#prolixposts

[penguin-cafe]

[penguin-cafe]

Haikyuu season 4 is fast approaching and am I ready? Am I emotionally, physically, mentally in the right place?? Will I get off my ass and finish reading the damn manga?¿? Am I emerging from a caccoon I somehow put myself in only to recede back once this high is done?¿?¿?

that got too deep. Anyway, haikyuu s4 is coming and I'm so excited

[penguin-cafe]

Explorers of the Universe

Kei shrugs. “What do you think people like, gift-wise?”

Tadashi furrows his brows. “What--”

“I’m not making chocolate and I can’t afford something big and expensive, so I’m asking your opinion.”

Tadashi almost asks why, until a small thought comes to his head. It’s near Christmas Eve. He wants an alternative to chocolate gifts. Tadashi gasps.

“Tsukki, who is she?”

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13138359

My secret santa fic for @o-kei ! I hope you enjoy and have a happy holidays!

[penguin-cafe]

I asked my sibling @marshm3llow-tears to make me a Holiday Header~ and this was the result Absolute Perfection

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Yearbook AU (WIP)

WIP #3: Here’s a yearbook au idea I had going on a long while back! I’m not sure I really like this one, tbh -- it’s definitely not my best, but I’m posting it anyway. enjoy!

---

He had been too busy, too afraid, to even consider joining the Yearbook staff in his first year of High School.

Added to that, he actually found he couldn't join until at least taking a class on Journalistic writing beforehand, so really, what was he even doing here, standing in front of a wooden door at the corner of the school, reading ‘Yearbook and Newspaper Clubs first meeting today at 3:00 p.m. sharp!’?

Yamaguchi Tadashi waited until his last year to stand in front of this door, had mustered the courage to speak with the supervisor of the club at the last second when being handed a flyer, and had even almost forgotten to turn in his application form out of nerves.

In all actuality, the one thing that had truly prompted Tadashi to stand in front of the Journalism room door at 3:03 p.m. and not flee was Takeda-sensei.

Only two days earlier, upon noticing him in the hallway, the teacher had eagerly waved and ushered Tadashi into his small office with writing sprawled over the walls from messages of past students. Tadashi remembered feeling claustrophobic in the tiny space and had asked about the messages. Takeda-sensei had only laughed it off and explained that he had taken over as the new Journalism teacher for the year and that the writing had been there for the previous teacher who had quit after a baby and a prospective job working at a community college had shown up. On top of that, there was her hip injury after she'd crashed her motorcycle into the side of her neighbors house. Takeda-sensei said she was such a charitable woman with a carefree spirit, but all Tadashi could imagine in his head was a woman with twelve tattoos, a baby strapped to her chest, both wearing camo and warpaint, as she flew her motorcycle down a winding dirt road.

‘So, I saw your application!’ Takeda - sensei had said, a grin spreading across his face. Tadashi scratched the back of his head and made a sheepish smile.

‘Yes, I… I understand if I'm not qualified for it-- I mean, I never took Journalistic Writing 101. And-- And, I don't know how to work a camera, really, I'm sorry for wasting your time--’

Takeda-sensei had only fixed his glasses and widened his gaze.

‘Oh no no no, I'm not rejecting you. You're able to join just fine! I've contacted your other teachers and they've commended your work ethic. As for not being able to work a camera, that's fine, I can teach you all you need to know and there's other kids in the club who can show you the ropes.’

Tadashi remembered how confused he was. There was a pool of regret rumbling in his stomach, causing his throat to dry. He really hadn't anticipated to actually be accepted into the club. It was just a nice ‘what if’ at best.

Takeda only smiled and clasped his shoulder.

‘We have our first meeting of the year on Wednesday. 3 p.m. We like to stay punctual, so you'll need to be there on time, if not earlier, or else you won't be let in. That's just the rules.

‘Anyway, I really hope you'll make it. The staff will be excited to have a new member join the team.’

Tadashi can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he looks at his shoes planted in front of the clubroom door, hearing the chatter of voices from within but unable to join. He supposes it’s for the best. He would probably mess up their routine, interfere with some system they had set. He doesn't know how to operate a camera, let alone work with photoshop, or anything. He’s never even taken a single writing class as well, so he asks himself again, twice in his head, why would Takeda-sensei ever even think about having him join?

Tadashi bites his lip, sucks in a breath, deciding to hide out in the library until after school activities were over, that way his mom wouldn't ask about his early appearance at home.

“Are you here for Newspaper or Yearbook?” A voice asks behind him and Tadashi makes a small gasp, hand gripping the strap of his backpack as his gaze falls on a tall blonde, eyes dull and face quizzical.

Tadashi shifts.

“Yearbook… but I came a little late. To the meeting.”

The blonde looks behind him at the door with chattering voices and takes out his phone.

“If it's your first time, he won't count anything against you. Move aside, someone's coming to open the door.”

Tadashi, feeling clumsy and confused, looks to the boy in front of him and then turns around too quickly, trying to move away from the door right when it’s thrown open by a short redhead.

“Do you at least have a pass this time?” The boy looks up at the blonde, a large frown on his face until his eyes wander and land on Tadashi. His face then splits into a grin, eyes bright.

“Oh hey! Are you here for Yearbook or Newspaper?” The boy stands up straight, seems to bounce in his step as he moves aside for him and the blonde to come in.

“Uh, Yearbook,” Tadashi says. He's never noticed how low his voice was before, or maybe it was just that he was comparing it to the volume of the redhead’s booming one.

He shuts the door behind them and Tadashi notes how cold the room is as well as the amount of paper scattered on desks, the whiteboard covered with scrawled drawings and drafts of ideas. He notices a blonde girl talking with a dark haired boy at a couple of desks over. Well, she was talking, the boy just nodding along with a strained expression, as if trying to understand her brainstorming.

There’s a few other students in back, but Tadashi figures he wouldn't have to worry about them seeing as their side of the room was marked as ‘Newspaper Club meeting in session, Do Not Disturb!’

“I guess it's a good thing Tsukishima’s always late. You could have knocked! Takeda-sensei has a thing about being on time, but he's understanding. Oh, my name’s Hinata Shoyou.”

The boy named Shoyou holds out his hand and Tadashi shakes it.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Shoyou grins and takes a seat at a nearby desk with papers littered atop. He fishes through the pile and hands Tadashi a blank sheet.

“Well, Yamaguchi you didn't miss much. Takeda-sensei had to leave early today, so we're just coming up with ideas for sectioning up the spreads.”

Tadashi hesitantly takes a seat next to him, eyes flashing to the others in the room, where the blonde girl and dark haired boy had separated and began to leaf through pages of older Yearbooks. The boy named Tsukishima had retired to the opposite end of the room, placing a set of white headphones to his ears and diligently putting post it notes to pages in a faded red Yearbook, pushing up his glasses as he did so.

“Oh, sorry for not introducing you. Everyone kinda gets into their zones around here. But, don't worry, we'll have an official meeting next week when Takeda-sensei isn't out sick. Then, he'll assign you your spreads.”

Tadashi nods to the boy, who seems as if he could talk endlessly about this, one foot on the edge of his seat, the other bouncing and ready to fly off.

“What is that?”

“What's what?”

“A spread?”

Shoyou beams and places his hands at his desk.

“Okay, so, a spread is an entire page-- So let's say, Takeda-sensei assigns you the Baseball page. You'd have to make-- well-- something that looks like this,” Shoyou hops from his desk to take the Yearbook from the dark haired boy’s grasp. He flips open to a random set of pages as the boy behind him yells. “See these two pages side by side? That's a whole spread, and you can design templates for them--”

“Dumbass, go get your own book!”

