#i wrote this over a week while traveling by train in japan!

[gil-galadhwen]

Rings of Power | Galadriel x Halbrand

Notes: I took liberties with Tolkien lore regarding weather, seasons and how the elves might celebrate yule, among other things. I also used a translator for the single elvish line Halbrand says in this fic. It might be incorrect and if so, please let me know what the correct translation is.

***

Do you just want my blood? Am I just that damn hard to love?

Lindon was a mystery to Halbrand. As winter approached, Galadriel had encouraged him to travel with her to the elvish realm and at first, he had thought it was for no particular reason but it quickly became apparent that she had dealings with the High King Gil-galad and his Herald Elrond. This left Halbrand wishing he’d stayed behind in Eregion; at least there he could continue his work with Celebrimbor.

Lacking the ethereal grace of its residents, Halbrand felt distinctly other in Lindon - where they were graceful, he was wooden and where they retained stillness, he was cumbersome. He did his best to lean into his perceived mortality, ensuring they believed him to be merely Galadriel's human companion. It wouldn’t do for them to learn that he knew much more about them than he let on, including his fluency in every single one of their languages.

“Walk with me,” Galadriel whispered to him where they sat together at a dinner held during the yule festivities. Halbrand glanced towards the table’s head where the king and his herald sat together in deep conversation, before setting his fork down beside his empty wine glass. The moment he stood, Gil-galad broke his attention from Elrond and glared towards the pair but Halbrand ignored him, the powdery snow beneath his booted feet sending ungraceful drifts in his wake as he followed Galadriel beyond the line of trees that sheltered the revelry. 

***

They walked side by side along a path lit by bronze-plated, glass lanterns, their design delicate and refined.

“They are from Valinor,” Galadriel said when Halbrand slowed his steps to admire them more closely.

“Of course they are,” he sighed. “Isn’t everything?”

Galadriel inclined her head, the hood of her dark blue cloak slipping down to her shoulders. “Most things in Lindon are, yes.”

Halbrand’s attention moved from the lanterns to the elf, he couldn’t help noticing the way her hair shimmered in the low light - gold and shiver, as though the strands were entwined with any otherworldly alloy.

They continued walking in companionable silence until the lanterns became few and far between and the wood became darker with every step. Before long, they walked into a grove of holly trees, their deep red berries gleaming like jewels among the thorny, green leaves dusted with snow. The sight of them sparked something in Halbrand. He had collected memories like trinkets from the many forms he had taken over the long years. So many that it was difficult to pin them down, to discern the time and place they were from. The memory that rose from the holly trees was one of snow and ice, a wooden floor covered in furs close to a fire that smelled of burnt sugar and cedar. He vaguely recalled dark eyes that shone brightly, reflecting the orange flames and naked flesh burning with desire... 

It came to Halbrand fast and hot and a blush stained his cheeks, forcing him to sink deeper into his fur-lined cloak.

“I cannot say I have ever seen such a visceral reaction to holly before,” Galadriel said, a wry tilt to her mouth.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Halbrand croaked the words then coughed. 

“It’s just holly.” He broke a sprig off and held it in a loose, ungloved fist.

Galadriel raised a golden eyebrow at him, “I see.”

“I have a gift for you!” He said suddenly, reaching inside his cloak with his free hand.

“A gift? So you are familiar with some elvish customs then?”

“Ni am moina as tare than tye sinte, mime mel,” Halbrand replied in perfect Quenyan. 

I am familiar with more than you know, my love.

Galadriel stared at him agape. “Where? When did you learn–”

“Here,” Halbrand held out a small wooden box tied with blue ribbon.

It was Galadriel’s turn to blush as she accepted the offering.

“Do you remember when you teased me about the mithril back in Eregion?” Halbrand asked, stepping closer to the elf as she lifted the contents of the box onto her gloved hand

“You said: will you make me a little replica raft, Halbrand? Or perhaps a golden ring?”

On Galadriel’s hand sat a little gold bell. “Halbrand, I am not certain that I understand.”

Halbrand picked up the bell and rang it. It was a delicate sound, as soft as falling snow yet sharp enough to be heard above the wind that was gathering high in the trees above them.

“This is your golden ring for a golden age.”

Galadriel removed a glove and gripped the bell between two pale fingers. “I suspect you are trying to be amusing, Halbrand.”

Halbrand chuckled. “Your suspicions would be correct.”

“Such a peculiar mortal.” She smirked a little, pocketing the bell and withdrawing a drawstring pouch.

“Here is my gift to you.”

Halbrand inclined his head in thanks and slid his fingers inside the pouch. What he pulled out was so unexpected that he nearly dropped it in the snow. It was a steel S hook, similar to what many tradespeople used to hang things on, blacksmiths included. However, this S hook was small and ornate with an elvish design etched into one side. It was delicate and far too beautiful to spend its existence in a dirty workshop.

Halbrand stared at it with a mixture of confusion and wonder. What did it mean that she was giving him this? Was he missing something? The S shape seemed to burn his palm as he held it…

S for Safety

S for Salvation

S for Sau…

Halbrand’s gaze whipped up to meet Galadriel’s. He searched for any sign of knowing, of recognition but she was glaring at him the same way she usually did.

“Galadriel, I–”

The elf grabbed the front of his cloak and pulled him towards her. Their lips crashed together with such force that he was sure he’d chipped a tooth but he didn’t care. Both hook and holly fell to the snow as he grasped Galadriel’s face in his hands, kissing her with a depth and purpose he couldn’t recall ever doing before. When he slid his tongue inside her mouth she moaned, pressing herself against the Southlander with every ounce of her immortal strength. They kissed as though their lives depended on it. Just like their lives had depended on each other on the raft. Neither of them would have ever admitted it but they had needed each other to survive then, and the same was true as they clung to each other now, the need to get closer as chaotic and strong as a storm upon the Sundering Seas.

The kiss softened for a moment as Galadriel’s hand caught in Halbrand’s hair, tugging until his head tipped back. He felt her breath hot on his neck and where he expected her lips to touch he felt words brush across the sensitive skin:

“You may refuse to be completely honest, Halbrand. But your secrets will be known to me with time.”

His eyes flew open, his breath catching between a whimper and a sob.

Then she was gone, her tracks in the snow already fading beneath fresh flurries.

“Do you want my blood, Galadriel? Am I just that damn hard to love?” He called after her, flushed and panting. 

S for Secrets.

Stooping to pick up the S hook, Halbrand swore he heard the distant, hollow ringing of a single bell.

***

Thank you for reading! The title is a line from Golden Age by Ethel Cain.

x

#i wrote this over a week while traveling by train in japan! #so it's a bit of a mess! #truly if you read this far I LOVE YOU #haladriel #otp: bind yourself to me #saurondriel #galadriel #halbrand #the rings of power #rings of power #fanfiction #lotr #tolkien #my writing #yule #winter

[strictlyfavorites]

Shel Silverstein, poet, singer-songwriter, cartoonist, screenwriter and author of children's books, was born 91 years ago today

Silverstein grew up in the Logan Square neighborhood of Chicago and attended Roosevelt High School. Later, he went the University of Illinois before he was expelled. He then attended Chicago Academy of Fine Arts and Roosevelt University for three years, until 1953 when he was drafted into the Army. He served in Japan and Korea.

Silverstein began drawing at age seven by tracing the works of Al Capp. "When I was a kid — 12 to 14, around there — I would much rather have been a good baseball player or a hit with the girls, but I couldn't play ball. I couldn't dance. Luckily, the girls didn't want me. Not much I could do about that. So I started to draw and to write. I was also lucky that I didn't have anybody to copy, be impressed by,” he told Publisher’s Weekly.

“I had developed my own style. I was creating before I knew there was a Thurber, a Benchley, a Price and a Steinberg. I never saw their work till I was around 30. By the time I got to where I was attracting girls, I was already into work, and it was more important to me. Not that I wouldn't rather make love, but the work has become a habit."

After returning to Chicago, Silverstein began submitting cartoons to magazines while also selling hot dogs at Chicago ballparks. His cartoons began appearing in Look, Sports Illustrated and This Week.

In 1957, Silverstein became one of the leading cartoonists in Playboy, which sent him around the world to create an illustrated travel journal with reports from far-flung locales. During the 1950s and 1960s, he produced 23 installments called "Shel Silverstein Visits..." as a feature for Playboy.

Employing a sketchbook format with typewriter-styled captions, he documented his own experiences at such locations as a New Jersey nudist colony, the Chicago White Sox training camp, San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district, Fire Island, Mexico, London, Paris, Spain and Africa.

Silverstein's passion for music was clear early on as he studied briefly at Chicago College of Performing Arts at Roosevelt University. His musical output included a large catalog of songs — a number of which were hits for other artists, most notably the rock group, Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show.

He wrote Tompall Glaser's highest-charting solo single "Put Another Log on the Fire," "One's on the Way" (a hit for Loretta Lynn) and "25 Minutes to Go," sung by Johnny Cash, about a man on Death Row with each line counting down one minute closer.

Silverstein also wrote one of Johnny Cash's best known hits, "A Boy Named Sue." Other songs co-written by Silverstein include "the Taker" by Waylon Jennings and "On Susan’s Floor” by Gordon Lightfoot and a sequel to "A Boy Named Sue" called: "Father of a Boy Named Sue" which is less known, but he performed the song on television on The Johnny Cash Show.

He also penned a song entitled "F*** 'em" which is lesser known and contained a reference to "f*** children."

Silverstein styled himself as Uncle Shelby in some works. Translated into more than 30 languages, his books have sold over 20 million copies.

On May 10, 1999, Silverstein died at age 68 of a massive heart attack in Key West, Florida.

[tooruluv]

Tobio Kageyama x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished, but the book is closed. tell me, have we started a new one? ❞

description: it had been years since you and kageyama broke up. it had been years since the two of you left each other, hatred brewing. fate works in funny ways, you thought, as you caught his eye across the café. love works in funny ways, you thought, as you woke up in his bed the next morning, his fiance calling his phone.

genre: forbidden love, cheating, ex lovers, (all characters are aged up)

word count: 2,007

warnings/notes: strong language, cheating, lowkey toxic relationship, just a lot of heartache and angst! i’ve been thinking of this one for a minute, so i hope you enjoy!! pls let me know your thoughts, i love hearing from you guys <3

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masterlist

The final pages of the story were finished. The book was closed, the concluding statements read. The story of you and Tobio Kageyama had long since completed. With a few nostalgic memories and a broken heart, it was the end.

Except, like many stories, it wasn’t. An epilogue had begun. A new chapter starting in the midst of nothing, a sequel to a seemingly finished story.

Because you had somehow ended up here: gasping in between desperate kisses with the aforementioned man. He had you pinned up against his penthouse wall, hands grasping every inch of you that he could while your hands threaded in his hair.

Kageyama was buffer now, extra muscle and better build. He easily picked you up and made his moves with more strength and power. It wasn’t just passion the both of you were working with, but anger as well. He was angry at you, angry at the world.

But most importantly, Kageyama was angry with you, still. For breaking his heart.

The night was full of rough, heated kisses and using each other’s bodies in a way that would most certainly leave marks the next morning. You never once spoke, not since the very first kiss you had shared in five years.

