#my most vivid memory besides the pick

[belle--ofthebrawl]

A few days late but I've only just gathered the emotional strength to go through my concert goodies. Bracelets, a sticker and one banana.

[wayfayrr]

My love mine all mine

Continuation of I bet on losing dogs

It's my birthday so that means I get to treat myself by writing a continuation of my Roman Empire fic <3

It's a reverse Isekai but this time it's post the event that caused him to isekai, and he's got a bit more to deal with now - but he'll be fine because he's by your side, and he won't let anything change that there is so much lore going into this fic, so there might be more to come in this saga yet :3c

[masterlist]

I’m still here? 

No - no I’m not in Hyrule now, something feels different enough that I know that. If I was still in Hyrule then that ‘sky’ would be here if I wasn’t hallucinating him. Besides that though, something feels different, I’m not in as much pain although everything feels heavier. Almost - no don’t get your hopes up yet link.

Moving still takes a painful amount of effort, like my wounds are still there but now everything suddenly weighs triple on top of those. It was the shift from feeling floaty and detached to suddenly being forced back into a body, one that doesn’t feel like my own, that makes everything feel so undeniably real. Now it’s just a matter of opening my eyes to see what’s actually happened to me. 

The room I’m in looks so similar to [name’s] when we ended up here one time chasing the shadow, from what I can see lying down like this anyway. Don’t get your hopes up until you see them link. There’s a blanket over me too, the very same that they lent to me the first time I was here; the feeling of it over me makes it the fact that I can’t barely move somewhat more bearable as I let out a low groan. Which seemed to almost summon the person who’s probably responsible for taking me in. 

“[Na]-”

“link what the FUCK did you do?”

Wait, what do they me-

“how the HELL do I have memories of you being my best friend growing up now - I know I met you for the first time in hyrule. you aren't supposed to exist as a person here and yet.”

“[name] I don't -”

“I have the most vivid memory of everything. including having to pick you and sky up passed out on the street because apparently the two of you decided to go out on a bender or something - I don't know but I can remember it somehow.”

That rant seems to have cooled them off for now, not that they're mad just concerned… not that I'm not also. Those memories they mentioned too, I know what they're talking about; it's trippy. I have two sets of my life, one that I know is true and this other one that feels like a learned lie. A cover up. It feels similar to a backstory I learned to lie during espionage, but it's information about [name’s] world. Memories of a whole life lived here, like it's preparing me… or trying to adjust something new being forced into it that shouldn't be here.

“I don't - I think it's cause… I. You said sky is here too?” 

“Yeah, he's the reason I'm so certain these memories aren't real, he only got included when I found him when I went out to buy supplies for you. Something feels off about all of this, and I think you two have the answers I need.”

Did sky..? No he wouldn't have. Would he? 

“I think so too.”

“Can you tell me what you think it was?”

My voice is dead in my throat, I can't tell them what I did. They'll lose any respect they had for me won't they? I don't even know for certain if sky did the same… but I could have sworn he was there when I - I…He wouldn't have done that to himself, surely not. Even though I could've said the same for myself before everything.

“I… would prefer not to, if that's alright.”

“Okay link, I won't push you. Either way, it's nice to be back at your side even if it's slightly different than what I'm used to.”

That's all it takes to finally break my guard and for the tears to start flowing. I can finally rest, there isn’t any expectation of me here, no pressure to be the picture-perfect hero, no nothing. I can just exist here with my lover for the rest of our lives. 

“Can you tell me why everything feels so different now though?”

“Link, haven’t you been able to tell? You aren’t a Hylian anymore. Whatever you did, you’re a human now and you've got a whole recorded history here on earth. You and sky both. Speaking of him, he’s downstairs helping himself to stuff; been awake a lot longer than you have, should probably go check on him really. You feeling alright enough to come with me?”

Moving my limbs still feels different but now it isn’t impossible to move them and seeing the smile on [name’s] face from me just sitting up to move is more than worth the slight discomfort. Falling into their open arms is just another perk of it, being helped to my feet whilst being allowed to cling to them? It’s a dream come true. But despite this there’s something that doesn’t feel right, why is sky here… I’ll have to ask him myself. 

“S- why are you drinking all of my milk straight from the bottle sky?”

“...Wanna get drunk.”

“It's milk. You’re never going to get drunk off of drinking milk.”

With the two of them distracted by each other, [name] still letting me cling to their arm thankfully, I get a proper look at him. It’s sky, it’s really sky, but he’s human. All of his scars are the same asides from a new one on his neck and a few burns on his hands ones that look like they come from holding a sword. Fi must have tried to stop him. The strangest thing is seeing him with short rounded ears though - I can’t imagine what I look like to him. This has to be the first time I’ve seen him trying so desperately to get drunk though, he saw you do it. He’s drinking to forget, like you have so many times in the past. 

“What do you mean of course I will. Why do you think milk bars were so popular in hyrule?”

“But you aren’t hylian now sky. You’re a human now, and we don’t get drunk from milk.”

“You - we… don’t? Ah. Well. That explains a lot of things then.”

“Did everyone think that I was an addict? Oh my, that explains the ‘interventions’ each of you had with me. Even my boyfriends thought I was an alcoholic.”

The sigh they let out before resting their head against me could make me an addict, as ironic as that is. Although that does bring up the question of how everything is going to be so different now, we’re going to have to relearn a lot of what we’ve always known as fact. But it’ll be by [name’s] side. And I’ll do anything to keep it this way.

[yoon-kooks]

better than sex | myg | 1

🍑Pairing: Yoongi x Producer!Reader

🍑Genre: fluff, smut, studio!au

🍑Summary: As Min Yoongi’s studio neighbor and self-proclaimed nemesis, you’ve always seen him as someone who knew how to maintain a clean, well-put-together image without any careless slip-ups. But after nearly walking in on him with a hand around his cock, you gain a new perspective that leads to steamy fantasies in your bedroom and much-needed inspiration in the studio for Bangtan’s next album. A week before track submissions are due, you give Yoongi a taste of the dirty demo, and now the selfish bastard wants to claim it for his own solo album. In exchange, he offers to help you produce another Bangtan track by the end of the week. Your only condition is for this track to be better than the sexual fantasies that inspired its predecessor.

🍑Word Count: 4.7k

🍊Parts: 1 ◆ 2

🍑Warnings: yoongi touches boobs, masturbation (m/f), a lot more smut to come in future chapters

🍑A/N: this fic started as a shower thought🚿

As a songwriter and producer, you’re expected to create something out of nothing. You’re expected to turn a blank canvas into the next big hit—something unique, something that would never exist without you. But the thing is, nothing is truly ever spawned out of thin air. Like superheroes who save the world, every song has its own origin story.

This, of course, includes the final track you’ve been working on for Bangtan’s next album. As with many of your best tracks, inspiration hit you while you were showering at one in the morning. Sometimes the inspiration is a reflection of how good or bad your day went. Sometimes it’s sparked by the fruity dessert you just devoured, or the heated breakup you witnessed on your walk home. But not this one.

This one was lust. More specifically, it was the lust you felt after entering Genius Lab with pure intentions and leaving with the vivid mental image of Min Yoongi jerking off in his studio. You hadn’t caught him outright with his hand around his cock, but you certainly walked in before he had time to hide the evidence. You’d always thought him to be a man who never slips up, never shows any sign of weakness. 

But boy did he slip up.

One week ago

“Hey Piano Guy, can I borrow you for a sec?” You knock on the studio door next to yours. “I have a melody in my head right now, and I think it’d sound kinda sick on the piano.”

After 30 seconds, there’s still no response. You could always work it out on the piano by yourself, but it’s a lot easier with an extra set of hands. And besides, you don’t hate the idea of spending time with the handsome boy.

“Yoongi, please. Before I forget how it goes. My memory is fading, please.” Just as you raise your fist to pound on his door some more, it swings open. Yoongi leans against the doorframe with a hand in his pocket. The first thing he does is pinch down on the hem of your sleeve, coaxing you to lower your fist out of his face. You don’t think too much about how his forehead and cheeks are looking extra dewy today. He smells like his usual cedarwood cologne, so you don’t suppose he just finished working out, either.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be picking fights with me?” His voice is low and calm, almost like he’d just woken up. On most days, you probably would fight him—he’s the enemy, after all. Not like an actual enemy, though. Just someone who goes along with your banter and gives you something to look forward to at work. Unfortunately, there’s no time for his teasing when there’s a billion-dollar melody on the line.

“I’m not picking a fight with you.” As you correct him, you do a mental calculation of the space between Yoongi’s body and the opposite side of the doorframe. A tight fit, but it might be just enough room to weasel your way in. “I’m enlisting your help for a potential song idea.” 

He must’ve caught a glimpse of that mischievous sparkle in your eye because he’s quick to put his arm up across the entrance. “Don’t even think about it.” 

You frown, but it doesn’t last long. With a playful grin and fluttery eyelashes, you say, “C’mon, this could be the hook that wins Bangtan a Grammy.”

You notice his fingers slowly slipping against the doorframe. The ends of his lips curve upward ever so slightly. This barricade is coming down whether he likes it or not.

Yoongi looks behind him, combs his fingers through his hair, and lets out a sigh. “You need me? Like right now?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s genuinely trying to shoo you away or if he just wants you to admit that you enjoy being around him. Usually, it’s the latter. But he does seem a bit off today.

“I mean, I could ask Namjoon—”

“Five minutes,” Yoongi cuts you off, dragging you with him into his lair and mumbling to himself about “the things he does for you” and how “you act like you can’t figure it out yourself on the guitar.” You take a seat at the piano bench and pull the boy down right beside you. He supposedly only has a handful of minutes to spare in his busy schedule, and yet here he is, taking his sweet time warming up with some scales.

Either he doesn’t trust Namjoon’s piano skills, or someone’s a little jealous.

For as many times as you’ve watched Yoongi at the piano, it never gets old. His long fingers stroke each key so gracefully, yet with purpose. It takes way more than a few years of dedication and a genuine love of the instrument to be at his level. It’s mesmerizing.

“So what’s this Grammy award-winning banger you speak of?” he asks, creating his own piano version of Yet To Come. Oh right, the banger. How did it go again?

You search every inch of your brain, but instead of recalling the melody you felt so confident in, all you find are Yoongi’s piano covers of Bangtan songs. Well this is awkward.

“It… kind of disappeared from my memory,” you say in a hushed voice, still staring down at the keys. In your defense, Yoongi was a huge distraction with those dexterous piano fingers.

He stops mid-measure and shakes his head at you. “Tsk, tsk, Y/N.” Rather than annoyed, he’s amused. “So were you just using that as an excuse to infiltrate Genius Lab or what?”

You roll your eyes. Yoongi always acts like his studio is some sort of sacred chamber only accessible to those he deems worthy. Maybe you should set up your own high-tech security system for your studio so that you don’t get 20 weekly visits from him like an alley cat coming back for more table scraps.

“Bold assumption, but I only came here with the purest of intentions.” With a hmph, you slide your ass off the bench. Instead of heading for the door, you wander over to the side of his studio with all of the fancy producer equipment. You make yourself comfortable and spin around in his big cushy chair. It’s still radiating leftover heat from Yoongi’s own ass cheeks. “Were you in the middle of something just before I got here?”