“Hold on a second, I'm borrowing it!”

“Give it back--” The boy leaps for Shoyou who holds the book behind his back with one hand and pushes at the boy's face with his other.

“No, I'm showing him what a spread is!”

Tadashi backes away from the two, who look almost ready to fight. He raises his brows.

“Um, guys! Remember Takeda-sensei said if you broke anything again--” The blonde girl speaks up, face contorted into a fearful expression. Tsukishima only lays his head against his hand.

“Let it go!”

“Let go of my arm!”

“Get your hand out of my face!”’

“Get your face away from my hand!”

Tadashi watched as Tsukishima rolls his eyes. The blonde girl bites her lip and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she scurries over to the Yearbook cabinet with the others. She smiles and huffs out a laugh at Tadashi.

“Don't worry. They'll usually just break it up after a bit… usually.”

Tadashi smiles back, makes an awkward laugh. “Sure…”

The girl nods then widens her eyes as if she'd forgotten her manners. “Oh! My name’s Yachi Hitoka, by the way! It's really nice to meet you and have you on staff!”

“He hasn't been appointed to a position yet,” Tsukishima reminds her, eyes scanning the text boxes of a Yearbook. Tadashi blinks at them both, trying to seem as if he had a clue.

“Ah, it's nice to meet you too. I'm Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Hitoka smiles. “Well, I really hope you can come to next week's meeting! Sorry this one didn't go… quite as expected. We usually have a really nice atmosphere! Oh, and I can't wait until we start to show you how to make templates, right Tsukishima?”

Hitoka clasps her hands together with a broad smile, but Tsukishima had left to the other side of the room to study while she'd been talking. It was at this time that Tadashi also realizes the room is quieter than before and turns his head to see the fighting duo fuming silently at their desks, flipping through pages as fast as they could and coming up with design ideas.

Hitoka laughs lightly. “See? They're more competitive than anything. I think it just brings out the best of them, though… in a way.

“Anyway! You can look through these Yearbooks here and just-- um-- write down anything you see that you like. And we try to incorporate that into a new book. Oh, and ask me if you have any questions-- I'm a little new to this too, but I'll be really happy to help!”

Tadashi nods as Hitoka beams a bright smile-- he finds that he very much likes her smile-- and hands him a pile of books, ranging from black and red colors to teal and white. He furrows his brows as he glances at a cover.

“‘Nekoma 2009’...,” he reads and looks up at Hitoka. “Are these Yearbooks from other schools?”

“Oh, yeah. A lot of them are.”

“Why?”

“Well… some schools win contests for their designs. And Nekoma’s concepts are always cool to draw ideas off of. Although, if I had to choose a favorite design template, I'd say Shiratorizawa 2011 was a really cool one! They coordinated their colors and had no empty space! It looked flawless!”

Tadashi feels his eyes spin from what she said. He nods along, but quickly feels he has nothing to contribute besides questions.

“Um… So, what about Karasuno’s then? How have our past Yearbooks looked?”

Hitoka bites her lip and gives a sheepish smile. “Well, Karasuno’s yearbooks have only… I mean, not that they weren't always good! We had a few good ones… ten years ago maybe-- but the past year and a half is when we really got some good designs.” Then, Hitoka shifts her eyes and lowers her voice. “But even then, they couldn't really compete with a lot of the neighboring schools.”

��Can I look through them?”

“Of course! We have last year's--”

“No, I mean, do you have all of them? Even the older ones.” Tadashi feels something switch on in his head. He doesn’t know what, it feels like a jolt, a spark maybe. His mind is interested, and he doesn’t even register that it is.

Hitoka looks at him then holds up a finger as she flees to the office. Tadashi sets down his stack of books as she comes back with a small key. He watches as she scoots to the left wooden shelves and unlocks the top ones. She opens the doors and nods at Tadashi.

“Here you go. I think that cabinet goes back to the 90s.”

Tadashi looks up at the spines of the books, eyes searching the small numbers as they slide back from the 2000s to 1992. That was the last one. He lifts his fingers to touch across some that are glossy and some with the numbers engraved. He never thought how much he could appreciate a book as much as he did right at this moment, seeing it freed from its concealment, knowing that previous students had built this with their own minds and effort. A feeling washes over him.

“Next week's meeting, we're gonna go over title names and reworking with template design, so Takeda-sensei wants at least two ideas from each of us on how a page should look,” Hitoka says to the whole group. Tsukishima only nods that he'd heard her and the two others tell her they'd get it by the end of the week.

Hitoka turns to Tadashi. “Is that okay? I understand if that's a lot to take in on your first day. I just hope you can come by next week and at least see the process.”

Tadashi nods at her.

“I can handle it.”

---

The week passes as it usually does, and it isn't as if Tadashi expects a sort of acceleration to the plain rhythm that High School has always droned, but the familiar faces he draws out in a crowd are more noticeable.

He can spot the towering Tsukishima so easily in his classroom, he wonders how he's never had his sights cross with the tall blonde before. Maybe he just wasn't paying attention, too focused on his inward anxieties and calculating ways to speak to people without showing his complete lack of confidence. It wasn't as if Tadashi was unlikeable by everyone, in fact, he knew the names of almost all his classmates. It was just a matter of proximity.

The people he really notices throughout the week are Hitoka and Shoyou. He sees them walk down the halls, and they wave at Tadashi as if they were old friends. Tadashi is unsure why they do this, especially with that amount of seemingly genuine enthusiasm. He waves back, but that's all the interaction he gives.

He hasn't quite figured out the dark- haired boy's name yet, but he sees him tag along the two others, face either in confusion or indifference, with the occasional bickering scowls at Shoyou. The pair seem to always be at extremes with the other. Whether it's in declaration of a fight or excitement at a conversational point that Tadashi doesn't have all the pieces to yet. He figures they must be friends at the very least.

The weekend rolls as quickly as it ever does, and it isn't too long before Wednesday afternoon meets Tadashi’s gaze, as his eyes peer at the clock on the upper right corner of his classroom.

He hears the teacher go over homework assignments, and he swears he must've written them down, but his brain forgets once the last bell rings, and a rush of students flee from the classroom to their homes or after school activities. Tadashi feels his eyes shift back to reality and he pushes his notebooks and green, dingy pencil bag into his backpack.

It isn't until he hears the skid of another chair against the floor that his gaze shifts up for a moment and he sees Tsukishima gather his things with slow movements, as if he really doesn't have anywhere pressing to be.

Tadashi bites his lip, feels a bubbling of words in his gut try to surface on his tongue, telling himself to have a bit of courage as his own chair skids against the floor. He lifts his bag onto his shoulder and bounces in his step a little.

“Um… Ts--Tsukishima?”

The boy in front of him turns and raises a brow. Tadashi tells himself not to feel so intimidated by the stare, but finds that thought to be stupid since the guy practically held the definition of a piercing gaze.

“I-- do you want to walk to the club meeting together maybe? Last time I got a little lost and that's why I was late, but, um, it's really fine if you have to do something else first. I was just wondering… is all…”

Tadashi holds onto the strap of his backpack. He was kind of glad he was able to get that many words out without slipping up too bad, and also kicking himself for even bothering the guy in the first place. Tsukishima only looks back to his desk for a moment and finishes placing his things into his bag, then zipping it with much more grace than Tadashi felt he had in his entire pinky.