Heaving and exhausted, the both of you fell asleep in the hotel you were staying in. There was no cuddling, no pillow talk. Instead, you fell asleep side by side.

Tobio Kageyama was the love of your high school life. The two of you dated the entirety of the dreadful years, seeing each other grow. He may have seemed stoic, or too focused on his favorite sport, but you would be lying if you said that he was a terrible boyfriend.

You brought him a milk every day at lunch, you supported him at every early morning volleyball tournament, you helped him study because despite everyone telling you he’s smart he was actually the least studious person ever. And he came to your house every time you felt sick, he looked at all of your drawings as if they were professional paintings, he brought you a hot chocolate (with your specific order) from the coffee shop you both liked whenever he felt the need to apologize.

You completed each other.

But you can’t really bring up the good parts, the parts you missed the most, without bringing up the bad parts. The parts that make you never want to return.

You were drained in the relationship, to say the least.

You were exhausted all of the time, full of worry because he never texted back, tired from the late nights when he would leave you waiting after practices when he promised he would meet you outside after. And he would get mad at you and give you the silent treatment until he brought you a hot chocolate and neither of you ever talked about it again, or if you tried he would change the subject. He also tended to hate PDA, something you rather enjoyed even if it was just holding pinkies.

The worst part, though, was his hatred for your friendship with your best friend. Tooru Oikawa had been your best friend since you were both children. You had even met Kageyama through the older boy, back in junior high. 

You had to tell him over and over and time and time again that Tooru Oikawa was just a best friend and nothing more. You, in simpler terms, had told Kageyama that you had never ever had even an inkling of a crush on the man. This was a reoccurring situation for the entirety of your relationship.

Like it was a competition between the two and you were the prize. And you hated being played as a game.

One day, only a couple of weeks before you had broken up with him, you and Kageyama were sitting in your bedroom. You were trying to study with him, flashcards and papers spread out across your bed as he sat beside you.

Your phone went off, and you ignored it. Kageyama didn’t.

“Oikawa’s texting you again.” He said, voice low with irritation. You rolled your eyes.

“You know, Kageyama, that he’s only a friend and has only ever been a friend.” you told him, ignoring your phone when it went off again. “It’s like you talking to… Hinata.”

“Hinata’s not hitting up my phone every hour, though, is he?” 

“He might as well be.” You set down your book and turned your body so all of your attention was on your boyfriend. When your hands reached for his, and your fingers interlocked with his, he basically let out a sigh of relief as he relaxed. “I love you. You.”

“I love you, too.” He wrapped his other hand around the one holding yours. “I didn’t want to start a fight.”

“I know.”

God, it was going to be hard to tell him goodbye.

Five years had passed since you had last seen Tobio Kageyama. They passed in a series of blurs, as you spent a majority of them traveling and moving non-stop. And after a long time, you had somehow ended back where you started. Back in Japan.

Oikawa was the one who picked you up at the airport, excited as all hell to talk to you about his achievements since high school and hear your stories. He even wrote your name on a piece of paper and all.

“Ah, I have missed you more than you could possibly know!” Oikawa exclaimed as you walked beside him to get your luggage. “And now that you’re back, you can stop Iwa from bullying me.” He pouted.

“You know even I don’t have that kind of power.” You joked. Oikawa got taller, too.

On the way home, you heard about his new team and how they traveled the world, you heard about how big his nephew had gotten, about how things have changed since high school (Oikawa actually lived by himself, now, which was a shock to you since your best friend hated being lonely).

And you caught him up on your adventures, about backpacking in Europe and visiting the Great Wall of China, about living in the states.

You missed being back, for the most part.

Oikawa helped you unpack in your hotel (“You could always stay with me, young traveler, instead of this hotel” He told you. Which you replied with, “My dear Tooru, I wouldn’t want to intervene on prime masturbation hours.”)

The first place you visited since being back was Oikawa’s apartment. The second place you visited was the Scoups Café. 

The café wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t large either. There were tables spread out along the floor, decorated with old newspapers and flower centerpieces. The smell of coffee filled the air the second you opened the big glass doors. The small chatters of people and clicking of keyboards created a chorus of nearly synchronized harmonies. Though it was soothing, beautiful, but it reminded you of every love story imaginable all packed into one: Tobio Kageyama.

You ordered your hot chocolate and waited behind the brown counters. As you did, you heard your name being said from behind you.

You turned to see him. The dark hair, the blue eyes. Unmistakable. You froze on the spot, arms limp at your sides. You didn’t know if it was the anger or the heart break that hit you first. But all you knew then, in that moment, was that he was there. He was there, in the coffee shop with you, and was looking at you with the same anger/heartbreak combination you wore.

“I hate you.” 

Those were the last words Kageyama said to you. Those were the words that you heard repeatedly over and over and over. You weren’t sure if he was being honest or if he was just pissed off, but he said them. To you, to your face, in front of loved ones. He said it. 

And you hated him for it.

The plane ride was full of running makeup, shaking, and putting your phone on airplane mode (not that Kageyama would even text you, you knew he wouldn’t).

Maybe “I hate you” was better than “goodbye”. Maybe “I hate you” was better than “I love you”. Maybe “I hate you” was better than literally any other thing he could have said. Yeah, maybe.

Because hating him for the rest of your life would be way easier than being in love with him.

You claimed Tooru Oikawa as your best friend. And he claimed that you were “slightly higher than Iwa on the best friend scale”. It stemmed as children, you were in the same junior high as them before moving to Karasuno in high school. You were sitting with your other best friend, Hana, watching the game with such intensity that both of your eyes might as well have popped out of your head.

Hana was just as involved. Though it was just a junior high game that wasn’t that hard, it was interesting.

That’s when you met Kageyama for the first time. Your eyes were trained on him the entire time, his drive and passion showing even at the young age. He just… felt different. His aura drew you in like a red string tied on your pinky.

“You’re drooling!” Hana teased from beside you.

“I am not!”

You most definitely were. And after the game, you congratulated Oikawa on court along with his teammates (meaning a certain dark haired boy).

“Does he still hate you?” Oikawa asked you on facetime while you were still in the states. He was outside, in daylight, and you were about to pass out from staying up too late.

“I don’t know.” You didn’t like talking about it, contrary to popular beliefs. “I haven’t talked to him.”

“It’s okay. He hates me too.”

“Are you on a swing? Are you a child?”

“I’m watching Takeru!”

“I smell excuses, Tooru. Excuses.”

You laughed as Oikawa did his best to defend himself, making up ridiculous excuses that only made you laugh harder. Always the dramatic one. You were just happy to derail the conversation.

See, you thought that would be it. One relapse sexcapade with the man you loved for most of your life. One “get it out of your system” night. It’s funny, isn’t it, how things never truly are what you expect them to be.

You didn’t wake up to an empty bed. In fact, you woke up entangled with the dark haired man. Your legs were wrapped around his, and his arms around your waist. He was warm, chest pinned against your back.

His phone rang throughout the bedroom, interrupting your (quite peaceful) sleep.

He reached over your body, still staying behind you (completely naked still, to add), checking the caller ID. His one arm held his body over yours, chest to your side. Like he was trying to keep you trapped there, or he knew he looked like a god in the morning sun (the orange hues reflecting off of his skin in the most beautiful way possible). Either way, you just watched as he grabbed the phone off of the stand.

“Shit.” He mumbled.

His fiancé was calling.

#anime #manga #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #tobio kageyama #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama x you #tobio kageyama x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama x reader #tobio x reader #tobio x you #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio x you #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyu scenarios #haikyu one shots #haikyu imagines #oikawa #hinata #hinata x kageyama #tooruluv🍄post #oikawa toru x reader #tooru oikawa #tooru oikawa x reader

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 310 Spoiler Thoughts: “The First and Second Holders”

Some fan translations are out and it’s time to flex some thoughts out again!  I couldn’t do them last night because I didn’t have all the scan images with me and I didn’t want to jump the gun with only text descriptions.  Anyway, this was mainly an exposition chapter that properly introduces us to the second and third OFA Holders, especially the 2nd and what his relationship to the 1st is.  This might not be as long as others “Spoiler Thoughts” I’ve written, but let’s see:

First off, we have a colored cover page by Horikoshi-sensei himself!  It’s a solo page featuring Vigilante Deku and he looks badass!  Deku looks ready to kick ass and take names.  And, his Mid-Gauntlet is colored red like a lot of us thought and it adds to the theory that Melissa Shield did create it like she did with Deku’s Full-Gauntlet back in Two Heroes.

The chapter starts in a dark and rainy night.  A large woman (she’s like maybe 10ft tall; she’s taller than All Might who I think is 7ft) with a mutant-type quirk who’s getting attacked by some civilians because they think she’s a villain.  Deku jumps in to stop the attacks and the woman explains that she was just trying to go to one of the evacuation centers at a hero school.  Deku is kind enough to give her her umbrella back and reassure her that things will be ok.  

I gotta say that this whole situation is scarily close to real life right now.  I don’t like getting too political, but we live in a scary world where discrimination is, unfortunately, alive and well...  If you are a POC, you can be attacked from anywhere with the only reason being that “you’re a danger because of the skin you were born with”. It’s horrific, it’s disgusting, and it’s been around for a long time.  Even in the BNHA universe, there used to be cults solely dedicated to discriminating against mutant-type people (we learned this back in the My Villain Academia Arc).  So, like in the real world, this problem has risen again.  Thankfully, there are people like Deku and All Might who are more than willing to help someone in need regardless of who they are.  BNHA hits too close to home sometimes.  

Anyway, going back to the BNHA story.  Before All Might leaves to help the woman in his Batmobile, he hands Deku some Pork Katsu in a cute bento box wrapped in a bunny cloth!  Deku is visibly happy and thanks All Might for the meal.  This is so cute!  I’m so glad to see that All Might is making sure that Deku is being properly taken care of.  Boy needs to eat if he’s going to save the world.  I’m also glad that Deku can still show signs of happiness despite, well, everything.  I swear, if All Might doesn’t legally adopt Deku as his son by the time this series is over, I’m going to jump into this manga and force him to sign those documents myself. 

The next panel shows Deku standing on what looks like Tokyo’s famous Sky Tree (or Sky Egg if we’re going off what Vigilantes showed us).  He’s back to talking to the OFA Holders like they’re angels on his shoulders.  Banjo talks about how it’s like the world’s reverted back in time when things were worse and Deku responds that if he doesn’t use all of OFA’s power, he’ll never be able to defeat Shigaraki and AFO.  I know we’re in the final act, so Deku’s gotta get to 100% fast if he wants to win this war.  Last we checked, he was at 45%, but he might be at a higher percentage now since he’s unlocked En’s Smokescreen.  Also, Deku’s looking more and more like Batman each chapter and I gotta say that it really suits him.

