listening to how sweaty and eager you are as your skin clings and claps to his, doggystyle is easily his favorite. A close second, when either of you are feeling too lazy for doggystyle, would be missionary, because once again, Giyuu can use your thighs to pull you closer and spread you wider (and his spit + your boobs = ✨shiny boobs✨). 

Quickie? a fan or not-a-fan

Giyuu isn’t a huge fan of quickies (not enough time to devour you whole), but your first few times together were quick nonetheless. 😏💀 After he’s gotten over his initial awe (let’s be honest tho — he never really gets over it 😍), he’s better about not ~accidentally making everything a quickie 😝, but you lowkey still have him wrapped around your finger. 😇 In other words, Giyuu doesn’t like ‘em, but you have the power to create them whenever you so desire. 😎😂

Risk? their risk tolerance

Low risk tolerance. 🙃 In theory, Giyuu isn’t against sexual risk taking (i.e. semi public sex), but in practice, he gets too flustered-embarrassed-mortified-at-the-thought-of-being-caught 🫣 to actually follow through. If you casually mention how hot it would be If you pressed me up against this wall and slipped your hand under my skirt to feel how wet I am, then he’ll do the press-you-up-against-the-wall part 😏, but will shakily vice grip the hem of your skirt, unable to continue (he wants to 😭, but just can’t 🥴). 

Stamina?

In terms of how long Giyuu can fuck you in a single position before his muscles give out? He has practically unlimited stamina. 😎 His lanky, lithe physique isn’t purely for show y’know! 😉 It’s for holding you up against a wall, cock thrusting upward into your dripping cunt as your nails dig crescent moons into his shoulders, his face buried in your neck as he focuses intently on the slick, lewd sound of his balls tapping your pretty asshole. And for holding you up above him while you straddle his hips, your legs cramping from exhaustion—Aw darling, can’t ride me any longer?—adoration in his eyes as he begins fucking roughly into your pussy, delirious on how willingly you allow him to pleasure your body. However, in terms of how long Giyuu can fuck you before he cums? … … … he’s working on it. 🫠 That being said, he makes up for premature orgasms with potential quantity! 😏 If you’re feeling especially horny, then he can usually manage an orgasm morning, noon, and night 🥰 — just don’t expect much out of him the following day. 😵‍💫😂

Toys?

Giyuu might be a lil jealous of them. 🤪 Not actually, he’s not that insecure of himself and your relationship… but you could totally rile him up by starting without him, winking exaggeratedly with your favorite vibrator grazing your clit as he walks into the bedroom, giggling when he promptly plops onto the bed beside you, still fully clothed, hand nudging you and your toy out of his way as he grumbles halfheartedly, “So I guess I didn’t need to hurry up the stairs after all, you’ve got everything taken care of.” 😔 Your failsafe solution? Gently grasp his noticeable bulge, and declare, “Clearly not everything, seeing as I’ve yet to solve this problem.” 😌😉😏😎 Will he cringe at your cheesiness? Yes. 🥴 Will he also frantically begin unzipping and kicking off his pants? Also yes. 😳

Unfair? how they feel about teasing/being teased

Tease at your own discretion, because Giyuu can not handle it. 😃 He enjoys it! But his imagination does wonders at filling in the blanks you’re leaving, and if you’re not careful, then he might just spill over before you’re ready! 😅 Teasing you goes pretty much the same, because as much as he tries to convince himself that you’re the one he’s edging, truly, he’s edging both of you, and he’s too in love with you to not succumb to his own delicate, torturous charm. 🙃💞

Volume?

Quiet and breathy, or desperate and babbling, with no in between. Push him far enough, and he’ll murmur filth nonstop (most of it incoherent 😅) until he’s shaking and cumming, or bask in the soft glow of his occasional grunts and low hisses. Sex in the morning is usually near silent, but sex in the evening frequently brings out the singular, guttural groan that always accompanies his hardest orgasms. 

Wild Card?

On rare occasions, Giyuu rims you. The stuttered, needy whine, and the feeling of your pussy tightening around his cock, whenever he brushes the pad of his thumb over your asshole do not go unnoticed by him, so he can only imagine how sensitive and gorgeous you would feel and sound if the tip of his tongue replaced his wandering hands — and he’s proven ~right when he rims you for the first time, and you practically wail at the hot wetness of his mouth. So good for me, letting me eat your pretty ass he rasps, spit bridging from his chin to your ass cheeks, your thighs quivering in his grip, drooling onto your pillow as you rock your hips backward toward his slick, skillful tongue What a fucking treat, getting to taste you here.

X-ray?

Giyuu’s cock is pretty. 7” erect, somewhat slim, with a fat and squishy tip that beads precum like it’s modeling for an advertisement. Its length always catches you off guard because it doesn’t look especially big (think cute twink vs beefy jock), but as he slowly pushes himself in a couple inches, pulls out till his tip catches at your entrance, and then slowly pushes himself in a couple inches farther than before, you can’t help but gasp. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, voice low and thick in his throat, eyes gleaming as he watches himself disappear into your luscious cunt, your body presented to him so stunning on your chest and knees. “Fuck,” is your graceful response, face buried in the mattress, back arching forward with every shallow thrust, “So deep.” He’d chuckle at your cliche whimper if he wasn’t so focused on not cumming, his hands cupping your hips in an attempt to handle you tenderly, the desperate clinging of your walls sucking away his self control as he slips farther, farther, deeper into your heat.

Yearning? sex drive

Horny, and by horny, I mean 24/7. Giyuu’s so used to it though (the perpetual state of being borderline turned on), that it doesn’t exactly feel like horny. He could fuck whenever (albeit, not necessarily wherever), but doesn’t need to (he’s a grown man y’know, he has ~some control 😉). This is a problem at first, because he refrains from initiating (afraid of scaring you away with his sex drive 😬)—to the point where you worry that you’re pressuring him into being physically intimate—but as soon as you communicate your concern, he’s quick (and embarrassed 😶) to assure you that I’m horny all the time. Do you want me to fuck you all the time? 😐 You might jokingly say Duh!, but his sentiment registers nonetheless. ☺️

Zzz?

🎵out like a light🎶 Morning sex? Giyuu’s taking a five minute power nap. 😴 Afternoon sex? Giyuu’s taking a thirty minute cat nap. 😴 Evening sex? Giyuu’s going to sleep. 😴 He does his best to check in with you vs straight up knocking out, but unless something urgent arises (i.e. intense feelings, physical pains, etc), he’s not someone to rely on after he cums. Of course, he can ~technically orgasm and then continue his day without conking out, but his resulting moodiness/distractedness takes a while to wear off whenever that happens.

[engeorged]

Dear Alex

Dear Alex,

I can’t really remember how many times I’ve started writing this letter and how many times I’ve thrown it in the bin. It’s a really shitty way of doing this but I just don’t think I can tell you any of this to your face. I’m too embarrassed. It all started as a prank, a way to level the tables with the both of us. I meant to tell you sooner but I guess it got out of hand and here we are. I’m gonna have to start at the beginning I think. You’ll know all of this, just not my side of it I guess.

After university when we moved in together I wasn’t sure we’d last as room mates for more than a few months but it was so easy hanging out with you and we were both the same level of untidy so we didn’t piss each other off. We did have those tricky few weeks a few years back when we dated the same guy without realising but he turned into the biggest ballsack on the planet so it wasn’t hard to get over that!

I’m only mentioning that because that’s not the reason I got you fat. It wasn’t revenge for anything. I don’t fully remember the original reason to be completely honest, it wasn’t really a thought through thing, it just sort of happened. And yeah I know I just threw that it there. I got you fat. I mean you definitely played your part in it but I really messed with you man and I’m sorry.

It was innocent at first, I noticed when you started your new job and you were tired all the time, you started going to the gym less. I think it was when we were decorating the kitchen one weekend and you were painting the ceiling, I saw your rounded little pot belly when you were reaching up. All those late night take aways and evenings sat in front of the tv watching the football were taking their toll. Your flat muscled six pack was disappearing. It instantly filled me with hope. You had a flaw I could exploit!

It pains me to say this but of the two of us, you’d always been the hot one. Don’t get me wrong, on my own, I’m not bad looking. In fact if someone asked me I’d probably say I was a nine, it’s just that next to you, I’m a seven at best. Your blonde hair and permanently tanned skin made you the hottest guy in most rooms. All 6’5 of you was built like a cartoon of a rugby player which made it even worse! You’re a solid ten man and you always have been. I don’t think I realised how jealous I was until I saw you had a flaw. That solid curved furry belly I glimpsed gave me the seed of an idea. If you were fatter, it might even the playing field. I’m not proud of this, I just think you’d reserve the truth.

It started gently at first, I’d make twice the amount of food I’d normally make when it was my turn to cook. I’d pack the fridge with snacks and unhealthy things for you to pick at. I’d hand you beers when we were watching the game. You were so zoned into the match you never noticed me topping up your snacks or replacing the bud lights with full fat beers. Over a few months I watched as your little curve turned into a more substantial beer belly. And fuck you if it wasn’t the most perfect beer belly I’d ever seen. I was hoping it would make you less hot but turned out it made you hotter. Instead of a flabby pimply gut covered in stretch marks, you developed a firm round belly with perfect skin and even kept your Adonis belt. That’s when it got serious.

The first thing was gainer shakes. I started sprinkling gainer powder in everything, adding it to every meal or sauce I could dissolve it into. Everything I cooked for you was loaded with butter and ghee to double the calorie count. I found larger versions of our plates so that I could increase your portion sizes without you realising. I even started buying your clothes a size up and replacing the labels so you wouldn't realise. I was literally feeding you up like a fattened calf. And boy did you balloon. The first phase was months long and you gained 20/30lbs but this second phase was like you were being filled with an air pump. I can’t really believe I could do this to someone, especially someone who I would call my best friend.

It all came to a head yesterday when I crossed the line big time. That’s why I’m writing this letter now and actually sending it. I can hear you now snoring from your bedroom. Sleeping off the mammoth meal I stuffed into you across the evening. I’ve been awake all night and I keep going in to check on you to make sure you’re still breathing. I can’t believe you ate as much as you did and I can’t believe I pushed you into doing it.

I was only planning on slipping you a few of the tablets I found online. They were definitely safe and I want you to know I checked them and double checked them to make sure they were ok for human consumption. I guess that gives away the fact that they were actually for animals. I think they are used by wagyu beef farmers to get cows fattened up before they are butchered. They are supposed to increase appetite and metabolism. I popped two in your beer before the game and started my usual sneaky increase in your snacks. It wasn’t hard as you always put a lot away when our team is winning and they were three goals up by half time. I think at that point you’d eaten two bowls of Doritos and dip, a plate of sliders and a whole pan of chilli which I think would have served 8 comfortably. That was on top of the best of a crate of twelve beers. Your belly was swollen up to it’s usual bulging mass and you were already rubbing the sides to alleviate some pressure. I should have stopped there but I couldn’t help myself. I slipped you another few of the tablets. I guess in hindsight, the first two hadn’t properly kicked in at that point which meant that by the time the second half had started they were in full force. I couldn’t keep up with the snacks and you’d pretty much polished off the lot by the time the match had ended.

For the record it was your idea to order pizza. Your belly at that point was totally rounded out and your T-shirt was stretched over it’s taut surface. I guess you were pretty buzzed because you ordered four xl meat feasts. I didn’t really have any choice but to let it happen. And you might not remember any of this but you basically inhaled the first two. By that point you were fully maxed out. Your belly was tight and even the xxxl T-shirt you were wearing (that you thought was an xl) was beginning to show a few inches of your swollen belly. You could hardly move and I felt awful. Well that’s not totally true. I was actually pretty pleased at the state of you. My plan after all was to make you gain a few pounds so I’d be hotter than you and you’d basically blimped.