“How did you get lost? The school's not that large. Besides, this is your last year.” Tsukishima says in reply, hoisting his bag to his back and looking back at him once before walking to leave the classroom. Tadashi, cheeks florid from embarrassment, takes that as a cue to follow. He scurries to catch up and shuts the door behind them.

“I’m a transfer… So this is really my first year here. And, well, the room is kind of blocked off from view where it is.”

“We're stashed in the corner of the school where they hide their skeletons.”

Tadashi isn't sure whether he should laugh or not, but he stifles a chuckle under his breath. Tsukishima glances at him from the corner of his eye. Tadashi stiffens.

“Sorry. Couldn't tell if you were joking or trying to be a poet.”

Tsukishima only twinges an eyebrow. Tadashi blinks and attempts to explain himself.

“Because skeletons in a closet-- and you're the Journalism crew, so you pretty much harbor all those secrets-- Oh look there's the door, thank god.” He whispers the last bit to himself.

Both boys look to a dimly lit corner of the school with a wooden door surrounded by various black and white photographs, outlining it in a decorative frame. It was hung open, as the time was only 2:57 p.m.

“It looks like it belongs in a movie. The lights keep flickering like it's on purpose or something…” Tadashi says under his breath, mostly to himself. He hears a small noise from Tsukishima and can't quite distinguish it, but thinks it's something similar to a small laugh. Tadashi feels weirdly like smiling, not knowing himself as the type of person to make someone laugh.

The two file into the room and Hitoka is already propped on a desk, swinging her legs out beneath her. A pen is perched between her teeth and she stares hard at her notes with a strong determination. She looks up and falters when Tsukishima moves toward his desk at the far right and Yamaguchi stands in the middle near the whiteboard, unsure of where to sit.

“Hello,” he says with a small wave. Hitoka waves back and stretches a wide small, quickly fetching the pen from her mouth and placing it on the desk beside her as she hops down.

“Hi, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima,” she says and Tadashi is reminded of a small yellow bird fluffing out its feathers as she skitters across the room and toward the projector.

“I'm so sorry, I should have been setting up the slides before you got here. Oh, but, it's really good to see you came back!” She grins as she plugs in the monstrous looking projector and taps at the laptop perched behind it, connecting it with an easy flow.

“He just wants to see the skeletons. We've got a masochist in our midst,” Tsukishima says as he retrieves a piece of paper from his folder. Hitoka looks confused and quite taken aback, but all Tadashi can do is laugh.

Hitoka ends up laughing as well out of nerves, though Tadashi can still see her blatant confusion.

He then furrows his brows as he fetches for his piece of paper with design ideas he's spent the last week researching.

“Where are Hinata and…,” He asks, but the questions drifts as he can't place a name to the other. He's hoping for a lifeline.

“Oh! He and Kageyama are bringing in the new cameras we’re getting this year!”

“If they manage to get past the parking lot without breaking one.,” Tsukishima adds.

“I guess we should place our bets.” Tadashi says in reply. Tsukishima snickers.

[penguin-cafe]

Seeps of Sunlight (WIP)

WIP #2: This one is set up to be a Bridge to Terabithia AU. Another kid fic, but with small changes here and there. (Like, does this have the same ending as BtT? who knows???) Also, warning for minor depictions of bullying. (It’s more of an implied than an explicit sense)

---

Chapter one

It started off with another sleepless night.

His eyes didn't even feel droopy. His stomach was making this weird gurgling noise. Yet he felt no hunger. And his mind was clear.

Well. Save for the jumbling thoughts bouncing around in his head, going off like firecrackers.

He figured it was no use to lay in bed and wait for sleep. So, Tsukishima (fucking) Kei did what he’s done every sleepless night before school: he reached for his glasses and flicked on his light to find his headphones.

His eyes glanced at his bedside clock as he placed his glasses atop his nose and pushed them up toward his incredibly not tired eyes. 3 a.m. He barely blinked at it, unsurprised.

The window on the other side of his room was slightly open, bringing in a drift of wind and the dark, dark blue sky. Perched above dark, dark green grass hills.

He could only make the outline of some distant horizon by the illumination of the moon, which really wasn't lit at all, he knew this from his grade school science class that it was reflecting some light from the sun. Really, the sun ran everything, the moon just used some of its power to illuminate those dark, dark places when it could. That, and it created the waves of the ocean, but Kei was unsure of what else the moon worked so hard for. He hadn't learned those parts yet. Or maybe he just forgot that information.

Maybe he just never really cared, unless it was at 3 a.m. and he couldn't sleep, drowning himself in an endless stream of thoughts.

He brought his headphones near him and plugged them into his phone, scrolled his finger over a playlist and sat back on his bed as the music flooded into his ears. He waited a moment, eyes staring into an empty space of the room until he blinked and came into focus again.

He sat with his back against his headboard, and as the music thrummed with his heartbeats, he picked up a book near his bedside table and started to flip through it, though he could barely read through one sentence without forgetting the entire thing. He just needed to pass the time until an appropriate hour came along where he could walk into the kitchen downstairs without disturbing anyone.

Again, his mind wandered. Though he thought the music would maybe be the cure for his perpetual stream of consciousness, it only served as a battery.

Kei’s mind was on school. He’d barely started junior high a few days prior, and there was nothing particularly unusual about that, he did spend a third of his day in school anyway. But it wasn't the building nor his classmates or even those three kids who would choose a new victim to bully at lunch break. It was strictly the material.

And, maybe, also the new kid. Now that he thought of it.

They were learning about biological processes in plants. Really, such an invigorating lesson, it put half the class into an open-eyed coma. The teacher was too lenient for Kei’s tastes, but really, he didn't care that much about it.

What he did care for was what the lesson entailed for him and how much effort he had to put into it. Kei found out at a young age that you really didn't have to put too much effort into a school project. As long as you knew the basics of what you were talking about in straight bullet point form and could provide a display that looked like time was spent on it, an easy A was granted usually every time.

But there he was, getting off track. What his mind rounded back to was the new boy in his class. And for a rural part of the country, it was sort of some big deal news at the school if there was ever a new kid.

He remembered how shy he'd looked as he was introduced. The teacher wrapped her hands around his shoulders, long red fingernails seeming to enrapture his limbs. The boy’s eyes were wide as she smiled with her red, red lips and adjusted her half-moon glasses, placing a hand out to the class.

‘Everyone, I want you to give a warm welcome to our new student. His name is-- what's your name, sweetie?’ The teacher had smiled down at him and the boy looked positively stark. He whispered something near her and the sound seemed like barely a breath of air, even to Kei, who was assigned to sit up front.

The teacher had nodded. ‘His name is Yamaguchi Tadashi and he'll be joining our class for the rest of the year.’

Kei remembered thinking how obvious that was and how the teacher usually had a habit of pointing out obvious things.

‘Now, why don't you take a seat over there, honey. Far right.’

The boy nodded and moved for his seat, but nearly tripped (over nothing, it seemed) and burned red. About as red as the red, red of their teacher's lips.

Kei watched him out of the corner of his eyes as he took the empty seat by the window with plants hanging from the sill. The boy wrung his hands together beneath his desk, head bowed a little, brown hair falling around his face a bit, save for the patch that seemed to stick up at the top. But Kei had turned around too soon after that, toward the diagram of a plant cell on the board, mind settling on that instead.

Kei remembered seeing the boy briefly at their lunch break, watched how he'd scurried to the restroom after the three kids that poked fun at things started to surround his desk.