The boy strides over, waiting for you to have your back to his desk. He steadies the chair with a strong hand so that you’re facing him and can’t spin around anymore. “That’s confidential information.”

“This chair is still warm, so you were obviously sitting here working on something. You might as well fess up.” You hug your knees to your chest and peer up at him with wonder. “Is it your solo album?”

He doesn’t answer you right away. It’s a yes-or-no question. There shouldn’t be anything to think about. Eventually, though, he shakes his head.

You try not to frown so he doesn’t see your disappointment. Ever since D-2, you’ve been patiently waiting for a solo album from him. Because you’d love to snag a spot on it as one of the producers he collaborates with. But Yoongi doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Can you at least give me a hint, then?” You hop out of the chair, scurry around the boy, and examine his desk. Not much is on it aside from his computer, a few MIDI controllers, and a black bottle of cologne. You wiggle the mouse around to wake the computer up, but the screen remains dark. “Seriously? You turned your computer off so I wouldn’t be able to snoop? Is that why it took you a decade to answer the door?”

“We all know how nosy you are. Like a curious kitten.” His voice comes from right behind you. With the clicks of several buttons, the computer screen flashes on, and he types his password in faster than you can decode it. He takes control of the mouse, but you don’t move out of the way. You can feel just how close his body is to yours, and the cedarwood is starting to drown your mind in mildly dangerous thoughts.

As Yoongi looks through his files for a track that’s “safe enough to show you,” your eyes lock onto the fancy black bottle of that intoxicating cologne. It looks expensive, sleek, and something you’d want to get your paws on. 

You scan the bottle for a brand, a name for the scent—anything that will help you get ahold of what’s on Yoongi’s body. But all you find on the front side of the bottle is a simple product description: Personal Moisturizer.

That’s definitely not cologne. 

You quickly turn back to the computer screen. An unfinished hip-hop track you’ve never heard before is playing in the background. You don’t even know when Yoongi pressed play. All you know is that you can’t exactly focus on music right now.

You’ve been in Yoongi’s studio plenty of times, and you’ve never seen this bottle sitting so casually on his desk like that. Probably because it’s normally stored away where curious kittens would never check. If it’s still lying around out in the open, then… 

Oh god. You’re so fucking oblivious.

No wonder he was trying to shoo you away. No wonder he looked like he’d just gone through an intense workout. No wonder his chair was still warm but his computer wasn’t on. He wasn’t in the middle of work when you knocked on the door. Min Yoongi was in the middle of jerking off, and you just entered his studio without a single clue.

Oh no. You can’t unsee it. It’s too vivid—the image of him panting, slumped in the same chair you were spinning around in like an idiot, hand around his hard wet cock. The long fingers that danced across the piano keys so elegantly were the same violent set of fingers that stroked him into a fervorous state where every ounce of his stoic demeanor had come undone. If his computer wasn’t on with porn plastered across the screen, you wonder who or what he was getting off to. 

A tiny, tiny part of you hopes it was you on his mind.

The funny thing is, you’ve never once even thought about him like that. Sure, the two of you have some flirty banter going on, but to you, he’s always been the kind of guy who’s more focused on his music than his sex life. And to be honest, it never actually occurred to you that Yoongi did in fact have a sex life. With that small bit of information, you feel like you’ve gained a whole new perspective. This is why they say curiosity killed the cat. It completely shattered the perfect, well-put-together image you had had of him all this time.

You’ll never see Min Yoongi the same way ever again.

When you return home that night, you aren’t thinking about the company meeting you have tomorrow morning, or what you should pack for lunch, or the award-winning melody that vanished into the abyss along with the rest of your rational thoughts.

You plop your body onto your bed and let yourself think of Yoongi. It’s probably a big mistake, but you can’t help it. 

He’s incredibly handsome, you’ve always thought so. And you admire the work he puts into each and every one of his tracks. Likewise, you know he respects you the same. After all, he lets you into his sacred studio more than anyone else. He couldn’t say no to you, even with a whole ass bottle of lube still out in the open.

The image of him with his fingers gripping tightly around his swollen cock haunts your mind once more. His head is thrown back, sweat running down his neck, and he’s out of breath. You want to know how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure, when he’s lost all control. His voice is already so raspy, so low, and so goddamn hot. You want him to call you kitten again, but maybe without the “curious” part attached to it. Anything to hear his bedroom voice. A single moan from him might be enough to set you off. 

You unbutton your shorts and slip your fingers beneath the lace of your underwear. To your surprise, you’re already soaked in these erotic fantasies you never thought you’d be having about your studio neighbor. You’ve known the guy for two years, and it’s only now that you’re lusting after him? How did you have that much self-control for so long?

A gasp escapes your throat as you rub around your center. You squirm to your own touch as you apply more pressure and speed. Harder, faster. You love it, but it’s familiar and predictable, and it’s been a while since you’ve been pleasured by someone else’s hands. Your body aches for those long veiny fingers to play with you like a piano.

As the pleasure builds, you wonder how far Yoongi had gotten before you rudely interrupted him. It’d feel pretty shitty to be so close yet denied of it all because you decided to knock on his door right at that moment. If you had known what was truly going on behind that door, would you have still chosen music over lust? Or would you have thrown that Grammy away to learn what Min Yoongi tastes like when he’s overtaken by his deepest desires? 

In the end, it doesn’t really matter because you came out of his studio with neither.

After a rather underwhelming orgasm, you roll off your bed and drag your feet into the bathroom for a hot shower. 

You know you should stop while you’re still ahead. Fantasies need to remain fantasies and nothing more. Sex between you and Yoongi isn’t going to happen. It’s not worth sacrificing the music you need to be making with him instead of love. You hate that you were considering it for even a second.

But your irrational desires need an outlet.

As hot water trickles down your body, the steam clouds your thoughts. And in the haze, you long for something new and different. Now that you know what you know, you wish Yoongi would show you that other side of himself, the side he keeps hidden behind those studio doors. 

You want it so bad.

And that’s when it hits you.

It’s been a week since you visited Yoongi in his studio on that fateful morning. You’ve been hard at work, piecing together the final track for Bangtan’s album. The demo is nearly complete, and you’re actually super satisfied with how it’s turning out. The vibe is sensual, full of temptation, and far dirtier than any other track with your name on it. 

It only makes sense that the file name for this track is “sex.wav,” which will of course be changed before anyone else sees it. You’ve always had a bad habit of naming your track files based on the first thing that comes to mind, and it really shows where your head has been at this week.

Even Jimin, who helped you record the demo, asked if there was some sort of recent breakthrough in your sex life. When you told him no, he winked and said, “Yoongi is single, you know.” Sometimes you regret confiding in Jimin about your desire to make it onto Yoongi’s solo album because now he’s under the impression that you have some sort of crush on the rapper.

For the record, you don’t have feelings for Yoongi. It’d just be nice to fuck him once, get it out of your system, and the two of you will probably be back to the usual harmless banter that keeps you going every day.

You have to admit, though, your sexual urges came through when you needed them most. After losing the precious (and very wholesome) brain cells containing that award-winning melody, you were in desperate need of a new idea to go off of for that final track. Thanks to the hot and bothered part of your brain, you became super inspired and productive. 

For once in your music career, you’re actually a whole week ahead of schedule instead of just barely meeting deadlines at midnight. With the sex.wav demo near completion, you’ll have this week to relax and take time for yourself.

Thank you, Min Yoongi.

“Y/N, can I come in?” Speaking of the devil, Yoongi pops his head in the doorway. It’s his third visit to your studio this week, and it’s only Monday.

“Come, come,” you say, gesturing for him to hurry on in. You’re confident he’ll vibe with the track, and you’re excited to hear what he has to say about it.

“Jimin told me you guys finished recording the demo,” he says over your shoulder. He places a hand on top of your chair and leans his weight against it like he owns the place.

“We did.” You sit up tall in your chair with a healthy glow and hand the boy some headphones. “I might still go back and tweak a few things, but it’s pretty much done.”

You stare up at him shamelessly as he focuses all of his attention on your demo. Yoongi is the type of guy who doesn’t react or say much on his first listen. He’ll always listen with an open mind and give you his honest opinion once he’s had time to take it all in. That’s why he’s always one of the first people you show your work to.

When the demo ends, he doesn’t hit replay. Instead, he hangs the headphones around his neck and stares at your computer screen, deep in thought. You start to think he hated it so much that he can’t even give it a second listen and he’s trying to find the right words to tell you.

“Why did you name the file sex.wav?” Ah shit, he wasn’t supposed to see that. No one was.

“It’s sexy, isn’t it?” you say softly, starting to shrink in your chair. He still hasn’t said whether he likes it or not.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He drums his fingertips against your desk. You wonder if those fingers have touched any cock lately. “It’s different from your usual stuff.”

You just blink at him, unsure of how to react. Good different or bad different?

“Good different,” he clarifies, as if he’s read your mind. He’s still not giving you much to go off of, though. And you’re starting to get impatient.

Yoongi looks at you, opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it. You’ve never seen the boy so speechless.

“What?” you ask. If he doesn’t spit it out right now, you’re going to lose it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Please.” It’s hard to read his straight face, but something’s definitely on his mind. You need to know what’s bothering him.

“Who inspired it?” he asks. Not what. Who. This must be his not-so-subtle way of asking who you’ve been sleeping with. It’s none of his business, really. And he knows it. That’s why he was so hesitant to ask in the first place.

“Are you sure you want to hear about all the guys I’ve had sex with?” You casually raise an eyebrow at him and watch closely for a reaction. Maybe it’ll make him jealous.

“It’s about all the sex you’ve ever had?” He looks like he’s not fully convinced. No, it’s actually about the sex you haven’t had. The good kind. The wild kind. The kind that ends with you all tangled in the sheets with Min Yoongi. But you can’t tell him that.

“I’m just fucking with you. I wish I could say I’ve had good enough sex to inspire this track.” You take a jab at yourself, but you really hope you aren’t coming across as lonely or needy for a man. 

Yoongi’s face relaxes a little more, still drumming those fingers against your desk. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He doesn’t elaborate on that, nor do you ask him to.

“Can I have it?” he asks out of nowhere. Have what? Sex with you? “On my solo album?”

Oh.

“You want this track on your album?” Is the boy really tempting you with something you’ve waited so long for? Of course you want to scream yes, but… “You’d really steal from Bangtan to claim it as your own?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a selfish asshole,” he pouts. Since when did Min Yoongi ever pout? You’ve never seen this side of him either. It’s fascinating.

You bite your lip. “Yoongi, I’d be down, but the deadline is approaching and I’m going to be one track short if I give you this one.” 

“When’s the deadline?”

“Next Monday.”

The boy pulls out his phone and flicks his thumb across the screen. If you had to guess, he’s checking his schedule.

“I’ll help you produce another one for Bangtan,” he says so casually and confidently.

“Are you sure you’ll have time for that?” You don’t know Yoongi’s full schedule off the top of your head, but you do recall Jimin mentioning this week would be hectic for the group.