Anyway, what happened next I am truly ashamed about. You were laying there on the sofa clutching at your belly. The tablets clearly convincing your brain you were still starving, even thought your belly was basically an exercise ball now. And you were just moaning with the two pizzas next to you. And that’s when I snapped. I jumped up and shoved a whole slice into your mouth. You gaged but then after a few chews swallowed it right down. Slice by slice I pushed the remaining two huge pizzas down your throat. I could literally see your belly blowing up in front of me. When eventually I reached into the box for the next piece and found nothing, I realised what I’d done. I stepped back and looked at you. Spread eagle on the sofa, your belly sticking way up and round. Covered in sweat and grease. It’s as if I stepped out of my own body and realised what I had done to you. You were fucking huge man.

I left the room and went to my own to consider what to do next. I was half appalled and half in awe at the size of you man. When I came in half an hour later you were fast asleep and snoring like a pig, your gut still very much occupying its space. Guiltily, I managed to get you into your bed and laid you on your back so your belly could reach its full swell. I pulled your belt off so your stomach wasn’t under any pressure. I didn’t want you to pop or anything.

As I said I know our friendship is probably over but I want you to know I’m truly sorry. I took this way too far and I regret it. I’m happy for you to do what you need to do, and if that’s punch me in the face then so be it. I hope that in a few weeks you’ll be able to forgive me but if not then I understand and I will move out if that’s what you want.

In the spirit of fully disclosure, I want you to know that even though you’re maybe 100lbs fatter than you were, I still think you’re a ten. In fact if I’m really honest, I think you might even be hotter than that. Your belly last night was horrifying but also strangely attractive. The firm roundness of it and knowing how much food I’d crammed in there was actually quite erotic. Sorry if that’s tmi but I think I wanted you to have the whole truth. I have a small suspicion that you’ve actually enjoyed getting bigger and if that’s wrong then I’m sorry for presuming. But I actually wonder how big we could get that thing.

Let me know what I can do to make it up to you, or if I’m right and you wanna continue.

Yours apologetically (and hopefully)

Nate

Continued at Dear Nate

[aliaology]

GET HIM BACK!

summary: reader wants to get her ex boyfriend, luke hughes, back in order to get her revenge.

pairings: luke hughes x ex!fem!reader

warnings: jealousy, arguments, mentions of sex

based on ‘get him back’ by olivia rodrigo

THIS IS NOT HOW LUKE HUGHES ACTS. this is just for the plot, i have no idea how he acts outside of hockey and media!

you met luke in the summer of 2021. he was at the michigan lake house, and you were visiting your friends house who lived just next door. the boy accidentally hit a volleyball over to your friends house and from there the two of you blossomed.

though, the relationship was quite toxic, causing you to leave him the next spring, just before you could meet his parents. the two of you argued over everything, him normally starting it.

“are you fucking serious, y/n?” luke groaned, throwing your phone on the bed. you looked confused. “what the fuck did i do?”

“i dont know— maybe snap my fucking brother twenty four-seven?” luke snapped. you rolled your eyes.

“we just send pics to keep a fucking streak going, luke, why is this such a big deal?” you groaned.

“because you’re talking to other guys, what if you’re cheating?”

you scoffed and crossed your arms, “so you don’t trust me?”

not to mention, he had a huge ego, thanks to being the number four pick of the 2021 nhl draft. along with the many, many girls who loved him online. would they love his personality? probably not.

maybe another part of his shitty personality was the wandering eye he had. the way his eyes would drift to look at another girls chest or ass, it was embarrassing.

but, he was fun. fun at parties, fun at sex, fun at it all, and so were his weird friends. you personally favored dylan duke and mark estapa, but no one would find that out.

he took you out to many parties, bars, clubs. and when he said something wrong in front of his friends, he’d buy you something like tickets for a small vacation.

but there are nights where you miss him, until you remember how he would hit on all of your best friends. do you love him or do you hate him? its… up and down.

but right now, you wanted him back. to get him back, to get revenge. he deserved to feel mad, sad and jealous, everything you felt the entire relationship. it should get him back.

so you started to write letters, but after you would just throw them in the trash. all you talked about in the letters was how much you missed his touch and kiss, and how making you laugh was a bonus.

then when you tried texting him, you didn’t have the balls to say anything because you knew how disappointed your friends would be.

he was toxic, and you were not the only girl. you remember the time where you decided to try communicating your feelings.

“baby, can we talk?” you asked, walking behind him, he sat on the couch, eyes fixated on his game.

“what?” he spoke, fingers ferociously clicking his controller.

“recently, the way you’ve been just doesn’t feel fair, luke. i’ve been putting my all into us and i dont get the same treatment back, it hurts.”

luke scoffed, “you’re trippin’ babe”

but maybe you could fix him? scratch that. maybe you could key his car? or break his heart? or punch him?

then again, you could fix him.. with the nice route. instead of breaking his heart, you stitch it right back up. or kiss him. or make him lunch.

how about you meet his mom? but instead of telling her how good he was, you tell her how much her son fucking sucks.

you did. you met up with her— on complete accident. according to her, luke had not told anyone you broke up with him. he made up a fake excuse saying your family needed you for the summer.

you almost laughed in her face.

you almost laughed after she stormed out of the cafe, learning how her you her son was a prick. and you definitely laughed when you got the text from jack telling you how much shit, luke got.

time to work on coach part two xx

[dragonnarrative-writes]

im the anon who sent that gaz ask and omg kyle's interlude was so good!!!!! im just giggling thinking of kyle wondering how much does she know? did she catch on somehow? fuck I have to take her out quick before she finds out how many projects ive finished and the whole time miss new girl is like. wow this guy fucking sucks at his job i want him gone from my hospital >:(

mans thinks shes gonna file a case with a police and she just thinks he's incompetent as shit

I'm so tickled. That's exactly what's happening.

CW: discussions of death and dying, autopsies, medical neglect

There’s something going on on the cardiac floor that you just… can’t quite put your finger on.

This isn’t the first hospital you’ve worked at, but you’re also new to urban healthcare, so you don’t want to rock the boat by being paranoid. But traffic from the cardiac floor is… steady. You’ve read the papers, know the stats like the back of your hand. And the cardiac floor is perfectly in line with expected trends. Every. Month.

There are fluctuations, of course. Plus or minus three to seven lives is nothing remarkable in cardiology. Macabre, maybe, but true. But that’s unnatural. In the seven months you’ve worked here, you’ve seen waves elsewhere in the hospital. The plastics floor had a month with zero deaths followed by a month of a persistent infection sweeping through the otherwise reasonably healthy patients. Oncology has seen a steady decline in patients sent your way, thank goodness. Even emergency and intensive care aren’t as fixedly consistent as the cardiac floor.

When you wonder about it aloud to the director, Dr. Martins just shrugs. “We have a good team up there. Very good at keeping things clean and double and triple checking their work.”

“But if that’s the case, then the number of deaths should be going down,” you point out.

Dennis gives you a rueful smile. “That’s not always how human bodies work, unfortunately. You know that.”

You do know that. Which is why the consistency grates against your nerves. So you decide to do a little digging.

The name that comes up the most often in the chart notes is one Kyle Garrick.

That’s actually not 100% accurate. He’s charting exactly the way he’s supposed to. And no nurse has complete, individual access to patients 24/7. But every dying patient he has access to is… perfect. Their blood work, labs, vitals, prognosis, medication adherence and refusal is almost too-the-letter, textbook precise.

The most obvious answer is that Garrick, and probably a couple of other nurses on the floor, are fudging the numbers.

The idea is infuriating. You hate the way the administrators keep changing medical record systems just as much as the next person, but inaccurate charting is a safety issue. People can, have, and do die because someone writes down the wrong timing for medications or assumes that a patient’s vitals are unchanged. If anything, this is probably worse than that. The fact that everything is so pristine probably means that some patients are just being written off. The nurses might be deciding who gets the excellent care the hospital is known for and who gets neglected.

You stay three hours late investigating the next cardio patient that ends up in your morgue.

After examining the body and reading, rereading, and re-re-re-reading his chart, you find it. A stutter in the dosages of blood thinners, a slightly higher blood pressure reading from someone who isn’t nurse Kyle fucking Garrick. Just enough evidence to have you testing the body with an aspirometer almost too late. And there it is. A fatal air embolism.

You want to scream, but the dead man doesn’t deserve that.

Three weeks later, sipping from your water bottle, someone calls into the office. “Knock knock.”

Dennis practically lights up. “"Good morning, Kyle. Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Dr Martins hates unexpected visitors. Then you look over your shoulder, and you understand. Even old queens aren't immune to pretty privilege. The man that’s leaning in the doorway is gorgeous. Maybe its because you work with dead bodies all day, but his eyes and skin seem to glow, even under the fluorescents.

"Can't," the man says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The fact that you’re wiping crumbs off of your mouth over a paper plate is the only reason no one sees your face fall when you hear him say, “Nice to meet you. Kyle Garrick.”

[bruciemilf]

Hi, do u have any more headcanons abt Bruce getting hit on/objectified by creepers and his kids (specifically jason) being protective? i can't get enough <3

You have no inkling of idea on how much I could babble away on this concept.

I just think it's a tragically beautiful thing, - even though in Gotham ' tragic' is just 'beautiful' with different letters, - because Bruce is used to it. He handles objectification and sinisterly intentioned advances like he does patrol.

Guarded up and ready for pain.

And his kids hate seeing it, loathe to watch it play out, because Brucie is a gilded weapon. It keeps suspicion away, but it puts Bruce in a helpless position. Like the hanged man on a bucket.

But for Jason is especially hard. He's not socially trained like Tim, all pressed suits and slicked up hair and diamond smiles, ready for suing. He's not media tailored like Dick either. He'll never be Bruce's perfect bluejay, who can joke about dooming you without joking at all.

He's Jason; Jason swallows rain and spits lighting, and Crime Alley kills boys but births strong men. (Even if he shouldn't have been strong. He should've been a kid.)

It takes LITTLE for Jason to jump into action. An intrusive hand on Bruce's back, a glassy, shameless stare from old guys that tell Jason age and morality are low on their priority lists.

" You have to keep calm about things like these," Bruce, - his Papi, his father, everything wrong and everything right, his home in skin, - says, placating and chillingly soft. " Men like that never learn."

" I'm not looking to educate corpses."

" Well, you're never getting 'Teacher of the year' with that attitude," he smiles, then, that half-moon grin he never performes for the media. It's too loving and too private and too authentic for magazines.

" It'll be okay soon. I just have to give my speech and we can go."

" Just don't choke up this time."

Bruce raises his finger warningly, " Don't exploit your one good joke, Jay." He says, no offence behind it. He makes Jason lean down to press a kiss on his cheek and on his way he goes.

Tim sneaking up on him stopped being a surprise. He always does this, becoming one with Jason's shadow, slithering around, teasing good naturedly and welcoming Jason's jabs with his own.

" I think Roman Sionis just went out for a smoke. In Gotham. By himself. Can you believe that? Natural selection will get that guy at some point."

Roman is half dumbass, half confident dumbass, because he somehow omitted seven dangerous details watching him more or less harass Bruce all night. And Harley has her own history book for the guy.

Jason is more danger than man. He's sunshine with claws and his bullets are hungry. " Meet you in the back?"

" I'll bring the batarangs."

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - THE INTRO (C.S; S.MG)

Summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

Warnings: only cursing for now

WC: 1.2k

A/N: listen, i wrote this like four months ago and i’ll post it now but the information of when the actual first chapter will be posted is between me and God. enjoy!

Taglist: @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke​

act i​

“Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.”

- Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

Dear San,

I hope you know how much I hate you.