Then, once more on the bus ride home. Yamaguchi sat at the back, fingers curled around the straps of his backpack and eyes toward the window. He wiped the back of his sleeve over his eye. Kei sat at the near front where it was easier to get off of the bus and briefly met eyes with the boy, a split second of awkward noticing. And that was the last of it.

He wasn't sure why the new kid was clouding his thoughts. Then again, he couldn't say he was altogether surprised by it. When new things happened in a quiet town, they stuck in your head, and he didn't need to know psychology to know at least that.

He guessed the thing that seemed to widdle away at his mind was that bus ride home. He wasn't exactly sure, not being the most observant person while walking home with headphones on, but he could have sworn he'd seen the boy get off at his area as well.

He could have sworn there was something off color, purple, the same as their teacher's dress, on his left cheek. Engulfing his eye.

But, then again, maybe it was something else.

He looked at the clock after a while of sitting. 5 a.m. Two hours seemed to fly by so easily.

He sat up, took the headphones from his ears and placed them back on his bedside table. The sun was still hiding from view, the dark, dark hills and grass as obscure as before, but at least he could start getting ready without his mother finding him and telling him to get back to bed.

The morning rushed by after that. Which was weird, how time seemed to fly and stretch. How it stretched between wafts of cooked eggs and flew as he tugged at his shoelaces and was pushed out the door with his older brother.

They walked down the long hill to the edge of the road to catch the bus. And there, he could see a familiar brown head of hair, the small tufts at the top catching up in the shifting wind. Kei furrowed his brows, touching his brother's sleeve.

“That's him,” he said.

Akiteru looked down at Kei with absentminded confusion, previously humming a tune of his favorite video game theme.

“What?”

Kei turned his head and pushed his glasses up. He gazed at Akiteru.

“We have a new kid in our class.”

“Oh, that's cool. And you think that's him down there?”

“That's him.”

Akiteru smiled. “Well, we should say hi--”

“I think he's fine,” Kei interjected, lowering his voice as they were coming within earshot of the boy.

Akiteru only smiled, scrunched his brows,  and shook his head.

“Okay. I'm just saying it would be neighborly. Maybe you guys could be friends.”

Kei pursed his lips. Akiteru then took a hold of his head and ruffled his hair about. Kei thrashed at him and pushed away.

“Stop!” He scowled.

“No need to be embarrassed, baby brother!”

“Get away from me. You still smell like after-school practice.”

Akiteru only laughed and gave one last pat on his shoulder before walking ahead of him.

“Well, if you don’t say hi. I’m going to. He looks lonely.”

Kei only rolled his eyes and walked slower. Akiteru jogged down the incline until slowing as he came to their stop. Kei watched as his brother grinned down at the boy sitting there, welcoming him to the neighborhood. He saw his brows furrow, but he kept his smile. Kei wondered why, until Akiteru pointed to him and waved and the boy turned his head.

It was a bruise. That’s what he’d seen yesterday. A fading purple on his left eye.

Kei found his eyes lingering at it, and the boy became flustered, immediately staring at the dirt road again, swinging his legs back and forth in a jittery motion. Akiteru noted the silence and took upon himself to fill it, asking the boy where he was from, giving him a warm smile. And Kei? He stared at the trees beside them, at the birds fighting over a meal in the dirt patch by a tree stump.

When the bus came around, he was relieved.

[penguin-cafe]

Midnight Berceuse (WIP)

WIP #1. Here’s a music AU sort of! The gist: Tsukki is a wealthy kid who is basically a cellist prodigy. Yama is on the other end of that spectrum and believes he excels at nothing. His mother becomes a nanny over the summer for Tsukishima which leads to a blossoming friendship. (well, it’s supposed to)

---

Yamaguchi Tadashi heard the music as a quiet murmur through the door, the soft vibrations of something heartbreaking tearing through the muffled barrier.

The boy stood by it, his fingers barely touching the wood, just reaching to the knob. He sucked in a breath, feeling the small gust of wind from the room as it opened.

Tadashi, two months from his twelfth birthday, counting the days with eager breaths, had felt he’d never seen something more beautiful, felt he couldn’t possibly be allowed to ever see something more beautiful than the sight he witnessed with the opening of the large, oak wood door.

A quartet played.

Piano, violin, and viola all took a somber cue at the mark of the next page. A cellist played beside them though he found his place at no one’s side as he stood out on his own. The pianist boy shifted in his seat as the melody drolled out, the violin’s rhythm becoming slower as the viola and cello seemed to meld together on cue, the cellist bobbing his head of blonde hair ever so slightly, the slightest yet the most elegant of movements, and began his solo of the piece.

The air seemed to chill and only the intoxicating sound of a hushed, velvet whisper of a bow against string filled the hall. The piano quieted, falling into a slow and light pattern with the two string accompaniments only switching from two notes. The cellist wound his arm tightly around the beautiful instrument.

Tadashi noted that the boy’s eyes were closed and a peaceful, yet haunting expression fell over his exposed features.

Something tugged at the nearly twelve year old boy’s heart.

Then, something actually tugged at his sleeve.

He looked up and found his mother’s smile and light brown eyes as she crouched down beside him. She seemed to take stock of her son’s lingering gaze as his brows creased in a saddened expression of their soon departure. He wanted to hear the rest of the song.

She lifted her hand to the side of his cheek, rubbing her thumb at a patch of freckles, wiping a smudge of dirt.

“We have to go now.”

Tadashi looked down at his shoes, his ears still following the strokes of the cello’s tone.

“Is that the boy, mom?” He asked, a little nervous, anxious, and afraid all at once. He flickered his eyes up again as the music flooded around them, quieter this time, allowing the pianist to leave the closing statement of their somber lullaby. Tadashi yearned for more of the cellist’s melody.

“Yes, that’s him,” She replied as Tadashi looked over to the blonde haired boy again, who’s eyes were still closed in his own world. He heard the sigh of his mother above him, realized she had stood and was waiting for him to come along.

“Will we live with them?” He asked, shuffling his feet toward the doorway. His mother made a small laugh.

“No, honey. I’m only going to be a temporary nanny. Three months and they’ll shift me out.”

“Oh, okay,” Tadashi thought out loud as he finally walked out of the door, feeling a rush of disappointment as he heard the echoing thud of its closing behind him, then the click of his mother’s heels against the tile as they made their way out of the large, posh building.

“Oh?” His mother questioned, patting his hair gently. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about something…”

“About what?”

Tadashi shook his head, a little unsure. Then, he shook it again, realizing he remembered the thought that made him sad.

“He looks a little lonely… Little scary too,” He looked up to his mother who, in turn, looked into the confines of her purse for her keys which jangled somewhere within.

Tadashi sighed to himself as he stood by the car, kicked his shoe at a small rock.

“I don’t think he’ll like me.”

He knew he'd have to see the boy more often, his mother had to take Tadashi with her to most of her jobs, if they allowed it, afraid of leaving him home alone. Since Summer was coming, he'd have nowhere else to be.

His mother gave him a tender scrunch of her brow as if to ride off that ridiculous statement.

“Of course he’ll like you,” She said under her breath as she finally found the keys and ushered her son into the car. He did so with small movements and once they were settled, she looked over to him and drew out a breath.

“His mother told me he doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

Tadashi chewed at his lip, kicking his legs beneath him.

“Those weren’t his friends?”

“Who?”

“The people. Those kids playing?”

His mother smiled gently. “Maybe. She says other children aren’t used to him. Buckle up.”