“I’ll make time.” All he does is shrug. “I should be free after 10 on most nights. Sunday, I can be in the studio by 6AM—”

“Yoongi.” You stop him before he can say anything else outrageous. Not that you’re being any more rational. You’re about to kiss your much-deserved week of freedom goodbye all for this boy with a pouty lip. “I’ll see what I can do, and you can pitch in. But please don’t overwork yourself for this.” You point at the screen, at the track he wants so badly.

He nods. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You want to ask Yoongi what he’ll give you in return for doing him this favor, but you aren’t really interested in anything from him aside from his company. And maybe sex. 

Instead, you ask, “May I ask why you want this track so badly?”

“Because I like it.” He pulls the headphones off his neck and hangs them around yours. There’s no way he fell in love with the track after listening to it only once. That’s unheard of for him. There must be another reason. “Oh, and I also heard you wanted a spot on my solo album.”

You’re going to kill Park Jimin.

“Right,” you say, spinning your chair around so that Yoongi can’t see the nasty texts you’re sending to his friend.

Y/N💅 [8:23PM] “fuck you park jimin”

Y/N💅 [8:23PM] “i thought we agreed not to tell my nemesis that id like to be on his solo album”

Jimin🍡 [8:24PM] “Yoongi’s your nemesis?”

Jimin🍡 [8:24PM] “I thought you had a raging boner for him🍆”

Y/N💅 [8:24PM] “i hate you btw”

“You have a raging boner for me?” You hear a mix of shock, amusement, and arrogance over your shoulder. But mostly arrogance. You lock your phone screen even though it’s already too late. You’ve been caught. Evidently, you aren’t the only nosy one here.

You swing your head around, practically nose to nose with your nemesis. He can probably feel the heat radiating from your cheeks. But you don’t back off. Instead, you glare. “Neither you nor Jimin know what you’re talking about.”

“I guess only you know then, Y/N.” Yoongi doesn’t back away either. He eyes your lips the way you eye a strawberry popsicle on the hottest day of the year. You make a conscious effort to not let your eyes do the same. You don’t need to be reminded of how perfectly plush his lips must feel against everything they touch.

But if he wants to play this game with you, you’ll play along. And you won’t lose.

You lean in closer and graze your cheek against his. In a hushed voice, you say, “Do you want to know who really inspired that track?”

He nods against your skin. Your lips tickle his ear.

“I was visiting a friend last week, and I left his place with a new perspective. I thought, maybe this guy wasn’t just the grumpy asshole workaholic I knew him to be. Maybe he’d been hiding this dirty, sexed-up side of himself the whole time.” You pause for dramatic effect. “Do you want to know why I thought this?”

He nods again.

“You forgot to hide your personal moisturizer before I walked into your studio.” You finally lean back to see the look on his face. His pupils are huge, his lips are parted, but he doesn’t necessarily look embarrassed for someone who was practically caught with his hands in his pants.

In fact, the more time he spends thinking about it, the more he realizes what your story says about you. “So what you’re saying is that you do in fact have a raging boner for me and I was your inspiration for that sex track? I’m honored.”

You hate that he’s such a good listener who knows how to dissect every word you say.

“Would y’all quit saying I have a raging boner?” You roll your eyes, but it does feel oddly satisfying when Yoongi and Jimin treat you like one of the guys.

“What should I call it then?” Yoongi chuckles. He doesn’t do it often, but you like it when he laughs. “Horny eyes? Unfulfilled sexual desires? A wet p—”

You get up and give him a light shove against the desk. He’s still got a smirk on his face as you pin him there. “Call it a severe distaste for your bullshit,” you say sweetly with a handful of his shirt in your fist. 

A strong hand cups your chin. He leans in close enough for you to smell the minty lip balm you always see him applying. You want to taste it. “Admit it,” he says, “You like my bullshit.”

You feel each of his words against your lips. By the time he reached “bullshit,” you’d already pressed your lips into his. He doesn’t fight it. You taste the mint, then his tongue.

His hands start to wander along your curves. He finds the bare skin between your crop top and high-waisted shorts and works his way up your ribs. You hope he can’t feel the goosebumps when his thumbs sneak into your bra and flirt with the sides of your breasts. You just want him to keep exploring and familiarizing himself with your body. 

In the next moment, he has you pinned in with your ass on top of the desk. In front of you is not the grumpy idol boy you’ve maintained a clean, professional relationship with for the past two years. The Yoongi standing here between your thighs is an irresistible temptation. He’s your fantasy turned reality. And maybe he wants you as much as you want him. 

But before you can loop your limbs around him and lasso him in for more, he steps back and points his thumb at the door. “I have to get back to my studio.”

No, he doesn’t. He’s just playing hard to get. And you hate him for it.

“To work or to jerk off?” you call out as he walks further and further away from you.

“Work, of course,” he sings. You don’t believe him. He’s a liar and a tease. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Y/N. To work on the new track.”

You almost forgot about that replacement track. After all, Yoongi’s hands and lips were pretty big distractions that you once again fell victim to. But regardless of the hold he thinks he has on you now, you still want to establish strict criteria for the song you’ll be working on with him. Only one thing comes to your flustered mind.

“Wait, Yoongi.” You wait for him to turn back around in the doorway. There’s still a hint of a smile lingering on his face. He probably thinks you’re calling him back for some more studio mischief. Too bad he’s wrong. “I have one condition for that new track.”

“Go on.”

“It has to be better than the sex track I’m giving you for your solo album.” You kick your legs back and forth—the same legs that could’ve been squeezing Yoongi’s waist in a heated makeout session right about now. “Way better.”

You won’t accept anything less from the man.

“So it has to be better than your cute little erotic fantasies of me?” Yoongi puts a hand up. Then he’s gone. “Shouldn’t be an issue.”

[kindan-no-kanojo]

🌹| Scarlett Wakahisa Special! |🌹

༺ Character Sheet & Interview ༻

Original template by @inazuma-ryuu ! I edited the hue and language, and added stickers and effects myself. Translation + Special character interview below the cut!

「 “Run along. Okay? Unless you want me to eat your mind away.” 」

༺ Profile

« A hard-to-ignore Ghoul Lady seeks putting an end to the loop. »

༺ Scarlett Wakahisa

Species: Ghoul Age: 19 years old. Occupation: Ryotei Academy's 3rd Year Student Voice Actress: Tamura Yukari

📌 Memo #1

«Caution: Do not leave Experiment 11 unattended.»

༺ Further data

Blood Type: AB Height: 164 cm (5'5) Weight: 62 kg Favorite Food: Peaches Hobby: Music Birthdate: May 13th

📍 Memo #2

? ? «How long... has it really been?» ? ?

📎 Memo #3

«Even after death, flowers can keep blooming...»

Additional pictures include her Ghoul form with Maid uniform, Casual and Formal outfits!

༺ Scarlett Wakahisa || Character Interview ༻ What occupies the passionate Ghoul's mind?

[20 questions based on these and these interviews!]

1. What is your favorite thing right now?

“I recently found a mouse at home. It was really small and cute! As soon as it saw me, though, it ran away... Well, I cannot blame it. But I haven't seen such a tiny little visitor in a while, so it made my day a little better——

——Why are you making that face?”

2. What are your recent preferences in regards to fashion?

“If I think it looks good on me, that's all matters, no? I find it especially uncomfortable to wear pants or trousers, so I tend to pick skirts or dresses most of the time. Whatever makes me feel pretty, stays.”

3. Do you have any subconscious quirks?

“How would I know, if it is not a conscious habit?

...Hm. Thinking about it, I believe it's true that whenever I listen to some orchestra concerto I instinctively start air-conducting. I don't think about it too much when do it, it can be a little obnoxious to whoever is close to me... And to me, too, honestly, when they try to stop me or turn the music off.”

4. How do you spend your off days?

“I'm lucky enough to not have an exhausting routine like before, when I'd use my breaks to rest a few hours. Nowadays, I usually stay home and play music or visit someone to spend the day with.”

5. What does your sleepwear look like?

“You are so curious about that, aren't you? It is nothing out of the ordinary. I wear a simple white nightgown when I'm able to relax. Nothing fancy.

Although, if I don't have access to my sleepwear, I'd simply loose my corset and manage with my shirt and skirt only. But that isn't the usual...”

6. What’s one thing you always do before going to bed?

“Braid my hair loosely. Whenever I don't, I wake up with an entangled red mess.”

7. Which part of your own body do you like best?

“I take special care of my hair, so that would be my answer. It has given me issues a lot of times, but I can't bring myself to hate it...”

8. What do you like best about your own room?

“My room isn't too bright or too dark, it has one small window for natural light, so it goes easy on my eyes, which I appreciate.

I like the peace and quiet of my house overall, it is isolated from the city and the suburbs, so I mostly hear nature and animals. Contrasting, right? I don't like loud environments, believe it or not. Besides, if I'm going to deal with people all day, I need to recharge, so I need a peaceful place.”

9. Tell us your most vivid memory with Kino!

“All my memories are vivid, first of all... But, one that would stand out from the rest? Let's see...

Oh! I find it especially funny when there is something Kino cannot do. He once wanted to learn how to play some weird tune on the piano, from one of his games... He couldn't handle my lesson very well, though. How am I going to teach music to someone who doesn't want to learn the basics!? Theory is not boring, it's fascinating. Well, in the end, he lost his patience and challenged me to a duel of sorts with his mobile device, which he clearly won before I realized. He doesn't like to lose alone, huh...?”

10. How do you feel about Karl Heinz?

“It is pointless to ponder about that dead man.”

11. Where would you go on a date?  

“Oh, uh... hm. Anywhere? I don't have preferences.

If I'm asking someone out, I would choose a place where we could be by ourselves, and possibly do something together. I rarely get invited to dates myself, so when that happens... I'm a little too shocked. Or excited? It's weird, but I can't allow myself to complain, haha... It really won't matter.”

12. Which kind of gestures make your heart skip a beat?

“This may sound ridiculous but... anything kind-hearted and unprompted makes me feel a little silly.

Don't laugh! I'm not used to things like gifts or... acts of service? How am I supposed to react? A 'thank you' doesn't feel enough, so I'm at a loss with those things!

... Kisses make me feel somewhat similar, but at least I can do something about it. Or... try.”

13. What does blood taste like for you?

“Like danger. It's scary. There are equal chances for me to control myself than there are for me to completely lose it, one way or another. I can't risk it, I don't even like blood that much, no, I don't need it... I don't need it at all.”

14. Where would you like to be bitten?

“What do you mean 'where'!? Nowhere. Next question.”

15. Which body part do you like sucking blood from?

“You are playing with fire. Fine, I will humor your morbid curiosity...

Neck and shoulders. Those are my favorite places to bite. Not only it is a good blood source, but I can also hear their screams in pain from very up close and feel how the body tenses and reacts first hand. Besides, if they push me away, chances are that they end up getting more hurt than I. Those areas and very soft, therefore it is easily breakable, you know...?

I hope that is enough for you understand why it is something to avoid, now stop asking about it, will you? Feasting upon someone makes me stronger and crazier, so—— oh, unless you want a demonstration, too!?”