You probably never expected to receive a letter like this, just as I never expected to actually send it but anything can happen. I've learned that one too many times for my own good.

And the guy at the airport didn't charge me for the stamps so I decided to make use of his attempts at flirting to save the little cash I have in my wallet.

You're probably wondering why did I decide to open this up with such a harsh greeting. We were once, in fact, friends with benefits. Only we went short on the 'friends' part and fully indulged in the 'benefits' but that's all in the past. It's the now, and now, I'll try to explain.

Ever since the night I met you at that party in my freshman year of college, you have been the root of all my problems.  

San, do you know that two years have exactly seven hundred and thirty days in them?

Well, I have spent seven hundred and thirty long, excruciating days wanting you. I have felt the foolish need to impress you in every single way for those seven hundred and thirty days even when you were taken. Which, in retrospect, is kind of fucked up but my moral compass is always pointing in the wrong direction when you're involved so I'll forgive myself for that.

I have made myself seem smaller and tried to fit in with your shitty group of friends that thought I was too stupid to understand the silent jabs they threw at me every chance they could get. I have dragged myself around filthy mechanic shops, gross bedrooms of your frat house, absolutely disgusting public toilets of bars and clubs that I would only step into over my dead body. I have put up with your insults over my music taste and the movies I like. But above all, I have put up with you thinking I was a vapid, dumb bimbo that was only looking after her credit card.

I did all of that for seven hundred and thirty days and while I did it on my own terms, I did it all for you.

So, imagine my surprise and almost blinding rage to, halfway through those seven hundred and thirty days, see you fall in love with some basic, painfully average goody-two-shoes that had a weird superiority complex because she didn't know the difference between foundation and primer.

Son Boyoung.

God, even her name makes you want to doze off.

But this isn't about her. If you're really in love with her and the two of you get back together then I hope you enjoy the time you spend being emotionally unavailable with her as well, having lots of mediocre, vanilla sex and worrying about her parents not liking you because trust me, that will happen.

This is about me and you.

Before I start, you weren't the bad guy here. You were just the ignorant, prideful one.

I, on the other hand, had very little pride to begin with so... just want to make that clear. You're not the only one at fault. And I'm not blaming you for any of it, well...at least not all of it.

Let me just state that while you were the only guy I have ever been in love with, you were also one of the worst mistakes out of many.

But this isn't a revenge letter. More so, an explanation letter and maybe even a 'thank you' letter if you look at it from the right angle.

If it wasn't for you ditching me two days before my Computer Science midterm when you promised to help me out, Kim Hongjoong would've never found me in the corner of the library that afternoon and I never would've gotten to know him as well as I did.

If I hadn't met Kim Hongjoong, he would've never introduced me to Professor Ahn who was the one who helped me out the most with my degree and in the end, was the one who helped me decide just what kind of artist I wanted to be. She helped me find myself.

If I wasn't stumbling on the top floor of your frat house looking for you, I never would've caught Wooyoung in the compromising position that I did and it never would've led to the blackmailing situation between the two of us which never would've ended with me finding my first true friend.

And it wasn't a blackmailing situation per say, but in Wooyoung's head that's what it looked like at the time. He's a bit dramatic.

If it wasn't for you being so lovey-dovey with your girlfriend right in front of my face, I never would've kissed Song Mingi in that closet. I definitely don't regret that, even with everything that happened afterwards.

If it wasn't for the conversation I've overheard between you and your friends, I would've never lost the last bit of my permanent sanity and I definitely never would've lost my shit in front of my parents like that. Do you know just how much trauma has to be thrown in the faces of parents who care more about family image than anything for it to result in getting kicked out of their house?

If you kissed me the last night we had sex, I never would've called in to confirm the one-way ticket to Paris. So thank you for not kissing me.

During the last seven hundred and thirty days, I admit that there were times where I wondered why did all of this have to happen to me out of all unlucky souls.

Why did my brother suddenly hate me for following my dream. Why did my parents have to choose my partners for me and why was everything with them treated as a transaction. Why did my mother have to be so obsessed with the way I look. Why was nothing I do ever considered enough. Why did I think of broken mechanisms when I looked into the mirror. Why was I instantly the villain just because I liked pink and was a little sharp on the tongue to a girl who thought she was better than me because she listened to underground, indie bands that seemingly no one else cares about. And, above all, why did I have to fall in love with a boy who I knew would never love me back.

Need I go on? I should, I have a lot to say honestly. That's what keeping shit bottled up for so long does to a person.

And you're probably thinking 'aw, poor little rich girl, what does she know about real life problems' like you always do and you might be right. In the grand scheme of things, my parents not loving me and people finding me annoying is quite literally nothing.

But I was always a little bit self-centered and maybe I sometimes wished the world revolved around me a bit more. Which means that my problems are very much valid and honestly, I'm tired of people like you brushing them off.

While I'm writing this at the airport (we came almost two hours early because I have a fear that we will miss our flight) Wooyoung is telling me to hurry. We don't have much time left.

But I guess that's how my story starts, and just like every other, it starts with you. And that's how you like it best, isn't it?

Thank you.

-Y/N

P.S. If you're planning on showing this letter to your buddies so you can laugh it up, go ahead- because I'm well past the point of giving a fuck. But if you do, make sure to pass a message from me to Yeosang.

The message goes:

Fuck you.

[leasstories]

Letter seven:

TW : Depiction of grief; after Eddie’s death

Letter 6 - Letter 8

May, Ist 1986

Hi Eddie,

The guys and I went to The Hideout yesterday, but it is not the same without you. I love the guys, don't get me wrong, but we all felt that someone was missing. And this someone was you Eddie. Gareth had no one to blame for the death of one of his character in the last campaign, Jeff couldn't argue on who was the best guitar player of all times, I had no one's hand to hold. I took you van to go there, I picked up the guys. The ride was silent. No Metallica or Dio blasting from the stereo, no one driving like a maniac. No one rubbing my knee while they are driving. And obviously I was the designated driver. You know how much I hate driving. I might have got so drunk that Jeff had to drive to come back to my house. Not home, my house.

Home was with you and nowhere else. I am homeless in a way.

Do you want to know why I got so drunk Eddie? To forget. To forget that I lost you, to forget the ache in my chest. I can't bear it anymore and getting drunk or high makes me feel at peace, even for just a little while.

Anyways, Jeff slept on the couch and I just dropped him off at his place. I feel so bad that he had to sleep at my place. He said it was no big deal and that the boys were there for me if I needed anything. But no one can give me what I want. I want you Eds. Nothing else, I just want you by my side. I want to be your little spoon at night and to wake up to your hair tickling my face. I want to get high with you on Saturday night and then spend a lazy Sunday in bed. When we asked me about my future, I only saw it with you. Now, when we ask me about my future? I see nothing. I don't like anything anymore. Life without you is dull.

My house is a mess so after I finished writing this letter, I better get my shit together and clean up a little.

Then I can allow myself to sulk in bed. Then I can allow myself to cry on pictures of us, of moments we will never share again. I made two photo albums of us. One with photos from before we started dating and the second one of our relationship.

You know how you said in your letter that I made you feel good first as a lover and then as a best friend?

Well even after we started dating you remained my best friend Eddie. You are everything to me.

The guys asked me to be a part of Corroded Coffin after our gig. I don't know if I can do it Eds, it feels like I would be replacing you, even though I would only sing. And it's hard, singing the songs you wrote or the covers of your favorite songs. You told me to give your mixtape another go but I never got the strength. It is currently in a box with all the things you gifted me. I'm wearing your mom's ring though. The one you were wearing on your right hand. Wayne told me that you planned on giving it to me as a promise ring. Don't worry Eddie, my heart will always be yours.

- Eternally yours

Your Sweetheart

Taglist: @abellmunsonmovie

[rivkae-winters]

For the ask game 4, 8, 12, 18 and 25 for any fandom

This is part of this ask game :3 Mostly seven with some general and one intentionally unspecified fandom

4) What was the last straw for finally blocking that annoying person?

I’m very bad at actually blocking people, I tend to cause my own problems that way, but the last time I blocked someone it was because they sent me an unsolicited DM basically trying to guilt me into commissioning them right after an artist I’d just recently commissioned posted the piece. I love getting DM’s and interaction in general even if I’m not super active myself because of anxiety so I was really upset about it when I saw the message. 

On one hand I get it, I do- I’m also a commercial artist and I’m lucky enough to have a decently stable W2 Job right now. On the other hand though: maybe make your sales pitch at least more enticing than a Jehovah's Witness knocking on your door. 

8) Common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about?

This one got WELL out of hand length wise so I'll be posting my full thoughts on why later today or tomorrow.

The apple game in CC (from the Silver Elite fan club letter) is bs, and it baffles me that people trust what Hojo says as much as they do. 

Honestly, most of the fan mail in the game is bs or has the truth heavily muddied but this example is especially egregious in my opinion. It's not an activity that Genesis, Angeal, or Sephiroth would actually enjoy much. Sephiroth himself would be bored to tears since he has such an unfair advantage since his sword is much slimmer than Rapier and Angeal's standard issue broadsword. There is also the issue of the fact that all of them likely have some element of food trauma (or in Angeal's case are confirmed as such) but the expanded post later today will expand on that.

Disclaimer that you can enjoy and write what you want or believe in the story of AGS playing with apples and swords. Make content you feel inspired to, consume content you enjoy, and don’t let me stop you from having fun. 

12) The unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

I don’t know how unpopular he is anymore but Denzel is great- if you can find the ‘on the way to a smile’ anthology and read ‘episode Denzel’ or the OVA from 2010 his character gets a lot better. He’s a complex little guy with layers and plenty of regret already trying to go forward with life. Post AC he starts working with Reeve as a protege of sorts iirc after Reeve blocks him from joining the WRO’s militia. (Which would not have gone over well with anyone if it went through, Denzel is 10ish at that point.) 

He wants to save people like Cloud saved him, somewhat so he can feel worthy of having been saved. There is also still a lingering of the unintentional toxic positivity his mom instilled in him and it is delightful.

The book mentioned above was finally released in English around a decade after Japan got it but it was $35 USD last I checked. I think there are some readings of it on YouTube but I can’t vouch for the quality of any since I don’t do well with audio books. 

The OVA can be really hard to find because it was only on the AC complete Blu-Ray discs of a certain edition- I’m pretty sure it was the first run of them but I may be wrong. Because of this and the fact that I’ve seen take-downs happen continuously each time I went back to reference it last year it’s to the point where some people are incorrectly assuming it’s just totally lost media. Either way I have a so-so quality copy I saved, I won’t put it on the post directly just to be cautious but if you’re interested DM me or contact me through discord (rivkae) if you have that and I’ll shoot you the drive link. 

18) It’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

In og CC Gillian dies with a smile on her face. In reunion it’s blocked by a vignette.

I’ve never seen it mentioned in a fic dealing with her death yet, the few that there are, so eventually I’m just going to have to do it myself.

This answer is almost pathetically short because every time I start thinking about this I get the urge to write. Since I can't really sit down to write prose right now so I'm not going to get to into it.

25) Common fandom complaint that you’re sick of hearing? 

(Slightly dramatized for effect, I’m not saying the fandom because I’m mostly out of it writing wise right now but iykyk feel free to send me your guesses)

‘Ewww I hate y and z version of [media]!!! X version of [media] is the only good one- anyone who interacts with y and z supporting posts will be blocked!’

‘I hate this version of my favorite character from x in y and z [complaint that could be very easily interpreted as racism] anyone with art of this design will be blocked! DNI if you have [bastardized version of the characters name to show distaste] content!’