“How come? He plays the cello really good,” Tadashi remarked, placing his seatbelt on, wondering that if he had a special talent, anything special about him, then he wouldn’t be as lonely as he was. Special people had friends, unlike him. They deserved to have friends because they had something that Tadashi didn’t. He wasn’t unique. He wasn’t special at all.

Sometimes he felt like he was bullied in order to push something out of himself, maybe a bit of courage or some ambition he never knew he had. His mother liked to say he was a late bloomer. But that just felt a little weird and uncomforting to him. He wanted to shine, not bloom. He wanted to shine like that boy with the blonde hair and comfortable expression, the boy who he bet had friends.

---

The clinking of fork against plate seemed to irritate their maid, her eyes narrowed in the young blonde's direction.

“Kei, you need to eat,” she said with a forced politeness.

The boy shook his shoulders.

“I don’t like it.”

She sighed and looked at the older boy sitting across from him, raising her eyebrows with a half-tired smile. The older boy smiled back, wiped at his chin, and looked at his younger brother who rolled a piece of broccoli along the edge of his plate in complete concentration.

“Hey, remember that story in the paper the other day? That whole controversy with that athlete on steroids one.”

“Sure. You kept talking about it. I couldn't not know,” the younger brother answered immediately, although was unwavering. Akiteru raised a brow at him with a small nod, though the boy couldn’t see.

“Yeah, so, turns out the guy-- completely innocent. Can you believe it? Huge as a boulder with that body mass index.”

“Fascinating. And what next? You’re going to tell me it was all because he ate his veggies as a kid and grew into a meaty giant?” Kei retorted, but regardless, lifted the piece of green broccoli to his lips and chewed. “That’s almost as bad as the Popeye the Sailor Man story.”

He continued to stab at his plate, ignoring the way the maid sighed below her breath, the way his brother gave a small shift of quiet laughter. He ignored the silence he left in the room.

“Can I eat in my room?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why?” He swiveled his fork around his spaghetti in disinterest.

“Because you're having a family dinner, Kei,” she said patiently. Akiteru glanced between them briefly. He wanted to release a large breath but felt it would disrupt the already tense atmosphere. He looked carefully at his brother.

Kei stared at his plate.

“Well, I’m not hungry for ‘family dinner’.” He said under his breath, making small quotation marks with his fingers.

Before their maid had a chance for a reply, Akiteru piped up, clearing his throat dramatically and snapping his fingers as if he had just remembered the most incredible of coincidental circumstances for conversation.

“Hey, they’re playing your piece, right? At the concert hall?”

Kei averted his eyes, making no expression.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s incredible!”

“Not really. Lots of kids have been chosen before.”

Akiteru laughed and shook his head vehemently, watching as his brother shrunk into the seat.

“It wasn’t ‘lots of kids’, Kei. You’re only one of five adolescents to ever be chosen to play their piece at that concert hall. That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, one in five out of five applicants for classical composition. Real exciting stuff.”

His brother rolled his eyes with a grin as he poked the end of his fork in Kei’s direction, pointing at him.

“Well, mom and I are excited. Can’t wait to hear when it’s finished.”

Kei felt a prickling irritation bubble in his stomach and fought a grimace.

“Cool. Can I go to my room now?”

He waited only a moment, glancing between his brother and the maid, both with brows furrowed, wanting to understand the boy who barely understood his own anger.

“I'm just... tired. Nervous. End of year exams are coming and all,” Kei excused, gave a small shrug of his shoulders to avert their watchful attention.

Akiteru took the bait, smiled with a nod.

“You'll do well. You always do. Summer’s coming soon, too.”

Kei forced a tight smile, scooted from his chair, and started to make his way to his room, when:

“Maybe dad will be back by then, too,” Akiteru said. Kei paused. “Mom’s going to visit him after her interview with the nanny on Saturday.”

Kei shuffled his feet to a stop on the cold, linoleum floor. He looked down at it.

“Cool.”

Akiteru turned in his seat to gaze at his brother softly.

“Hey… don't worry. I'm sure he'll keep his promise this time. I know she's assigned a nanny but that's just Mom with her backups, just in case flights go wrong, meetings are shifted, plans--”

“Plans get canceled. Expect the worse. I know,” Kei retorted.

Akiteru furrowed his brows, looked to the side.

“You know he doesn't mean to be so absent, Kei. It's his job. We all got jobs to do, sacrifices to make,” He said gently, trying to make him understand. But the boy stood with his back facing him, silent and fuming.

“Mhmm. I'm going to bed,” He looked back at him, gave his brother a small smile, then looked away. “Goodnight.”

Without another word, Kei ascended the stairs, reached his bedroom at the end of the hall, and closed the door tight. He scanned his eyes around the space, sought his white headphones at his bed, and immediately set them on.

The tune of a frantic symphony rang in his eardrums. He let it fill his heart, flood his mind, calm his nerves.

Tapping his fingers at his phone, he sat at the edge of his bed and drew out a long breath. His eyes scanned the room, large windows framing one end of it, where his white desk sat against it and his cello rested in its corner, a notable presence.

He stood up, padded to the space, and reached into the top drawer of his dresser, fingers flitting over clothing until touching the edge of something stiff. He reached for the object and withdrew a framed photo.

It was old, and he wiped the dust from his fingers in distraction as his gaze fell on two smiling faces. One, a bright grin of a blonde man with crinkles at his eyes. The other, a younger version of himself, smile soft, and if pictures could produce sound, he would hear an eruption of giggles.

But that was then.

He pushed the photo back under the clothing where it belonged. Out of sight, but always at the back of his mind. Just like the man in the photo. Just like his dad.

He felt his heart hammer. His throat was burning, neck itchy.

He reached for his cello, withdrew it from the warm comfort of its case and set himself up at the corner of his room, forgetting the sheets of music stacked on his desk, as he placed bow to string.

And he released.

[penguin-cafe]

for the dialogue prompt, 6 for anything!

Thank you so much for sending a prompt! (Really, though, thank you Yuki, you’re a beautiful soul!) 

(Okay, okay, I tried to write something other than tsukkiyama but i think we all know by now i’m too weak for those two.)

—

He runs to class with his shoes half on and his books covering his head from the rain. Sliding, nearly slipping, when he enters the doors of the school building, Tadashi shakes the droplets off his hair and frowns. There’s odd ends of the brown mess sticking out on top, and he doesn’t have time to smooth anything down. He changes shoes, fumbles with his locker. There’s a few stragglers, but none seem as flustered as his own shakiness. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, ducks around two people walking in the halls and finally makes it to class. There’s probably only a minute to spare. He’s a little out of breath, but mostly relieved.

“Made it,” he says as he slides into his seat.

“You’re dripping water everywhere.”

“I didn’t check the weather.” He groans in reply to his best friend. Kei considers him with a glance and a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah. Even though I told you yesterday–”

Tadashi isn’t listening as his eyes shoot open, and he turns in his seat, searching all over. 

“Oh no.”

“’Oh no’ what? What ‘oh no’?”

Tadashi gives a pleading look. “Hey Tsukki,” Kei nods at him, raising a brow. “You’re my best friend, right?”

“What do you want?”

“Can I borrow a pencil,” Tadashi pauses, gives a sheepish smile. “And your homework.”

“Goodness,” Kei mutters under his breath, but is already fetching in his bag, albeit with a how of annoyance. Tadashi watches the time and bounces his knee as water droplets land on his hand. There’s a thunder clash outside.