Back to the Vestige Dream back when Deku was still in a coma after the war.  The 1st Holder begs the 2nd and 3rd to corporate with him so that they can provide their power to Deku.  The 1st calls the 2nd and 3rd “My Heroes” which causes some awkward silence lol.  Neither one is responding, so Banjo breaks the silence by suggesting that Deku learn everyone’s Quirks so that he’ll get used to them once he starts using them.  We learn why the 2nd and 3rd are the 1st’s heroes soon, but it’s actually a good idea for Deku to learn about all these different Quirks while he’s sleeping so that he’ll get a good idea on how to execute them when he wakes up.  It’s kind of a way of training for Deku just without actually using the Quirks themselves.  

The 3rd Holder (the one with the spiky ponytail and headband) starts to talk.  He says that the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd came from the “Harshest era of history”.  It was a time where AFO ruled all and peaked in power and control.  He was going to take over the whole world if the first 3 Holders didn’t step in to stop him.  My guess is that after AFO was defeated for the first time, society started to calm down and become more or less the world we knew before the War Arc.  So, things weren’t as bad during the 4th Holder’s era and so forth.  This would explain why Shinomori was able to hide in the forest for so long without being detected.  

And now the big part of the chapter: the 2nd Holder.  Who does in fact look A LOT like Bakugo.  Big difference is that he has a massive scar across his face.  I am aware of the whole “time travel” theory that people have going on with Bakugo and this dude, but I’m not on that train.  Instead, I think that the 2nd Holder is one of Bakugo’s ancestors.  Like, a really, really-great-grandfather.  Horikoshi doesn’t just design his characters for no reason.  The fact that the 2nd user looks so much like Bakugo, has a costume similar to Bakugo’s, and that future panels in this chapter straight up parallel that iconic scene with young Bakugo and Deku in the river only add fuel to this fire.  Unless Horikoshi says otherwise, this is the theory I’m sticking to: this “Ancestor” theory.

And we know of the 1st user’s real name now too, which is Yoichi!  If Horikoshi is keeping up with the “numbers in names” theme, then I’m positive that Yochi has the kanji for “One” somewhere in it.  And, if we’re going to believe AFO at all, then that means that the 1st user’s full name is Yoichi Shigaraki.  We don’t know AFO’s full name yet.  But, again, AFO could be lying with his last name, so I’m taking this one with a grain of salt.

Back to the 2nd Holder, he tells Yoichi that a lot of lives were sacrificed in order to stop AFO back then.  He believes that there is only victory or defeat in battle; that there’s no hope of saving their archenemy.  He has doubt about putting his faith in Deku because of this.  Given how the 3rd Holder still has his back turned too, I’m lead to believe that he also thinks Deku is crazy for wanting to save Shigaraki.  I don’t exactly blame them.  Really, none of us know if Deku will be successful in saving Shigaraki.  He might have to kill him in the end.  I think they should offer Deku help, but I don’t blame them for being at least a little skeptical.  

But, Yoichi reminds the 2nd and 3rd users that they saved Yoichi back when AFO locked him up to die.  They found Yoichi with the intention to kill him it seems, but the 2nd Holder showed sympathy for Yoichi and lent him a helping hand despite Yoichi being AFO’s little brother.  This is the parallel panel I was talking about.  Yoichi is kneeling down on the floor and the 2nd user is standing up extending his hand to help Yoichi.  I don’t even need to look back in the manga to know what inspired this.  Hell, I don’t even need to tell you!  We all know what Horikoshi was doing when he drew and wrote this.

Yoichi convinces him that he should believe in Deku as Yoichi does think Deku will save the day.  If the 2nd user didn’t extend his hand to help Yoichi, OFA wouldn’t have begun.  I think that the trust between these two is ultimately the reason why the 2nd user finally agreed to help Deku; the same with the 3rd user too.  And, kind of a tangent, but I really like how Horikoshi draws Yoichi and the 2nd user’s hands as they’re reaching for each other.  Horikoshi has always been really good with drawing hands like they’re facial expressions (something my ass could never do 😭) and this one shows kindness and empathy.  It’s almost like what would’ve happened if Bakugo accepted Deku’s hand for help when they were young instead of letting his pride and ego get in the way.  Oh, the parallels! 

Finally, the 2nd user speaks in present day telling Deku that they’re going full speed ahead now.  My guess is that Deku’s going to have to improve on OFA and the rest of his Quirks quickly in order to find and beat the LoV.  We are in the Final Act after all.  The chapter ends at a good place if we want to switch to the UA kids, which is honestly what I’m hoping for.  Again, I love Deku and his Vigilante adventures, but I miss the rest of the kids.  The new BNHA Exhibition in Japan apparently has a giant drawing of the main class, All Might, Aizawa, and Shinso in his new hero costume!  Which tells me that 1. Shinso probably took Deku’s place in the class for the time being, and 2. We’re definitely going to see the other kids again.  I’m hoping soon.  But, I wouldn’t be surprised if Horikoshi decided to continue focusing on Deku’s Vigilanteism and have him practice with he 2nd and 3rd Holder’s Quirks now that they’re working with him.  We’ll just have to see.

So, that’s it!  Solid chapter overall.  I’m glad we finally got to see the 3rd and 2nd Holder’s faces.  I think the “Kirishima is the 3rd Holder” theroy has been debunked at this point, but I’m still on the “2nd Holder is Bakugo’s ancestor” train.  The similarities and parallels are too strong for me to deny it.  Horikoshi-sensei, please confirm or deny soon 🙏.  We are getting break next week for Golden Week BTW!  All of Shonen Jump is actually, so no One Piece or JJK either (I’m not sure about Jump+, so we might still be getting some Spy X Family for example).  So, basically all our favorite mangakas are getting a well-deserved break as they should!  I hope they enjoy their vacation!  Waiting’s going to suck tho, I’m ngl about that...  Oh well, I’m willing to take the sacrifice if it means having healthy mangka.  Thankfully, we still have the anime and the new exhibition to tide us over until then.

Edit: OR NOT SINCE THE EXHIBITION IS TEMPORARILY CLOSED BECAUSE OF A CERTAIN PANDEMIC GOING NUTS IN JAPAN AFTER ONLY BEING OPEN FOR 2 DAYS 😭 

Edit: I went back to re-read the chapter and I completely missed the date for the next chapter (chapter 311) which is set to release on May 9th!  So, we’re actually getting a 2 week break instead.  Damn...  Sucks for us, but it’s good for mangaka to get breaks when they can especially considering their absolutely insane schedule.

Me reading this chapter:

#My Hero Academia Spoilers #Boku No Hero Academia Spoilers #MHA Spoilers #BNHA Spoilers #MHA 310 #BNHA 310 #Deku #Izuku Midoriya #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #One For All #OFA #All For One #AFO #things are getting intense #things are getting interesting #what's going to happen to our boy #where are the rest of my adopted kids #I miss them #bring them back pls #Kohei Horikoshi #my thoughts #my post #my writing #theories #spoiler thoughts #spoilers #you get a theory and you get a theory and YOU GET A THEORY

[haikyuuwaifu]

Miss Independent

Genre: Crack, Humor, Drama, NSFW, Mild Angst

Warning: Mild Angst

Kenma x Osamu x Suna x Reader Poly

Masterlist

D & Y/N| K & S| O& Y| Suna & Yui

‘Supercut’-lorde

Suna & Yui

He met her, the summer before his first year at Inarizaki. Her name was Yui and she had just moved into the neighborhood. Rintaro’s mother offered for her son to show the new girl around, and that summer was the best summer of his life. He had never spent so much time laughing, or just existing. As the summer ended he knew,  that she was someone he wanted to get to know more. So get to know more he did.

Rintaro and Yui started their first year of high school as boyfriend and girlfriend. Things weren’t so hard in the beginning, because they managed to spend almost all their free time together, but then Rintaro’s friend Atsumu convinced him to join the VBC with his twin, and suddenly their unlimited amount of free time was squished down to hardly any free-time at all. 

But Yui didn’t mind. She loved watching Rintaro get excited about something, so a few weeks after he joined the club, she applied for the position of team manager. Rintaro didn’t show it, but he was pleased that his girlfriend was willing to do something like that for him. It meant a lot to know that she was interested in his interests as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The couple spent the rest of high school that way. Fighting was rare between the two because they knew each other so well. Yui knew when Rintaro needed space, almost always after a heavy loss. The same way Rintaro knew she needed comfort when she didn’t do well on one of her exams. They were considered the “ideal” couple through the whole of Inarizaki. They had been together for all of high school and the future looked promising. 

Suna had already given Yui a promise ring the year before. The loss to Kurasuno the year before was difficult for Inarizaki, but she had been there for him; and in that moment as she held him when he cried he knew...He knew that Yui was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so that summer he worked to save up and presented her with a promise ring; on the first day of their last year of high school. “I promise baby, when we finish school, and I make it pro I’m going to fucking marry you.” he had told her peppering her face full of kisses as she had giggle against them sliding the ring on her finger. 

Everything for Rintaro was perfect.

“Rinta! We did it!” Yui smiled squealing as she launched herself into the arms of her future. Suna pulled her close dipping his head down to pull her in for a soft kiss. “I am so proud of you baby.” he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers. “Honestly, I didn’t know if I could do it, but I’m glad I had you there to support me.” she whispered, fingers playing with the stray threads. “Oi, love birds! Kita is here and he wants a group picture of his “children” for his little group of mother hens or whatever!” Atsumu shouted arm coming around Suna and Yui’s shoulders. Standing next to his two best friends Suna smiled as he posed for the camera. Yui was behing Kita, smiling widely at him not a care in the world. 

This summer was supposed to be their last summer as kids, before the stresses of college life would begin. Suna, Atsumu, and Osamu had all applied to schools in Tokyo, and luckily enough they had gotten into the school Kita had gotten into. Yui was going to be going to college in Sendai. As much as she wanted to go to Tokyo, Sendai had a better program of study. A few weeks before graduation, Yui found out she got into Sendai, but that she needed to go on a trip for the summer related to her program study. That impromptu trip ruined all the plans the couple had for the summer, but Rintaro didn’t mind. Yui had been sacrificing things for him their entire relationship, so with his okay he had sent her off. 

Yui would be spending most of the summer traveling and working with relief programs, to help get a better understanding of the world outside of Japan. She wouldn’t have her phone and writing letters would be impossible considering she had no permanent address. So, Suna and Yui spent the summer doing their own things and preparing for their own futures. His was filled with packing up his life in Hyogo and making the move to Tokyo. Instead of staying in the dorms, he and the twins found an apartment with a fair rate; thanks to Kita’s photographer friend. He and Atsumu spent most the summer in training prepping for the college season and fulfilling the requirements needed to go pro. He thought about Yui often and he missed her like crazy, but he was sure she was doing fine without him, and he only needed to wait a few months for her to come home.

What was meant to take 2-3 months ended up taking an extra 5 months bringing it to a grand total of Yui being gone for 8 months. Around the 3 month mark, she had managed to get a letter to him, explaining that she would be staying on longer and that she loved everything she was learning; she couldn’t wait to show him everything she had seen. At the bottom of the letter, she wrote down the time and the place that she would meet him at the train station; and Rintaro counted down the days.

The day of their planned meeting Rintaro was nervous. He had opted to dress nice, and he had a ring box burning a hole in his pocket. The 8 months apart was hard for him, but it made him realize that he was sure that she was his future. He didn’t care where he was in life, so long as she was there with him. Sitting on a bench he waited knee bouncing nervously as he watched passengers coming and going through the train station. 