Except then they don’t block you after you DNI, they start following your blog posting stuff for y and z version of [media]

Now obviously blocking is a core part of the tumblr experience, really the entire social media experience but it’s taken more seriously other places. Here though? If they breathe annoyingly it is perfectly fine and normal to block them- encouraged even! I have no issues with a DNI, BYF, etc as concepts I just get a little irked when people don’t practice what they preach while still loudly complaining about [media]. 

Now obviously adaptations make a lot of people angry for good reasons sometimes, I understand that. I dislike many adaptations myself, but it’s the incessant complaining when you aren’t even following your own rules that it gets under my skin a bit. That’s not even mentioning the drama that happens in discord servers with areas about said alternate versions of [media] where most community spaces to discuss said versions die quickly due to the toxicity of comparison and the group norm to conform to being putting x version, the original version, over the other version. You can like y and z but you should like x more- you should agree that x is objectively better. Even if x is also offensive in several ways and dated in others and isn’t as easy to consume story wise- which is how y and z brought new fans to the fandom. 

I’m going to cut myself off there but… Yeah. I hate adaptations too sometimes but it shouldn’t be used to backhandedly bully others into silence. Let people enjoy what makes them happy.

[skelavender]

Mulder is, miraculously, asleep on his couch. He’s been sleeping even worse than she has, he always does, but she’d hoped he wouldn’t be awake when she arrived. As quietly as possible, Scully settles onto the floor next to him, leaning her shoulder against the couch and crunching her knees into the coffee table. Mulder lays on his side, facing the room, and when she shuffles in closer, he rouses. His eyes blink open slowly and take her in. “Scully? Wa’s wrong?” “Nothing,” she smiles at him, “Go back to sleep, Mulder.”

read chapter one of shelter on ao3, or below the cut!

Dear friend,

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

— Emily Dickinson, Letter 533

***

November 1995

He’s in a forest, alone. Wandering. He has been for a while. It’s getting boring. 

A branch creaks above him, and when he looks up, he sees her. Scully, in a long, flowing, white dress. She’s glowing, ethereal.

“Hey, Mulder,” she says as she floats down from her tree branch. 

“Hi, Scully. Where are we?”

Scully waves her hand dismissively, “It doesn’t matter.” 

“What’s with the getup?”

Scully cocks her head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“The whole fantasy princess-slash-warrior look. Did you pick up a LARPing hobby you neglected to tell me about? I’m offended, I would’ve sent you to my costume guy.”

“Mulder you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“Wildly confusing sometimes.”

They fall into step, continuing along the path Mulder had been following. 

“Will you at least tell me what’s in the pouch?”

“Hm?” She pays the leather drawstring pouch dangling from the belt at her waist, “Oh those are just The Cards, you know that.”

“The Cards?”

“Mhmm. Do you want a reading?”

Instead of thinking too hard, Mulder just nods and accepts the offer. They sit across from each other on a log, with enough space between them to lay the cards out. 

Scully shuffles the well-loved tarot deck with practiced hands. Two cards pop out onto the log between them. One depicts two people stood across from each other, holding cups with a weird bird thing in the sky between them. The other has a rainbow with goblets on it, and people below celebrating the occurrence. 

“Interesting.” Scully all but purrs.

“What?”

“Two of cups. It signifies a union. A deep bond or partnership.” Her fingers brush along the rainbow on the other card. “And the ten of cups, representing happiness. Bliss.”

Scully runs her hand along the deck and carefully selects another. She flips it to reveal a card depicting two people approaching a building in the distance. 

Scully smiles. “Four of wands. Homecoming, and joy. Something… blooming.”

“Blooming?” He asks, “What does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

She selects the last card. 

The world is slipping away. 

Mulder?

It’s fading. He wants to see the card.

Mulder, wake up.

She places it on the log between them. He catches a glance of the image of two figures, both nude, with another figure in the sky between them before —

Mulder shoots up straight. “Wassit mean, Scully?”

“What?”

Mulder blinks sleepily, and Scully comes into focus. He’s at his desk in the office, with Scully standing over him, one hand on his shoulder where she’s been shaking him to rouse him from his slumber. 

“I was— you were— I had a dream.”

“You had a dream about me?”

“You had magic powers. And you read tarot cards for me.”

“Oh yeah? And did I predict a good future for you, Mulder?” Her lips are cocked in a teasing manner. 

“Something about… blooming? You wouldn’t tell me what it meant.”

“How horribly vague of me.” She finally leans out of his space and takes her seat at the chair across from him. “Did you stay here last night?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well. Got here around 3, thought I might as well review my report.”

“Worse than usual?” Scully tries to avoid concern from flooding her voice, but Mulder can hear it. 

“Yeah. I think I’ve gotten… six hours this week? maybe closer to seven now.”

“God, Mulder, how are you even upright?”

“We should open an X-file on that. Maybe it’s aliens.” 

She rolls her eyes. Mulder taps a file on the desk, which he had fallen asleep on top of. “No, seriously. Aliens. Thoughts? I don’t have a slide show yet, but I’m sure I can whip one up.”

As the beginnings of their days go, this one is relatively normal. 

***

Weekend movies are not a usual occurrence for them, but when Scully calls him around noon on a Sunday asking if he’s busy, he can’t say no to her. Not when he has the opportunity to see her relaxing on his couch and soak up her attention like a sponge.

When Mulder swings the open door at her knock, she wiggles the VHS in her hand, a film they had discussed a mutual interest in at the office earlier in the week, and slithers past him into the apartment without a word. 

“Do I have to worry about whatever I’m about to take out of the tape player, Mulder?” is the first thing she says, while she’s crouching in front of his TV. 

“Don’t worry, Scully, all the truly horrifying stuff is hidden away.” He offers a lopsided smile and she rolls her eyes fondly before pressing the tape she brought into the player and joining him on the couch, scant inches between their thighs.

Over the course of the film, those inches shrink, and by the second act Scully finds herself laid out on the couch with her knees on Mulder’s lap. His fingers trace the skin above her knee where her skirt has ridden up. The light graze of his fingers across her bare skin is electrifying, so much so that she’s losing track of the plot of the movie. 

Shapes, she realizes, he’s drawing some kind of shapes. In a pattern. She can’t place it, but the action repeats on a loop over and over, soothing her further into slumber. 

She’s asleep before the movie finishes, red hair splayed across the arm of the couch. 

***

December 1995

Scully slips her key into the lock, and swings the door open tentatively. It squeaks if it goes too far too fast, and she doesn’t need to wake anyone up at this time of night. 

She avoids the squeak, and steps inside on light feet before locking the door behind her. Avoids the spot on the floor by the table that also squeaks, and sets her jacket over the back of a chair before approaching the living room. 

Mulder is, miraculously, asleep on his couch. He’s been sleeping even worse than she has, he always does, but she’d hoped he wouldn’t be awake when she arrived. 

As quietly as possible, Scully settles onto the floor next to him, leaning her shoulder against the couch and crunching her knees into the coffee table. Mulder lays on his side, facing the room, and when she shuffles in closer, he rouses. 

His eyes blink open slowly and take her in. “Scully? Wa’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she smiles at him, “Go back to sleep, Mulder.” She rests her head on the couch, face less than a foot from his, and closes her eyes. When she feels Mulder’s hand tangle itself in her hair to scratch at her scalp, she sighs. They both drift off within minutes. 

***

Scully’s asleep in the office, her head resting on her arms where they’re folding next to her microscope. She has been for about an hour, since Mulder heard a thunk from Scully’s corner and his head snapped up to make sure nothing had happened. When he noticed she had just fallen asleep, he decided to just let her rest. It’s not like they were in the middle of anything important anyway. The lull between cases had been much needed. 

He’d noticed Scully’s tiredness before she had shown up at his apartment a couple weeks ago, but since then the signs had appeared far more frequently. Heavy makeup under her eyes can only cover the dark circles so much. 

A knock sounds at the door, and it swings open to reveal Skinner before Mulder can respond. He steps inside the office.

“Mulder, I have questions about–”

“ Shhh !” Mulder gestures towards Scully’s, thankfully still sleeping, form. He rises from his desk chair and ushers Skinner into the hallway, closing the door gently behind them.

“Is Agent Scully okay?” Skinner asks.

“I think she’s been, uh, having trouble sleeping. I decided it would be best to let her nap.”

“Do you know why?”

“She hasn’t mentioned anything.” And when she fell asleep on my floor at 3AM, she left before I woke up, so I didn’t exactly get a chance to ask her then , he doesn’t add. 

Mulder answers Skinner’s questions about his recent report and returns to his desk and sleeping partner. 

***

January 1996

Scully is held upright mostly by the cart in front of her. She’s not even entirely sure what on her list has actually made it into said cart, but she’s hoping it’s enough to feed her, and Mulder on the days he shows up, for the week. 

She hasn’t slept well since they returned from a case in New England a couple days previously. Really, that just meant she hadn’t slept well since Mulder was sleeping under the same roof as her. 

That’s the pattern. She’s known since she had snuck into his apartment on a particularly draining sleepless night and fallen asleep in a blink when he was touching her. She’s tried teas and sleep aids, but Mulder’s presence has been the most effective. 

“I like your sweatshirt.”

An unfamiliar voice brings Scully back to the present, where she’s been staring at the back of a box of Triscuits for too long, not processing any of the numbers in front of her. She blinks the person’s face into focus. It’s no one she recognizes. 

“Did you go to Oxford?” He asks, nodding down to her chest. She looks at what she’s wearing, and whaddya know, it says Oxford right there on her front. It’s Mulder’s sweatshirt, one that he usually sleeps in but had somehow made it into Scully’s luggage a couple of cases ago. It’s well loved and comfortable, which is why she had thrown it on after getting home from work and before running to the store. 

“No,” Scully finally replies, “It’s my husband’s. He went.”

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. The truth – or this truth, at least – is instinctual. 

She throws the box in her hand into her cart and shuffles out of the aisle, not having the energy to reflect on the interaction.

***

Scully is shoulder deep in her closet, plucking through dresses and suits she hasn’t had the opportunity to wear in months to years. She’s dead set on wearing her maroon suit today but can’t find it. It’s not at the cleaners, it hasn’t fallen to the bottom of the closet, and it’s not in the pressed stack on the chair in the corner that is waiting to go to the cleaners. And, clearly, it’s not on a hanger. 

She tries thinking back to the last time she wore it. A couple weeks ago, in the office, she hadn’t had an autopsy so she wouldn’t have any reason to take it off, but she was ready for a nap and hadn’t wanted to stop at home to change before going to– 

Oh. Mulder’s. 

She’s surprised she hasn’t run into this problem yet. Half her clothes are at Mudler’s at this point, waiting for a morning where she’s getting ready there. In exchange, half of his are at her place, tucked into the drawer she’s cleared for him and hung neatly by her hand, pushing the dresses she doesn’t get to wear further into the back of her closet. 

“Damn,” she tells the wardrobe, pushing her wedding dress back into place next to one she wore on a first date four years ago and never since. Mudler pops his head out of the bathroom across the hall. 

“Whaf wong?” He asks through a mouth full of toothpaste.

“The suit I want to wear is at your apartment, and we won’t have time to stop by on the way to the office.”

“Which wom?” He leans back into the bathroom to spit.

“The red one.”

Mulder saunters into the bedroom and leans past Scully to point to one of the hangers. “What about this one?”

“That’s brown, Mulder.”

“Well yeah, but the shirt you usually wear it with is a similar color, right?” Scully looks up at him, a little in awe. “What, is it actually green? I was so sure of that one, damn.”

“No, it’s the same color. I’m just surprised you pay that close attention to what I wear.”

Mulder taps his temple, “Photographic memory, remember?”

Uh huh. 

