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moonit3 · 2 months

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୨⎯ "MISS POPULAR AND MISS NOBODY" ⎯୧

➽ context warnings: yandere female, wlw!, afab! reader, nsfw, reader encourages the yandere behavior, mentioned murder, masturbation (f!), fingering, mentioned stalking, breaking in, yandere stealing personal items from reader,

➽ word count: more than 2.5k

➽ synopsis: a lost sketchbook brings the two most unexpected people into a unexpected relationship.

➽ yandere! loser girl x popular! reader

➽ a/n: sorry for the long wanting, guys. there were a few problems with my college’s website and I almost lost my spot (but luckily i managed to fix it) and also, got a little depressed with penacony (T-T). but here is another collab with @taeee0902 that I really happy to have written it! however, I changed a few things close to the ending since i felt if I wrote more, things would’ve taken a wrong lead (leaving an open ending(?)) and also, i got lazy (sorry for that). but i hope u guys enjoy it! also tell me if there is any mistake as i wrote this in middle of the night.

➽ inside the library, at the one of the darkest corners of the old building, there is a young woman studying on her art. mumbling to herself about putting extra details on it as she struggles to find more ideas to finish her work before the deadline next week. her eyes couldn’t help but start getting tired after she spend an amount of her money on buying energy drinks to keep herself awake for the rest of the day.

➽ a place like the library was supposed to be quiet, somewhere safe to the rest of the loud and rude students go the campus, but not today. it’s seems those popular kids decided to come over and ruin her peace in less thanks five minutes. however her attention towards the art project got better after buying a large cup of coffee, so daisy pay no mind towards those idiots.

➽ the group of popular kids whisper to each other about the weird girl sitting by herself, saying nasty things about her looks and dark circles under her eyes, already imagining how her dormitory might look like full of dirty and smelly. all of them laughing and smiling about daisy, but not you, instead of making fun of her like anyone else wouldn’t do, you just watch the girl working on something behind the piles of books at the table. she looks kinda cute when focusing, with her tongue out of her mouth and the headphones covering her ears to prevent hearing from hearing anyone talking about her looks.

➽ it’s clear there is something on daisy that calls you, she makes you feel weird feelings that you never felt before with anyone else. the voices of your so called friends become muffled inside your head, now you could only hear the faint song coming out of her headphones, making you wonder about the taste in music she has. maybe she enjoy classic music? probably electronic or perhaps a genre that you don’t know the existence of?

➽ your eyes couldn’t move away from her, not when her body keeps moving in rhythm with the songs playing in her headphones as she works at her personal works. your mind keeps telling to step up and talk with her about anything, however you couldn’t, not when your own body isn’t obeying your orders. after hours and hours on her own little world, she packed her things to leave the library and return to her dormitory.

➽ however, she forget a small notebook at the table and when your friends leave to go to a party, you didn’t hesitate to take and put it inside your backpack before finally returning back to the sorority house and preparing yourself to go to bed after a long day of studying. however that didn’t happened.

➽ your fingers traced on the lineart on the cover. it’s feel wrong to see a piece of art without the artist’s permission, but you needed to find a way to contact the owner and luckily, you find something. a phone number and quickly, you called the mysterious girl to ask if tomorrow would be a perfect timing to give her sketchbook back…and as expected, she agreed to meet you up at the library, at the same spot she forget the sketchbook.

➽ when tomorrow arrived, daisy couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed about this whole encounter. sitting an empty bench, her mind is playing tricks on her about the person might never appear and keep her precious sketchbook to themselves—then a more rational part of the mind forces her to calm down, taking deep breaths before opening her eyes to see a figure standing in front of her.

➽ the smell of sweet perfume and the aura of an angel makes daisy realize the person who has her book is no other than mrs. popular girl, the girl who everyone wants to be and the person who everyone wants to kiss. oh no, she can already imagine the ill words you are going to say at her art and so, daisy prepares herself to be massacred by you….but you don’t.

➽ instead, words of kindness came out from your lips. you explained that you’ve taken a look inside her art—feeling guilty of such act, but at the same time, proud that you have found a great artist like her. “i never thought that ive found someone who uses acrylic markers so well as you! and the way you used post-it to cover up some mistakes is your signature? ahhh…is that how people call it?”

➽ every word coming out of your lips makes daisy feel special, for the first time since she remembers, someone has not only treat her art normally (without making fun of it) and for the first time ever, a person haven’t downgraded her as a lower level. she won’t admit, but it’s really cute seeing your cheeks blush when trying to find unique words to describe some of the art inside the sketchbook.

➽ clap! she closes the notebook to look up at your face, lips fully closed and staring down at her pale skin now red of embarrassment. “t-thank you, [name].” damn it! she wasn’t supposed to stutter in front of you. “and there is no problem that you’ve look into my sketchbook. but i need to go, bye!” without hesitating, daisy made her escape and left you standing you at the park. thinking about the unusual nature of daisy.

it’s been days since daisy has met you and still, she wasn’t able to forget about your lovely smile. her mind couldn’t forget the faint feeling of obsession passion growing inside her heart, making her cheeks red of only thinking about your presence.

the pages of the sketchbook are full of art of your face, smiling directly at the artist. post-it covers some more explicit drawing of your body, all filled of bites, scratches and of course, positions of your body in situations she would never speak out loud. it’s wrong to draw someone like this, she knows. however, as much daisy keeps telling herself to stop, she can only continues to draw more of your body like this, imagining what you looks underneath those fancy outfits.

“i’m sorry,” she said to herself, pulling her panty to the side, already touching her clit while thinking about you. “i-i’m sorry, [name]…” the newly feeling of wetness around her genitalia made easy to slick a finger inside, sensing the warmth of her inner walls.

she can’t put more than one finger without tearing the hymen, but it’s already enough to pleasure herself by it. “hmm-“ the juice leaking allows daisy part her clit apart to take a better look of her pussy when staring at the mirror, admiring the juice leaking from it. “[n-name]!”

daisy can already imagine it. having you above her body and giving orders for what to do to make you happy. her mind playing tricks on her whatever her finger reach a new spot to touch, making the whole body curves with moan and whines escaping from the lips.

it’s didn’t took much time for her orgasm to come, leaving fluids on her finger and wetting the white sheets of the bed. her breath is completely gone when laying down at the bed, not wanting to get up and look at herself at the mirror, but something more strong makes her gain enough stronger to walk towards the mirror.

a disheveled hair covering one of her eyes, cheeks completely red and of course, thighs dirty of her cum that haven’t stop dripping from her clit. never in millions years, daisy believed that she would touch herself in an intimate manner like this, specially towards another girl…but now, daisy knows she is capable of doing anything towards [name].

things aren’t going easy to you, not when the most comfortable hoodie of your has gone missing! how are you supposed to rest after a long day of study without wearing your most precious piece of clothing? you even placed it above behind the door to not forget.