“Hurry, hurry–”

“Here.” Kei hands him a mechanical pencil, and his homework, a golden ticket in Tadashi’s gaze.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Tadashi says all in one breath, as the teacher walks in. His eyes grow wider, his head ducks low behind the student in front of him, he wishes Kei sat in front of him for only this moment in time, then fumbles his hands all over his desk, realizing an important thing with a small gasp. He slowly looks toward Kei once more.

“Um…”

Kei looks at him with a tired gaze, expecting this.

“And some paper?”

“I’ll pay for your lunch.”

“Don’t bother.” he says as he hands him some paper a moment later, after writing something on the top corner.

Tadashi takes it gratefully, tries his best to get enough on the page as quickly as possible before reading what Kei wrote. Look at the board.

Tadashi looks up, scrunches his brows, then realizes another thing this morning. He puts his head on the desk. Math doesn’t start until the afternoon. This is English. 

A bolt of lightning flashes outside the window, and the sky grumbles. He can hear a snort from Kei as he passes back his homework without a word.

—

[penguin-cafe]

Tsukkiyama WIPs

I’m posting some WIPs I have in my folder! Because A. I MISSED OUT on posting something for tsukkiyama day! I have to make up for it! and B. I have this really silly idea in my head that all my works are crap (darn you depression!) so that’s part of the reason I haven’t posted/written in a while haha! 

So, I’ll be posting a few of them in a few minutes! Note: these are all WIPs and are either not finished, or probably won’t be finished in the near future (unless there’s a huge want for them to be finished so I’ll try to work on them!)

[penguin-cafe]

a few thoughts

Sooo! Hiya!

Okay, here’s the scoop. 

As fate would have it, I’ve been going through some major depression. Wooo! Yeah. Not very fun. Also not very fun in trying to hide it half the time, even to my doctor -- turns out, I’m actually a good actress! A new career has fallen into my lap, it’s destiny.

I tell terrible jokes.

Anyway. What I’m trying to say here is that I’ve been dealing with depression for quite a while and it got to the point of almost no return. So I sought some help. And I won’t go into details, but... yeah. Had to do some hospitalization. Nothing about the process was anything to be ashamed of, even if my thoughts screamed that at me at the time. (And most of all, I’m really doing better now.)

It has taken a toll on my life thus far aaand I just. I don’t want it to anymore. I’m gonna try to take those steps so I no longer allow that. (Of course, that’s a long, hard process but I’m hoping if I say it enough, it’ll be easier to help myself mentally)

So, as I blow out a breath and try to explain the reason for writing this post, it just basically boils down to my hope that you all are doing well as i write this tonight. Take care of yourselves. You’re not alone. And you’re strong. Incredibly so.

[penguin-cafe]

Something I have to tell you

So I feel kinda bad for not having updated any of my fics, and I'm really in the mood to write more, but not having a good laptop at the moment is no bueno. But but! Here's something I sorta wrote a while back and it ain't perfect but, it's some tsukkiyama to quench my need Anyway. Ramble over. Read if you'd like. Thanks! --- “There’s something I need to tell you…” There was a pause in the room, the only sound coming from the small air conditioning, grumbling its ferocious belly in the space between them. “What is it?” He asked, shifting his head to peer at his friend clearly. He pushed up his glasses, watched as Tadashi roamed from one foot to the other, slightly pacing the room. He took a shuddered breath. “I’m…” Words became stuck in his throat. He scratched underneath his chin, then at his arms, pulling down his sleeves to not mark them red. Still, his fingers flitted. Kei stared at his fidgeting hands. “What’s wrong?” He asked, slowly, sitting up straighter and crossing his arms. Tadashi could barely look at him, seemed to scrutinize the floor. He swallowed, felt his neck, and blinked several times. Finally, for a moment, one fleeting second, he looked up. Kei met his eyes. They were terrified. “I’m-- bisexual, Kei.” And it was barely a sound, barely a second of space. Tadashi, immediately, cast his eyes to the floor again, taking a deep breath. Kei scrunched his brows, completely confused. “...That’s all?” Tadashi took another long, shaky breath, trying to laugh. “Ah… well… yeah, I guess-- half. Half of it. But I’m not… really ready for the other half.” Okay, that really confused Kei. But not for the reason Tadashi might be assuming. “Oh no… I’m sorry. I just. I needed-- I needed to tell you. You, um-- I really needed to tell you, that’s all…” Kei raised a brow. “You think I’m mad?” “Well, no-- not mad… but… weird from it? I don’t know, I don’t know,” Tadashi put his hands through his hair. “I don’t mean to assume that, it’s just-- I don’t know…” Kei reached a hand out, slowly feeling his presence. “If it helps, I don’t feel any differently.” Tadashi looked over at him, peeking behind one of his arms, fist curling into his hair. His mouth shifted into a small smile. “I… yeah, it does help.” “Not that I should. Or you should assume that I’d be--” “No, I know. I was just worried…” “Of what?” Tadashi gazed at him. Then, his eyes found a space to the right of Kei, in thought. “I need to tell you something else… I just… needed to know if it’d be okay.” He said, clearing his throat and putting his hands between them. “If we’d be okay.” Kei narrowed his gaze. “Obviously.” “So… you’re sure… we’re okay?” “Yamaguchi, I’ve seen you rip your pants open trying to catch a cat.” Tadashi put a hand over his face. “Don’t bring up the pants story now! And besides, it’s not the same, Tsukki.” He laughed. Kei shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just trying to tell you nothing would make us not okay.” Tadashi’s laughter withered into a broken smile. “I don’t know about that… maybe not everything…” He muttered. Kei looked at him, made a sigh. “If you need me to make a big promise out of it, we can pinky swear or something, just no blood oaths--” “No no,” Tadashi chuckled nervously. “Um… okay… okay, okay. I’m gonna tell you.” He shook out his hands. Kei raised his hand, signaling him to ‘go for it’. Tadashi nodded. “Alright. Um… I…” He stilled, eyes wide as they stared at the ground. Kei waited, though grew bored. Anything Tadashi had to tell him couldn’t possibly ruin anything, but Tadashi did have that tendency to think those things. Maybe he should say that… He looked at him, standing in deep concentration. He decided to just give him time. And three minutes passed… Kei sighed, reaching forward and patting the top of his head once. “Say it. Don’t say it. It doesn’t make a difference. I’m getting back to the homework.” Tadashi looked at him, shaking from his catatonic state. “Wait--” He tugged at Kei’s sleeve. Kei could see a few tears sprout from his eyes before he looked away. “I’minlovewithyou.” Tadashi mumbled beneath his breath. Kei thought he heard wrong, knew he most definitely did, because that was the most ridiculous sentence that could come out of his friend’s mouth. “What?” He said. Tadashi, hand shaking at Kei’s sleeve, tugged harder. “I love you? Um… I have for a while. I’ve been… I’ve been in love with you for the past two years--well, give or take. I’m not, um, really sure when. Maybe that doesn’t matter, but I-- love you.” He paused. “Um… just to be clearer, it’s more than a best friend kind of thing. But I’m getting through it, so, don’t worry about anything, I just-- needed you to know… oh god-- just, don’t worry about it, please.” Oh. Well. … That was a lot to take in at once. FUCK. I TOLD MYSELF NOT TO DO THIS. YOU HAVE A FINAL TO STUDY FOR YOU LITTLE SHIT. GO WRITE YOUR PAPER GOD DAMN IT. UGH. (finish this later tho lol) --- ...Okay that last part was a note to self after I wrote this back in May pfff Thanks for stopping by ☆

[penguin-cafe]

Congrats on 100 followers!!! I'll ask for Tsukkiyama, even though you said we don't have to because I want to. :D Anything where it's really too hot outside to kiss but they wind up doing it anyway.