It’s true. She knows he pays attention, he always has. Their dynamic has shifted in the last few months, a phony marriage will do that to people, but it had been true before then as well. For the past three years, they’ve been growing to fill the other’s gaps. Recently, these changes have been to make room for the other in their life. To allow for their flaws, and love one another including them. 

They have little habits that their partner would never have noticed before they started — in the most literal use of the term — sleeping together. For example, Mulder drools in his sleep. Scully endures this, and buys another set of pillowcases to rotate out as needed. Scully takes up an absurd amount of space in the bathroom. By the second night she stayed over, Mulder had jewelry and soaps and creams he didn't even know the purpose of sprawling across his bathroom. He installed another shelf next to the sink, and moved his own stuff to the higher one so she can actually reach it. He even put a small dish on the counter meant for her earrings and necklaces, though she rarely takes the latter off, even to sleep. Often, when they’re home and in only each other’s company, she’ll even wear the ring proudly, atop her shirt for the walls of the apartment to see. In private is the only place it’s safe for her to do so. 

So yes, Scully knows that they’ve changed each other. But she hadn’t known that he had paid such close attention to her. 

She puts on the brown suit with the red shirt, and they pile into the car. 

next chapter ->

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Book 3 Chapter 3 - The Song of Naru (Part 2)

Let me share my personal theory: In this universe, the sport of kyudo possesses the supernatural ability to alter one's brain chemistry. Those who have a deeper affinity with the bow are more transformed by this ability. Kyudo, it seems, can make one become more spiritually attuned and connect seemingly completely unrelated concepts, but also warp one's thought processes to the point of non-kyudo practitioners finding them incomprehensible.

Anyways I still had no idea what's going on. And yes, that last line in the chapter is real

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

The word used here is 文字絵 (mojie) which means a picture formed by letters

In Japanese, superstring theory (超弦理論) contains the character for "bowstring"

A yotsugake is a kyudo glove that covers four fingers

Dousha is "a form of Japanese archery with the purpose of shooting arrows from one end to the other of the outer area on the west side of Sanjyusangen-do temple"

Toshiya is another name for dousha

A kosode is a short-sleeved kimono. It contains the character for sleeve

Apparently this is a quote from Kuroko no Basuke?

Previous | Next

The sun was flashing, spreading rainbow-colored wings of light.

It was the middle of May. The prefectural high school kyudo tournament preliminaries were being held.

The competition event was “close range.” The first day’s “individual competition” consisted of shooting four arrows in two stages in zasha, and the top ten with the highest number of hits would be selected for the next round.

The “team competition” on the second day consisted of one coach and five to seven archers, and one male and one female team per school could participate. The competition format was teams of five, four shots in zasha, and a time limit of eight minutes. Forty-one schools participated in the boys’ competition, and the eight teams with the highest scores in the first and second rounds would advance to the prefectural tournament. Looking at the past results, winning was between thirty and thirty-five hits, and the lowest halfway point was twenty.

Kazemai High School had a total of six girls: the three second-years Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo, and three first-years. The boys had a total of seven, with the five second-years Kaito, Ryouhei, Seiya, Nanao, and Minato, and the two first-years Himuro and Kanbayashi. A total of thirteen people entered the individual and team competitions.

Kazemai was the winning school last year, so they attracted a lot of attention. Their school’s name was printed on the back of their green jerseys along with the illustration of an arrow.

When a student from another school said, “Oh, it’s Kazamai,” Nanao folded his hands behind his head.

“This is read as Kazemai. I get it, I sometimes say it wrong too.”

Kaito was appalled. “Don’t get the name of your own school wrong.”

“Japanese kanji is hard because there are so many different readings. Nippon, Nihon, Hinomoto, and Yamato are all examples of the ever-changing name of our country, after all.”

“Oh, it’s Asahina and Eddie from YumiDou,” they heard someone say.

They looked and saw the Haneina High School members passing by, with the flashy duo leading them. “Haneine?” someone muttered when they saw the characters printed on the back of their orange jerseys.

“Those guys are called ‘Haneina High School’… Oi, Asahina and Eddie! Merha!”

When Nanao waved at them, Asahina and Eddie also waved back. In addition, there were other unique members following them, such as a man with narrow eyes, a boy with a notebook and pen, and a boy with fresh flowers in his bag.

Asahina saluted them. ��Hey, Nanapri and everyone from Kazemai. It’s been a while. How are you guys?”

Eddie continued, “Prince Nanao, it has been long seen we’ve last contacted each other. The frog art (1) I received from you the other way has seen a lot of uses, that it has.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I saw your last stream. You hit the center of the target in the dark!”

“Thank you. My body learned how to do it using something interesting. If it’s my dojo, I rarely miss a shot.”

“That’s amazing. I’d like to learn that technique too,” Seiya said.

“During kai, the second joint of your bow hand’s index finger should be in line with the position of the tree branch outside the kyudojo.”

“That isn’t something you learned with your body, it’s something you saw with your eyes…”

“Haha, well, it’s alright, isn’t it? I’ll be able to do it with my mind’s eye sooner or later.”

Suddenly, Asahina stared at Minato.

“Hmm? Is there something on my face?”

“I don’t know why, but I feel like rubbing your forehead, Narumiya.”

Seiya quickly hid Minato’s forehead. “You need our advisor’s permission.”

“Seriously? Just how strict are things at Kazemai? If only we can use a jutsu to clone him and borrow one of them. Oh, speak of the devil, Doppelgangers No. 1 and 2 have arrived.”

Asahina’s gaze was directed at a group of people dressed in purple jerseys.

It was the Kirisaki High School kyudo club. The twin brothers Senichi and Manji stopped walking at almost exactly the same moment. Their bangs were arranged symmetrically to each other. Senichi, whose bangs were parted to the left, spoke.

“Doppelgangers are already old news. We’re the Twin Fighters now.”

Hearing this, Kaito’s jaw dropped.

“I can’t believe there are guys with terrible naming senses in a different way from Seiya… Are you sure you guys aren’t going against the times?”

“Huh!?” The twins exclaimed in unison. Kabashima and Yushima tried to calm them down, but Senichi picked up the corners of his mouth and bared his teeth, and Manji pulled his eyelid down and stuck out his tongue. Without paying any attention to what was going on around him, Ryouhei ran up to a certain person.

“Shuu-kun!”

“Hey, Ryouhei. Did you grow taller again?”

“Yep. I’m not losing to you yet!”

“Fufu. I guess I have to give up.”

“It’s a shame that Motomura-senpai and Sase-senpai aren’t here anymore. It’s so sad that everyone has to go their separate ways after graduating from high school, even though we had so much fun together. I wish I could shoot with everyone more.”

Shuu’s pale eyelashes wavered. Senichi and Manji reacted.

“Yamanouchi, stop calling him that.”

“Huh? But Shuu-kun is Shuu-kun, isn’t he?”

Someone was watching the jumble of green, orange, and purple as they chattered.

Kuon was lamenting outside the circle.

It’s him! The man I saw in my dreams.

…No, wait. Who is Fujiwara-senpai looking at?

Following his line of sight, Kuon found Minato there. Shuu had a gentle smile on his face.

I can’t believe this. Those who stand at the top should not smile so frivolously. I don’t care about the dog anymore. This guy must be harmful to Fujiwara-senpai.

The antique doll smiled coldly.

After the opening ceremony, the individual competition started. The order was random in individual competitions.

The girls went first. Hanazawa, Shiragiku, Seo, and six other girls put on their yugake and headed for the waiting room with their bows, arrows, and tsurumaki with spare strings. Tommy-sensei went with them.

Cheering squads from each school took their places in the stands. It was filled with people holding paper cranes with prayers written on them and others recording in notebooks.

The Kazemai girls started appearing from the third group. Hanazawa’s matooto was cheered by the audience, and Shiragiku and Seo, who were in separate groups, followed. They performed a light and lovely dance, and as a result, Hanazawa had two hits, Shiragiku had three hits, and Seo landed all four of her arrows.

Next was the boys’ division.

Haneina’s Asahina, Eddie, Matsuda, Kanuma, and Igarashi. The five unique and showy individuals captured people’s attentions even when they were alone. Two in particular, Asahina and Eddie, had hair colors that couldn’t be misperceived even from a distance, and their shooting was even more beautiful than in their videos. Their arrows were like flashes as lightning, and they hit with all four arrows.

Kanbayashi, a Kazemai first-year, watched them from the waiting room and thought, I can’t shoot disgracefully. I have to do my best not to bring shame to Kazemai.

The first individual match. Kanbayashi was at the second target in the second group. The archer before him drew his bow. He released his arrow and hit the target at three o’clock. It was a good start.

Meanwhile, tension had stiffened Kanbayashi’s shoulders.

Huh? Why can’t I focus?

As he panicked in his mind, he raised his bow and moved to daisan. He slowly pushed his bow open—

Right when Kanbayashi realized it, the arrow was no longer in his hand and was sticking out of the arrow path. The arrow had jumped out of his hand while he was still drawing his bow. He had no idea what happened.

Crap, crap, crap.

No way, is this target panic…?

No, no, no, I’ve been nervous plenty of times, but I’ve never let go this early. No, there’s no time to think about this. I have to nock the next arrow—. His hands were shaking, and his bow grip was becoming slick with sweat.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’ll be okay next time.

The more he chanted that in his mind, the rougher his breathing became.

For his second shot, Kanbayashi’s arrow was once again released before reaching kai. The venue became noisy as people started murmuring to each other, and the sound of someone saying “Ah” remained in his ears. The archer behind him released a sharp-flying arrow. Shouts of “Yes!” reverberated.

Kanbayashi’s third shot came around. He could feel his hands shaking. He didn’t know how to interpret this first-time sensation. What did Narumiya-senpai say? To overcome target panic, focus on breathing and exhale slowly. Exhale, exha…, oh no, I can’t do it—.

Again, before he even drew his bow back, the arrow was released in an instant. The sound of the aluminum arrow sweeping across the ground resounded, and it pierced the target after bouncing.

Is this what it means to not hear a tsurune?

It was almost terrifying for an archer.

After shooting all four arrows, Kanbayashi didn’t make any matooto, while Kaito, Seiya, and Minato landed all their arrows, and the others ended the first round with three hits.

Once he left the kyudojo, Kanbayashi buried his face in his hands. His heart was still pounding. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Nanao called out, but Kanbayashi’s face was so stiff that all he could manage was a forced smile.

This is so embarrassing. I became a complete mess in front of my senpais and my family who came to support me.

I’ve been practicing and practicing, but when the actual competition comes, I end up like this. What am I doing—.

Kanbayashi gripped the arrows that he retrieved.

“Please remove me from the lineup for tomorrow’s team competition! I can’t do it! I definitely have target panic! I don’t want to be a burden on everyone!”

This time it wasn’t Kanbayashi, but Minato and the second-years who were blinking rapidly.

It was Kaito who responded. “Oi, oi. We’re still only halfway through the individual competition. Why don’t you just hit the remaining four?”

Nanao and Ryouhei also chimed in.

“That’s right. It’s a little too early to give up. Let’s focus on the individual competition in front of us first.”

“Yeah, what he said. There was also a time when I panicked because my string snapped, but I managed.”

However, Kanbayashi didn’t change his opinion.

“It’s impossible! I’ve always had the potential to get target panic! My mental weakness is the only thing I’m confident about! You have to have had it to understand how awful it is!”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Minato. Nothing but the words of someone who experienced target panic could reach Kanbayashi’s heart now.

Minato stepped forward.

“Although it’s called target panic, it’s still a relatively early and sudden system. It’s not severe yet. We can get back on track.”

“You saw me, didn’t you!? My terrible shooting! I was so careful about target panic, but why, why…”

“Let’s do the dantian breathing exercises together. You’re too worked up right now, but you’ll calm down in a few minutes.”