“have you searched everywhere?” one of your friends would asked, worried about the smile missing from your face.

“of course i did! i looked everywhere, even under my bed!” you cried, sad that you’ve now to wear some of the guy’s hoodie in a failed attempt to comfort you. “how am i going to sleep in peace? I can’t buy another hoodie, not when that one have so memories of good times.”

your friends stayed quiet, feeling bad when they have no solutions to your problem. all of them thought for a while, wondering if there is a way to solve the mystery.

“wait! what if you are sleeping walking?” one of the girl suggested, bringing everyone’s attention towards her. “your sleeping form probably hide your hoodie someway you can’t find while awake. so why not set your webcam on to caught you?”

the idea was great, but not their suggestion to your sleepwalking. after classes, you set up the webcam camera to let you catch whoever is behind the missing hoodies (and panties, but you omitted this part from them) and now, you’ve just to wait for the mystery person to show up when you went to attend classes.

with you attending classes for the rest of the day, daisy waste no time to raid inside your apartment by the window. her eyes grown bigger when seeing another hoodie with your scent just laying on the bed.

jumping into the mattress, daisy couldn’t resist the smell of your perfume all over the sheets and so, she began sniffing it and moaning your name while hugging one of your pillows, clearing imaging that is you instead of the fluffy pillow.

“[name]…” your scent never leaves her nostrils, not with her body almost melting into your sheets to become one within it. “you change your perfume, didn’t you? now, you smell even more perfect. just like flower in the middle of the springs.”

she wishes to stay inside your apartment forever, watch your life while hiding inside the wardrobe to protect you from the dangerous people who dare to touch you inappropriately. but, she can’t do that. daisy has the goal of graduating, becoming a famous artist to be the breadwinner when she marries you in a soon future.

feeling her body gain extra energy, daisy leaves your bedroom by the window, but not before grabbing a few personal items to her shrine. completely unaware that her actions were recorded by her own object of obsession.

when you return home after a long day of studying, you become surprised to see daisy roaming all over your room. seeing her stealing the dirty underwear from the laundry basket and even laying down at your bed! oh, is that weird?

yes, but your heart speaks otherwise. watching the recording of the loner girl invading your privacy to her own likes and doing all of her perverts acts makes you feel good, something that you never felt to someone else.

she is so pretty when sniffing your belongings! anyone else would find it weird to see someone doing that, but not you—you find daisy quite cute doing it when thing no one is watching… perhaps, will she go even further if you let her steal more of your stuff? you hope so.

since that day, you began leaving the bedroom messier than before. clothes scented by your usual smell are long gone from the wardrobe, the newly used toys that you’ve brought to tease yourself after classes go missing too. you can only imagine what daisy is doing with those presents you have left behind.

➽ with the exams and classes over, a beach party is thrown to celebrate the end of the semester and of course, you were invited and daisy waste no time to followed you around the party, hiding in the shadows to protect you from anyone who dares to hurt you. the black haired girl doesn’t know that you are aware of her presence, making things even more interesting.

➽ daisy admirers your body dancing in the middle of the room, but at the same time, feeling guilty to be looking at you with lust just like the others. deep down, she knows that she is no different from those who dares to look at you like you are some prey to be tasted, however, daisy isn’t the type to let it go of you so easily.

➽ after dancing for a long time, you decided to rest at one of the rooms upstairs and daisy waste no time by following you. inside of the suite, daisy enters the room in silence and scan the interior, simultaneously looking for a place to hide and your whereabouts. despite her eyes looking at each corner, the black haired girl doesn’t can’t find you anywhere. did she imagined you walking here?

➽ before any reaction could take place, daisy found herself ensnared in surprise, arms wrapping around her small body, putting her into an embrace. cheeks fully red when she realize that it’s you who is holding her, feeling your breath behind her neck. is this really happening? this can’t be a dream, daisy is praying for this to be real.

➽ “daisy, daisy, daisy…” she let her guard down, letting you freely take advantage of the situation to hug her body. “i never expected to see you around here. but, i can’t deny that i am really happy to see you here.”

➽ she doesn’t move. her body stay in place when feeling your hands getting down at her black shorts, untying it to let your hand roam free around inside her panty. it’s makes her body squeal when a finger touch the tip of her clitoris, making her almost melt with it.

➽ “hmm—“ before any of her moans could take over the room, your lips meet hers, dragging her into daisy’s first kiss. it’s feel weird, she thinks, but at the same time…it’s better than she ever imagined! she lets you take control over her body, knowing that you have more knowledge than her.

➽ daisy could feel her body get redder and hotter by the instant you push her to the bed, wasting no time to unbutton the plaid shirt to display the cute black bikini and then to remove her bikini bottoms to take a closer look at her cunt. the night haven’t start and she is already dripping.

➽ a smile slowly make to your lips. to think that daisy was probably so overwhelmed by this situation makes you wonder about how aroused she is. “don’t worry, sweetie.” your finger touches her clit, rubbing it against her walls, but not taking too deep to hurt her. “i’m going to be gentle, okay?”

➽ she nodded. “j-just touch me, please—” there is tears coming out of her eyes when a finger of yours manage to touch a soft spot of her inner walls, words are replaced by whimpers. as you continue to pump your two fingers inside her, daisy couldn’t hold her voice back. it didn’t took much to her moans to echoed all over the room and would probably reach downstairs too if the songs aren’t that loud.

➽ a high pitched scream warned about her incoming orgasm. her cum all over your palm when she finally stops squirting, attempting to regain her breath, cheeks full of redness as she musters enough courage to lift her face and meet yours.

➽ her trembling hands move to hold your hips closer to hers, not leaving a space between your bodies when daisy managed to speak. “can w-we continue it? please, i really need you.” the shyness and embarrassment of her face is gone, replaced by obsession and desire. and you are loving it.

➽ you couldn’t be happier seeing daisy right below your body, ready to take anything you have been planning for the past couple of weeks, even if those things could lead to dangerous acts. she is right inside your palm, ready to be played and loved by you only.

➽ “really?” your hips began to move, dirtying your bottoms with daisy’s fluids and making her whine a bit. “if that’s what you want~” playing with her perky chest, a smile make it way to your lips when going down to her lips, leaving a fainted mark of lipstick on her. “then i will make it an unforgettable night for you, daisy.”

@moonit3 writing

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere female #yandere girl #yandere x female reader #yandere female x female reader #yandere wlw #yandere headcanon #yandere headcanons #yandere x female y/n #x female y/n #x female reader #female reader #my oc daisy #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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bittybattybunny · 3 years

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Soooo since I hadn’t gotten many suggestions for Eclipse I wound up thinking “let’s turn her into a frog” cuz a friend sent me a frog video and I felt like it.

Also played with lineart a bit. I changed the tool I used for it to play around some since my headache meds kicked in finally.

fic time! (btw fic takes place in May!)