Thank you so much!! You got it! *finger guns*

It feels like the sun sticks to his stomach, burns through his shirt, and Tadashi follows the trail of the rotating fan, swiveling slowly back and forth.

“Your tongue’s hanging out like a dog,” Kei snickers next to him, popsicle in hand as he wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead with the first article of clothing he finds in his vicinity, which happens to be one of Tadashi’s shirts, haphazardly thrown on the floor in a messy pile by his bed.

“It’s so hot,” Tadashi replies, dramatically laying on his back, an arm thrown over his face as he chuckles. “Tsukki, that’s my shirt.”

“It’s dirty anyway.”

“Boys, what are you doing?” Tadashi’s mother barges into the room, holds her hands at her hips by the doorway.

“Dying,” Tadashi groans out.

“Slowly.” Kei adds, knees tucked into himself, popsicle cooling the side of his cheek. Tadashi snickers at him from his view on the floor.

His mother raises an eyebrow. “You’re too cooped up in here. Why don’t you get outside, get some air, there’s a light breeze.”

Tadashi throws his hands up. “Air? The air is fire outside! There’s no breathable oxygen left. We’ll die faster.”

“We can only hope,” Kei murmurs under his breath, and Tadashi snorts. 

His mom shakes her head. “You can’t spend the entire summer in here.”

Tadashi thinks to himself that might be the perfect idea, but sighs, looks up at Kei as his mom leaves the room. Kei is looking at his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he shows the screen to Tadashi.

Tadashi laughs, points at the screen in delight. “We should do that!”

Kei takes back his phone and inspects the picture. “Do you even own any?”

“Water guns?” Tadashi looked to the ceiling in thought. “No, but I’ve got an idea.” He says, lifting himself from the floor in a hurry and scampering out of the room. 

Kei looks after the door for a while, then hears a clutter from the room over, reluctantly getting up.

“What are you–”

“Okay, so,” Tadashi starts, head enveloped into the closet space as he digs out party supplies. “Aha!” He says, bumping his head on the shelf. Kei puts a hand to his face as Tadashi rubs his head. “Ow.”

“Please.” Kei sighs at him. “What did you find, buried treasure?”

“Yup!” Tadashi holds up a bag, recently opened and half filled with colorful balloons. “It was my cousin’s birthday recently.”

Kei takes the bag with a smirk, a knowing look passing between them. 

They fill the balloons in the kitchen sink, Tadashi carefully placing each into a large bucket which they carry outside, each holding one end of it. Tadashi makes a mischievous smile. 

“You’re going down, Tsukki.”

“What are you, a grade schooler?” Kei retorts as the bucket sloshes onto the back porch as they set it down. 

“One?” Tadashi starts.

“Two.”

Before the count of three, Tadashi takes hold of a balloon, Kei as well, although a second too late. Water splashes onto his hair, soaks the top of his head. Laughter spills from Tadashi’s mouth as he runs off with an armful of balloons. 

Kei wipes his face, aiming one square at Tadashi’s shoulder. 

“I’ve been hit!”

“Don’t play dirty.”

“If anything, you’re getting a well-needed bath right now.”

Kei aims another one at him, but it misses as Tadashi ducks, yelping, then sticks his tongue at him.

“Mature–” Before he can finish the word, a balloon hits Kei’s side, water bouncing and splaying over his shirt. 

Tadashi laughs at the sight, until his balance gives way and a balloon drops to his feet.

Kei barks a laugh at that. 

An hour later, breathless and soaked, they lay on the grass. 

“Truce?” Tadashi says, sticking out a hand in the air between them.

“Never.” Kei replies, tone serious, and Tadashi laughs. 

Kei turns his head to him, lets out a small laugh of his own. 

“You have grass sticking to your hair.” Kei says, flicking some of it off. Tadashi tries to look up at it, then realizes he can’t really see the top of his head, and simply lets him brush it off. He looks over to Kei, tilts his head. 

“Can you stay there, actually?” He asks. Kei, still brushing off the strands of grass, looks down at him.

“Why?”

“You’re blocking the sun.” Tadashi gives a cheeky grin. 

Kei rolls his eyes and Tadashi laughs again, pats a hand at his cheek. He doesn’t know why he does it, just thinks of it as a small gesture, but suddenly it’s so so hot. 

“It’s really hot.” He says, doesn’t think about why he says it. He’s honestly not thinking of much else but the heat and the way Kei’s face looks without his glasses as he blocks the sun from view. 

“Hm, no shit,” Kei says lazily, still brushing at Tadashi’s hair. There had honestly been only two or three blades of grass. His hair felt soft smelled wet.

“You smell like wet dog.”

Tadashi made a face. “Wow, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“Well, we can’t all smell like strawberries, some of us humans tend to sweat.”

“Your hair smells nice, though.”

Tadashi gets a fond look, it passes over his face. Kei feels himself burning, burning, it’s too hot.

Tadashi reaches up anyway, inclines his head, and yeah his neck kind of hurts, but his lips feel amazing. And yeah, it’s suddenly burning, and beads of sweat are collected at their top lips, at their cheeks and foreheads, but he finds he can stand it. 

For maybe three minutes. 

Kei pulls away first, their faces still close, that light feeling consuming their chests.

“Okay, it’s too hot.”

“Yeah, your sweat’s sticky.”

“Beautiful phrasing, really.”

“I try.”

Kei kisses him again before the sun wins out and they head indoors, where Tadashi plops in front of the fan once more, and Kei looks at him from across the room. Tadashi grins back, and Kei thinks that if it were a competition, Tadashi would beat the sun’s summer heat. 

[penguin-cafe]

Weird Dreams (1)

(I need to get back into the groove of writing -- so here’s a little… … it’s a thing. Pulled from one of my dreams. This one is about… i don’t know? A small town? You know what, let’s just get into it, I’ll explain later. Maybe.)

---

The snow fell right above his head. It seemed to stop in mid-air, and when he reached up to taste the edge of the sheeted blanket with his fingertips, the air dispersed around him. It was a cold draft feeling, but there was no substance to grasp. It just looked so real.

Above the ceiling of snow was a void. A tornado-esque visage swirled above the middle of the snow filtered room. He stepped forward, drew underneath it. He could catch the black and purple colors dancing together up there. It spiraled, twisted, swirled. He felt that if he allowed it to, it would pull him up, up, up. Straight from the ground and into its gaping mouth.

And then, he turned. Feeling an icy, hot prickling at his neck, he turned toward the little, red fence at the entryway. The white room, with its grassy floor, seemed to compress in on itself when he left through the door. Seemed to, at least. He never looked back to check. His head pulled him forward; something strained his eyes to look afront.

He re-entered the costume shop. Or was it an ice cream parlor? As he searched around, eyes glazing, nose as pink as strawberry icing, he heard the faraway sounds of a jukebox. Wigs at his left, arranged and displayed in a ROY-G-BIV fashion, and colored cones at his right, he wasn’t sure how he could have navigated his way through this town and ended up in the most obscure of places.

The white room seemed to mingle and mix in his thoughts. Memories were soon vanishing, much like a dream becomes forgetful once you’ve fully woken. He didn’t feel awake. His head was buzzed.

“Caramel butter-nugget?” A man bellowed in glee. He had a thin mustache, two lines of a penciled gray at his mouth. His eyes were slanted, yet kind… but somehow, they didn’t seem as lively as his demeanor.