“I can’t do such wishful thinking!”

Minato took Kanbayashi’s hand.

“Kanbayashi, listen to me. My mom once told me about something she read in a book. In ancient times, the Japanese named very fast vehicles ‘tsubame.” The second-fastest were ‘kodama,’ and the ones after that were ‘hikari.’ What do you think is a vehicle that’s faster than light?”

“…Was there anything faster than light?”

“The Shinkansen ‘Nozomi.’ It’s the Japanese word for ‘hope.’ The slogans were, ‘Nozomi of Ambitious Japan! is always there for you’ and ‘Nozomi is the fastest way to meet the person you want to see.’”

Tommy-sensei, who had been watching their exchange, smiled broadly.

“I’ve ridden on the ‘Hinotori’ before. E=mc2. It reminds one of Einstein, the monument of theoretical physics. When things move, they get heavier.”

“Tommy-sensei, you’re knowledgeable about physics too?” Kanbayashi said.

“No, not at all. I’m just a geography teacher. I only know the two theories: relativity, which deals with gravity, and quantum mechanics, which explains the behavior of matter in the microscopic world.”

“The only one of the seventeen subatomic particles that hadn’t been confirmed, the Higgs boson particle, was discovered in this century. It was called the God particle, and is responsible for giving mass to everything. And I guess there’s also the ‘superstring theory,’” Seiya supplemented. (2)

“Super-string?”

“The superstring theory. It’s a theory that claims that the origin of all things is ultra-small ‘strings’. The theory is that particles are actually the vibrations of these strings. It’s still at the stage of hypothesis.”

“The universe is made up of the sound of strings. I guess it would be too poetic to say that tsurune is the true nature of matter. Sound is the vibrating waves of air. Since it’s said that everything from people and plants to minerals are made up of waves, to say that ‘Nozomi’ is faster than light might not necessarily be wrong,” Masa-san said.

“Wow, tsurune is incredible.”

Tommy-sensei smiled with satisfaction at Kanbayashi, who was blinking rapidly.

“When I hear the word ‘ambitious,’ I think of Dr. Clark’s words. ‘Boys, be ambitious. Like this old man.’ I can almost hear the doctor laughing as he says, ‘I’m an eternal young man.’ Now, there’s still a long, long way to go. Let’s go to the next stage together.”

“I don’t really understand, but I’m going to let the team competition wait and focus on what’s in front of me right now.”

Kanbayashi changed his mindset and practiced dantian breathing as Minato put his hand on his lower abdomen.

As for the results of the individual competition, Kazemai’s Minato, Seiya, and Kaito, Kirisaki’s Shuu, Kabashima, and Kuon, Haneina’s Asahina and Eddie, and Seo from the girls’ division would be advancing to prefecturals.

The second day was the team competition.

The first round. The Haneina team, who were famous as Yotubers, drew a lot of attention for their shooting.

The oomae was Eddie Fox.

His long, blond hair was tied high up on his head, and a headband was tied around his forehead. He looked like an actor in a period drama. Once he gripped his bow, his jokester persona disappeared as his eyes sharpened, his breathing became shallower, and his face became dreadfully serious. A burst of sound resounded from the target area as he took advantage of a momentary gap and got in close to his opponent.

The second target was Matsuda Kotetsu.

He had poor vision, and the world he saw was composed of multicolored balls of light. His hearing was above average, and he had an excellent sense of perception. Whenever he stood before the target, he always stood behind someone else because it was easier to perceive the distance when someone was standing in front of him. Kyudo was a sport that could be played by people of all ages, and physical differences were no handicap. With the use of remote video conferencing, it was even possible to have a match with people on the other side of the world at the same time.

The third target was the naka, Kanuma Nobuhiko.

He was a haiku poet who loved writing haikus. He was staring absentmindedly into space during the middle of a competition.

A staff member approached him and asked him in a whisper, “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?”

“The eye of the snake/the white water surface holds/the golden-scaled fish. I tried to write a poem about carps living in a pond, but I guess it’s too mediocre. On a summer’s day/the koi frolic and a cat/sleeps beneath a tree. How’s that?” (3)

“This isn’t a haiku contest, it’s a kyudo tournament! Concentrate on your shooting!”

“Okaaay.”

Kanuma nocked his arrow. The spectators who had witnessed the scene were taken aback by his lack of nervousness and extraordinary strength of his heart.

The fourth target was the ochimae, Igarashi Shion.

He was the Gardening Prince who loved flowers. Even when he was sitting in his chair in the waiting room, he kept fresh flowers with him and left them with his tsurumaki. Even his bow was decorated with flowers he drew himself, and there were even people who wanted him to sell it to them. His shooting was as sweet-smelling as a flower and created the illusion of a fairy flying.

The fifth person was the ochi, Asahina You.

His red hair symbolized the rising sun. He parted his bow and followed the correct tsurumichi path. What was beautiful was good, and what was good was true. If you sought beauty and aesthetic, you would naturally follow the right path without being aware of it. Far from concepts such as “seeking the truth” and “ascetic training,” and the irrepressible joy that radiated from him captivated those who watched him. He liked to have fun, and believed in fundamentally ignoring what wasn’t fun or changing it to be fun.

The Haneina High School kyudo club was both noble and greedy. They lived not by the values of others, but their own axes. The five of them were comrades and friends who had met each other on their travels. Of course, there were occasional clashes of opinion, but they knew when to quit, so there were no lingering resentments. Making videos was a great way to learn about life and society, as what one said and did was constantly exposed to the public eye. It wasn’t easy to communicate something to others. True expressive people seemed to be free and unfettered at first glance, but they kept their feet on the ground and devoted themselves to their work.

The five of them carved out the Eight Stages of Shooting.

Ashibumi, douzukuri, yugamae, uchiokoshi, hikiwake, kai, hanare, zanshin.

When five circles, a “yoko kaichuu,” were lined up next to each other on the scoreboard, there was an eruption of applause.

Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo, who were watching from the stands, let out sighs.

“It feels really fun.”

“Their shooting was brilliant.”

“They’re formidable opponents. It seems that the boys’ division won’t be so smooth-sailing.”

The members of the Haneina High School kyudo club achieved the high results of four, four, four, three, and four hits each.

Second round, first kyudojo. The champions, Kirisaki High School, were taking their turn.

The oomae was Kabashima. He was particular about his face and form. In the name of Kirisaki High School, he shot so that no one could complain. When gripping the bow, the tenmonsuji should be firmly sticking to the todake, and the skin between one’s thumb and index finger should be rolled up from below. It was no exaggeration to say that kyudo began with the Eight Stages of Shooting and ended with the Eight Stages of Shooting. Originally, it was the Seven Stages, but with the addition of “zanshin,” it became eight. Why did they make it eight? He felt something profound in it. He earnestly, single-mindedly, carved out the Eight Stages and created a matooto. He was intoxicated by the sweet tone.

Senichi was at the second target, and Manji was at the third. Although their time-difference attack was sealed up, the confidence of the Twin Fighters was evident. We stand on the front line, the firing line. Come on, follow us. They looked completely relaxed, as if victory had been decided before the fight had even begun.

The ochimae was Kuon Takumi. Unusually for a high school student, he used a yotsugake. (3) There were slight differences in gripping the string depending on whether you were wearing mitsugake and yotsugake. Originally used in dousha, (4) and it was said that yotsugake was more suitable for people who drew many arrows like the toshiya (5)in Sanjusangen-do or for people with tough bows, but since Kuon believed that yotsugake were more superiorly ranked than mitsugake, he chose to use it. The arrow that was released almost hit the center. A rapturous air exuded from his whole body.

When the ochi, Shuu, started to lift his bow, the entire venue resonated with silence.

Even the sound of his clothes rustling was daunting. He possessed a divinity, as if he had reached a higher level than what everyone called the “Young Lord.” He himself became a bow and emitted a tsurune that soared through the heavens. Shuu’s sound instantly erased the uncanny colors created by Kuon and purified the place.

A true sound.

A good sound.

A beautiful sound.

By the time the people whose hearts were pierced came back to their senses, Shuu had already left.

The results were announced over the loudspeaker.

“The results will be announced now. First shooting range, Team 17, four, four, three, four, four, nineteen hits total. Second shooting range, Team 18, four, two, two, four, 12 hits total. That is all.”

Kirisaki won, and Kazemai went after them.

The oomae, Kaito, drew his bow tightly. He relaxed his hands and stretched his upper arms.

More force, more force. He stretched and stretched—then released. The arrow was sucked into the target while spinning clockwise.

The second target, Ryouhei, didn’t only grow in height. He had the dignity of an archer, and he shot with majesty. He was someone who had love for everyone. He would continue to have affection for himself and others for the rest of his life. The target accurately reflected the archer, and the round target, without deceit or calculation, was waiting to be pierced.

The naka, Seiya, was also clearly different from who he was a year ago. He took off his obstinate armor and stretched his limbs freely. He hated himself. He hated irrationality, fate, all of it. When he became entwined with hatred and fell into a swamp, there was someone who reached out to him. That person said that they didn’t care what kind of person he was.

The ochimae, Kanbayashi, began to carry out his shot. He concentrated on the lower abdomen that Minato had put his hand on before.

The dantian is “here.”

Now, gather the light here.

He threw away all speech and listened only to the sound of his breathing. When the wind calmed down, his arrow flew at high speed.

The ochi was Minato. He summoned the wind that should have stopped. The wind that rushed around the earth was the land’s breath. Once you were able to feel that, you became a wind user. He manipulated the wind at will and connected it to a new era.

The tsurune took everything away.

For the results of the first round, Kazemai had fifteen hits out of twenty.

After the first and second rounds were completed, Kirisaki had thirty-six hits, Haneina had thirty-five, and Kazemai had thirty-three.

All three schools made it through the preliminaries.

After the tournament, the Kazemai second-years and Masa-san waited for a car to pick them up. Tommy-sensei and the first-years went home first. Waves of people came and went to the other shore.

Minato, Seiya, and Ryouhei sat on the edge of a flower bed. Ryouhei immediately started to eat his sweets. Seiya, finding the verse from “Greensleeves” stuck in his head, couldn’t help but hum it.

He met eyes with Masa-san, who was next to them.

“Is that an English folk song? You know a lot of old songs, Seiya.”

“If you know it, then you must be ancient as well, Masa-san. Minato’s mom used to hum it. Oh, it can’t be helped if you don’t know it.”

A bell was rung. Fighters burned with quiet fighting spirit.

Seeing the two jab at each other, Nanao quickly took out his phone. He entered the search words, and the English lyrics and translation were displayed.

Kaito peered at them.

“What’s this? Isn’t this just a guy who got dumped and kept whining about it? Isn’t it too obsessive to say at the end, ‘Goodbye, please come here again and love me?’”

“Kacchan, you don’t understand heartbreak at all.”

“Hah? I don’t need to.”

“Yep, that’s what I thought.”

Ryouhei said that he would eat all the sweets.

“What kind of woman is Greensleeves? He’s calling her name over and over, right?”

Seiya was the one who answered. “I did some research, but the prevailing theory seems to be that it’s a metaphor and not a real name. There are various theories that Greensleeves is a prostitute, a dead person, or a ghost. Also, some people think that Greensleeves isn’t a song about lost love, but more like a hymn.”

For a moment, sound disappeared.

Even though it should have been extremely noisy with all the people around, the area was so silent that it made their ears hurt. Even the birds were quiet.

Masa-san murmured a few words.

“Green kosode—. (6) I think it’s talking about the upper arm.”

“What do you mean?” Minato asked.