16. Do you believe in fate?

“...I choose not to. If my fate was written like this and it is truly incapable of bending, I will seriously lose my mind.”

17. Is there any good memories you keep with Rhiannon?

“Define 'good'...

Looking back, there is nothing good about that time. Perhaps it felt like home back then, but... even her death meant repercussions for me. I'm grateful to have learned a few tricks with her, that I can admit, but, overall? I don't want to live that life ever again.”

18. What do you think of Yuuri?

“Yuuri almost reminds me of myself in the past. Almost. I feel like there is more to him than what is shown. The way Yuuri keeps calm most of the time, no matter what, is admirable. Like nothing sets him off... but that can't be the case, right?”

19. What is your ideal type?

“Type... I don't have a type. Of course I won't choose someone who disrespects me or hurts me, if I wanted that I would still be a servant. But I won't put up several expectations either, unless I want to die alone.

Well... It's hard to pinpoint, but someone with whom I don't need to be alert at all times would be nice. I don't ask for much, do I?”

20. How do you realize you are in love?

“What a difficult question... I believe that it's already too late for me when I finally realize, but... hm.

The moment I find myself smiling like an idiot, like no one is watching me and I wouldn't mind if they do... maybe that moment means love for me. When I want to show off, do less things alone, and... not a single figure, but one alongside mine instead, fills my mind. No matter what they do, it will look beautiful in my eyes, and...

——I digress. Ah, how cheesy... Forget it, I am yet to get used to it. It is as frightening as it is addictive...”

[jirachis-tag]

~N X Reader~

Word Count: 1045

Content: SFW

-Shared Worlds-

"Why are you up this late?", your voice joined the persistent, echoing Kricketot cries that, even though distant, made the air feel all that much warmer.

Nimbasa City, weekday, well into the subdued hours. You'd believe that a summer night would feel fresh and freeing after a busy afternoon mainly consisting of headaches, yet the high temperatures were as rowdy as ever, even if they were only present as annoying Volbeat roaming free inside of your stomach. You knew you'd find him here.

"Isn't it amazing?", N asked in that silky soft voice of his, the one he trusted you with when he opened his heart to you for the first time. Something that he kept on doing, firmly believing that you could understand. Besides, someone else before you managed, so why wouldn't you?

You made your way to the spot next to him, following his gaze that ended up being centered on the Ferris Wheel.

"If you think so, it probably is", you said through a smile, "Why do you like Ferris Wheels, N?"

He hummed, deep in thought, carefully picking out words that would encompass his thoughts best.

"Shape, functionality, overall architecture, purpose. They're such a clever entertainment idea. Riding it with a person whom you're close to, or simply one you want to strengthen your bond with is an occurrence that is very important to me. I want to share the things I enjoy with them", he turned his head to you, giving you a peaceful look, "Have you ever ridden this Ferris Wheel, (Y/N)?"

"Since it's couples only, I haven't, unfortunately", you locked gazes with him, admiring the way his tea green hair wavered in the breeze, "At least not recently, or that I have vivid memories of."

N fixed his hat:

"Would you like to go together on Friday evening?", he turned around and started making his way towards a nearby swing, motioning for you to follow him.

The gravel clicked under your shoes, wind tickling your ankles under the cuffed pants. N sat down on the swing, taking one of the cold, slightly rusty chains in his hand.

"Yes. I'd really like to. I feel like we have so much to talk about up there, aside from admiring the view. I suppose the location really matters when it comes to conversation."

"I think so as well. I'm glad we're on the same page", he tapped his lap gently, "Come, sit if you want. I don't want you standing alone there."

You were quite taken aback by the offer. You didn't know how to interpret it, but decided to go along with it and see how it plays out.

You were quiet for a few minutes, N gently swaying the two of you, feet firmly set on the ground so he could uphold your weight. He wasn't the strongest in that regard, but you didn't mind. You set one of your arms around his shoulders for a bit of additional support, which made him beam another smile at you.

"You're very dear to me", he spoke, "That's why I'd like to show you what my world looks like, hoping that you'll become part of it eventually. However, I won't push myself onto you. That would be utterly distasteful. Especially after being my good friend for so long."

"Don't worry. I understood what you mean. Thank you, by the way. I feel a similar way", you looked away for a second, unable to withstand the tranquility on his face.

He trusted you with his heart and soul. He was comfortable, unafraid to reveal to you who he really is, and who he used to be, even if he wasn't the most selfless person back then. Him growing and maturing was vital, though. Change is inevitable, after all. It's only up to the person whether they'll accept it and move along. Fortunately, N did.

"Is it alright if I tell you something else as well?", his other arm enveloped your waist, something you couldn't turn a blind eye to.

A bit of red dusted your cheeks.

"Yeah, of course. Go ahead", you mustered up the courage to look him in the eyes again. He seemed so happy at that very moment, admiring every feature on your face, your touch and your presence.

"At first I thought that you reminded me a lot of someone I know. I was making parallels left and right, so much so that at one point I couldn't differentiate between the two of you. Now I understand how disrespectful that was. I was quite frankly stuck in the past. For the first time I had been shown acceptance, compassion and warmth, and I couldn't move on. Some people come and go and that's something I should always be aware of. That person is that person, and (Y/N) is (Y/N). Just because you share similar virtues doesn't mean your voice and spirit are one and the same. For that, I apologize."

"Oh, N… I'm not hurt by that at all. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm glad I give you that same sense of security that you deserve."

"It was a great learning experience either way. I've come to appreciate you more because of that realization. I in fact believe that I feel more towards you than just gratitude", he admitted, pulling you closer to him, "I truly hope that this same sentiment you give me is mutual."

"You couldn't possibly mean…"

He dropped his head low, the visor of his hat covering his eyes. He still had delight present in his bashful grin.

"Yeah. Sorry if that came straight at you all of a sudden", his tone turned slightly tinier, "Even if it's one sided, I hope that won't change anything."

N's heartfelt confession brought a few tears to your slightly tired eyes which you immediately blinked away. You put a hand on his cheek, ushering him to look up at you.

His eyebrows were furrowed sadly.

"I do think it's going to change a little bit though", you leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips, "For the better, of course."

His smile widened, spreading as far as it could go.

"Thank you", he said, his voice faltering for a moment, "I'm looking forward to it."

[maryoliverdotcom]

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

Chapter 7

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

A sudden, vivid memory flashed in my mind. We were six. A year had passed since my meeting with Paro. We were running around like hooligans in the park while our mothers talked about work, pados-wali aunties and whatnot. I still remember what Paro was wearing: a frilly, white frock with Minnie Mouse sewn onto its sleeves. The sky was red and so was our laughter, until Paro bent down and ripped a flower right off its stem. “For you,” she had said, clumsily tucking the flower behind my ear. When she touched my earlobe, the flower was white. When she let go, it was red.

Another memory. We were nine. She sat with me on the bed while I rambled on about my latest hyperfixation: dragons. She listened to every single detail I had mentioned and, by the end of the afternoon, showed me a drawing of a wyvern.

Twelve. I was reading The Priory of the Orange Tree, sitting on the windowsill. I took a sip from my milk tea, letting out a contented hum. I wasn’t on the windowsill anymore. I was Ead, pressing a kiss to Sabran’s brow. Sabran was someone who looked uncannily similar to Paro.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear. 

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3: hi renu are you awake? —00:27 do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to?  —02:01 its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you —03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week. 

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around. Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

I opened the door to the balcony and hoisted myself up on its railing. It was an easy jump. I tumbled onto the grass, praying that a grasshopper wouldn’t find its new home in my ear. The grass was wet and the air smelled of petrichor. 

I stood up, smoothening my pyjamas. Staying out late at night was a risky thing, especially in our neighbourhood. Plenty of TicTac-shaped pills here and there, and men on the prowl. I didn’t give a damn. I was eighteen and probably feeling some feelings I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. (That’s a lot of ‘feeling’s, I know.) What could possibly hurt me?

A lot of things, I realised, as I walked up to Paro’s house. Like that mad dog Rathode had warned me about. The creepy guy who keeps children in his basement (just a speculation, but when Madhu speculated about something, it was most probably right). An overspeeding motorcycle that could crash into me any minute. My own mother, with her pots and pans, once she realised I was gone.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

The tin shade Madame Fosco had installed last year was probably on its deathbed by now. Rust had made its edges creaky, but Fosco was deaf, anyway. I grabbed onto it and hoisted myself up, finding myself staring right at Paro’s face, our faces a millimetre away from each other’s. She screamed.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I hissed.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. 

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on. 

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back. Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise. I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she muttered. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I smiled weakly. “You make it sound like we're old.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.” Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved. 

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

I hummed. Did she know about the history of ‘OK’? Probably not. I’d tell her. Not knowing things I wouldn’t be able to tell her before we drifted apart wasn’t a good idea. At least she’d be able to tell her children that their Renu Auntie had told her about the history of ‘OK’. Maybe she’d sigh and think of me, again. Words were a certain but clumsy way into a person’s mind. 

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind. It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

She looked like Aphrodite, the goddess of love born from love itself, in all her glory—clutching a book of Edgar Allan Poe, the letters of which shone in the lamplight or moonlight, that I do not know.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped as I ran my fingers along the edge of its spine. It was a leatherbound book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe written in shiny gold lettering. I opened the first page. To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

@avani-amulya @manujanolavu @nirmohi-premika @lovesickpdf @arachneofthoughts @sonilaalbindi @desi-yearning @alhad-si-simran @thatpagalchokri @trashmeowcan @waitingforthesunrise @vellibandi @thesunandstarss @chanda-chamke-cham-cham @damnn-dorothea @the-unhinged-fanwinggg @watchingblsnowandforever @disproportionatelysculpting @bundle-of-glitter @bibliophile-dendrophile please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist <3

[cybermeep]

I need to know, what's your favorite sea creature??? Personally I love jellyfish and sharks ^^

AHHH THIS IS SUCH A HARD QUESTION. this is like asking the universe what its favorite comet or meteor is in the entirety of its being, or like asking an entomologist their favorite bug out of the many which exist….

this is truly a difficult answer, as every animal in the sea tends to mean many things to me— whether its a seahorse or sailfish or shark or jellyfish or sea urchin or sea spider and. theres quite a lot.

while both trying to remain most accurate to myself while also properly answering the question, i’ll probably separate between certain creatures and their vertebrate status… for invertebrates even THEN its quite difficult!

for simplicities sake, i will have to default to nudibranchae and other sea slugs outside of said phylum— sea slugs are an enigma, and i love observing how they live day to day. for a longtime childhood invertebrate favorite, i will have to say crabs— i have a vivid childhood memory of going down to a beach and watching the fiddler crabs dig their small holes into the sand as i stood beside my grandmother. probably a core memory which influenced my love of the ocean. i also am quite fond of jellyfish, although only specific jellyfish may be high on my list. i adore the portuguese man o’ war but that in itself isn’t even a jellyfish, instead a cluster of siphonophores.. i love that word, siphonophore. hmm. difficult to say. sea spiders are also interesting organisms i got introduced to a few months back. surprised i never heard of their existence beforehand. some of their colors are truly a sight to behold..

as for vertebrae organisms, its tough as well.. i adore the lancetfish and its mysterious nature, along with such few sightings of the thing because of its preference for deeper water.. truly a spectacle. pufferfish are fascinating. longhorn cowfish & cowfish in general mean the world to me. they are small, but full of energy.. very beautiful. sailfish are also enigmas.

for cartilaginous organisms, that TOO is difficult— all of this is! picking a definitive favorite has never been easy. i adore stingrays & manta rays. fond memories are correlated to those organisms. petting a stingray was a dream come true… ahem, what was i saying? right, cartilaginous organisms. whale sharks & basking sharks are a personal favorite. i love how large & imposing they look, but in actuality are simple filter feeders. gentle giants. the spots on a whale shark are magnificent..

tldr; favorite invertebrates are sea slugs, crabs & siphonophores. favorite vertebrates are lancetfish, pufferfish, cowfish & sailfish. favorite cartilaginous organisms are rays & filter feeder sharks.

even bigger tldr; i love everything in the ocean

[madamescarlette]

I wanted to go through and do an entire written out version of this tag, so here 'tis! Would love to see your responses too if you want to join in <3

(Fair warning that is rather a long post so feel free to hit J on your keyboard to skip to the next thing on your dash with no hard feelings!)

share your favorite memory of this year.