She put her little hands on her cheeks with a whine. She hopped around the pool and peeked to look again and it was still true. She opened her mouth and looked at the odd blue color and sighed heavily.

“Great. I’m a frog,” she mumbled and sat there, staring at her reflection. “Good job Eclipse. You’ve been a professional treasure hunter for most your life. But these past few months have triggered more curses than you care to count. Why did this one even affect me? It’s water-based.” she lamented and hopped through the old shrine. She sighed as she moved and thought about what could have done it. She paused and looked back. She jumped over rubble and found her discarded clothing.

With a lot of effort, the frog managed to move the garments and bags and pushed her nose against the shiny ball of metal.

“You.” she hissed, “you must have done this!!” she pouted.

Of all days to be hunting alone too. She sighed. At least Snatcher had Hattie. It’d be no big deal if she never came home. She could hope the curse would wear off but as a small hand-sized frog she was more in danger of birds and predators.

She sniffled and sighed. She rested her head down tiredly as she made a nest in her clothing and pulled it over her.

-------

“She’s not answering her phone.” Snatcher chewed his lip. He looked at Hattie who held an equal worry, “I-I’m sure she’s fine but.” he frowned and called his brother.

“Hey---”

“Is Eclipse with you?” Snatcher tapped his foot on the kitchen tile, “I can’t get her to answer her phone. She said she’d only be gone a few days and normally she calls to wish Hattie a good night.”

“I haven’t seen or heard from her since last moon.” Marcus admitted, “Hold on I can check threads see if it says anything.” the ghost shifted to levitate his phone with a few threads as his eyes turned black and he looked. He frowned and took the phone, “I can’t tell from my location. Sorry. Worth a shot if she was near me I’d see.”

“Thanks…” Snatcher hung up and chewed his lip until it bled. He looked at Hattie and sighed. He picked her up and grabbed his bag as he left the house.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m dropping you with your grandfather’s then I’m going to ask Kaya if she’s seen Eclipse.”

“Okay…” Hattie frowned, “mom’s okay… right?”

“Yes she has to be okay.” he smiled gently as he knocked on the door.

------

“Soooo you haven’t heard from her and she’s not answering her phone.” the demoness asked as she worked on some papers. She leaned on her hand with a large double mouthed yawn. She rubbed her eye, “Marcus can’t find her so you’re asking me.”

“I-I don’t know how to contact her if she doesn’t answer her phone! You’re a demigod can’t you---” he begged.

She sighed, “I’m a demi-god sure but I’m not omnipotent you know. I just know about curses and monsters.” she stood up and cracked her back. She looked at her shelf as she frowned in thought. Her fingers tracing the spines.

“Hey you have a big crush on her right?” she asked rather bluntly. She watched his face flush and snickered, “Okay that actually can help.”

“Can it?” he frowned and got up, looking at the books.

“Mmhm.” she pulled a dusty rose-colored book down and set it on her desk. She began to flip through the pages until she found the one she wanted, “I’m going to basically teleport you to where ever she is. I’m going to use the fact you’re infatuated with her as the locator.”

He gulped, “D-Does that really work?”

“Yeah, it’d be better if the feeling is mutual but I kinda think it’s not a problem.” the teenager snickered as she looked at the page. She moved away from the desk and pushed the chair out of the way. She pricked her left thumb on her fangs and began to scrawl symbols in black blood on the floor. She huffed and double checked the book. She moved out of the way.

“Come stand here.” she ordered.

He grabbed his bag with a pale expression, “W-what do I do if she’s hurt?”

“Call me. I can easily jump to your shadow as long as I know in advance. Ready?” she asked as a circle of runes glowed around her hand.

He nodded and gripped his bag’s strap tightly, “A-as I can be.” he shut his eyes as the spell trigger and he was hurtled rapidly through the temple into a wall with a crash.

The frog jumped from the water in shock as she heard the noise. She looked around and gasped seeing him. Her heart raced, “S-Snatcher!” she panicked and jumped over to the man as he rubbed his bleeding and broken nose. Her eyes wide as she put little froggy hands on his thigh as he sat there.

He paused and looked around. He heard her. I definitely heard her.

“Eclipse?” he asked as he looked before realizing the frog. He blinked and reached a hand. She timidly hopped on and looked at the palm of his hand instead of his face. He stared and frowned, “Eclipse?”

She looked up and he couldn’t mistake those dual-toned eyes. He gave a sigh of relief. She croaked a little.

“Thank god you’re okay.” he brought her to his face and rested his forehead against her.

“H-How did you get here?!” she asked worried, “S-Snatcher why---”

“I was worried about you.” he admitted softly. He smiled as he moved her away from his face so he could look at her as he talked. He used his free hand to stroke the top of her head gently, “So you’re a little frog. So much for curse resistant.”

She huffed, “I-It had to be part of a fairy curse is all. I-I hoped it would just wear off and I could go home but…” she looked at her hands sadly.

He frowned, “how can I help?” he frowned in thought. His face turned red. He gulped, “S-Should we try our classic curse breaker?”

She felt her heart pounding, “N-No you don’t have to! I-It’s fine you don’t want to kiss a frog a-and I-I’ll be naked!”

He sighed and smiled at her, “I’ll kiss a frog. I mean you’ve kissed a curse high merman, a leviathan, even letting yourself get cursed in your willingness to help me.” he set her down and started to remove his overshirt. She watched and gasped when he dropped it on her. She wiggled in the fabric as he moved to lift her, her head in the neck hole.

She blinked as he chuckled and winked.

“I know not the best solution, but you wouldn’t be naked right? My shirt should be long enough to maintain your dignity.” he offered, his voice never ceasing to raise from the calming tone he used.

She frowned and nodded, “O-Okay…”

He lifted her gently and placed a small kiss on the front of her mouth. He heard a small popping and felt the cold frog flesh grow warmer and softer. He smiled as she sheepishly pulled away, her silver hair falling as she sat in front of him in his shirt. Her face was bright red as she couldn’t meet his eyes. He smirked and leaned over, kissing her cheek gently making her squeak.

She covered her mouth with her hand as she looked at the floor, “T-thank you for c-coming to help me…” she paused, “W-wait you never explained! H-how did you get here?!” She panicked and leaned over, hands to either side of his lap.

His heart moved faster as she got closer, his shirt doing its best to cover her. He looked away ashamed. He didn’t want to admit how.

“K-Kaya used a spell to teleport me.” It wasn’t a lie. But he elected to not mention she used his crush to locate the werewolf.

She blinked and sighed, sitting down in relief, “Oh. I thought you did something stupid to get here.” she laughed and he tried to calm down with a big cheesy grin.

“Well, I’m still shocked you could locate me to teleport! How’d you get the destination?” she stood up. He tried to not look up from where he sat. He watched her move to find her clothing and she began to put it back on, carefully so she’d not expose herself to him.

“O-oh um.. Just. things. N-nothing to worry about.” He mumbled, “S-She just used a um.. Special connection of sorts… to locate you.”