Oh. They were clouded. A bluish tint.

“I’ve never heard of that flavor…” The boy said but took the cone in his hand. It was warm, yet the cream dripped cold onto his finger. Frostbitten cold. He winced, took a napkin to wipe at it. He thought of how he never remembered ordering the ice cream, but the thought was shrouded by the man’s wrinkled grin.

“All the better for trying it. New flavors, new smells -- they’re what makes the world have reason to smile.”

“Ice cream smells?” The boy asked, gazing at the perfect round of his beige scoop.

“As sweet as it tastes.”

The boy nodded, then shifted his eyes, clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

The man waved, glee enveloping his entire face as he addressed the next customer. The boy did not know there were others in the parlor. He licked at the cone, it had a salty taste and he winced, yet when he shut his mouth, it seeped onto his tongue and melted into a sensation of salivation. He couldn’t describe the flavor, only that it reminded him of walking near a canyon with his family. And he was staring down, down, down, so far below him, he felt the rush of adrenaline buzz through his ears, and the bubbling of something alive roaring in his chest at the anticipation of one wrong step.

He could only imagine what it smelled like.

He placed the cone in the trash when he was finished, bringing his sweater closer to his neck as he left through the front, red door. Outside was a glowing daylight beaming past view. He walked briskly toward home.

He would never find that place again.

His daughter, on the other hand, well, they were already prepared for her.

[penguin-cafe]

I just, kind of want to talk for a moment. Maybe I should've put this post up for pride month, but it doesn't really matter. This will probably be sloppy and maybe emotional, but I want to get it out. So... here I go haha I'm bisexual. I don't kind of think I'm bisexual, I don't question whether I like girls like I like boys, and I don't shy away from it anymore. I am bisexual. I know that now. I know that now. And here's the thing, I've never actually been with anyone. For most of my life, up until two months ago actually, to tell the truth, I was in fear of questioning my sexuality. I saw it as this... this dirty thing when I was little. When I first saw a naked woman on television and couldn't begin to describe my feelings. When I looked at girls at school, and thought I was jealous of their appearance. Why did I keep staring at them, I would think. Why can't I talk to some of them. I just... I pushed it all down. Shoved it away. Shunned it from my being. I shunned myself. Because I couldn't come to terms with it. And I was so... scared. And confused -- mostly that. I was scared of what my father would do if I were gay. Or if he even thought I was. I was scared of how people would treat me. I was scared of being looked at more. I was scared of how to properly acknowledge my best friend and our feelings. And when I wasn't scared, I was confusing myself. I told myself that I'm just pretending. That I'm just trying to like girls because boys won't like me. That I'm just indecisive and trying to follow a crowd -- all of these overly critical, completely irrelevant and incredibly false thoughts. I can't believe now how mean I was to myself. Never would i have treated my bisexual best friend that way, but here I was, a bully to myself. But that's a whole other alleyway of backstory and feelings of why I'm hard on myself. Anyway. The point is. It feels... it feels so, so good to say this with confidence now. This part of myself. I still haven't told family, I still haven't told some friends. I'm not really sure how to come out, it's all very strange and confusing and wonderful and terrifying, acknowledging this and writing this. But here I am. Ta-da! ...So, I've never been with anyone. I've kissed one boy and one girl in my life -- and I don't really count the boy kiss since he tricked me, and I'm still really confused on my emotions for that. But I know what I know now that I wish I knew before. You can't rush these things. I know that now. The real point of this is, please be patient with yourself. Love yourself for who you are, and try, try, try not to let the poison of your thoughts seep in to the love people can give you. I couldn't let myself be loved or let them tell me I'm beautiful for so long because I never believed it about myself. This hurt the people I loved, made them think their feelings for me were invalid, and that I wasn't listening to them when I would degrade my worth. And I don't want to hurt them anymore. And, I guess, more importantly, I see that now, I don't want to hurt myself anymore. Thanks for reading, if you did. It just feels nice to let this out. Thank you.

[penguin-cafe]

A-Kon 28 was about 3 months ago and I’m just barely posting these wonderful photos of me and my sibling with our last-minute iconic glasses. It was great, such a good time. 

@marshm3llow-tears

[penguin-cafe]

Congrats on reaching 100 followers my soy sauce!! Hey can I get uuuuuuuuuu tsukkiyama Crack fic where instead of tsukki bringing Yamaguchi to McDonald's, he brings McDonald's to Yamaguchi ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

im sorry this took so long and im also sorry for the content. please catch these sinful hands, i know i am an embarrassment to the family.

anyway, enjoy! 

It’s date night.

Now, they weren’t a particularly romantic couple. Big showy sorts of things? Not their style. (Save for the certain occasions of birthdays and anniversaries, which time and time again, they would forget, but, you know, technicalities and what not.)

No, their ideal bouts of romantic gestures were in the simple things. Like when Tadashi would stick post-it notes of motivation quotes to the bathroom mirror before work. (Usually consisting of memes) Or when Kei would remember to save pictures of animals on his phone to show him later. There’s a whole folder on their computer of their ‘doggo collection.’ Tadashi has to remind him that they can’t house a dog, a lizard, a cat, and a bird all at once and Kei, stubborn to the point of relentlessness will mutter in a monotone of how Tadashi can take that opinion and shove it up his ass because if there is a will, there’s a way –

You know, the simple things.

Which brings the tale here, with Tadashi opening their door with two shoves of his shoulder, because god DAMN, everything needed fixing in this dingy apartment, and almost takes two steps back, the air practically knocked from his lungs.

“…What –”

He tries to say, before his words are practically slapped away by the sound of music ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiIynI0tjB0 ), and he just stares, eyes possibly going wider, and head turning to find the source of where it’s coming from, and very plainly not trying to stare at his boyfriend. Naked. Well, half naked? Presumidly? On their couch. Is that a 10-piece chicken mcnugget meal?

“Whaaat the fuck?” He says, manages to breath out, kind of squeaks it. He shoves the door closed, looking like a scared doe. Kei, on the other hand, looks quite serious, and Tadashi just now notices the array of sauces splayed next to him – oh dear fucking god.

Kei picks one up, french fry between his teeth, almost like a cigarette, maybe like a rose. Oh, yeah, he’s probably going for the rose look.

“Honey mustard?” Kei asks, then snaps his fingers, seeming to remember. “No, you’re more of a,” He looks over Tadashi and Tadashi gives him what he probably thinks is a weird look in reply, shock, and like, twelve other emotions just kind of sprinting through his mind and spirit. “Spicy buffalo.”

“Uhhh?” He’s sure that’s a valid question, because making the words go from his mouth is not so good at the moment.

Tadashi looks around. “Where’s the food?” He asks, completely regrets it upon a raised eyebrow. Kei, with dramatic flare, pulls back the blanket and reveals –

“Oh – god, okay.” There’s a soft gasp and a silent question of why me.

Kei only swivels his head to look back up with a smirk. Tadashi points.

“Kei.”

“Tadashi.”

“Explain why there’s a Big Mac on your –” Tadashi searches for words, but his mouth is too quick and too stupid, “–Schlong.”

“It wouldn’t balance anywhere else.”

“Sure. Makes sense.” He steps back, and a shrill cry screeches from his foot. He yelps, discovering he’d stepped on collectible toy from a Happy Meal. He gives Kei a pointed look to which his reply is a snap of his fingers and a small ‘ah, right’ sound.

There’s a moment’s pause as the song still plays in the background.

“I’m leaving you.”

“I can respect that.”