30 minutes after he sat down Rintaro heard the sounds of a laugh he knew all too well. Standing up he turned in the direction he heard it form, and made his way towards it only to stop in his tracks as he watched Yui, being carried off the train. He took in every new thing he noticed about her, she had changed; and yet she hadn’t changed hardly at all. Yui giggled at the man who carried her off the train and settle herself on her feet. Picking her head up, her eyes widened comically as they came face to face with Rintaro standing in front of her. “W-What are y-you doing here Rin?” she stuttered out, hands coming to mold around her small protruding belly. Suna’s eyes followed her movements and widened themselves as he noticed the swell in her midsection. “Peaches, who is this?” the man behind her asked softly, as he pulled their luggage with them. Yui waved her hand dismissively, “This is just an old friend darling, you go get the rest of our things while we catch up.” she murmured kissing his cheek softly. 

Turning towards him, Yui spoke, “What are you doing here Rin?” she murmered arms crossed over her chest, her stance steady. “I thought I was coming to meet my girlfriend after 8 months a part. I thought I was coming to see the love of my life as we agreed in the letter you sent...instead I come to the station to find you pregnant and with another man Yui...what the actual fuck is happening here?!”he seethed hand crushing the flowers he had bought for her. “It was hard being away from you, not being able to talk to you, and I did a lot of soul searching Rinta.” she mumbled eyes looking out into the sea of people ahead of them. “Going on that trip has changed my life.” she smiled softly. “Changed your life? What about our life Yui? What about the life we had planned and our promises?!” he snarled. She snorted softly rubbing her belly. “You didn’t really think you could make it pro did you? You’re good Rinta, but you’re not that good.” she murmured. “ Tachi-chan is a good man, and he gets me in a way that you never could Rinta...and we’re meant to be. We’re soulmates.” she sighed wistfully. “We eloped, and we’re expecting.” she giggled showing off the shoddy little band they had purchased from a street market. “ We’re on our way to his parents house to stay with them, until we can get a place of our own...we...Rinta...we were never meant to be forever, and I see that now.” she hummed rocking on the balls of her feet. Hearing her name being called, she smiled and waved. “I hope everything works out for you Rinta, but this is where our story ends.” and Suna Rintaro watched, as the love of his life walked away; into the arms of a man she had only met months ago. Heart shattered and trust completely broken.

-Rintaro ended up returning the ring, and locking himself away for a few days. His entire life had been shattered in a matter of moments and no one could pull him out of it. 

-When he finally made his way out of his room, his friends were there to help him work through it. Osamu was more help, as he’d been through a very difficult heartbreak as well so the two of them slept their way through college without a care in the world.

-Rintaro focused on his studies and on volleyball. He ended up proving Yui wrong when he was recruited by the EJP Raijin and later traded to play with his best friend for the MSBY Black Jackals; but at that point Yui, was just another blip on his radar.

@dabilove27 @amberisnotcrazy @elianetsantana @cloudyxlay @exosehun-94 @deaththekidwantsyou @sempiternal-amour

#suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro smau #suna x reader #osamu miya #osamu x reader #osamu scenarios #osamu scenario #osamu imagine #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #kenma imagine #kenma scenario #kenma imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu smau #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu concepts #haikyuu scenarios

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Kuro and Mahiru go to Yokohama for a weekend vacation. (KuroMahi, Modern AU)

Mahiru sat on the train and he waited for the time to pass by playing games on his phone. There was a light weight on his shoulder but he didn’t mind. Kuro slept soundly as he used his shoulder as a pillow. They had to wake up early that day so he decided to let him rest during the train ride. Mahiru leaned against Kuro in return and listened to his even breathing. No matter if they talked throughout the train ride or simply sat in each other’s presence, Mahiru was content and happy.

More people entered the train and it became noisier. Kuro was a deep sleeper but Mahiru didn’t want the other passengers to wake him. He took off one of his earbuds and slipped it beneath Kuro’s hood. Mahiru carefully tucked the earbud into his ear and he hoped the song would muffle the voices of the people around them. Before he leaned back, he couldn’t help but press a kiss onto his hair. The small gesture roused Kuro slightly.

Kuro shifted next to him and searched for a comfortable position again. He wrapped his arms around Mahiru’s waist, turned his face into his shoulder and finally settled back to sleep. They were sitting closer than before and Mahiru felt his heart quicken. He glanced around the crowded train and he was glad that people weren’t staring at them. Mahiru relaxed into Kuro’s embrace.

He took out a travel magazine from his bag and flipped to a page he bookmarked. They had both been busy due to finals but they could now relax. They spent a lot of time together since they were roommates but he was excited to go out on a proper date. Mahiru suggested they travel to Yokohama and stay overnight. He had circled several places in the magazine that he wanted to go with Kuro.

“There’s a museum for cup noodles? I hope they have a lot of samples for us to try.” Kuro’s voice surprised him. He didn’t lift his head from his shoulder as he read the notes Mahiru wrote in the margins. He smiled up at him and joked: “If we go during lunch, we can save money by filling up on samples and buying a light meal afterwards. University’s expensive.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that instant noodles are unhealthy, Kuro?” He rolled his eyes but he couldn’t hold back a small chuckle. Mahiru held the booklet between them and they went through the different attractions they could visit. “The museum is close to the hotel we booked yesterday. We can even see the sea and shop at the boardwalk nearby. Which do you want to see first?”

“I don’t really care where we go. I’m happy as long as I’m with you.” He shrugged. Kuro sat straighter and stretched his arms above his head. He wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist and he used his other hand to flip to the next page. “Last night, Licht texted me and said we need to bring back sweets as a souvenir for him. I know giving souvenirs to your family and friends is a custom but I thought it was only for long trips.”

“I think Licht is just being a little greedy. You know how much he likes sweets.” Mahiru skimmed the different sweets they could buy for their friends. Kuro reached out to him and gently brushed his bangs from his brown eyes. The small gesture showed how attentive he was and it made Mahiru smile. While Kuro wasn’t the type for words, he showed how he cared through his actions. He wondered if it was because he grew up in London.

Kuro moved to Japan for school and they were roommates. Mahiru would show him around Tokyo and they grew closer until they started dating. “Licht would tell me how Hyde likes to flirt with him in public. I wonder if Englishmen are all forward like you two.”

“I don’t think I’m the same my brother.” Kuro didn’t know why Mahiru would compare them when they didn’t have similar personalities.

“Well, you’re not as loud as Hyde but you both act casual when it comes to being so affectionate in public.” Mahiru thought of the Hollywood movies he watched and how the couples would openly kiss each other. He questioned if Kuro was the same with his past partners and he felt slightly jealous. Kuro saw his brows furrowed slightly and he worried that Mahiru was uncomfortable.

“I’ve been in Japan for a few years but I’m still learning. Sorry.” He sat straighter and he started to pull his hand back. Mahiru placed his hand over his to keep his arm around his waist. He threaded their fingers together and tenderly rubbed his thumb along his knuckles. His hands were strong but he knew how gentle they could be.

“I like how you’ll put your arm around my shoulder when we walk down the street.” Mahiru told him. “I was just thinking of how you’d do things like that with others. I know that it’s immature to feel jealous and I have nothing to worry about but…”

He trailed after Kuro lifted his hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “I don’t do things like this because I grew up in London. It’s only for you, Mahiru.”

“Isn’t the ocean beautiful, Kuro?” Mahiru stared at the endless, blue ocean as they walked along the boardwalk. They could walk for miles but he wouldn’t become tired as long as Mahiru was with him. They would occasionally stop at a shop and browse the items on sale. Mahiru didn’t have extravagant tastes and preferred to wear simple clothes. Kuro thought that Mahiru was already beautiful with his smile so he didn’t need expensive clothes.

“We should go to the beach for our next trip.” Kuro heard a bike approach them and he looked over his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist and pulled him out of the bike’s path. Unfortunately, a few feet ahead of them, an elderly woman wasn’t able to evade the bike quickly enough. The woman stumbled to the ground and dropped her bags. Mahiru immediately ran forward to help her.

“Are you okay?” He knelt next to the grandmother and helped her to her feet. Kuro joined them and he began to collect the groceries she dropped. Mahiru was glad that she appeared unhurt and she was able to stand on her own. A part of him was still worried and he asked, “Is there someone you can call and ask if they’ll help you home? Carrying so much might be difficult after your fall.”

“What a kind boy you are. Thank you.” She smiled. She waved away his concern and told him, “My children are at work and I don’t want to trouble them by calling for help. I should be fine. My house is only ten minutes from here and my husband is waiting for me.”

Despite her reassurance, Kuro could see that Mahiru felt hesitant to walk away from someone who was hurt. He knew how kind he was and he openly wore his emotions on his face. He knelt in front of the elderly woman and said: “You’ve been leaning on your left leg so the fall hurt you. Even if nothing’s broken, you shouldn’t walk. I’ll carry you on my back.”

“I appreciate your offer. You look so much like my grandson. It’s rare to find someone with red eyes like yours.” She said once she saw Kuro. The grandmother accepted his help and she climbed onto his back. He stood and noticed Mahiru’s smile in the corner of his eyes. He felt himself blush under his tender gaze. Kuro could almost read his thoughts.

Mahiru carried the plastic bags as they walked down the street. They followed the directions she gave them and they entered a residential area nearby. He asked the woman about her grandson to start a casual conversation. Kuro merely listened to them laugh together and he thought of how he was able to connect with others easily. He had a warmth that drew people to him.

“Are you two dating?” She asked suddenly. “You two seem close. Did I interrupt your first date?”

“Actually, Kuro and I have been dating for a year now. Finals week ended and we wanted to celebrate by going on a date to Yokohama.” Mahiru told her. Whenever he thought of Kuro, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. “You live here. Do you know good places for a couple to visit?”

“My husband and I have tickets to the Ferris wheel at Cosmo World. It doesn’t look like we can go because my old bones are aching from the fall. You two should take the tickets and enjoy yourselves! It’ll be my way to thank you for helping me.” She offered. “My husband prefers to stay inside so I’m sure he won’t mind giving you the ticket.”

“Kuro is similar. His ideal date is to watch a movie on the couch.” Mahiru loved the late nights they would spend simply cuddling in front of the television. While they had different personalities, they made each other happy. Kuro taught him how to slow down and enjoy the day.

“But he came all the way to Yokohama for a date with you.” She said and Mahiru nodded.

“I wonder if we’ll be able to see Tokyo Tower when we reach the top of the Ferris Wheel.” Mahiru stared out the window as the cart slowly rose higher into the sky. The view before them was beautiful and he didn’t know if he should focus on the starry sky or the neon lights reflecting on the water. In the end, he found himself staring at Kuro and his way the light highlighted his strong features.

The night air was a little cold so he leaned closer to Kuro next to him. He tilted his head back to gaze up at him and pursed his lips slightly. Even without words, he knew what Mahiru wanted. He leaned down to kiss him briefly. Mahiru wrapped his arms around Kuro and said, “That elderly couple was nice to give us those tickets. Do you think that’ll be us one day?”