“Connection? Threads? Cuz we’re friends and co-parents?” she asked as her face turned pink.

“S-Sure.” he chuckled as she pulled his shirt off and he sighed inwardly as he’d been rather pleased about it. She smoothed her hair and grabbed her bag. She looked to find a broken piece of rubble and used it to push the golden orb as she scowled.

“Is that?” he asked walking over as she pushed it to sink into the pond.

She glared as it slowly faded into the water. “Mmhm.” she sighed, “Stupid thing.” she huffed.

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her side and pulled her close. She felt her face heat up as he nuzzled her.

“H-Hey now.” she mumbled as he grinned. He stuck his tongue out.

“I missed you.” he pressed his cheek to hers.

She frowned and smiled gently. She leaned against him as he chuckled, “I missed you too. Thank you for coming to get me…”

#the little contractor #ahit au #ahit prince #ahit snatcher #ahit fan character #Eclipse Guardian #Prince Arulius #i want it known i have time lined these fics into the actual fic's timeline #just putting it out there these technically occur in TLC #i am a sucker for timing things out cuz Im so poor at time recogniztion irl #like if you wonder why i make them mention dates or passage of time #Its cuz i have to do it irl

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shyshysmind · 5 years

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the beginning of a thing

This is the beginning of a thing. It is also published here >>>>> https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/178504141/write/705655879

enjoy :) Who am I? Your guess is as good as mine, really.Am I simply the young hardware store cashier with blue hair and long roots who sometimes wears bright red lipstick (which, by French fashion standards, is more of a warm red than a cool tone red and doesn’t match my skin tone)? Maybe I’m not all that complex; it’s possible that my life really isn’t much more intricate than what customers see when I scan the barcodes on their oak two-by-fours in their carts and take their dirty coupons in my thin white hand with a smile. For the most part, I don’t speak to my coworkers unless spoken to, and as far as customers go, I am on autopilot: “Hello, you find everything okay?” If the customer only sets one or two items on my counter (usually a soap-box-sized carton of screws or some small random piece of plumbing piping): “Would you like a bag for that?” (It makes me happy when they say no; plastic bags are horrible for the environment.) The customers usually insert their cards into the card reader on my counter and then stare at me in their idle, waiting for me to perform some magical cashier trick on the computer, unaware until I peep up and tell them so that the card reader machine is waiting on them to push a button or enter a credit pin number. Maybe I’m just as dull and reticent when I go home after nine hours of, “Hello, you find everything okay? Would you like a bag for that? It’s gonna have you select debit or credit--here’s your receipt, and here is a coupon for five dollars off a purchase of twenty-five or more,” as I am when I take my lunch breaks alone in the quiet of the training room, reading some overdue library book and pinching small bite-sized pieces off of a gas station brownie to nibble at instead of taking direct bites out of the suspiciously oily pastry.Maybe I’m actually the notions inside my head. Maybe I am just a tool that they use to be heard and make their dreams a reality; maybe I’m not my body or job. Maybe I am a successful, peaceful, light-hearted artist and author--I just haven’t published my novels or hosted any successful art shows yet. Or any art shows, for that matter.Perhaps I’m my mother’s daughter; stubborn and crazy, with an invariably rotten attitude and enough financial issues for myself and all of my fellow cashiers to build a boat out of and sail away from civilization and debt.Maybe I’m always so quiet because I’m holding my tongue, like my mother, and thinking about slashing tires and throwing ceramic dishes at skulls and sinking screwdrivers into flesh, all in the name or petty revenge or an intense burst of anger. Except, come to think of it, my mother doesn’t actually ever hold her tongue, so I suppose I might just be quiet for reasons entirely my own.Maybe I’m just like my mother’s mother, like my mother is so committed to convincing me I am, except fifty years younger; nasally voice, although mine is less whiny and severe; sitting in front of a computer for hours a day, except she uses the computer her husband bought for her to do lazy transcription work so she can have money for cigarettes, the only thing in life her husband won’t buy for her, and I saved up my paychecks in high school to buy my laptop so that I could leave Mudcap High School and graduate early through online classes; we both sleep a lot, and, as my mother said when I was in high school, I “spent a lot of time on my ass” just like Grammy does--although my time in bed was always induced by an inability to find the motivation to get up, and Grammy’s bedridden state came from staying up too late playing online solitaire. Maybe I’m just that girl from Mudcap High School whose hair displayed a new fresh (done at home) short cut and color of the rainbow at the beginning and end of every month whose clothes all came from Salvation Army and whose stomach was always making obnoxious attention-seeking noises in Spanish--wait, you thought all that time that I was a boy? Well, yeah, I guess that’s reasonable. I wore a lot of huge baggy sweaters.Maybe you just know me because you know somebody who knew me. In that case, maybe I only exist in your world and consciousness as the girl who broke Jo-Ellan’s heart, or the girl who tried to look like a boy but then dropped out and grew boobs and is now hot (in the online pictures, at least). Maybe your friend has a friend who knew my twin brother, and so you heard from your friend’s friend who knows my twin brother that my twin brother’s friend saw me on a dating app, and my brother told him, “Don’t worry dude, she doesn’t like dudes. She’s just looking for a sugar daddy.” And so my twin brother, whom we will call “Z”, laughed about it with his friend once the shocking sighting of Z’s twin sister on a dating app had passed, and all was well, but now people know that Z’s twin sister is a sugar baby and not as quiet and sweet as she seems.Maybe you heard about me from Dan or Katherine; maybe you hope to meet me someday, because I sound like a very sweet person and you like the artwork of mine which they showed you. Maybe you heard about me from Tyler, the guy I made sandwiches with when I worked at Subway in high school--in which case you probably believe him when he says that I did drugs in the back room of the restaurant. Maybe you don’t even know my name--maybe you know me because you’ve seen the art I post online. Maybe you feel very connected to me, and feel pleased to see me when you see that I’ve posted a picture of a sketchbook page I’ve completed. Maybe You don’t know my name at all, but the way I layer paint and colored pencils and vary the thickness of my lineart is enough. Maybe the portraits and paintings I share are enough for you to care about me.Maybe you’re one of Sage’s friends. Maybe you hung out with us the October night when it was warm and I was seventeen and he was eighteen and he put acid under my tongue with his goofy smile and then left my house because he was high and felt like God and my bathroom-sized bedroom was like a birdcage for him at that moment in time. Maybe you were there when he skateboarded from my house to Sebastian’s with more acid and weed in his backpack and the intention to share. Maybe you’re one of the three other guys who were at Sebastian’s house, already under the magical intoxication of Sage’s acid when he called a cab to pick me up from my house and bring me there to drink canned beer and smoke mediocre blunts until the sun came up and I noticed how swollen my lips felt, because acid always makes my lips feel all swollen and purple. So maybe you know me as Sage’s girlfriend who he didn’t call his girlfriend until I finally dumped him months later and he begged for me to stay and apologized for never giving me attention or being a good boyfriend. And that was the first time he had called himself my boyfriend.I don’t want to think about nights like those anymore. The boy I’m dating now regards LSD with as much hissing ostracism as if it were all cocaine sold from the alley behind a gas station dumpster. Just thinking about that night makes me feel high, though--my anemia leads me to shiver even in sixty-degree weather, which Midwesterners consider quite warm, but I didn’t mind the wind blowing through my maroon flannel and thin anemic skin that night. As I sat on the cold chipped concrete steps in front of my house waiting for the cab Sage had called for me, the cold was refreshing and good-hearted instead of a brittle cruel punishment from Mother Nature. I didn’t feel insecure about my dingy old black high top Converse; my high-waisted jeans and black T-shirt didn’t make me feel like I looked like a twelve-year-old boy; and the dead-ends in my chin-length purple hair were not worth my concern. The sky all up above and around me and the globe, hugging the horizon of the sleepy little dangerous city, cradling the most dangerous place in all of Indiana in its arm like a tired baby, was stark black, and I could basically smell it; it was a nice undiluted solid black, and there was no pollution hiding the stars. The stars had had a grand day, and were ready to make sure that I was going to have a grand night.The neighbors on all sides of our house were drug dealers, and those were just the neighbors we actually talked to and knew anything about. The National Guard Armory to the right of my mother’s house, right across the narrow one-way street, was comical considering the neighborhood it was in. But none of that mattered; for once I didn’t hate it all. The sky was a rich fragrant black, thick enough to choke you if it had such bad intentions; but its intention were only good. The black was the many yards of high-quality fabric of a fine lady’s skirt flowing endlessly down from a well-tailored strapless bodice with a lovely fit and comely sweetheart neckline. The stars were bright and small enough to be all the jewels and shiny beads which her personal tailor had surely spent weeks or months or even a lifetime hand stitching onto the top layer of her many layers of skirts.It was such a good night to wait outside for a cab.I will never have nights like that again; life is constantly changing. I can try to recreate that, but I will never get it right. Recreating such good things is a privilege entirely out of my pale mortal hands.Maybe you know me as the girl who drew really nice insects at Emmons Elementary when we were nine years old who has since moved to and from at least three public schools in the next city over, and then left public schools entirely right smack in the middle of junior year. Maybe that’s how you know me.You could know me as Andy. If you still know me as Andy, you probably either haven’t spoken to me since sophomore or freshman year, or you knew me in eighth grade when “Andy” was still a thing, and calling me by my real name now just wouldn’t feel right after all that time. I told people to stop calling me Andy junior year, and people obeyed--well, really I just stopped talking to anybody, so nobody called me anything. But the man I am dating now called me my real name yesterday, and it just sounded strange. He never knew me when I was Andy, and Andy only lasted a few years, and I don’t introduce myself as Andy anymore. I don’t care to be called Andy anymore. Yet it feels so strange, hearing somebody casually call me by my real name. Not knowing that I ever had another name. I don’t think I’ve really spoken to people since high school, so that was one of the first times I’ve heard somebody say it. My mother doesn’t even use my name--she’s never really called me my name, or anything nice.I’m rambling. My name just sounds weird. I don’t like it when boys say it passionately.There are so many people that I may be--I can’t even begin to guess which one you may know me as. Even if I were to know exactly what experiences we’ve had together or who told you about me, maybe you don’t even see me as what we’ve done together or what you’ve heard--maybe your own personal thoughts and emotions warped what you know about me. Maybe for the better, probably for the worse. Maybe jealousy came into play somewhere along the road, and no matter what good things you’ve heard, you refuse to accept that somebody who dated somebody who you wanted to date can be genuinely kind and good. Maybe you don’t even remember anymore why you don’t like me. You just don’t.Maybe you’ve loved me since freshman year, before you even knew my name, before you cut your hair short and before I grew mine out, so no bad things you hear about me sound right or can scathe your love. Maybe you don’t want to know me. Maybe you wish you did. Maybe you’re thinking about checking the back cover of this book and scavaging the pages of tiny nonsense text that comes before the first chapter and prologue just so that you can find some email or way to contact me because you think I sound interesting.However you see me now, though, that will change. The way I see myself changes at least three times per hour.