“There’s a custom in the West to wear green when one turns into a spirit. When you think of Santa Claus, you think of red clothes, but that was because he was dressed in a company’s image color in advertisements, and in England, he was originally dressed in green. According to one theory, Santa Claus is Saint Nicholas, that is, a clergyman. He is a person who seems to have existed, and his name and deeds are passed on to his disciples.”

“What does that have to do with ‘upper arms’?”

“I think ‘Greensleeves’ refers to the arms themselves. It’s ‘green sleeves.’ When you touch the arm of a person, a miracle will occur. That makes them a vessel of the divine.”

Masa-san typed into his phone.

Alas, my love, you do me wrong.

Greensleeves was all my joy.

Greensleeves was my delight.

Oh, my chest feels like it’s about to burst. You who bestow love, how cruel you are.

You let enjoy your love, and say you’ll forsake me. Is this a test of God?

Greensleeves, you are joy itself.

Greensleeves, you are days of happiness.

I was happy just being by your side.

Seiya spoke.

“That sound like words dedicated to God. A somewhat critical song of lamentation and resignation.”

“Greensleeves may have been a person who had a healing hand that could cure illnesses and injuries, or maybe she was a saint. There are even those who say that it is the name of God. It’s distinct from the secular world and doesn’t appear openly. Even if you’re attracted by, yearn for, adore, sacrifice yourself, and give up all your wealth and power for the singing voice that you overhear from the church, you cannot touch ‘it.’”

“I see. In that case, I can at least acknowledge the manly spirit of ‘I’ll stop you even if I have to cling to you,’” Kaito said. (7)

“Kacchan, this isn’t a rugby play. And ‘manly spirit,’ really? You completely ruined the mood,” Nanao said.

 Seiya lowered his eyes and took off his glasses.

“Being abandoned by God might be an indication that humans are irredeemable.”

Shiragiku’s expression clouded over, and she gripped Seo and Hanazawa’s hands.

“How awful…it was such a wonderful melody.”

As everyone fell silent, Minato pondered.

Has God abandoned humans?

Is this really true? Didn’t I forget something important?

“You’re wrong! Such a sad and gentle melody could never be a criticism and lament to God. This is a joyful song for a coming-of-age ceremony!” he started shouting.

Before he knew it, everyone was staring at him blankly. The three girls shrank back while still holding hands.

Masa-san tried to follow Minato’s thought process.

“Coming-of-age ceremony? What’s with this all of a sudden? Where did your thoughts fly to, Minato?”

“I remembered my mother’s words. She said that at coming-of-age ceremonies, it’s a ‘song of naru.’”

“…What do you mean? Did your mother have a shrine maiden disposition?

“No, she was a normal mom.”

“Don’t put too much stock in what Narumiya calls ‘normal.’ By the way, who’s Naru? Is that a new character? Now I’m even more confused.”

Kaito scratched his head.

Previous | Next

[imkazz]

akaza’s backstory

heyo so i decided to do live notes on me reading this guys backstory. my mom says she literally cried when she read a year before me, and that its really sad so i wanted to keep my live reactions bcs this isnt my first time screaming at the plot twists in demon slayer. i start the live notes in the beginnings of chapter 154 and im also reading the manga in japanese so i might have mistranslated/misunderstood some things lol

SPOILERS BELOW THIS IS YOUR WARNING

initial thoughts on akaza: idk hes pretty fruity like the mugen train arc “oni ni nare, kyoujurou” in japanese was omg just. so fucking fruity. and he said the same freaking thing to giyuu omgs- also he hates douma and wants to kill kokushibo but idk what to really feel about him. anyways ive seen the little hints at the girl holding his hand and he tried to punch it, and his head grew back bc he said he had to get stronger???

live notes start here (just jot notes):

- damn she pulling out the existential crisis on akaza

- oh his dads sick boo hoo

- woah wait is he a pickpocket?

- oh my fucking wait is that why he looks like a basketball???

- holy shit is this where he becomes a basketball?

- like every time he gets caught stealing he gets a mark as punishment

- damn how many times did u get caught bruh

- welp idk how hed steal without his hands

- oof he just got called a demon child well hes a demon moon now

- oh wait my mom specified for me it means a kid who was born with teeth

- HOLY SHIT NAME DROP DUDE THATS A NICE NAME

- OMG HIS DAD KILLED HIMSELF JUST LIKE ZENITSUS TEACHER

- dude this suicide letter like ‘i cant take medicine bought by stolen money sorry for making myself a bother for you live a good life’

- oh hes mourning by hurting himself fighting people

- “even if it took 100 years for my dad to heal” and he kept half of that promise

- damn akazas backstory is just him getting beat up by everyone he meets

- and hes just like taking the beatings bc he wanted his dad to get medicine

- well fuck medicine for special diseases does cost a lot poor akaza

- and his dad just killed himself anyway

- still dont know who the girl is

- damn i wouldnt be able to stand getting whipped and bones broken for my parents

- huh he beat the living shit out of seven adults

- and he didnt get a scratch and hes also a kid

- who tf is that guy it seems akaza also has the same question

- oh is this guy who applauded akaza some sort of sensei i mean he has a dojo

- why does akazas personality sort of remind me of inosukes ‘fight me bitch’ type thing

- oh shit theyre gonna fight

- that wasnt so much of a fight than a man slapping a kid silly

- nother name drop keizou

- OOF AKAZAS FACE LOL

- oh akaza is gonna take care of a girl?

- HOLY SHIT ITS THAT GIRL I THINK WAIT HER NAME IS KOYUKI

- I SMELL BUDDING TEEN ROMANCE HERE JUST SAYING

- OMG ITS SO AWKWARD AND CUTE

- and akaza has someone to take care of again!

- aww cute moment between them

- also fireworks! yay! hes saying he can piggyback ride her there that so sweet

- oh shit shes crying

- oh thats so cute that their only purposes are to protect those they love

- omgs and akaza on his little training arc with keizou like how tanjirou did with urokodaki and both are taking care of a younger girl who is bedridden- the parallels

- holy shit three year time skip

- oh ok koyuki is better now

- OMG THEY DO LIKE EACH OTHER AAAAAAAAA THEYRE SO SWEET AND SHES SO NERVOUS AND HES SO NERVOUS

- OH HES GONNA SAY YES TO THE MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

- HES GONNA FOLLOW HIS DADS SUICIDE NOTE AND LIVE A GOOD LIFE

- HE EVEN VISITED THE GRAVE HELP

- WAIT SHIT NO HES A DEMON SOMETHING GOES WRONG

- NONONONONO WAIT SHIT I WAS ACTUALLY SORT OF STARTING TO LIKE THESE TWO 

- OMG HES ADMITTING THAT THEYRE HIS TWO FAVOURITE PEOPLE

- wait whats this abt poison

- WAIT WHAT POISON

- THIS IS TURNING VERY FAST WHAT THE FUCK

- WHAT THEY WERE BOTH POISONED AND FUCKING DIED WHAT

- BECAUSE OF THE FREAKING DOJO WTFFFFFF

- I- I NEED TO THINK ABOUT THIS

- ok were back and ready to react

- wait what promise

- CALLBACK TO THE FIREWORKS

- ohh shes saying she wants to watch the fireworks with akaza next year and the year after too... oh shit she died.

- damn so both their parents killed themselves bc of their kids

- ohhh this is so sweet but sad knowing she just died

- AND HE PROMISED TO PROTECT HER BUT OH NOOOOOO

- OH SHIT HES KILLING THEM ALL WITH HIS BARE HANDS

- DAMN THATS BRUTAL AND TWISTED OF AKAZA

- BUT DAMN THIS IS HIS WAY OF MOURNING HOLY FUCK

- EVERY SINGLE STUDENT OF THE RIVAL DOJO?!?!?!?!!??!

- HOLY SHIT ITS MUZAN JACKSON

- DO THE MOONWALK PLS

- OH SHIT THIS IS WHEN MUZAN WAS THINKING ABOUT MAKING THE TWELVE KIZUKI

- OH SHIT AKAZA RLY SAID MOVE BITCH TO MUZAN

- HE PUNCHED AKAZA I REPEAT HE PUNCHED THROUGH AKAZAS SKULL

- i feel like this is sad because it wasnt even muzans fault that the two of them died it was just poison

- he even admits it out loud himself that his own story is sad help

- hes even completely ok with the fact he wont go to the same place as the three most important people in the world to him

- and giyuu is just standing there

- lmao tanjiro is just always yelling for demons to stop

- wait what tanjiro ur sword-???

- oh shit it slipped from his grip

- sorry i snorted at the fact that tanjiro decked akaza in the face instead

- i think im gonna stop there the backstory is over

- i feel horribly empty inside after finishing that chapter

- think i might just go cry

current thoughts on akaza: damn i understand why ppl are so sad about this, holy shit this is so sad like i have no words im probably gonna have to come back to this post tomorrow to give my thoughts after thinking about this all night

[347-emeraldbitch]

AU

Deja Vu

Crouch Sr breaks free of the imperius curse early spring. Percy being a good employee checks up on his boss (because no one else is, like what the fuck, he’s known the man a year maybe whatever).

He has the bad timing of walking in on the murder (fuck my life). Who is this rat looking man? That other guy looks like Mr. Crouch. Calls the aurors, and they take him in?

Rude.

In order to save face because how long has the head of a major government department been missing?¿?

They charge Percy with the murder!?!?! He’s going to Azkaban? AZKABAN!

His dad has to call in every favor he has to keep him out of jail.

His mom calls the Prewett family and they throw the family lawyers to work.

Aunt Lucretia are those the Black Family Lawyers!!!!!!!! Oh yeah. (His aunt receives a letter from ¿Lord Black? giving her permission to use anything she needs from the main family vault: power, black mail, gold, family lawyers, Ect. so history doesn’t repeat itself for their poor family).

It feels like deja vu

Bill and Charlie are back in the country rather quickly.

Boys is that legal?

DAD Percy is going to jail! Who cares!

Anyways, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny are trying to break out of school because how dare they try and hurt their brother. Percy can’t go to jail! He’s the good kid! He’s PERFECT.

Percy’s fall from grace is messy and painful.

Trying to send a teenager to jail is bad. Especially when he and his family are well liked.

Minister! That boy has war heros in his family!

He’s a Weasley and a Prewett!

Oops……

Because he’s watching his re-election go up in smoke like a bad muggle magic trick, Fudge orders Percival Ignatius Weasley to Azkaban until his trail.

Harry is 🤯

Molly cries into her oldest sons arms as they drag off her baby to jail.

Not my baby! How dare you! My Percy is a good boy!

Arthur has to help hold off his other children because he will NOT survive this if he loses another kid.

Before he’s taken, Percy describes the murders to his lawyers and they know exactly who he’s taking about.

The Weasley’s are related to the Crouch’s. They’re cousins.

Ron knows one exact rat man and he prays Percy doesn’t learn who that really is anytime soon.

It will drive him mad in Azkaban! Don’t tell him Harry! NO!

It’s March.

It’s takes all of April and May to get the trail ready. Poor Percy rots away in Azkaban. He’s too skinny and sleep deprived. His curls are long, knotted, and dirty. His family sees him for the first time in months; Percy gives them a small smile. They cry.

It’s the scandal of the year. Great Aunt Muriel and her squad of old ladies paint him as sweet young man. The kind of boy you bring home to meet your mother.

Uncle Ignatius and aunt Lucretia tell their high society friends of Percy’s magical talents and what a well round man he is.

Excellent in charms and transfiguration! All top marks in potions as well. POTIONS! Wow. Ancient runes and Arithmancy too. Loves to study magical history.

His family’s reputation process them: brave and accepting.

How could they do that to Molly and Arthur’s boy? They’re such good people. What a lovely family.