“By the time we’re old, there should be a service that picks up groceries for us and you wouldn’t have to go out to buy them on your own. We can both stay home and play bingo.” They both laughed as they imagined the scene. Kuro never thought of romance or marriage while he was a child but he could easily imagine those things with Mahiru. Even after years passed and they were old, he would help Mahiru carry groceries home.

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

[bxllafanficc]

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part six)

Part one. Masterlist!

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Your POV*

(Next morning)

"A-achooo!"

You jolted out of your sleep when the loud sound hit you. Half-asleep, you fumbled after a potential threat and thrashed with your legs to get out of bed. Your eyes weren't even open yet and you heard a shocked shriek from Magnolia before something skipped across the sheets and disappeared. You threw the blanket off you, threw yourself to the left to shake it away and-

*Thud*

Ow. You opened your eyes, finally. There was no attack, obviously. If your dream hadn't been about being the captain of a pirate ship as you were in the middle of getting attacked by the Englishmen, there would've been no reason to react that way, you thought.  The loud sound was the sound of a canon ball about to hit you, you'd figured. You let the impact of the floor stone you and you just laid there, thinking of what you were currently doing with your life; too tired to move.

"...(Y/n)? Did you- ... Are you dead?"

Hmmm, wait. Yuri, r-right. He saw that totally.

You rose to your knees and slowly peeked over the bedside, upon Yuri's weary gaze. Only your eyes were visible of course. No point in giving him the chance to see your red tainted cheeks after such an embarrassing act.

"(Y/n). What... are you doing?" His voice thick and dry, almost hoarse. He looked at you with his eyes barely widened. You then noticed how awfully colorless his skin was. Well, except for the redness around the base of his nose. Heavy bags under his eyes displayed on his features as well.

"What in the- Well you seem to have had a rough night, Plisetsky." It wasn't particularly an insult. He did look like the ceiling had been falling in on him and as if he had no choice to carry it the entire night. Yuri gave you a snort and leaned back in his bed.

"Shut up, Duchess."

You picked up your fallen blanket and placed it on top of the bed as you eyed the skater. Then the feeling of Magnolia bumping his head against your leg made you look down and sigh.

"Yeah whatever, Punk." You cradled the large cat in your arms and scratched his chin. 'Sorry, darling. I'll make it up to you...' You whispered in the cat's ear and kissed the top of his head. A purr started drumming from his belly but was quickly drowned out by another loud sneeze and a cough right after.

'Oh my, he isn't... Right?' You thought and the Russian boy sniffled harshly. Even Magnolia gave you a 'What's the matter with him?' look. You made your way to his bed and was met with swimming eyes. Even the stunning shade of blue and sea green had faded slightly and had been replaced with a grayish contrast.

"Yuri... Did you get sick from the waterfall yesterday?" You placed the back of your hand against his forehead and the heat hitting you almost made you retract it immediately. That, however, was done anyway by Yuri briskly swatting your hand away with a groan.

"'M fine!" He's burning up with a fever and he's laying here, lying straight to your face while looking close to passing out any minute. Another sneeze and you had decided what to do next.

"I'm calling Yakov that there will be no training for the following days. You get rested."

"No! I-I don't have such time! I'll practice anyway!" He sat up immediately and bore his gaze into you. You assumed that it was meant to be seen as fierce and energetic but it more looked like the kind of stare a drunk person trying to stare his way through solving a math-problem. You gently but firmly laid a hand on his chest at the intention to hold him back from straining himself any further. His gaze met yours with newfound shock and you ignored the feeling of a loud *thump* pulsing through your hand from inside his chest. A slight stutter was heard before you pushed him back down onto the mattress and held him still for a moment. 'Stay.' Was the message that thankfully got through.

"Rest and I'll be back soon, okay? You're not doing anything until you've recovered." Your words were stern but only a nod was seen from the boy as his eyes were intensely fixated upon your hand holding him down. Just then you noticed the rest of his face had turned red and damp from sweat as well, almost sure that it hadn't been there before. 'Oh no, his body turned hotter just now and his heart is beating out of his chest. Better get him some breakfast and call Yakov immediately before he dies or something.' And with that, you left the room and headed towards the kitchen.

You were making some hot chicken soup on the stove when Victor made his way into the hall and saw you, immediately stopping to see what you were up to.

"Smells delicious (Y/n). What are you making? Can I try?" He peeked above your shoulder and gasped lightly. Your shoulders were cradled by his arms from behind and he pushed his weight onto you, causing you to stumble.

"Pleaseeee?"

"Okay, okay! But just a spoon, alright? It's to Yuri." Victor sheered and waved at Yuuri as he as well now joined them in the kitchen. Next moment a spoon was dipped into the soup and the man started fussing about how great it tasted. He then made Yuuri try it as well meanwhile he stood beside you, taking low.

"A soup only to Yuri, huh? I'd say you're growing rather fond of him at this point. Is it 'made with love' as well?"

"Yuri's come down with a fever from yesterday's adventure. I cancelled his practice with Yakov for the rest of the week. Meanwhile, he said Yuri should think about choosing his music and a possible theme for his skating program this year so Yakov can go ahead and choreograph it in time for his return. Maybe you could help him with the theme and all that? I think he'd appreciate a little push into the right mind of thinking."

Victor fell silent and scratched the top of his head as he stared into the soup. You were heading to grab some red shiny apples and rinsed them under the water flow of the sink.

"How unfortunate that he'll have to postpone his practicing like that... Of course I'll help! Though, it's still a little suspicious of you nursing him back to health, I must say.

"Oh, just quit it, will you?"

"How are you feeling? You look pretty washed up." You pushed the door open and was met with Yuri scrolling on social media. His leg slumped over the other, laying on his back. You knew exactly why the media had been the center of his attention. Yesterday's news blew up around the entire world and people are freaking out on social media. But it wasn't just that. A few already silenced fans of the other figure skating idol's wrote about how it wasn't fair to the rest of the competing programs to have such an advantage. Some even went as far as speculating about Yuri Plisetsky already being so sure on winning this season's Grand Prix and with that, that arranged tour with you. As if  he hired you as coach because of that. To get to know you before the big collaboration between the two competitions.

"I always do. No point in rubbing it in though." You put the soup down on a little nightstand you pulled in front of the bed. Followed by the soup came a glass orange juice and a tray with star-shaped apple-slices. He grabbed the spoon you handed him and gave you a quiet 'thanks' before attacking the food.

"That's really not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I implied you look tired. That's what washed up means." You grabbed a chair from your desk and but it beside him on the floor. He looked slightly bugged that you'd be staying so close to him like that. Maybe he worried about another person getting sick but probably not. It was you at risk in this matter and he didn't exactly care about you, you knew. And yes, getting sick is a down step for a singer since the recovery can be slow and painful. But you didn't really care this time. Besides, you wouldn't be starting this season of We Are Voice in a good month anyway.

"You meant ugly though." His words were subtle and caused you to blink, slightly dumbfounded. Why did he say those things so casually about himself?

"You're never ugly, Yuri."

Wasn't he the one with confidence and pride worth a tiger's during last season's Grand Prix? It feels a little out of place somehow. For him to put himself down after only been doing it to others before.

"Say what now?" He took an apple slice between his fingers and inspected it before chewing it up with a mouth of orange juice.

"... You're actually really pretty... if only your personality wasn't to nasty though..."

You just felt like saying it, honestly. You felt like maybe he needed to hear it. And the parted lips and the wide stare you received from him revealed that you just might have been right. But he quickly read into the following sentence of your exclamation and shook his head.

"H-Hey!" The insult clearly hit the right spot as well judging by the pout and the blush. You flashed him a grin and let a loud laugh escape your lungs.

"Just eat your damn soup,Plisetsky!"

"Hey um... " You looked up from the book you had been reading. Yuri was finished with his breakfast and had been eying you for a good long minute in secret before deciding to speak up. You had just decided to ignore it and figured he'd say something if he felt like it.

"I have been wondering. So the reporter called you The Aubade Duchess yesterday... What does that stand for anyway?" The events of yesterday hit you in the gut once again. The loud screaming and the now so familiar pressure around you. They had been calling you The Duchess of (nationality) ever since your first year at the senior league of We Are Voice where you came in third. You hadn't been competing as a junior the years before but you were immediately a favorite of the people. Then, your second year, you won first place and earned the word 'aubade' to your fan made title. Last year, even though your competition grew more hellbent on winning, you came in first place once again. Your own coach had promised your fans a third golden success for this years finals. The title kind of stuck as you grew up on the stage.

"Right, that. Aubade stand for 'a love song which is sung at dawn', I have been told. It's silly, really." You turned to watch a certain detail in the marble floor, expecting some kind of teasing to come next. But the room fell silent for a moment and your eyes sought the reason behind the reaction.

"It suits you." It had been quiet. But you heard it nonetheless. Yuri wasn't meeting your gaze either but noticed your stunned surprise anyway.

"W-well, I mean... No- maybe? I don't know! It sounds ridiculous, just like you! God, you're so clingy and asking too many questions all the time."

He's been acting so... strange from his usual behavior. Like the fever has turned him into a less tense and distrustful version of himself almost. Wasn't he able to think straight? Perhaps you should treat him as a drunk person after all.

Even though your hand had been previously swatted away, you still put it to his forehead anyway. It was as hot as the first time and the heat made you snap back to your current situation.

"Shit. You're burning up... maybe I should-" You were cut off by Yuri leaning into your hand and closing his eyes. His entire posture screamed 'about to pass out'.

"Your hand... feels cool and nice..."

What the hell? Yeah he's as good as drunk. Wait no- you should call an ambulance, right. This is really bad.

"Oh. Should I get you a damp towel?" You were just about to retract your hand. To leave the room and attend to his fever once again but you were stopped. The Russian Punk took a weak hold on your wrist and held your palm close to his forehead. He sniffled once more before nuzzling into your hand with a little sigh. One more sniffle and he was out.

Light breathing was heard and he was finally asleep. On you, though. You couldn't even reach your phone to dial the hospital. You didn't want to scream for help either because it might have woken him up. But then, you couldn't help but feel a tad of relief as you were finally given a (kind of) break for a few moments.

But you had stuff to do. Those towels wouldn't wet themselves and you better prepare them for him. You began the attempt to remove your hand as carefully as you could but were immediately cut off by the soft mumble of a sound asleep Yuri.

"Mm... Don't you dare go anywhere."

...Okay then.

#inspiration #yuri on stage #yurio plisetsky #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yuri katsuki #yuriart #yurianime #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuri plisetsky #anime icons #anime fanfic #anime #animelove #best anime

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] K-Pop Rookies P1Harmony Are Writing Their Own Coming of Age Story

By Crystal Bell

K-pop group P1Harmony debuted three months ago with their audacious single "Siren," and member Jiung is already dreaming of the perfect solo vacation. The 19-year-old singer wants to emphasize that this is a trip he'd like to — no, needs to — do alone, when he can safely do so. ("You need to bold the word 'alone,'" leader Keeho adds in English, a knowing glint of mirth in his eyes. "Put it in italics too.") So, more about this excursion: "If possible, I want to go to a foreign country," Jiung tells Teen Vogue from an office in Seoul, South Korea. He doesn't have a specific place in mind, just somewhere new and exciting and, most importantly, a place where he can be alone to freely organize his thoughts without any other responsibilities.