GIRL just ONE?!? I don’t really pick out singular one all-time best memories from across the year, so I’ll give you a chain of really bright good ones instead:

My friends and I went to this conference in the spring that was almost entirely working professionals except for us, so when we first got there it was quite silly because we lowered the median age by a good five years. We got name badges and everything and one of my friends said it felt like summer camp because of that, and after setting up all of our things we escaped to go eat all the free breakfast food, and when I started taking selfies with my muffins everyone else had to do the same, and I felt joy so vivid it was like an ember burning in my stomach.

There was one day this past November where after one of my meetings I was walking my friend over to the bus stop, and we emerged from the campus library for the first time in four hours, and I was trudging along under the slowly changing saplings that line the avenue beside our library and I looked up at the bright blue sky, and remarked on how blue it was. My friend looked up too, and she started fondly laughing, and she told me it was very indicative of my personality that ten minutes before we’d been grousing about class, but I was still noticing how lovely the sky was. It was luminescent and very good to be known so much.

I’ve been struggling with bitterness over a particular situation for the past few years, the kind of bitterness that’s mostly grief because I miss who I was before it all happened to me, and for a long, long while I couldn’t remember what had been so good that I would risk anything, especially my own peace and stillness to be near this person. I hadn’t seen them in a while, but during this poster presentation session that all of my senior class does, I caught a glimpse of them again, and I can’t tell you how…simple and sweet it felt to simply admit that they were beautiful again. It sounds like a funny thing to be grateful for, but when your memory has twisted something into only being painful, it’s an incredibly lovely thing to be able to remember something good about it again. I guess it was kind of like absolving myself from the past, to know there was a reason why I reached out and why I paid the price, that these things don’t necessarily need to be worth it but it was something good that I at least tried. And I will stop being cryptic and leave it there. It was such an answer to my prayers and I will never stop being thankful for it.

Over the summer, there was one day where my grandmother pulled out these GIANT shrimp that she had had hidden away in her freezer, and asked my mom to figure out something to do with them. My mom landed on making gumbo, and it became a quest for the entire household to make this one stew— my grandma kept pulling vegetables from all these hidden corners, my brother and I were sent out to find extra supplies, and afterwards when we all sat down and ate it together, the whole room was suffused in this gentle golden light of early summer evening, happy and content and revived by being near each other and keeping company in this full silence.

2. what was the highlight of your year?

I can’t lie to you and say that it was anything but my graduation! It was five strange twist-y wind-y years, but they are now settling like gems in the core of my being, and I am even now learning how to digest them all and convert them into what they’ve made me become. I’m very grateful, and very glad. It has meant so very much to me.

3. list the top five books you read this year.

In no particular order, just the ones that haunted me most are The Perilous Gard, Assassin’s Apprentice, Vespertine, Gaudy Night, and Magician’s Ward, with extra love to my reread of Goblin Emperor (always my beloved).

4. list the top five movies you watched this year.

Me, laughing nervously: haha don’t worry!! I’ve definitely watch five of those!!! (thankfully I have them written down otherwise I’d be LOST.)

The Batman, Gunpowder Milkshake, The Hundred-Foot Journey, The Thin Man, and let’s be real Sense & Sensibility (1995) which was a rewatch but I think I watched it no less than four times so it deserves a slot here for holding my hand so much.

5. list the top five tv series you binged this year.

THIS IS EVEN HARDER.

Probably…Blue Period (beloved to me), Extraordinary Attorney Woo (EVEN MORE BELOVED), the three seasons straight of The Nanny I watched in dark October/November, Ted Lasso, and most likely Wednesday once I’ve had time to sit with it. Extra shout-outs to the first seasons of Spy X Family and E.R. that I both watched and loved utterly.

6. what is the one new thing you discovered this year (could be a place/hobby/song etc)?

I finally!!! Learned to crochet!!! I’m so happy happy about it especially now that I have a little more time on my hands to actually make something with my hands! It makes me happy every time my eyes land on my hooks sitting on my desk.

7. top three albums that you played this year?

I want to also make a separate post on this (even though it will be useful to like…one person maybe) but: Who Cares? – Rex Orange County, PREP – Prep (yes ik they really had to reach for that one), and obviously Midnights – TS. (Special shout-out to Nurture – Porter Robinson which is holding my hand in this time)

8. your spotify wrapped #1 song

Everything Goes On – Porter Robinson, my dear sweet friend of a song that’s held onto me throughout the wavering and ravening of the horrors this year! It’s all about learning to grieve something before it leaves you but not clouding the happiness of it while it’s still here and I really have needed to hear that so much.

9. your spotify wrapped top artist

Taylor, who else?

10. your personal song of the year.

Tbh it is exactly the same as the one I’ve got, especially since I am usually very aware of the top song that I have because I repeat them so much, and this one helped me so very much. I think I’ll say another one that felt like it reached out and gripped me in its teeth and made me get up again was Thank Me Later – Sigrid.

11. what is an achievement that you are proud of this year?

In all honesty, in the past 24 months I’ve had to do more technical writing than I really knew I was getting in for, but there is something extremely satisfying in being able to drop 5 disparate pieces of work in my grandmother’s lap and go look what I did!!! One of them is 61 pages long oh my!

12. what are your goals for the next year?

I think…not to lose the peace and stillness that this year has given me, also on the flipside not to become too complacent and still be the person who reaches out and accomplishes something. Also as always to become a better daughter and sister and friend and colleague because it is always easy for me to slip in those things if I’m not watching and I want to be watchful.

And I think more than anything else, I want to enjoy this widening horizon before me. I’ve said before that I feel like I’ve been in a long tunnel for a long time, and even though I was always headed towards the end, I made friends with the conductors and other passengers, so getting out of it feels like something strange and mysterious to me. I want to make sure that I make the most of it, go rolling through the fields and lying under the trees and wading in the ponds, and that I always find my way back to gratitude for being alive, because I never want to lose that.

13. any three book releases you are excited for next year.

Bold of you to assume that I pay enough attention to figure out what books are being released when! No but really, a lot of the books I was following were…concluded this year so I don’t have as long of a list anymore.

From looking at a list on Goodreads I was finally able to cherry-pick some, so. I did enjoy Sorcery of Thorns (though my true love in Margaret Rogerson’s books is far outpaced by Vespertine) so I’m excited for The Mysteries of Thorn Manor in January. There also seems to be…an Inheritance Games sequel? For some reason? And by golly I’ll read whatever nonsense plot is going on with those folks if only because I’m rooting for Jameson to go…anywhere else but here. PLUS oh man there’s going to be a new Holly Black set in Elfhame and boy if I won’t read every second of THAT.

14. any three upcoming movies/tv series that you are excited for next year.

SPIDERVERSE SPIDERVERSE SPIDERVERSE plus I have been very charmed by what I’ve seen of the DND movie so far PLUS Dune Part II is on its waaaay if all goes well and you know I love a finale!

15. if you could change one thing about the past year what would it be?

I don’t tend to like talking about changing serious things, because for my life it always feels like I’m being critical of what I have, and I’m trying to always find something to rejoice over what I’m living through! Not that’s bad to regret, it’s just that that’s a very easy way for my own spirit to waste away over and get stuck in a loop of what-if’s. I guess I would have liked to have gone back to my short hair in the summer like I wanted to, because my hair when it gets long always ends up feeling like dead weight to me now.

16. did you manage to stick to your new year's resolutions this year?

I haven’t really been making proper new year’s resolutions that past few years, they’re more like new year’s promises and things I want to carry with me in the new year. In looking for what I had written down, I think I’ll just. post them in full because why not?

Things for the new year:

Be so much of a person that you cannot be anything else.

Make a patchwork quilt of the truths you learn from other people. Know that they will be with you from now on, and be glad, dear heart.

Live with the juxtaposition of being a gatherer and a witness and yourself, your own true self through and through and naught else but that.

(I feel compelled to mention, since the true self is kind of a discoursed concept bandied about around these parts, that me going into last year was like a shelled out half-version of me, so part of my arc was being revived and coming back into myself and feeling like EDEN in all caps again!)

In life, at times you have to hold something that is bigger than you are, bigger than what can be fathomed, and eventually you have to let it go, and the letting go is what makes you into the person you are.

It's good to be good at at least one thing. Even if it's only a multitude of little one things. Like muffins, or remembering stories or dates, or singing one song in particular, or telling jokes. It stifles the heart to believe there is nothing you can do because you can't do it well. Getting started is harder than the doing. When you have the momentum of it, everything gets far, far simpler.

Sometimes, you are not here to tell them what to do. You're here to find people, and to know them, really know them, and sometimes it's worth its weight in gold just to know you live in someone else's brain, and they're glad as anything to know it, so be brave and tell them you care for them.

You shouldn't grieve things while they're still happening. You just end up grieving then twice over. But you can say goodbye, which is different from grieving. It's more like blowing a kiss than it is wrapping your arms around it, and lighter because of that.

To be decisive is sometimes the same thing as being kind.

Never be so funny you lose the muscle ability of being kind. It's an action you have to renew every time, and it can stagnate, as all other muscles do.

17. do you have any new year's resolutions for the next year?

Not really! They’ll be more like the above when I get sentimental enough on the eve, and they don’t like knocking on the door any earlier, alas!

18. favorite meme of the year?

I cannae lie, I’m a simple girl and I thought the PS5 in your mind meme was thee silliest funniest bit ever. Truly like the Palpatine Kermit egging you on to do something but turned up to an eleven and I loved every second of it.

19. which month was the most fun this year?

Ohhhhh probably May because it was like the world was coming back into color and I could finally take a breath for the first time in ten months and I really needed that!!

20. if you could tell yourself something at the beginning of this year based on what you know right now, what would it be?