The media and press paint Percy as a naive and overly trusting young man caught up in Politics. A prefect, Head Boy, 12 O.W.Ls & N.E.W.Ts and he’s a pretty pure blood. Oh yeah, he’s a poster boy. All of Percy’s accomplishments will help his lawyers get him out of jail.

The Public’s option is he’s innocent.

How did no one but a fresh Hogwarts graduate know something was wrong? The ministry dodge and deflects pushing the blame on Percy and Crouch’s own department.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is in fucking shambles. Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour can be found at their desk 24/7 because their minister is enemy #1.

The infamous Black family lawyers reek havoc. A group of seven of the oldest wizards and witches Percy has ever seen rip the ministry’s claims apart and throws their incompetence back in their face. Their negligence caused a man’s death, and they’re ruining another’s life.

The Prewett family lawyers provide help where they can but they too are too enthralled and enamored with the Black lawyers. Like wow. 🤩

Anyway, they show them Percy’s memories, the dozens of letter he’s written to the ministry about how there’s something wrong with Crouch. Won’t someone please help him?

Hogwarts is on lockdown. They up security. Their French and Bulgarian guests did not sign up for this? Wtf? Ay, yo where did Moody go? The whole country is looking for the murders.

Once there’s sightings of them both, it’s over.

Percy is found not guilty. They apologize to him, but they’ve destroyed any trust he has.

His lawyers make him a rich man. He’s paid Crouch’s annual salary for every day he was in Azkaban, and for the year he was acting as head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation.

Peter Pettigrew and Bartimus Crouch Jr are wanted for murder.

The Black family Lawyers pull out a file bigger than Percy’s.

It’s for Sirius Orion Black.

You cannot commit a murder if said victim is alive.

They’re taking the ministry to court.

Lucretia Prewett née BLACK sent a note too.

I haven’t forgotten about you little star. Stay strong, it’s your turn.

I love you.

[thephantomcasebook]

That Daeron/Mysterious Knight theory is SO GOOD, but they way George hates the Greens make me a little 🧐

If he actually scaped the war, what do you think he did after?? Some crazy theories says that he is the "Hightower" who married Rhaena (I know, crazy)

GRRM fell in love with Daemon Targaryen and HBO fell in love with the Velaryons. Like I said, Team Black is basically GRRM & HBO's Avengers of their favorite - and most marketable - characters to do spin offs. I mean you don't see devolopment on prequel projects for Criston as a Hedge Knight or Daeron and his adventures between 1X06-1X10.

From my experience as a fan since pre-GOT is that often times GRRM gets inspired by other people's interpretations of his material or actors performances. In the beginning GRRM was interested in characters like Criston Cole and Daeron Targaryen. But once HBO started looking for marketability that was when he started changing things in his lore to fit to HBO/WB's corporate structure. Which, is why I don't take him serious as a author a lot of times. Cause everything post 2015 he's written has been based on "What can I adapt into live-action" rather than what would make a good story.

It was easier to rewrite the Greens as the bad guys when in ASoIaF the Greens are remembered as the Heroes of the Dance. He also changed Daeron from an alpha chad who everyone in the Seven Kingdoms was begging to be their kings into a wall flowers who has moments of brilliance but is now kinda dainty and unsure.

Not because he changed his mind, but because the corporate people in HBO told him that their "heroes" in the new series had to be diverse and inclusive. And thus all of Team Green has to be bad guys in some way so that people can root for "Girl Bosses" and "People of Color" ... which as someone who is not white, I find that shit more racist than anything else.

Now, it seems that after the performances by the Green cast of Season 1, GRRM wants to go back and flesh out Team Green and tell stories with them. In particular, GRRM wants to go back and expound on Daeron's story, insisting that he'd a very important character and that there is something important to tell with him.

I'd like to think that GRRM got his balls back from HBO and told them shove it, and that he's taken back control of the franchise in some way. But then Sara Hess got re-upped for another season and she and her shit writing and character work is about 60% of all the problems that plague "HOTD". Not to mention that she is constantly going out to give interviews and saying the stupidest shit.

I shit you not, she did an interview recently where she talked about how she and Olivia Cooke talked about Alicent and Rhaenyra doing sexual things when they were kids ... like as little girls .. and SHE SAID SHE LOVED THE IDEA!

What the fuck is wrong with these people?!

Just shut the fuck up!

If I was running a project and I saw one my producers tell the world that she loved the idea of two little girls experimenting sexually ... She'd be out on her ass so fast she wouldn't be able to steal supplies from her desk.

Anyway ...

My theory is that Daeron survived the war and went to Dorne where he fell in love with the Lady Dayne of Starfall and thats where the Daynes get their silver blonde hair and violet eyes from ... and their pension for naming their girls with first letter starting with "A" in honor of Alicent.

And that when Makar Targaryen married Lady Dayne during the Blackfyre Rebellion that their kids are the first reunion of House Targaryen - the Greens and Blacks combined. Which is why all of Makar's children run the gambit of Targaryen outcomes - Mad, Drunk, Intelligent, and Brave - With Egg (Aegon V) being the most like Daeron and Alicent.

That's my theory.

[herbgroom]

arctic monkeys concert review time, for anyone who cares

so I was under the impression that the concert would start at 5:30pm, so I thought, great! I get there at 12 and I only have to wait 5 hours! WRONG.

the headliners would start at 9:40 PM. I WAITED 10 FUCKING HOURS.

when I got there, there were already so many people. the venue was huge and impossible to navigate, I had to go back and forth a couple of times to understand where I was supposed to go. the one highlight was a security guard who saw the books I was carrying (sartre, lol) and the pins (one was of dark side of the moon) and commented on them. that was nice

so, I arrive at my entry, and I still have a couple of hours to kill, since the gates open at 3pm. WELL. SOME DOUCHEBAG decided to cram up at the front of the gates and everyone followed, I was stuck in the crowd for the remaining hours with no water or food, just a cap, and the scorching sun above me (thankfully I had put on sunscreen beforehand)

the staff was also in a panic as well, it took them a while to check tickets and bags.

but I get inside! and the position I get it's great! just a dozen of meters from the stage, meanwhile people keep coming... and coming...

my friend also manages to get inside and we're finally reunited, we're both a sweaty mess. it is 3:30pm.

the bar is expensive and the water is scarce, it is really difficult to sit down given the amount of people (at max capacity, I heard there were 70-90k people inside)

the waiting game starts, but at about 5pm the first opening act (gli OMINI) comes on stage. they're neat 👍 they played covers of boys don't cry and my generation

another half an hour hour passes, it is getting so fucking hot, but some saint starts distributing water, you have to be extremely lucky to catch a bottle, tho.

second opening act (willie j healey) at about 6pm, they have strong dire straits and 70s soft rock vibes, one of their amps busted, but the crowd was supportive

some more waiting, the venue sponsors come on stage (a national radio) and they start randomly djing and chanting, they throw t shirts and gadgets. I didn't get one.

finally, at 7:40 pm the final warm up act, the hives. they even get a personalised stage with big letters and everything. they're absolutely insane, we didn't catch one breath while they were playing. special shoutout to the guitarist who was dying on stage, you're a true champ 👍

one hour left. and that hour feels like 10. at least the sun has gone down, but the heat remains, given how cramped up everyone is. I'm starting to feel very sick, nauseous and with a headache. I try to sit down the best way I can.

BUT FINALLY!! ARCTIC MONKEYS TIME!!! they come on stage and everyone loses their fucking minds, there's a huge mirrorball on the ceiling and a big circular projector behind them

here's the setlist

I had to literally block my ears a few time cuz the screaming was so so strong

alex speaks some italian and that also causes people to lose their minds, the audience mainly cares only for him. sad! I was cheering you on nick, matt and jamie! you were amazing! also the guys responsible for the moog synthesiser and additional guitars, awesome indeed

funny how everyone sang the most popular songs while barely anyone knew the songs from the car, well I sang those the loudest! mirrorball was fucking awesome, the highlight for me, cuz at the end the real mirrorball started spinning and shining. so so cool

I also screamed REALLY LOUD when they played sculptures, I lost my mind. I had waited for it FOR SEVEN MONTHS.

so, was it worth it?

arctic monkeys were amazing, but all the waiting made it unbearable, I couldn't wait to go home afterwards- and that too took a while because the subway was really far away.

so, there you have it, great concert, terrible experience. an overall 4/10, while the band was 10/10 (I wish I heard them more clearly, it was impossible to hear alex through the screaming)

[mywifeleftme]

126: Don Gibson // Oh Lonesome Me

Oh Lonesome Me Don Gibson 1958, RCA Victor

The back cover blurb is a lost art in today’s record design business, and I think it stinks! How many generations of music buyers have been robbed of the opportunity to read some record producer or anonymous A&R flack hyping up Kool Keith as a “talented young man with a sound that is really out there” or Radiohead as “the next James”?

I bring this up as I look at the back of Don Gibson’s Oh Lonesome Me, which features an ‘introduction’ to the man behind the music by Lowell Blanchard, the station manager at WNOX, Knoxville, Tennessee, where Gibson had worked on “The Midday Merry-Go-Round” programme for the past seven years. Although the album contains two all-time country standards in the title track and “I Can’t Stop Lovin’ You,” Blanchard’s write-up reads more like a letter of reference for an applicant to the pipefitter’s union. “I think you’ll enjoy Don’s album,” Blanchard concludes. “It’s good music by a nice guy who likes people.” That’s very mild flogging for the album that launched both Gibson and producer Chet Atkins to stardom, and inaugurated the Nashville Sound that would dominate country music for the next two decades, but perhaps Tennesseans are a more reserved people than I’d figured them for.

A friend who’s weathered my periodic bouts of Gibson mania calls him “Buddy Holly as an Adult Man,” and I think that’s pretty good; stripped (by Atkins) of the usual fiddles and steel guitars, Gibson’s sound is as legible as rock ‘n’ roll as it is country. He was a fine singer, if not a particularly distinctive one, but as a songwriter, he was a wonder. It’s no exaggeration to say every Gibson song is fundamentally about the same thing, or that pretty much all of them are maddeningly catchy. Nicknamed “the Sad Poet,” the large-domed chanteur wrote fizzy hit after hit about the car door being slammed on his (emotional) dick. It’s hard to choose a favourite sadsack Gibson lyric: “Give Myself a Party” maybe, in which he throws a solo rager with all the stuff his ex left behind; or “(I’d Be) A Legend in My Time,” one of several songs where he turns being a loser into a competitive sport. Despite this artistic fixation on misery, his lyrics aren’t a baroquely weird psychic mess like Roy Orbison’s (a fan who once recorded an entire LP of Gibson covers); his writing has such an elemental simplicity any performer can make them their own. That’s why he’s such a popular cover choice, with “I Can’t Stop Lovin’ You” alone having been recorded over 700 times.

Still though, I tend to prefer Don’s steady, reliable takes to those of his interpreters. Oh Lonesome Me has a lot of his biggies (including both “Bad, Bad Day” and “Blue, Blue Day”), and with Atkins’ eye on not only the country but the pop charts, everything gets the star treatment. The (cut me into little pieces and mail me around the country) unsung heroes are Elvis Presley’s backup singers, the Jordinaires, who hang a heavenly gauze over the ballads and lend the fast ones a bubbly excitement. It doesn’t hurt having Atkins, the ace of session ace guitarists, sitting in either—his jazzy, Les Paul-ish licks on slow blues “Heartbreak Avenue” are an absolute treat.

I’ve got quite a few Gibson records on my shelf, and you can’t really go wrong with any of his ‘50s and ‘60s output, though things get a little ropey by the ‘70s. To name but two, the ’63 compilation I Wrote a Song is a desert island disc for me, and Girls, Guitars and Gibson from ’61 is every bit as good as Oh Lonesome Me despite not being quite so laden with hits.

126/365