It sounds like a lyric ripped from the pages of his notebook, or the plot of a coming-of-age movie his 17-year-old groupmate Intak would enjoy: a young man on a voyage of self-discovery, chasing a feeling to a faraway land to escape his adolescent ennui. For now, however, it's just a lofty resolution for the new year.

"I also want to travel alone because I've never done it before," youngest member Jongseob, who recently turned 15, enthusiastically offers in Korean. Jiung, always one to help the younger sort out his feelings, is quick to quash the teenage rapper's theoretical plans. "That's not very realistic," he says. "You're too young to travel alone." Undeterred, Jongseob carries on: "Then my goal this year is to drink more milk."

"He wants to grow taller, but I don't think milk helps that much," Keeho comments, shaking his head while his teal quiff stays firmly in place. "I heard that's a myth."

Technically, they're not wrong. Unaccompanied minors can't travel internationally without a parent's formal consent in South Korea, and there's no proven scientific correlation between dairy and height. But spoken aloud, this interaction sounds more like playful goading among good friends. It's a testament to Keeho, Theo, Jiung, Intak, Soul, and Jongseob's comfortable dynamic as a group that the copper-haired youngest just earnestly smiles through the minor sting of his hopes being swiftly dashed.

For all of the training that goes into a K-pop artist's career, perhaps the most vital lesson is learning how to symbiotically coexist in close quarters with someone who is unfamiliar to you. Like most things, it is a process. Harmony isn't achieved overnight, especially among six teenage boys who have differing definitions of the word "clean." Cultural differences present unique challenges, too. When Keeho left his home in Canada to pursue his musical dreams as a trainee at FNC Entertainment in Seoul, he didn't have much trouble fitting in. Or so he thought. "He was funny," Jiung says in retrospect. "But I don't think we were able to communicate well." It wasn't that they couldn't understand what Keeho was saying — the soulful singer grew up speaking Korean with his family — but rather they couldn't understand him.

"Everyone would be stressed out, and I would be like, 'Guys, relax. Why are you stressing out over this?'" Keeho says animatedly with his hands. "They couldn't understand why I was so relaxed. How could I not care about anything? And I couldn't understand why they were always so stressed about things. It took a while to get on the same page."

That's where communication comes in. "The key is being honest," Jiung explains. "We have a lot of talks." These regular conversations allow the members to resolve potential issues before they spiral into larger, more disharmonious problems. Keeho is refreshingly open about this. "We're always stuck together," he adds. "We live together. We see each other 24 hours a day. Seeing anyone 24 hours a day, you'll eventually be, like, ugh, get away from me, but because we communicate so much, that [feeling] is reduced." Establishing rules and boundaries also helps. "We have a basic rule that you clean up the mess you've made," Jongseob says from where he's perched behind Jiung. (This rule is especially important to methodical Jiung.) And then there's vocalist Theo, the eldest member who also takes on the role of the group's even-keeled mediator because he's a good listener, and he likes giving advice.

"I'm not very opinionated," the blonde says. At 19, he's a few months older than Keeho but harder to read. He's both lighthearted and enigmatic. "I'm not good at expressing my feelings," Theo explains. "But the members are really good at expressing themselves and their emotions, so I'm learning how to open up because of them." According to Keeho, Theo is "bad at being serious," adding, "We'll have to have a serious talk, and he won't be able to take it. He's always trying to lighten the mood. He's the comedic relief."

Keeho makes a habit of describing the members' various idiosyncrasies in fervent detail. It's a very leaderly thing to do, to make sure that everyone feels understood. Occasionally, he also jumps in to help interpret their answers into English, or to encourage others to speak. Soul, who is half-Korean but was raised in Japan, could be described as a quiet person: an introvert who wears a lot of black, listens to metal, and has a particular obsession with massive skull rings and accessories. But he's also acutely perceptive. He'd rather listen and observe than be an active participant in the conversation. "I like when the rest of the members are discussing an idea," he says quietly in Korean (he's still learning the language). "I like watching them talk." It's not that he's not involved, but as Keeho puts it, "He's always supporting us silently and observing us." For Soul, it's more fun to sit and watch.

You can get a sense of these dynamics as they unfold on the last track of the group's debut EP, Disharmony: Stand Out. It's a skit, or audio recording of the members — then, just trainees — as they talk candidly about their dreams to perform and contemplate the implications of such aspirations. "I work hard here for the debut, but when I go to school, I wonder, 'What am I doing here?'" Intak says on tape, recalling how strange it feels to not have the same priorities as his classmates who are all preparing for their college admissions. Theo quells his concerns, telling him how lucky he is to already be working toward his dream. "That's a cool thing," Keeho adds, as Soul silently listens in the background.

While his peers prepared for their academic futures, Intak was spending his evenings dancing, rapping, singing, and writing lyrics, while also stunt training alongside his groupmates and preparing to become a… movie star. A few weeks before the release of their album, P1H: A New World Begins hit theaters across South Korea in early October. The first K-pop origin story to hit the big screen, the feature film introduced P1Harmony and their sci-fi lore to the masses. Long story short: After a deadly virus spreads chaos and violence around the globe, six boys with extraordinary gifts are humanity's only hope for survival. The filming experience was invaluable for the artists, who until that point had only ever studied music and performance. "Acting training really helped with my facial expressions," Intak says. "I learned how to portray my emotions on stage." Keeho agrees, adding, "We got very friendly with the camera."

Singers who rap, rappers who sing, dancers who act — the boys of P1Harmony forgo clearly defined roles in favor of being versatile and, well, good at everything.

As for their music, Disharmony: Stand Out is a snapshot of Gen Z unrest, simmering with angst ("Siren") and bucking wildly, vibrantly against convention ("Nemonade"). Teenage turmoil has been fueling the K-pop industry since the very beginning, and there's a certain nostalgia to P1Harmony's no-holds-barred approach. Members Soul and Jongseob both credit B.A.P and their hard-hitting style with inspiring them to become artists, with Zelo influencing Jongseob to pursue rap in elementary school. You can hear those more aggressive, hip-hop-tinged influences on Disharmony, as well as softer, more lyrical R&B flourishes ("Butterfly").

"We wanted to convey feelings and situations that are not harmonious," Jongseob says. "We want to say don't be afraid to stand out and to say what you want to say — speak your truth, and do it with courage and confidence." Despite his age, the young rapper carries himself like a veteran. By all accounts, he's earned the title, having won the competition series K-pop Star 6 at age 12 in 2017 and competed in YG Treasure Box less than two years later. These experiences, he says, helped him feel more comfortable performing. By the time he came to FNC, he was already a prodigy with the confidence and flow of a performer twice his age.

"There are so many people, our age especially, who aren't always able to speak courageously and confidently," Keeho adds. "So we wanted to encourage everyone, especially ourselves, to never be afraid to say what you want to say."

And they practice what they preach. All of the members are credited lyricists on the album, with all six collaborating on the roaring hip-hop track "That's It." Part cypher, part vibes, "That's It" is teeming with boyish swagger and possibility. "Even though it was the first time all six of us worked on a song together, surprisingly we were all on the same page from the very first meeting, and it came together quickly," Jiung recounts, adding that each member wrote their own verse. "It was fun," Keeho chirps.

That creative energy is also channeled into their performances. "Because we do take part in a lot of the songwriting, we also want to convey that in our dance," Intak explains. Though he's part of the group's rap line, his first love was dance. He started taking lessons as a child. "My mom is a dancer, so she's where I got my love of dancing," he says. As such, he's well-versed in conveying emotion through motion. "We always have an idea of how we want to portray these emotions with our bodies," he says. The members choreograph their own center gestures. These movements are a small but significant part of any performance, because this is where their charisma and individuality shine brightest.

"I wanted to become a singer because I wanted to perform onstage," Theo says. "So being able to be on music programs performing on real stages, surrounded by bright LED lights and visual backdrops, I feel like a main character. When all of the lights are on me, I feel like a star."

Unsurprisingly, even when he's offstage, he's still singing. He even likes to call his friends and take song requests. "I like to sing to my friends through the phone," he says. "I'll sing anything they want. I play piano for them, too. They're very open to listening to me." Next to him, Keeho adds, "My friends would not want me to sing to them." (The internet respectfully disagrees.) Meanwhile, Jongseob turns to making music and writing lyrics in his downtime. It's a great way to relieve stress, he says. These days, Intak turns to animated films to ease his mind. He's a fan of Studio Ghibli films, and he really likes the Japanese manga characters Doraemon and Shin Chan.

"I watch a lot of coming-of-age stories about these innocent kids who are in the process of becoming adults," he explains. "I get inspired by watching them. I don't want to lose that innocence, so watching those animations make me feel youthful." It's hard to imagine Intak without his boyish sensibility. It's seeped into every social media post and YouTube vlog (or, #PLOG). Yet, as an artist, as a teenager, it's an unusual phenomenon to be perceived by thousands of fans before having the clarity to perceive yourself. It's something no amount of Miyazaki or training prepares you for.

Initially, Theo had a hard time opening up on camera. The mere thought of it made him nervous, but the more he did it, the easier it was for him to parse his own feelings. "I'm not very good at expressing emotions like thank you and I love you," he says. "But it's a lot easier to express those feelings now because I feel them so sincerely. I can say thank you for loving me [to fans] because I truly mean it."

"There are people from all around the world who leave me messages, and that makes me so happy," Intak says. "It drives me to do more and to give more to them."

And there will be more to give. Disharmony: Stand Out was just the beginning, and Keeho already has some very big goals for 2021. At the top of the list? "Rookie of the Year, come on!" he says spiritedly of the K-pop industry's coveted award. "It's definitely possible. I'm manifesting it right now." He also wants to make more music, maybe release more covers. "We want to come back a lot," he smiles. "I'm thinking [of] at least three releases next year."

Then there are more personal goals, like Jiung's solo travels. "I want to take better care of my mental health," he adds, noting that it starts with a more positive mindset. "I want to be a better person overall." Intak wants to, for the first time in his young life, maintain a consistent routine for a healthier lifestyle. That includes getting enough sleep when there aren't any schedules. ("He could sleep, but he chooses not to," Keeho jokes.) After monitoring his fancams, Theo has decided that he wants to build more muscle. And Soul hopes to go home to Japan to see his dog, a Frenchie named Mochi.

As for Keeho, in true Libra fashion, he wants to maintain a sense of balance: "I want to stay true to myself," he says. "I don't want to be like, oh, the fame is getting to me. I don't want to change. I want to stay grounded and stay thankful and be grateful, always. I also want to make some more money." He laughs, then adds, "I can't lie!"

No, he can't. Honesty is the key to harmony, after all.

#p1harmony #ot6 #t:news #era:disharmony : stand out #210123

[shutupandshipit]

Coming Home - Part 1

Summary:  When Katsuki stepped off the plane, he was greeted with the familiar heat of Musutafu in summer. Humidity like he was sitting in a sauna. He'd been all over America in the past five and a half years, but nothing was quite like the weather of home. It could be similar, primarily along the east coast, but just not quite the same. Just similar.