I cannae lie to you all, I was getting already so tired out already by the beginning of this year and constantly losing my faith in myself, so if I could tell myself anything, it’s simply this: The strength that you look for will very often rise to you when you need it, and so your stewardship of yourself often looks more like making sure that you are rested up enough to be able to find that strength than it is mustering up that strength beforehand. It’s also that you can face things even when they seem insurmountable beforehand, but when there are people around who love you pretty much anything is possible.

21. favorite viral trend of the year?

Well babes I don’t know if I can pick (it’s Dracula Daily) there were so many fun and cute things that we all did together (Dracula memes were my lifeblood) so it’s so hard for me to settle on any favorites (I bought a copy of the book just for this)

22. list any three new things you learned this year (could be recipes, a new skill, etc.)

I made bagels from scratch one time and it was magical! I’m getting better and better at informal presentations and even formal ones! Also it wasn’t purely in this year but I’ve started becoming even better and better at shortbread so now I am lowkey my family’s Shortbread Queen and I’m THRILLED.

23. how would you describe your year in a word?

Hmmmm….bountiful, I think? There was just so much of it everywhere in all directions and I was overwhelmed but so so grateful so often. Also, determining, just in the sense that I think there was a lot that I went through that kind of cast my personality in a mold and made me face things I never thought I could but I actually can and did! Also just— comforting.

I’ve always been an anxious person, and in some ways that will never change, but there’s been something about this year and the last that have made me settle down like I never have before. It feels exciting to me at times, thinking that I’m the oldest I’ve ever been, but at the same time I had the happiest time this year kind of…learning to let the parts of me that didn’t get to live so much in my previous years get to run around and scream and read and sing and laugh and play to their hearts content, and with all of that happening it’s become so comforting to me, just to exist.

I can’t control a lot of things, I can’t really shelter anyone like I used to think I was built to do, but in the end I can figure out how to comfort myself when my melancholia wants me to sit at the edge of the tub and sob my eyes out, and I’m getting better and better at talking myself down from that and when I succeed, I can do a better job at being a comfort to those around me. In a lot of ways, that’s what I’ve come to believe my calling is— to learn how to be a comfort to myself, and through that, being a comfort to those who are near me.

And that's all, folks! Tag me if you want to fill this out, too!!

[tessabennet]

Hellohellohello!

I'm not even really here, but I just saw this, and you know me, I can't resist because I'm nosy AF. So:

⭐ ??? Go wild!

(Also, if you want: Which character was/is surprisingly difficult to write? Which one turned out be much easier than you anticipated?)

Heyyy J, thanks for once again giving me the go ahead to talking about my own writing 😁🥰

I'll start with the last questions:

Who was surprisingly difficult to write? Tony. Definitely Tony. Idk, I was already daunted and unsure when I first started writing him, but thought I could wing it by throwing in the sarcasm and one liners. And they do work, they just kinda turn him into a caricature, which I didn't want. I still think I'm not really getting him *right*, you know, but I couldn’t say why exactly.

The others that were also hard to write at first are Bruce and Thor, but since they were always minor characters and then basically disappeared from the story for a while, it wasn't so bad. Except now I'm post-Snap with writing and am reminded of all my shortcomings.

Who was surprisingly easy? The boring answer is Natasha, but I've talked about this extensively already. The other boring answer is Sam, but I haven't gotten to him yet with the posted chapters, so I'll withhold information on that for now.

So, I'll go with Fury! I was scared of the Secret Agent Talk, but I think he turned out pretty well. Same goes for Maria Hill actually. And Rhodey too. It's very comic book politics, but I ended up exploring the "realistic" parts of the MCU (ie politics and consequences of the on-screen actions) and that's really fun!

Okay, so with the commentary I picked a scene from chapter 28 of Hand of a Devil. I'm not sure if you've gotten to that already, so (very small) spoiler warning if you haven't! I'll put it under the cut, feel free to ignore it.

There's quite some rambling, but I hope it's at least a little fun to listen to read. Thanks again for the ask, I always appreciate it 💜

⭐️ And if anybody else wants a director's cut, please send me more asks! ⭐️

"What does he even want to be now, a superhero?" She huffs indignantly, her mind flashing back to Alexei in his Red Guardian uniform. "There's no such thing."

She can picture Clint raising his eyebrows as he replies. "Well, the three-year-old with the Captain America action figure sitting beside me would beg to differ."

Natasha knows the one he's talking about. Cooper loves Captain America. Cooper also loves Play Doh and Sesame Street.

"I never did understand what that was about," she tells Clint. Her most vivid memories of Captain America were the cartoons she and Yelena sometimes watched during their time in Ohio. "What does an army need a figurehead for? Blatant propaganda."

"He's much cooler than that, come on!" Clint sounds personally insulted. "With the shield and the attitude... The guy practically invented guerrilla warfare, and I read this biography once where –"

I love this scene for a lot of reasons. Not just because Clint and Natasha are always a joy to write together, but because I really enjoy throwaway comments and references like this.

With these lines in particular, what I was trying to do (and I think it worked pretty well) is show the different ideas that Clint and Natasha have about Steve Rogers and/or Captain America, due to their cultural backgrounds and upbringing, before anyone even discovered that Steve was still alive.

Natasha thinks of Cap as a figurehead. She only knows him as either propaganda or a character for children, like merchandise of the United States.

Clint, on the other hand, would've learned about Steve Rogers in history class, at least to some extent. He got taught the strategic value of what Cap and the Howlies did, not just the propaganda aspects. And my version of Clint in particular is kind of a history enthusiast, so he's a bit of a fan too.

And in a way, both are right! Clint's got the perspective on where Steve's coming from, Natasha on what people have turned him into during his absence, while he was in the ice. What's interesting (imo) is how this affects how they meet Steve when he comes back.

[poppingsmoothie]

Too Loud (S4M Splatoon AU)

Yes this is some AU writing about Kamal and Habit! Habit is an Octoling while Kamal is an Inkling! Sorry this is long, and this can be interpreted as platonic and/or romantic

Ever since Habit was little he had interactions with all sorts of conflict in Octo Valley. The loud bangs from testfires with new weapons, the tinkering and hammering from the octarian troops making new tech, and of course; the screams of those who got into trouble. These memories, these vivid memories haunt Habit to this day. Always waking up scared, and turning into his most vulnerable form.

Since he and his friend Kamal moved to Splatsville (taking a break from his own lil town, The Habitat) he’s been doing well! There’s turf war, and anarchy battles, it’s not as loud as those faded bangs, and shouts from his childhood. Everything is okay! But on one morning, he woke up later than he wanted to, he tries feeling for his sea cucumber phone that he always puts on the bedside table...he picks it up, and looks at the recent text he got from Kamal...

“There’s a new Splatfest! Spicy vs Sweet vs Sour, what are you picking?”

...Habit heard of Splatfest, he wanted to host his own but wasn’t sure what the theme would be...plus his mind was in a different state during The Habitat’s liveliest days. He groans and gets ready for the day, maybe he’ll go meet up with Kamal.

Him and Kamal together at the Splatfest ballot. What team should they choose... there was a beat of silence, until Kamal decided to break it. “Uh,,maybe team sweet? It’s sorta ironic but sweet flavors are ah...my favorite, don’t get me wrong I always watch what I eat so I don’t get cavities but sweets are just so good! B-Besides not all sweet flavors come from sugar-”

“Shore.” Kamal looked up at Habit, who was sporting his usual coat and hat. His hat had a little minty green ribbon around it, tied with a bow. “Team swEEt it es!” He smiles at Kamal. “Great! Team Sweet!” Kamal cheered! Habit bounced in place, great his first Splatfest! The days went by and it finally became nighttime in Splatsville, the festivities started! Music blaring across the brightly lit city with beautiful colors lighting each street! Sparks and fireworks glittering in the sky until they fizz and die down!

Kamal knocks on the door to Habit’s apartment. “Hey big guy, we’re gonna be late! Wallus is watching Putunia tonight so we have the whole night to ourselves!” There was silence. Maybe Habit forgot? He does have a strict schedule. Except it’s doing him some good, Habit’s not running around the town making sure others asleep. He makes sure he gets sleep!

Kamal takes a deep breath and knocks again. Nothing. “Oh geez...” he tries opening the door, the doorknob twists and the door opens. Did Habit forget to lock the door? Weird, very weird. “Boris? Ya in here?” He walks in and looks around, there’s not much in Habit’s apartment, some plants here and there but that’s about it. Weird. “Boris! Where are ya?” He speaks out a little louder. He continues looking until he sees something shuffling. Something is under the couch.

He takes another deep breath, preparing for some kind of stray starfish, or something to be under the couch...but once he looked he was met with familiar eyes. “...Boris? Hey you doing okay?” The eyes were full of terror. Peering at Kamal, its eyes were basically daggers. “C’mon let’s get ya outta there.” Kamal says calmly as he tries grabbing Habit.

What Kamal didn’t know is that this scared Habit even more, causing him to quickly skitter out from the couch. No wonder he fit under the couch, he was in his swim form. His octopus form. Even though Habit is bigger than the average octopus, he’s still able to sneak into tight spaces. Kamal looks at Habit, worry written all over his face.

“Is it too bright out there? Is that why you’re scared?” Kamal asked, Habit shook his head. “Ok...is it...too smelly?” Another shake. “Ok hm...too noisy?” Habit nods, and Kamal sighs. “Sorry I didn’t know loud noises bothered ya. If I knew then we could’ve done something else.” He smiles softly at Habit “maybe we can watch a broadcast of the turf wars happening tonight? I can get ya some headphones too?” Habit stares at Kamal, a beat of silence. He nods, Kamal gives Habit a thumbs up.

“Ok, do you want me to stay right now?” Kamal questions, Habit nods and quickly transforms back into his human form. Land form? Whatever it is. He gets up and sits down on the couch. Kamal sits down next to Habit and smiles warmly at the other. “Are ya able to talk? Or do you need more time?” Habit looks at Kamal and covers his mouth with his hand. Signifying an answer. “Alright, say maybe I can make us both some ice cream! Something sweet for team sweet, hah,,,uh,,,yeah...” Kamal gets up and goes to the fridge to find some.

Habit can’t help but smile, tears threatening to escape his eyes. He’s grateful he’s not alone. He’s grateful he has someone to lean on. Someone that will help him no matter how small the situation may seem. Kamal comes back with two bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream. The two of them spent their evening, to bowls of ice cream and letting Habit borrow Kamal’s headphones.

[hawkinshellraiser]

@ems-roleplay-blog

You. He didn't say that part, though. "Well, I can't really see anything without them. Plus, people invented these really cool things called lamps, and I thought that if you wanted, I might turn mine on. Almost like it's there to light things up, y'know? Crazy."

"You're not. Again, you know. I wouldn't let you sit here in my bed with me and talk my ear of at..." He glanced to the clock on his bedside table, "three-fourteen in the morning." But he couldn't really judge or be irritated. He'd been on the other side of this more often than once or twice. Woken up Robin, or Nancy a few times when he'd been flung into the waking world in a cold sweat with very vivid memories at the forefront of his mind.

"By barely skating by." He joked. "Kidding. By having other people who know what you're going through around to help you in the way only they know how to.”