#writing #writer #author #young author #romance #short story #chapter 1 #book #novel #unpublished #editor #please give me feedback #gay #lesbian #high school #shyshyswords

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seaweeeeef-blog · 5 years

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The Beginning of Something

OOps, I accidentally put this on the wrong blog. lmao follow shyshysmind for my writing, i’m gonna repost this oops This is the first chapter of..... something. It is also published here > https://www.wattpad.com/705655879-lavender-whomever

Who am I? Your guess is as good as mine, really.

Am I simply the young hardware store cashier with blue hair and long roots who sometimes wears bright red lipstick (which, by French fashion standards, is more of a warm red than a cool tone red and doesn’t match my skin tone)? Maybe I’m not all that complex; it’s possible that my life really isn’t much more intricate than what customers see when I scan the barcodes on their oak two-by-fours in their carts and take their dirty coupons in my thin white hand with a smile. For the most part, I don’t speak to my coworkers unless spoken to, and as far as customers go, I am on autopilot: “Hello, you find everything okay?” If the customer only sets one or two items on my counter (usually a soap-box-sized carton of screws or some small random piece of plumbing piping): “Would you like a bag for that?” (It makes me happy when they say no; plastic bags are horrible for the environment.)

The customers usually insert their cards into the card reader on my counter and then stare at me in their idle, waiting for me to perform some magical cashier trick on the computer, unaware until I peep up and tell them so that the card reader machine is waiting on them to push a button or enter a credit pin number.

Maybe I’m just as dull and reticent when I go home after nine hours of, “Hello, you find everything okay? Would you like a bag for that? It’s gonna have you select debit or credit--here’s your receipt, and here is a coupon for five dollars off a purchase of twenty-five or more,” as I am when I take my lunch breaks alone in the quiet of the training room, reading some overdue library book and pinching small bite-sized pieces off of a gas station brownie to nibble at instead of taking direct bites out of the suspiciously oily pastry.

Maybe I’m actually the notions inside my head. Maybe I am just a tool that they use to be heard and make their dreams a reality; maybe I’m not my body or job. Maybe I am a successful, peaceful, light-hearted artist and author--I just haven’t published my novels or hosted any successful art shows yet. Or any art shows, for that matter.

Perhaps I’m my mother’s daughter; stubborn and crazy, with an invariably rotten attitude and enough financial issues for myself and all of my fellow cashiers to build a boat out of and sail away from civilization and debt.

Maybe I’m always so quiet because I’m holding my tongue, like my mother, and thinking about slashing tires and throwing ceramic dishes at skulls and sinking screwdrivers into flesh, all in the name or petty revenge or an intense burst of anger. Except, come to think of it, my mother doesn’t actually ever hold her tongue, so I suppose I might just be quiet for reasons entirely my own.