Breathing in deeply, he gripped the small hand in his and started down the ramp to where he could see Best Jeanist leaning against a car with illegally blacked out windows. Katsuki idly wondered if he was absolutely roasting in his hero uniform.

"Your hand is sweaty, Papa."

"Your's isn't much better, little monster."

.....

Or where Katsuki disappeared to America to find someone to make prostheses for him. He was gone for five and a half years, and returns with a little tag-a-long.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 1/2

Next -> Part 2

Follow-on: Christmas Preemie

Author’s Note: I wrote this primarily because I wanted to write Katsuki and his daughter with prostheses, but this has a lot of different fic ideas rolled into one for me. On top of that, we get to see the reappearance of Katsumi from one of my other fics only older. She's my go to any time I write Katsuki and Izuku with a child, though none of the others are published. I just love writing her.

Part 1: the forecast calls for tears

"Where's Kacchan?" Izuku was sitting up in his hospital bed, pillows piled up behind him to keep him from straining his back. His eyes were flat, lacking all their usual light as they stared blankly at the empty bed to his side. He couldn't have known Katsuki had occupied that bed for the better part of a week, no logical reason anyway, but he did. He could still smell him there even though the sheets were new and crisp and untouched. He and his alpha mourned the distance.

Ochako and Kirishima glanced at each other while the rest of his classmates shuffled meaningfully.

When they didn't speak, Izuku turned those unnervingly blank eyes towards them. "How long was I asleep?"

Ochako chaffed her hands against her skirt before pressing her fingertips together. "You were in a coma for a month."

Izuku's eyes traveled over his classmates. Ex-classmates. Graduated classmates. Fellow heroes. They'd been graduated for a year now, but still, they came running when they heard he'd woken up. Tenderness bubbled quietly up in his chest. He could always count on them. Except for when they thought they were protecting him from something.

Even now, a month after the final battle with the League, the one where everyone had gotten hurt and some killed, he could see their wounds. Not physically. All of that had been healed long before he'd woken up, but in the way they stood. Straighter. Stiffer. Favoring arms or legs. In the way they looked at him.

"Where's Kacchan?" he asked again, and this time, he saw the looks that passed between them. The downcast eyes. The shuffling. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the way they'd acted after the training camp when he'd failed to save Katsuki. "Where. Is. He?"

Kirishima swallowed, eyes wet. "Best Jeanist took him to America."

The words dropped into his head with a hollow 'plink'. It took him several minutes of slow blinking to understand. Too long. His mind felt drug slow. So much slower than his usual thoughts. Out of the confusion, he pulled only one thought. 'He left me. He left before I woke up. He left me.'

"I don't understand," he whispered slowly. 'He left me. He left me. He left me.'

"He- During the battle- He-" Kirishima couldn't get the words out, tears tracking down his cheeks. He wouldn't meet Izuku's eyes. No one would.

Anger bubbled up slowly, but there was no heat to it. No substance. It was just there like the affection. But they were separate from him. He felt empty. Like he could grab the emotions and study them, but not truly feel them.

Todoroki was the one to speak, voice affectless and calm. At least Izuku could always trust him to never hold back. Never tempered by affection or frustration. "During the battle after you'd been taken out, he was protecting you. He'd gone feral and went to far. He lost an arm and a leg."

A rush of emotion punched Izuku in the chest. He looked away as a keening cry burst from him, staring at the empty bed. He didn't want to imagine how Katsuki had felt, lying in that bed, crippled with the knowledge that his career as a hero had been stolen from him. Stolen by Izuku. The person who was supposed to protect him. Katsuki was right to leave. Right to never make that mating bond Izuku had desperately wanted.

Todoroki continued despite the others hissing for him to stop. "Best Jeanist took him to America to seek out someone who could make him prostheses. Originally, they were going to find someone in Japan, but the Americans have more advanced prostheses currently. There's rumors that their prosthetic engineers can return a hero to service without much difference in their previous performance."

Lifting trembling hands, Izuku covered his face. His tears. His shame. He was broken, and he didn't want them to see that. A broken, useless hero. "Did we at least win?" he asked instead of the other question that urged to be asked. 'Is he going to come back?'

"Yes," Yaoyorozu said, but her voice was softer than it would normally be. It was unthinkable that she was unhappy about winning.

'But at what cost?' No one voiced the thought, but it hung in the room like a haze. 'But at what cost?'

Izuku sobbed, unable to curl in on himself because of the stiff bandaging still around his torso.

Ochako reached for him, hand resting on his forearm. "He told us to tell you that he's sorry."

Izuku let out a unrestrained wail. Everyone crowded around his bed, but their proximity wasn't a comfort. Only one person would be, but if he were there, Izuku wouldn't need comfort.

.....

When Katsuki stepped off the plane, he was greeted with the familiar heat of Musutafu in summer. Humidity like he was sitting in a sauna. He'd been all over America in the past five and a half years, but nothing was quite like the weather of home. It could be similar, primarily along the east coast, but just not quite the same. Just similar.

Breathing in deeply, he gripped the small hand in his and started down the ramp to where he could see Best Jeanist leaning against a car with illegally blacked out windows. Katsuki idly wondered if he was absolutely roasting in his hero uniform.

"Your hand is sweaty, Papa."

"Your's isn't much better, little monster," he told the little girl. They held tight to each other to keep her from falling if she slipped. She was clumsy on the best of days, but anxiety made it worse. And she was a very anxious child as it was. At the bottom of the steps, he dried his hand on his pants. "Hold on. Let me put your hair up. You're going to sweat to death in this humidity otherwise. Here, drink some water." He handed her a bottle in exchange for her bright red scrunchy, and swept her mane of green curls into a high ponytail.

He watched her closely as she carefully sipped water before taking the bottle for a drink of his own. He wiped away a trickled of water from her chin.

"Thank you," she mumbled, eyes down as she surveyed Best Jeanist from beneath her lashes. Ever observant. "Who is that hero?"

"My boss." Taking her hand again, he led her towards the hero in question. "His hero name is Best Jeanist."

"I would think we're at least friends by this point, Bakugou." Best Jeanist's blue eyes were sharp as they watched the little girl at Katsuki's side. He hadn't seen her since she was a newborn squalling in Katsuki's arms, and he honestly hadn't been expecting to see her again. Katsuki was forever full of surprises. But that had been one of the reasons he'd hired Katsuki after he'd graduated, hadn't it? "I know you don't remember me, but I've known you since you were only a few minutes old. It's good to see you again. You can call me Best Jeanist or Tsunagu." He held out a hand expecting her to be more accustomed to American manners and forms of greeting, but she didn't take.

The little girl turned her eyes up to Katsuki.

"She won't take your hand. She hasn't gotten her quirk under control just yet, and it goes off when she's nervous." He turned soft eyes down to her. "Give him your elbow instead, Sumi."

Nodding, she held out her elbow, and Best Jeanist touched it gently before pulling his hand back. She bowed and stood straight. "My name is Bakugou Katsumi. Can I call you Tsu, Mr. Best Jeanist?"

Taken aback by her formality and forwardness, Best Jeanist nodded. "Whatever you like."

She smiled brightly, and now he could see her complete parentage. He smiled back, the only indication a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He could never resist that smile as he'd found out from working with her father, the father she hadn't met yet. He wondered if Katsuki had told her about him.

"We should get going, Bakugou," he said, meeting Katsuki's eyes. "The media hasn't caught wind that you're back yet, but I'll warn you, your parents organized a party for you. They haven't left me alone." As if to prove his point, his phone chimed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he showed Katsuki the onslaught of impatient texts from Mitsuki and the inquisitive texts from Masaru. The only difference was that Masaru had stopped several hours before while Mitsuki never had.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, and accepted the small hand that slipped back into his. Sweat slicked palm pressed against sweat slicked palm. "We need to shower first. We've been travelling for almost a day, and Katsumi needs to take a nap beforehand."

"I'll let them now." Best Jeanist was already tapping away. "But the first thing we're doing before the party is getting your phone reactivated. I'm not going to play messenger pigeon forever. Get in." Without another word, he climbed into the driver's seat.

Opening the back door, Katsuki took a moment to secure Katsumi's booster seat. He threw their backs onto the opposite seat. "Alright, in you go." He lifted Katsumi into the car. "Can you buckle yourself like a big girl?"

"Yes," Katsumi chirped and proceeded to do so. She locked the belt in place and tugged on the strap for his inspection.

"Good job." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before closing her door, and rounding the car to the passenger side. After securing his own belt, he rested his elbow on the center console and offered her his hand. She took it happily.

Best Jeanist passed him a set of keys. "I found an apartment close to the agency. Your things arrived yesterday, but you'll have to unpack. Figured you would prefer to do that yourself over someone touching your things."

Katsuki nodded, and pocketed the keys.

.....

Izuku nearly dropped his phone down a storm drain when the text from Kirishima came through. From a stream of dirty water, a picture of Kirishima and Mina's smiling faces with a reluctantly frowning Katsuki squished between them stared up at him. He didn't retrieve the cell until two messages buzzed through in quick succession, sending his phone closer to the yawning opening of the drain. The first text was an address he didn't recognize, and the other was, 'When do you get off? The party's in full swing!'

What party? No one had ever told him about a party. No one had told him about Katsuki coming back. Annoyance reared its head, but he completely obliterated it with the burning desire to see Katsuki again. He couldn't blame them after the state he'd been in the year Katsuki had left. It took him a long time to return to some form of normalcy, and even then, he'd never been the same. He didn't want to admit or imagine what he would have been like with the knowledge of Katsuki's return. Insufferable probably.

More pictures buzzed in from all of his other friends at the party before he found it in him to reply. 'Soon. I'll be there soon.' It took him a moment to realize that maybe that didn't sound like a real reply, and that actually he didn't get off soon. But maybe-

At his side, Burnin suddenly snarled.

Swiftly, he tucked the phone away lest she break that one too. At least four phones had been sacrificed to her wrath in all the years he'd been working with her. "Sorry, Burnin. I'll turn it off."

"Don't fucking bother, just go."

"What?" Burnin wasn't one for kindness and this seemed very closely related to kindness. "We've still got four hours left."

"I don't give a shit. You're fucking useless when you're distracted, and I don't want to look at your face. You look like a kicked puppy. It's irritating. You'll take my next shift with Shouto. I hate working with that little fuck." She pushed her hair off her shoulder self-importantly, glaring at the passersby. "Ugh. Whatever. Let me call the boss."

Before she could reach for her ear-piece, Endeavor's voice roared across the line. "Deku!"

The pair flinched, and Izuku pressed his fingers to his own ear-piece. "Go for Deku."

"Go home! Coals is taking your spot! Tell Shouto to leave me alone, I'm trying to work!"

Izuku and Burnin exchanged a look. Todoroki wasn't someone who took to bothering people on purpose, and he wasn't someone who willingly interacted with Endeavor. There was a first for everything, Izuku guessed. "How far out is Coals?"

"Doesn't matter! Just got the fuck home! And call Shouto!"

"Copy," Izuku said, and the network went silent again. "Your shift with Shouto is tomorrow, right? I'll be there. Have a good day off."