“Shut up, Steve,” Eddie mumbled harmlessly as he moved to lean against the headboard beside him, sinking down in the bed a little. “Keep the lights off, it’s fine. Easier on the eyes.” More romantic he almost said until he decided against it.

“Right,” Eddie agreed, but he still wasn’t sure. Steve was probably just being nice. It was easy to forget it but they really barely knew each other, and if Eddie didn’t have a fat gay crush on Steve he definitely would have gotten at least a little bit sick of him. Still, he didn’t feel like arguing with him about it. “I’ll try to pick a more convenient time to freak out next time to make it up to you.”

Eddie looked over at him, able to see him a little through the darkness since they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. “Is that why you’re really close with the kids?” he asked. He’d definitely heard a comment or two about how the once great King Steve surrounded himself exclusively with freshman now, and even before they’d properly met Eddie didn’t understand what was so wrong with that. Especially since he knew most of said freshman and didn’t think they were so bad. Though he’d never tell them that.

[killscreencinema]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (NES)

I remember being so excited to play this when it came out in 1989! I was living in the country at the time when my parents had the terrible notion that it would be fun to live on a farm out in the middle of nowhere for no particular reason. I should add that despite having farmland, we didn't do any farm stuff, so the whole experiment turned out to be a pointless exercise in tearing me away from the familiarity I had worked hard to get comfortable with at my first school and starting all over again in a new school.

I'm going on this tangent to say that I was at a point in my life when I looked to games like TMNT, or Super Mario 3 (which also came out around this time), as a life raft of sorts to keep me from dying of boredom. I have a vivid memory of my uncle picking up this game and Simon's Quest while coming over to our house to visit and accidentally running his car into a ditch on the way over. My dad had to pick him up and when he got to the house, he handed me the games and was like: "These had better be worth it."

They really weren't... but I didn't really know it at the time. Not yet.

You see, as a child in the 80s living on a non-functional farm, with no cable TV, and no neighbor kids to play with, I tended to have a lot more tolerance for crappy games because I was so starved for entertainment. Hell, I even rented Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, one of the worst NES games ever made, around this time and made the best of it. Plus, this was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which I was obsessed with, and I hadn't yet a basis of comparison with the arcade game because I hadn't even seen it yet (although it came out the same year). So it was beyond my understanding that it could be anything but a good game, and I think a lot other kids at the time felt the same way.

It wasn't until the Angry Video Game Nerd reviewed this back in 06 that someone finally perfectly articulated why this game was actually quite bad.

I'm not about to defend it, as it is definitely not a good game, but I will go so far as to say it's at least functional... sometimes. It's playable when you're not dealing with slow down and flickering enemies. However, it's entirely too difficult - like, unfairly difficult. The game finds cheap ways to knock off your health, whether it's enemies attacking you while you're helpless on a ladder the moment you enter a new screen or the dreaded electrical seaweed in the underwater bomb disposal level (the stopping point for many an 80s kid).

A large part of what sucks about this game is how absolutely terrible every turtle is besides Donatello. Yes, he has great reach with his bo staff, we all know this (although I would argue in the later games it's not as long a reach as we remember), but it's also quite powerful, usually capable of killing most enemies in one hit. Whereas the rest of the turtles have to dispense multiple hits with their piddling little weapons before vanquishing anyone. Good luck landing those hits before taking damage yourself, especially with Raphael or Michelangelo, whose attacks are a joke. You can find secondary projectile weapons, like throwing stars or the scroll weapon (which is the best weapon in the game consequently), that great help making the rest of the turtles playable, but those are finite, so you have to use them wisely.

Another frustrating aspect of the game is the non-linear gameplay. You have a traverse a map and find the correct level in order to advance in the game (so for example, if you're trying to rescue April O'Neill, you have find which building or sewer level she is being held). Often, you have to find an item in order to even open up the rest of the map first. So unless you had a walkthrough, which most of us didn't back in the day, it's trial and error looking for this shit, all the while your turtles' health is being chipped away with each deadend, and if all the turtles die, it's game over. Oh, and you only get two continues, so good luck 8-year-old Craig, ya little pissant!

The one thing that I will say this game has going for it, that still holds up today, is the music. That opening beat for the title screen will forever be burned in my brain, as will the overworld map music and the first level music. I'm not as familiar with the music in the later levels because I haven't ever had a chance to play them until now by cheating my ass off using the rewind feature in the Cowabunga Collection, but that music is pretty decent too.

Revisiting this game as an adult, and experiencing its absurd difficulty and needlessly confusing gameplay, I can safely say it's an entry from the TMNT video game franchise best left forgotten when you can play the myriad of excellent beat 'em ups instead.

[onigiri-dorkk]

There was a Reddit question recently that asked, “What is an excerpt you are most proud of writing?” and this is what I immediately thought of and submitted.

Mikasa picked up her pace to walk closely beside Levi on the dirt path. She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the early morning post-storm rain that rose in the fresh air. They were surrounded by barren countryside now — dewy planes of grass completely fertile and green eventually turned to golden fields of wheat, dried in the high afternoon sun. It was peaceful and completely untainted by war or titans.

Far away stood a tree on a hill; a sight that would never fail to unearth the memories of Mikasa's past. Her sullen face could not hide the growing ache in her heart at the view. Lost in her thoughts, her feet stopped moving.

Leaving Eren here was necessary and unavoidable. She knew that. Eren had always been the one to run away from her, yet this was Mikasa's first time being the one to walk. And it was good. Freeing, even.

But something still panged deep inside of her. Perhaps it was the unspoken grief of watching a loved one slip further and further into darkness to a place where you can no longer reach them. Or maybe it was just that the sun shining on her now was the same that shone on them as children, yet it didn't feel the same. Whatever dark feeling it was replayed the vivid images of young Eren rolling around on the grass below the tree as she and Armin playfully tossed sticks and branches at him, laughing innocently into the air without a concern of the world.

There were endless happy memories, all innocent and pure, as untainted as the open fields before her. But there was simply no possibility of going back to those days. Memories are simply best as memories. And that was okay. She just needed time. Then, maybe there would be more growth than the fact that she no longer reached for fabric around her neck.

Maybe this really was the start.

Levi glanced back, noticing Mikasa slow her pace to a standstill. Her somber gaze traveled far out to the open fields, tresses blowing softly against her skin as the wind brought her even further. Levi reached for her hand, grounding her again. She was grateful for his warm, wordless expression paired with the unhesitated touch that always reassured her of his presence with her.

He didn't try to distract her from her painful memories, nor would he ever dare to imply that none of it was worth looking back on anymore — of all people, he understood that the memories of loved ones would always remain largely in their hearts. He simply knew what was most important to Mikasa, and perhaps what would always be most important to her, was to stay beside her in the midst of the pain; to love her deeply and closely, without hesitation, without fear, to sit with her when she felt alone in the darkness... Just as she had asked of him that morning.

(From Ch16) I’ve been wondering lately why it is I love Ch16/17 the most from my story and I realized, after submitting, that it’s because I spent a lot more time in inner thoughts and feelings. With all the resolution it allows time for that — whereas now when I reread some of the beginning chapters I find myself thinking “I should’ve spent more time in their thoughts here” and all. (Though I will say the Ginseng chapter 4 is one of my faves too, again, probably bc it taps into inner thoughts more than 1-3).

It’s fun to see how my writing style changed in the span of one story. I also got some really lovely feedback on my submission and it made me happy.

That said, I’m really fkin proud of Ch15-17!! Ch11 too. That’s the kind of writing I want to get back to and the kind of feeling and inner thoughts I’ve been trying to tap into again for this new longfic I’m working on.

[ktharses]

things i couldn't tell my diary # 3 - reminders of manila

after recently setting foot on up manila after three long years, i am reminded by a period of my college life that, in actuality, went by so rapidly but still felt like decades worth of memories.

i remember being so afraid of travelling to manila. i remember wanting to cry on my first ever train ride alone, and how the empathetic stare of the woman beside me comforted my fears (as if she knew exactly what was going on inside me head, as if she knew exactly that i was a province girl trying to arrive to my future campus safely). i remember crushing on this guy that i was next to when we were claiming our IDs. i remember having lunch with my then-blockmates for the first time, and how we've finally met each other after weeks of teasing each other on our group chats.

i remember taking a picture with jannie for the first time when we were inside the college of dentistry - just before i had my dental records checked. i remember how much we talked even before meeting in person, and how i was so relieved that we got to be friends. i remember crushing on her friend, which was a funny little feeling that allowed me to survive the remainder of my days in up manila.

i remember that first block lunch. it was in jollibee. i was trying to give a good impression. i remember it was hard for us to find seats because of how big of a group we were. i remember taking candid photos of father (kuya aleck) as he was intently listening to whatever johann was saying at the time. i think i could even copy his expression if i were to be asked.

i remember the first day of class and how we had to line up in our little quadrangle. and how afraid i was of standing under the tree because of the falling caterpillars. i remember only knowing a few people - still oblivious of the existence of people i would eventually bring to meet my parents to go camping one day ahhaha (hello nababasa nyo kaya to?)

i remember being really close with dan and fed. how we'd take pictures of each other outside the building after AKWE. how they'd visit me in my condo and how we'd watch the world revolve around us as we sat in the lounge at the 10th floor. i remember how dan was always down to join me in all of my spending. how he helped me pick my mint and gray running shoes that i still have. how we tried every milk tea shop in robman. how he came with me when i wanted to buy new pants in penshoppe. and how we took that mirror selfie - i was wearing a baby blue striped shirt and he was wearing his UE shirt. we were waiting for the others before we went to keei's place to sleep the night so we can be early for our PE finals in diliman.

i remember walking to roxas blvd with biboy and dan just because we had nothing better to do. i remember everyone debating where to go for lunch (but always ending up in the two nearby KFCs or mcdo). i remember talking with czarina at ministop over our fears of being stuck in a program we didnt like.

i remember how much my legs ached as i was trying to go up and down the stairs of rizal hall a day after PE classes. i remember thinking how sir enzo talks so quietly that most of the time i couldnt understand what he was saying. i remember the mirror pictures we were taking every after PE. i remember how sir enzo fed us pizza on the last day of classes.

i remember being so scared of having sir ken as a prof because of all the bad reviews he was given. i remember being afraid to attend sir ag's class because of how he loved using index cards to randomly call people. i remember loving maam rhozie's class, and how (and why) she is coco martin's ex-wife AAHHA (v1 peeps know!!). i remember dreading my STS class because of our odd professor. i remember feeling so thankful and guilty towards sir vio because of how understanding he was, sometimes i felt like i didn't deserve it.

and as much as i remember the good and amazing days - the bad days are just as vivid.

i remember dreading waking up every morning. i remember crying on my way to class because of a random panic attack. i remember my friends getting worried because i wasn't attending my classes. i remember crying to dan and fed in mcdo when i opened up why i was avoiding them. i remember crying in a bathroom stall on the right wing of rizal hall when i felt overwhelmed about pre-reg because i didnt know what classes to take anymore. i remember feeling left out because i was the only one in my friend group who failed math 83. i remember feeling ashamed of myself as i type another email to sir vio as to why i couldnt attend his class again.

i remember feeling really pitiful on my birthday as i skipped classes and spent it alone on our condo and celebrated with a subway sandwich. i remember constantly fearing losing my scholarship. i remember trying to hide my tears every time my parents would call. i remember how much my heart would ache when i had to say goodbye to my parents. i remember my head feeling physically heavy. i remember the constant doubt, anxiety, hopelessness. i remember trying to power through it all with whatever hope i had left.

i still do not understand how i was able to remember so much from that time.

to me, up manila will always serve as a reminder of a youth that has passed all too quickly. a youth that i tried to remember so much. when i was still oblivious of the world around me, surrounded by people who are also trying to find their places in the world.

to me, up manila will always serve as a reminder of my identity. a trial by fire that almost broke me. a safe haven with all the people i treasure the most.

i dont really know what the point of this is. maybe im just trying to write as much as i can as an outlet. yes. this is me dumping all of the emotions ive suppressed for the past few months. here they are now.

i miss you terribly in all your terribleness, up manila.