Maybe I’m just like my mother’s mother, like my mother is so committed to convincing me I am, except fifty years younger; nasally voice, although mine is less whiny and severe; sitting in front of a computer for hours a day, except she uses the computer her husband bought for her to do lazy transcription work so she can have money for cigarettes, the only thing in life her husband won’t buy for her, and I saved up my paychecks in high school to buy my laptop so that I could leave Mudcap High School and graduate early through online classes; we both sleep a lot, and, as my mother said when I was in high school, I “spent a lot of time on my ass” just like Grammy does--although my time in bed was always induced by an inability to find the motivation to get up, and Grammy’s bedridden state came from staying up too late playing online solitaire.

Maybe I’m just that girl from Mudcap High School whose hair displayed a new fresh (done at home) short cut and color of the rainbow at the beginning and end of every month whose clothes all came from Salvation Army and whose stomach was always making obnoxious attention-seeking noises in Spanish--wait, you thought all that time that I was a boy? Well, yeah, I guess that’s reasonable. I wore a lot of huge baggy sweaters.

Maybe you just know me because you know somebody who knew me. In that case, maybe I only exist in your world and consciousness as the girl who broke Jo-Ellan’s heart, or the girl who tried to look like a boy but then dropped out and grew boobs and is now hot (in the online pictures, at least). Maybe your friend has a friend who knew my twin brother, and so you heard from your friend’s friend who knows my twin brother that my twin brother’s friend saw me on a dating app, and my brother told him, “Don’t worry dude, she doesn’t like dudes. She’s just looking for a sugar daddy.” And so my twin brother, whom we will call “Z”, laughed about it with his friend once the shocking sighting of Z’s twin sister on a dating app had passed, and all was well, but now people know that Z’s twin sister is a sugar baby and not as quiet and sweet as she seems.

Maybe you heard about me from Dan or Katherine; maybe you hope to meet me someday, because I sound like a very sweet person and you like the artwork of mine which they showed you.

Maybe you heard about me from Tyler, the guy I made sandwiches with when I worked at Subway in high school--in which case you probably believe him when he says that I did drugs in the back room of the restaurant.

Maybe you don’t even know my name--maybe you know me because you’ve seen the art I post online. Maybe you feel very connected to me, and feel pleased to see me when you see that I’ve posted a picture of a sketchbook page I’ve completed. Maybe You don’t know my name at all, but the way I layer paint and colored pencils and vary the thickness of my lineart is enough. Maybe the portraits and paintings I share are enough for you to care about me.

Maybe you’re one of Sage’s friends. Maybe you hung out with us the October night when it was warm and I was seventeen and he was eighteen and he put acid under my tongue with his goofy smile and then left my house because he was high and felt like God and my bathroom-sized bedroom was like a birdcage for him at that moment in time. Maybe you were there when he skateboarded from my house to Sebastian’s with more acid and weed in his backpack and the intention to share. Maybe you’re one of the three other guys who were at Sebastian’s house, already under the magical intoxication of Sage’s acid when he called a cab to pick me up from my house and bring me there to drink canned beer and smoke mediocre blunts until the sun came up and I noticed how swollen my lips felt, because acid always makes my lips feel all swollen and purple. So maybe you know me as Sage’s girlfriend who he didn’t call his girlfriend until I finally dumped him months later and he begged for me to stay and apologized for never giving me attention or being a good boyfriend. And that was the first time he had called himself my boyfriend.

I don’t want to think about nights like those anymore. The boy I’m dating now regards LSD with as much hissing ostracism as if it were all cocaine sold from the alley behind a gas station dumpster. Just thinking about that night makes me feel high, though--my anemia leads me to shiver even in sixty-degree weather, which Midwesterners consider quite warm, but I didn’t mind the wind blowing through my maroon flannel and thin anemic skin that night. As I sat on the cold chipped concrete steps in front of my house waiting for the cab Sage had called for me, the cold was refreshing and good-hearted instead of a brittle cruel punishment from Mother Nature. I didn’t feel insecure about my dingy old black high top Converse; my high-waisted jeans and black T-shirt didn’t make me feel like I looked like a twelve-year-old boy; and the dead-ends in my chin-length purple hair were not worth my concern.

The sky all up above and around me and the globe, hugging the horizon of the sleepy little dangerous city, cradling the most dangerous place in all of Indiana in its arm like a tired baby, was stark black, and I could basically smell it; it was a nice undiluted solid black, and there was no pollution hiding the stars. The stars had had a grand day, and were ready to make sure that I was going to have a grand night.

The neighbors on all sides of our house were drug dealers, and those were just the neighbors we actually talked to and knew anything about. The National Guard Armory to the right of my mother’s house, right across the narrow one-way street, was comical considering the neighborhood it was in. But none of that mattered; for once I didn’t hate it all.

The sky was a rich fragrant black, thick enough to choke you if it had such bad intentions; but its intention were only good. The black was the many yards of high-quality fabric of a fine lady’s skirt flowing endlessly down from a well-tailored strapless bodice with a lovely fit and comely sweetheart neckline. The stars were bright and small enough to be all the jewels and shiny beads which her personal tailor had surely spent weeks or months or even a lifetime hand stitching onto the top layer of her many layers of skirts.

It was such a good night to wait outside for a cab.

I will never have nights like that again; life is constantly changing. I can try to recreate that, but I will never get it right. Recreating such good things is a privilege entirely out of my pale mortal hands.

Maybe you know me as the girl who drew really nice insects at Emmons Elementary when we were nine years old who has since moved to and from at least three public schools in the next city over, and then left public schools entirely right smack in the middle of junior year. Maybe that’s how you know me.

You could know me as Andy. If you still know me as Andy, you probably either haven’t spoken to me since sophomore or freshman year, or you knew me in eighth grade when “Andy” was still a thing, and calling me by my real name now just wouldn’t feel right after all that time.

I told people to stop calling me Andy junior year, and people obeyed--well, really I just stopped talking to anybody, so nobody called me anything. But the man I am dating now called me my real name yesterday, and it just sounded strange. He never knew me when I was Andy, and Andy only lasted a few years, and I don’t introduce myself as Andy anymore. I don’t care to be called Andy anymore. Yet it feels so strange, hearing somebody casually call me by my real name. Not knowing that I ever had another name. I don’t think I’ve really spoken to people since high school, so that was one of the first times I’ve heard somebody say it. My mother doesn’t even use my name--she’s never really called me my name, or anything nice.

I’m rambling. My name just sounds weird. I don’t like it when boys say it passionately.