[maryoliverdotcom]

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

this is a repost because tumblr, being a jerk as always, decided to delete the former post. if you like this one, you could maybe check out the entire series using the masterlist i'll post in a few minutes.

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

A sudden, vivid memory flashed in my mind. We were six. A year had passed since my meeting with Paro. We were running around like hooligans in the park while our mothers talked about work, pados-wali aunties and whatnot. I still remember what Paro was wearing: a frilly, white frock with Minnie Mouse sewn onto its sleeves. The sky was red and so was our laughter, until Paro bent down and ripped a flower right off its stem. “For you,” she had said, clumsily tucking the flower behind my ear. When she touched my earlobe, the flower was white. When she let go, it was red.

Another memory. We were nine. She sat with me on the bed while I rambled on about my latest hyperfixation: dragons. She listened to every single detail I had mentioned and, by the end of the afternoon, showed me a drawing of a wyvern.

Twelve. I was reading The Priory of the Orange Tree, sitting on the windowsill. I took a sip from my milk tea, letting out a contented hum. I wasn’t on the windowsill anymore. I was Ead, pressing a kiss to Sabran’s brow. Sabran was someone who looked uncannily similar to Paro.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear. 

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3:

hi renu are you awake?

—00:27

do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to? 

—02:01

its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you

—03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week. 

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around. 

Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

I opened the door to the balcony and hoisted myself up on its railing. It was an easy jump. I tumbled onto the grass, praying that a grasshopper wouldn’t find its new home in my ear. The grass was wet and the air smelled of petrichor. 

I stood up, smoothening my pyjamas. Staying out late at night was a risky thing, especially in our neighbourhood. Plenty of TicTac-shaped pills here and there, and men on the prowl. I didn’t give a damn. I was eighteen and probably feeling some feelings I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. (That’s a lot of ‘feeling’s, I know.) What could possibly hurt me?

A lot of things, I realised, as I walked up to Paro’s house. Like that mad dog Rathode had warned me about. The creepy guy who keeps children in his basement (just a speculation, but when Madhu speculated about something, it was most probably right). An overspeeding motorcycle that could crash into me any minute. My own mother, with her pots and pans, once she realised I was gone.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

The tin shade Madame Fosco had installed last year was probably on its deathbed by now. Rust had made its edges creaky, but Fosco was deaf, anyway. I grabbed onto it and hoisted myself up, finding myself staring right at Paro’s face, our faces a millimetre away from each other’s. She screamed.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I whisper-shouted, if that’s a thing. If it wasn’t, it probably is by now.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. 

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on. 

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back.

Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise.

I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she gasped. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I grinned. “Just like the old times.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.”

Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved. 

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your fucking CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

I hummed. Did she know about the history of ‘OK’? Probably not. I’d tell her. Not knowing things I wouldn’t be able to tell her before we drifted apart wasn’t a good idea. At least she’d be able to tell her children that their Renu Auntie had told her about the history of ‘OK’. Maybe she’d sigh and think of me, again. Words were a certain but clumsy way into a person’s mind. 

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind.

It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

She looked like Aphrodite, the goddess of love born from love itself, in all her glory—clutching a book of Edgar Allan Poe, the letters of which shone in the lamplight or moonlight, that I do not know.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped as I ran my fingers along the edge of its spine. It was a leatherbound book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe written in shiny gold lettering. I opened the first page.

To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

[storiesofpol]

Humming Bloom: Chapter 1

13th day of Starfest, Year of the Moon 592

"Only those in the tent and the Revolutionist's advisors knew what was on the scroll. As she predicted, the scroll led to the college being built in the Blooms. Whatever stirred the fear of the five most powerful beings in the four kingdoms has still yet to come to light though nearly every being that shows talent and potential above their peers enrolls in Humming Bloom College to celebrate and prove themselves to the alliance and their kingdoms." A freshly adult nymph explains to the children of his village as he places his last bag outside of his childhood home. His tied-back green hair absorbs the crisp late summer sun as his dad pulls out his last sword from the house.

"Myron, your grandmother wouldn't like you talking about her founding the school like it's an urban legend especially since you are attending that school.” His father stood much larger than his son. His obsidian horns resting in the blonde nest of his hair paired with his taller stature made him need to bend to leave the house he has raised his son in for the past 12 years. The children that Myron was entertaining now started gawking at his father Calum begging for one last story about the Great War of the Four Kingdoms that he had unfortunately been a part of. His scars that he covered around the kids and the eye patch hiding what was left of his left eye always drew them to him. “Now children Myron and I need to get on the road, I also have no more stories to tell that you haven’t heard before. Maybe if you work very hard and train as I taught you, when you get to Myron’s age you can come to the Blooms and hear my stories once again.” He patted each of them on the head with his tanned hand before nodding to his son to follow him to the car the school had sent for them.

Myron gave one last look at the house now empty for the first time since they moved there. He followed behind his dad and set his last bag in the car's trunk. “You know most parents just send their kids to college, not take a job at the school their kid is attending,” Myron remarked, pulling his flannel sleeves down to cover the green of his arms as he got into the car.

“I was offered this position when the school first opened but declined to raise you away from the school. Your grandmother was quite insistent that I take the job as one of the head combat trainers, it is rather hard to tell her no after all that she has done for us.”  He got into the car and nodded at the driver to start the trip to the college. “Besides, it is about time I visit your mother’s resting place again.”

“I never knew the great traitor demon general of the kingdom was afraid of a little half-elf that spends her time looking after a school and flowers.” Myron teased his father and chuckled, “Can I go with you to visit her this time? I want to get to know more about her finally.”

“You act like your grandmother doesn’t hold the leaders of the world in the palm of her hand. She is an excellent leader and I never regret following her orders over my king’s.” Calum ruffled his son’s hair, “ As for visiting your mom, sure if you think you are ready to do so. I know you are strong enough now to handle whatever comes up with visiting her.” He spoke his words somber and worried even after 19 years of her passing it felt as if it were yesterday for him.

“I will be fine, you and the nymphs prepared me for what to expect and there is only a slight chance of reliving a past life’s memory anyway, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Myron reassured his dad and looked out the window, watching the pine trees pass by, watching them turn more vivid and plentiful as they travel closer to Humming Bloom Forest.

“I don’t want you to live what I relive every time I go back there. However, you are an adult now and I can’t protect you from everything.” He patted his son’s shoulder, “Have you decided on your major yet? I know you have been trying to avoid picking one but have you put any thought into it?”

“I have I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. I know you wanted combat and grandma wanted me to look more into the leadership route, but I would rather go into cross-kingdom communications and humanities.” Myron hesitated with his response, not looking from the window his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“That sounds like it will suit you perfectly. However, I must recommend taking courses in both leadership and combat. You never know what you’ll face.” Calum told his son, and looked over at him, “I also will never be disappointed in you, I couldn’t have asked for a better Sprout.”

“Well, I was told by everyone growing up that the Blooms is the best place for a sprout to grow.” Myron chuckled, and glanced at his dad. "Why did you move us out of the Blooms when the university was formed? I know those in the camp were allowed to stay with their families."

Calum sighed and thought of what to say, his usual chipper expression changed to a far more serious one, his eyes furrowing and his head looking down at his hands. "The short answer is I was worried about you getting hurt." Myron stared at his father waiting for him to give the longer answer, not being satisfied with the short answer, he urged him to go on by raising his eyebrows and shifting his attention completely to his father. “ I figured that would stop working now that you are no longer a child.” Calum sighed and nodded to the driver in the rearview mirror who then put up a privacy screen for the back seat. “Your grandmother gave me an option to stay there with you and be a trainer at the school, which in normal circumstances wouldn’t be so terrible, but there was a catch.”

“A catch?” Myron inquired looking confused, not thinking it would be that severe to where his father would leave the place he always spoke so fondly of.

“I would have to give up being your father. You would’ve still been at the school and I would have been one of your trainers and coaches, but for your safety, I would’ve had to treat you as if you were just another kid in the camp. At the time I was angry, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t stay and still call you my son, until the first letter your uncle Llyr sent. He and Uncle Thorya had received many threats from students that were entering blaming your grandmother for everything. Some unfortunate beings thought it would be a good idea to try to act on the threats. Of course, Thorya sent them to their nightmares, and over the years as people started to forgive and forget it has calmed.” He took a breath in, “If I had stayed with you being known to be my son I couldn’t guarantee your safety. I promised the nymphs and your grandmother that I would always protect you. I do believe however, you are more than capable to handle yourself now, so I shall make my return to the blooms with you as my son.”

Myron gave his dad a bitter-sweet smile, thinking of the various sacrifices that he had to make throughout his life for a brief moment until the privacy screen came down.

“Sorry sirs, I don’t mean to interrupt but we are entering Humming Bloom Forest, and the school grounds shortly.” The driver announced before putting the screen back up.

Myron looked out the window the pine trees were replaced with aspens and then with Wisterias as they approached the large cobblestone wall of the university. As if it were a castle for a kingdom much richer than the four combined it protruded through the trees and towards the clouds.  “Woah.” he mumbled at the same time as his father.

“Last time we were here it was only tents scattered around, I can’t say I prefer this but at least we won’t be sleeping on the ground,” Calum said watching outside as intently as his son, his mind flashing back to the years prior comparing the scenes in his mind. “That path leads to your mother’s tree.” He pointed to a gated-off area with a sign for a memorial garden. 

Myron glanced over taking it all in, speechless at everything he saw. He had only seen pictures of the school since it was built and spent most of his time dreaming of being here. A scene flashed to him, one of a flower-filled meadow the sound of laughter coming from behind him as he went to look at what it was he was brought back to the car as it pulled in front of the main school building. As students and their families were saying their hurried goodbyes, excited cheers could be heard throughout the halls. 

"Myron you go and get ready for the opening day assembly, I have to get the movers set up. I'll get your boxes set aside for your dorm that you can pick up later."

Myron nodded and took his backpack as he got out, "I'll see you later dad." He said with a wave as he walked to the entrance. The car pulled off as he went through the doorway crossing the last boundary of his childhood to his adulthood.