There are so many people that I may be--I can’t even begin to guess which one you may know me as. Even if I were to know exactly what experiences we’ve had together or who told you about me, maybe you don’t even see me as what we’ve done together or what you’ve heard--maybe your own personal thoughts and emotions warped what you know about me. Maybe for the better, probably for the worse. Maybe jealousy came into play somewhere along the road, and no matter what good things you’ve heard, you refuse to accept that somebody who dated somebody who you wanted to date can be genuinely kind and good. Maybe you don’t even remember anymore why you don’t like me. You just don’t.

Maybe you’ve loved me since freshman year, before you even knew my name, before you cut your hair short and before I grew mine out, so no bad things you hear about me sound right or can scathe your love.

Maybe you don’t want to know me. Maybe you wish you did. Maybe you’re thinking about checking the back cover of this book and scavaging the pages of tiny nonsense text that comes before the first chapter and prologue just so that you can find some email or way to contact me because you think I sound interesting.

However you see me now, though, that will change. The way I see myself changes at least three times per hour.

#writing #lavender #book #novel #chapter #chapter 1 #beginning #gay #LESBIAN #words #shyshyswords #please give me feedback #author #young author #freelance #freelance writer #artist

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ick25 · 6 years

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Rockman.EXE Episode 43 Review.

Ahhh! Where did that woman come from?!

Hi everyone, we have stumbled across the third episode that was never aired outside of Japan, why is that? I don’t know, but let’s try to find out.

Oh man, I know nothing about baseball, this episode is gonna eat me alive! T.T

We start the episode in Netto’s house one evening where he and Rockman are focused on a baseball game.

Aren’t they adorable? But now I’m curious, is Rockman watching from the same TV as Netto or he is live streaming it online? It could be a live streaming because we also see Dekao watching the same game from his computer.

Maybe Dekao doesn’t have cable?

They are watching a player name Hoshida Kyuuma who surprises everyone with a homerun. Both Netto and Rockman cheer for the player as he runs the bases making some famous gesture he has of scratching his nose, something that Netto copies before the title screen appears.

Nihon Senators? It’s not bad, but at least make up something creative, there is a real Japanese team called the Ham- Fighthers after all.

The next day, Netto greets Dekao and Tohru on his way to school taking part in the stereotypical guy exchange of “did you catched the game last night?” With Meiru and Roll stereotypically uninterested in the subject.

“Next thing your gonna say is that cars are cool”

At school, Mariko-sensei introduces a new student to everyone who just so happens to have the same last name as the baseball player they saw last night.

Geez, what a depressing looking kid. He looks sadder than Tohru’s picture in the N-1.

After introducing this new character, we then cut to them at P.E. where Netto and the rest of the class are playing, coincidentally, baseball.

Uhg, somehow Dekao in sports cloths looks fatter than usual.

Netto is at the bat, Dekao is the pitcher and Yaito is the catcher who makes hand signals to the pitcher behind the batters back. Looks like Netto sucks a this because Yaito kicks him out after calling Dekao a cheater and only getting two strikes.

I never thought I would miss their Navis commentating. It feels boring watching them on their own for so long, especially doing something unrelated to the net.

Mariko-sensei models her pink sweatsuit as she calls the new kid at the bat. Dekao is confident in his pitch, but Kyuuta shuts him off by hitting a homerun and surprising everyone.

As Kyuuta runs the bases and scratches his nose, Mariko-sensei reveals to everyone that he is the son of the baseball player Hoshida Kyuuma.

This is enough to make him “mister popular” since Netto and his friends start talking to him.

“So... Do you like Net Battles?”

He doesn’t seem happy with all this attention since he suddenly stands up after Yaito mentions his dad being transfered from another team.

Turns out Kyuuta is sad because he misses his friends since he is sitting alone after school looking at a baseball covered in signatures and starts crying. Netto walks in and asks him if he wants to walk home together (lucky bastard), but he ignores him and accidentally drops his baseball that rolls over to Netto’s feet. Netto picks it up and then notices that Kyuuta was crying.

Wish I had someone like Netto ask me to walk home together back when I was in elementary school. Sure, it’s dangerous for kids to walk home by themselves in Costa Rica and my house was pretty far, but I was a very lonely child, okay? :c

Kyuuta wipes his tears and just leaves Netto with the baseball. In the next scene we see Kyuuta arriving at his house.

You should answer when your mom asks you a question! I can never get away with that!

I wanna point out something first. This anime is not the best at portraying good mom characters, you know how I constantly call Netto’s mom a useless woman? Well this one right here I’m gonna call her... Sad face woman in the corner. It seems cruel, but believe me, you’ll see why.

We see Kyuuta sulking in his room when Netto and his friends arrive at his house to return the baseball he dropped. Kyuuta just puts on his shoes and tells him that he doesn’t want that ball anymore and runs out of the house.

See? She did it again.

Anyway, as Kyuuta is running in front of the sunset, his mom tells everyone that he is sad because he is constantly changing schools because of his dad getting transfer to other teams, but in the last school he was in he made friends with the kids in a baseball team and had to leave them behind to go to Akihara.

Kyuuta’s dad overhears this and gets all fired up for some reason while the mom does what she does best and goes hide behind a corner to cry.

THIS is when you realize this episode is not to be taken seriously. It is obvious that they are making fun of something. I would say this is a satyre of sports anime, but since the only sports anime I know is Captain Tsubasa I’m not really sure if there are others like that one.

So Netto and his friends along with Kyuuta’s parents find him and say that everything is alright since they figured out a way of solving his problem, by using the net!

They tell Kyuuta to go to a stadium where he finds his friends from the baseball team on a huge screen. They ask him to play baseball with them, Kyuuta doesn’t understand what they mean and that’s when Netto and all his friends including Tohru, Higure-san and the Net Agents, explain to him that thanks to the internet and some super special equipment installed in that stadium, they can play baseball using their Navis.

And of course Kyuuta just happens to have a Navi name Leagueman, but I have no idea why he has restrains.

Right before commercials we see Dekao planning to get his revenge against Kyuuta as we see Gutsman in a baseball uniform at the bat, only to return with Midorikawa as the commentator and Gutsman getting three strikes in a matter of seconds.

Aren’t they just balls if the batter doesn’t swing?

So yeah, in this episode we get to see some of our favorite Navis, and Glyde, playing baseball and wearing uniforms. Skullman is up next where we can see how the field switches from humans to Navis.

But I can’t tell if they are like holograms or if there is a seperate cyberworld for them with the same field.

Skullman proves to be a good player because of his speed and attempts to steal the bases as Glyde is next at the bat. Leagueman quickly get the upper hand by making Glyde strike out before Skullman can steal all the bases.

Thumbs up at Glydes pants.

Now it’s Woodman’s turn at the bat, but he quickly gets three strikes off screen and Saloma confesses that she have never played baseball before, to which Miyuki replies with annoyance as we see Skullman’s image break down and regenarating into Miyuki standing on the same base.

Again, making it very confusing how the set up is suppouse to be like.

Now we get Midorikawa naming the line up for the Akihara team.

Rockman looks so cute in that uniform! But I don’t understand why Gutsman has a plant in his mouth, is that like the Japanese version of the old gag of baseball players chewing tabacco?.

Roll-chan is the pitcher, and yes, she throws like a girl, and maybe that’s the reason why most of the balls she throws are hitted.

The batter hits the ball, but luckily the cute shortstopper catches it for her.

Their interactions are just so cute.

Now, if you are a baseball expert, unlike me, then get ready for to see how crazy Navi baseball can be.

The batter hits the ball, but it’s too high for Numberman to reach it, so Woodman creates a platform for Numberman so he can stop the ball and “pass it” to Skullman.

Kyuuta’s father, who is with Midorikawa at the commentator booth, praises their teamwork, a confused Midorikawa asks him if that is allowed, but then she gets this.

Thanks to the subs and by searching on google I figured out that this guy is actually doing a play on words. “Ari” is also used to affirm something in a sentence and he dresses up as an ant because Ari also means ant in Japanese.

We get more Navi baseball madness when Iceman freezes a ball to catch it and throw it at Woodman.

“Ant, I mean, yes.”

I haven’t seen these many fouls in a sports game since Space Jam.

Now the moment we’ve all been waiting for, it’s finally Rockman’s turn at the bat! Yaaaaaaaaay!

Save me from this nonsense, Rockman!

The humans are replaced by their Navis, and is it just me or is Netto and Rockman’s art a little diferent in the last panels? Either that or they suddenly got dirty

Leagueman does a ballet pose and throws the ball in a weird way, Rockman is ready to hit it, but the ball suddenly splits in two.

Rockman get’s his first strike. Midorikawa asks Kyuuma what just happened, he explaines that it’s a move called the “Mayor ball”. Leagueman put pressure into the ball and mixed with the sand from his kick created an illusion of a second ball. That’s quality BS right there, and WHY THE HELL IS HIS LINEART SUDDENLY DIFERENT IN THIS SHOT?

It’s like seeing an Archer crossover. o_o

What is the meaning of the dragon vs tiger scene? Because this also happend in episode 40.

Leagueman throws the ball again and Rockman gets a second strike. You would think that this time he would go for the first ball, but they reused the animation from before.

After their second stike Rockman and Netto figured out a way of outsmarting this move, if they can’t tell which ball is real then they’ll just have to hit both with this over the top anime scene.

If Rockman wears pants, does it still count as a butt shot?

Rockman hits a homerun and Leagueman praises him after he runs the bases, but then Commander Beef ruins the moment by anouncing that it is Sharkman’s turn at the bat and then getting three strikes.

It looks like Sharkman is bitting his tongue. :P

Then Higure pushes the commander out of the way to plug in Numberman, and what a surprise, he gets three strikes as well. So in short, everyone sucks except for Rockman.

We then get various shots of the rest of the game and for some reason a close up of Gutsman’s jaw plant.

Oh great, Rush is there too, now I definitely have no idea if this shot is from the real world or the cyberworld.

The series of pictures ends with Roll-chan looking tired and Midorikawa telling us how it looks so far.

I have no idea what she just said, but I guess that is baseball talk for “Akihara team is losing, and with Leagueman at the bat they are pretty much screwed”

But worrry not since Akihara still has their secret weapon, Rockman! With Rush calling to change the pitcher because apperantly he’s the coach now.

I did some research, and it seems to me that the shortstop position is kinda important, so why the hell is Rush a better option than Roll?!

So once again Rockman, Netto and now Leagueman’s lineart changes, (along with a coloring mistake on Rockman’s neck) Rockman pitches and Leagueman gets two balls, not strikes, balls.

Rockman throws the ball a third time breaking Leagueman’s bat.

I don’t know if that counts as anything. Has this ever happen in baseball?

Now get this, since Leagueman’s bat is broken, Kyuuta’s dad leaves the commentator booth to give HIM some special red bat he had with him and says how Netto and the others are very good friends to him since they are giving him a good game.

Those last shots just made things even more confusing! Can he see Rockman standing there or was he just looking at Netto the whole time?

Kyuuta accepts the bat from his dad that somehow ends up in Leagueman’s hands and we get this last shot of sad face woman in the corner watching from afar as always.

Still, she cares more about her son than Netto’s useless mom does for him. She even came to watch him play, so this is the best mom I’ve seen in this show which is pretty sad if you think about it.

Rockman pitches one last time with the whole dragon vs tiger background again, where Leagueman finally hits the ball and it’s a homerun!

And of course he has to break a light with that homerun, or is it a cyber light? IDK O.O

Leagueman runs the bases scratching the nose he doesn’t have, Netto congratulates kyuuta and the episode ends with Midorikawa announcing Kyuuta’s team as the winners. Oh, and a little sceane with Rush losing to a Metool virus.

Admit it, by good players you just mean Rockman.

My thought?

This episode was crazy! A little confusing, but fun to watch. It’s nice to see some of the characters play a casual game of Baseball because its something diferent to what we normaly see. The episode was obviously a satyre of sports animes (Again, I dont know any sports anime besides Captain Tsubasa), the overdramatic characters, the over the top animation, the art style, the firing up thing that happend like four times in this episode mostly from Kyuuta’s dad, and maybe other things that I didn’t catch.

This episode is indeed a filler, but that can’t be the only reason why this episode was never dubbed. So I made up these criterias to figure out the reason why it didn’t aired in America.

1. Was an important new character introduced that will appear in future episodes?

2. Does it introduce a new game, style or battle system that fits in with the theme of the show and will be mentioned again?

3. Will the dubbing for this episode be worth the effort?

Let me explain using episode 40 as an example. With the first criteria, even though Torakichi and Kingman never appear again in future episodes, they were still considered important characters in the Battle Network series, especially since the purpose for the episode was to promote the upcoming Battle Network 3 game.

Yes and no for the second criteria. It fits the theme of the show because it combines Net Battles with chess, but it is not mention again.

And for the third criteria, it was not hard to dub, there was no reason to explain Net Chess Battles because we already know how Net Battle works and Chess is already world wide knowen as a game.

Now for this episode. First, no. Kyuuta, leagueman, his parents and his baseball friends are not important in any way and are never seen again.

Second, it was just baseball. Even though we saw the Navis used their abilities during the game, it was still baseball. It did not have Net Battle rules and it is never mentioned or seen again.

And third, it was not worth the effort to dub. Trying to explain how Navi Baseball worked, especially since Japan didn’t do a good job in explaining it, would’ve required unecessary effort. They would have skipped the ant joke, but how would they explain how the Navis seemed to be in the real world? It was terrible confusing because it is the first time we see something like this on the show. People would get curious to see this again only to find out that this was a one time thing.

So that’s strike three and this episode is out of the dubbed version!

#Rockman.exe #megaman.exe #MegaMan NT Warrior #megaman battle network #anime #dub vs sub #anime review #my reviews

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