Burnin huffed, but didn't say anything as he launched himself into the air. He typed in Todoroki's number, grinning.

.....

Katsuki was exhausted. He hadn't taken a nap when Katsumi had, and he'd been at the party for hours. The appearance of Izuku and then the nerd's subsequent avoidance of him had only made him irritable and turn down his hearing aids to a dull buzz in his ears. Alcohol might have made it easier, but not while Katsumi was there.

She was keeping herself occupied with Kaminari, Ochako and some brats that he still wasn't sure belonged to who. But he didn't drink if his daughter was around. Realistically, he didn't want anyone to drink around her, but that would have been more unreasonable than he was nowadays.

He stared pointedly at Izuku across the coffee table from him, and with his hearing aids down, didn't hear Katsumi's quiet voice. She tugged on his sleeve, startling him out of his reverie. Turning up his hearing aid, he asked, "What is it, little monster? Do you need to use the bathroom? I know they don't have a stool."

Katsumi shook her head, freed curls bouncing all around her. Mina had braided her hair, but didn't know how to trap all her curls so there were more than a few that had popped out all over her head. She looked aggrieved and a little apologetic as she glanced at Izuku. She motioned Katsuki down until she could cup her hands around his ear. "My legs hurt, Papa. And... I'm too scared to talk to Daddy. I don't know if you want him to know. I know he doesn't."

Now, Katsuki was aggrieved. Shamed as he caught Izuku's eyes on them. He hadn't wanted Katsumi to grow up without knowing who her father was, so he'd fed her stories and news feeds of Izuku, but the person the media portrayed was very different from the fact of him. The person Katsuki's own biased betrayed was different.

Standing, Katsuki lifted her into his arms. She was light and small, but still, she was getting big. Soon, he wouldn't be able to hold her like that. She laid her head on his shoulder, and his heart clenched with the knowledge of the impending loss.

"We're gonna head out, Mom, Dad. We've got a long day tomorrow," he said as everyone looked up at him.

Activity swirled around them as people stood to gather belongings and spouses and brats, shoving trash in bags that they took as they said their goodbyes. Katsuki was hugged more times than he could almost stand.

When Izuku stood and made to follow Ochako, Iida and Todoroki, Katsuki caught his eye.

"Lend me your ear and a hand," Katsuki said, shoving Katsumi's car seat into his arms to prevent him from protesting.

Izuku followed Katsuki home silently, a feat he didn't know Izuku could accomplish. He remained silent when they got back to the apartment as Katsuki shepherded Katsumi through their nightly routine; wash face, brush teeth, tie back hair, file nails, glass of water. Then he set her in front of Izuku as she fidgeted with the edge of her nightshirt, a piece of Deku merchandise.

Izuku smiled gently. "Hi. I didn't get to meet you at the party. My name is Midoriya Izuku."

"I know," she mumbled, but didn't say anymore.

Katsuki swallowed, uncomfortably nervous. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. After a moment of tense silence, he sighed shakily. Izuku glanced up at him questioningly. God, Izuku was still so fucking oblivious. Couldn't he see himself in her? Didn't he understand? "Deku, don't freak out. This is Katsumi."

"Okay? Why would I freak out?" Izuku asked cautiously.

He repressed a growl, and tried to keep his voice as even as possible. He knew this day would eventually come. He didn't want her to grow up fatherless, but he could have planned better. Sent him pictures, letters, a text, anything. But he'd been freaked out after finding out that he was pregnant, especially right after loosing his arm and leg. Leaving for America had been as much to get replacements as to run away from Izuku. "This is Bakugou-Midoriya Katsumi."

Izuku went stock still, pleasant smile plastered to his face.

When he didn't move and Katsumi kept shuffling, he sighed. "Come on, baby, let's finish getting you ready. Bathroom and then chair." Katsumi peed and then Katsuki set her in her wheel chair. "Legs," he instructed, but she'd already lifted them.

Pushing up the hem of her shirt, he found the edge of the synthetic skin that covered her prostheses and peeled the fabric away. One and then the other. Titanium glinted at them, and she looked away, jaw clenched. Despite his best efforts, he knew she hated looking at them. Knew they made her different from all of the others kids, kids who had been her friends before she'd lost her legs.

There was a sharp inhale at their side, but he ignored Izuku.

"Sumi," Katsuki said gently, waiting until she looked at him, "You're beautiful and strong, little monster. Do you want to hold my hand?"

She nodded emphatically, and Katsuki positioned her legs so they'd slide into his lap instead of dropping to the floor before holding out a hand. She gripped it tightly.

"On three," he said, maintaining eye contact, "One... two... three." He disengaged her legs in quick succession, and she flinched. Her eyes slammed shut, fingers tightening in his, but remained quiet. "All done. You did amazing, baby."

She nodded, but didn't let go of his hand or open her eyes.

Clenching his jaw, he twisted off one leg and then the other and set them off to the side. He grabbed her other hand, rubbing circles into the backs of her hands until her grip relaxed. She squinted crimson eyes at him. "Time for bed. How about I carry you? Deku can bring your legs and chair. Do you want a story?" She shook her head no, but raised her arms when he stood. He bundled her against his chest, much lighter without the weight of her legs. Again, she laid her head on his shoulder.

When he turned, he was happy Katsumi couldn't see Izuku's expression. Unfiltered horror. Anger. Need. Pain. But also, pure unconditional love of the kind only Izuku could possess. His face cycled through emotion after emotion. He was completely unable to settle on one.

Katsuki was happier than he could express to know the Izuku was still the same old Izuku, at least in the emotions department. "Deku," he said when Izuku remained still.

Izuku jumped to his feet like there was a fire under his ass. Prostheses in one arm -they looked so tiny when he held them- and hand on a handle of the wheelchair, he followed after them.

"Can I call you Daddy, Mr. Deku? I know you don't know me, but..." Katsumi trailed off timidly as Izuku watched Katsuki lay her down and tuck her in.

Her bed was one of the few things besides her prostheses that Katsuki hadn't worried about the cost of. Soft enough to engulf her with all the bells and whistles needed to make life easier for a little girl when she didn't have her legs on. There was a bookcase attached to the bed frame, filled with books, notebooks, knickknacks, and hero merch. The mattress top was exactly the height of her wheelchair. No one would ever believe him about how long it took him to find a bed that exact height.

Katsuki closed his eyes against the warmth that built in them at her words.

Behind him, Izuku fought off his own tears. He sniffled and grinned as he said, "You're my daughter. You can call me anything you want. I'm... sorry I haven't been here."

Her smile was blinding, a carbon copy of Izuku's. "It's okay. You're here now."

Katsuki pressed a kiss to her forehead before sliding her chair next to her bed and standing her legs in their stands. "Love you, little monster. Sleep tight."

"I love you too. Sweet dreams, Papa. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight," Izuku said, his voice just a chocked whisper as Katsuki guided him back into the living room.

.....

They sat in silence for hours. Katsuki unpacked box after box, fighting sleep with an ironclad fist. Izuku flipped through photo albums of Katsumi that Katsuki had unearthed. Newborn pictures. The quintessential month by month progress pictures Negative had insisted he take. Her at daycare and in pre-school. When she was four and meeting her favorite Disney characters; Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Merida, Winnie the Pooh. One of her kicking the costumed Gaston in the shin, and Katsuki cracking up as he pulled her away. Another of her holding a baby alligator when she was three, the animal nearly as big as she was. Birthdays and friends and everything Izuku had missed.

He cried all the while, smiling through the tears like a love-struck fool. When he reached the section of pictures of Katsumi trying out her prostheses for the first time, he sobbed and dropped his head into his hands. "How did it happen?" he choked out.

Katsuki stepped up behind him, staring down at the stretch of pictures. Katsumi in a hospital bed, grinning despite the bandages while Katsuki was knocked out in his hero uniform at her side. Katsumi frowning determinedly as she pushed herself around in a wheel chair. Katsumi with a smile wider than the horizon as she hung from Katsuki's arms with her new prostheses.

Katsuki's throat tightened, and he swallowed thickly. "Her pre-school was attacked. Her legs were completely destroyed, crushed beneath part of the ceiling. They couldn't save her legs, but they saved her." He fought to keep his voice steady, but no matter what he did, it wavered. "That was the day her quirk manifested. Her teacher told me that if it hadn't and if she hadn't used it, more of the kids would have gotten hurt. Might have died. She blasted away the ceiling when it started to fall."

He watched Izuku's shoulders shake. He wanted to reach out, comfort him, but even all these years later, he didn't really know how to do that. So, instead, he continued talking. "She's a lot like you. She's so fucking strong, Deku. She's been through more in five years than most people go through in their entire lives, but she still keeps smiling. I was really relieved the first time I realized she was like you. If she were more like me-" He couldn't say it, wouldn't. There was a universe out there somewhere where she didn't survive, and he hoped someone had taken pity and put him out of his misery.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you come back? Why did you leave before I woke up?" Izuku sobbed, curled in on himself, voice muffled against his hands and legs. "No one has heard from you in over five years! What happened, Kacchan?"

Rounding the couch, Katsuki sat on the coffee table close enough that their knees were just a hair's breadth from touching. He hated admitting weakness. In all their years apart, that hadn't changed. But Izuku was the exception to that rule, wasn't he? Always had been. And he felt that familiar prying feeling in his chest, every emotion he'd bottled up and stored away to ignore clawing out. Out of everyone he trusted, he trusted Izuku the most even when he'd hated him. "I was scared," he whispered, staring down at his palms, at the slightly different colors of them.

Izuku's shoulders slowed, and after a breath, he lifted his head.

Katsuki couldn't look at him, even though he could feel Izuku's eyes boring into him. "I was scared about being pregnant. I was scared I wouldn't be able to be a hero anymore. I was scared you wouldn't want me anymore with only one arm and one leg and most of my hearing lost and my career in shambles. I was scared you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, especially since I was too far along if you wanted me to terminate. I was scared I wouldn't be a good dad. I was scared I wouldn't be able to provide for her." He swallowed thickly, drying his palms obsessively against his pants. "I was scared. I am scared. Every day. I'm not who I used to be, and I am scared you won't want me because I'm not the same person."

A quiet laugh. "You're still the same old you." Katsuki jerked his head up, and Izuku was smiling now. "You're still the most emotionally stupid person I know." He slid to the edge of the couch, pressing a knee between Katsuki's. "It's you, Kacchan, it's always been you and no one else. Ever since we were kids. Only you. Nothing can change that. I thought you would have known that when I asked for your mating bite."

"That was before everything happened. How was I supposed to know that? You're the one who just said I'm emotionally inept."

"Because I love you, and I told you I did every day after we started dating."

Katsuki pointed to himself. "Emotionally inept."

Laughing, Izuku leaned forward. His eyes flicked to Katsuki's mouth. "Can I..." He trailed off, looking into Katsuki's eyes and finding hunger there.

Katsuki nodded, and they fell back into each other as if they hadn't been apart for five years.

.....

"The pre-school was attacked! Who attacks a pre-school?" Negative shouted into her phone, rage billowing from her in sepia toned clouds.

"Pre-school?" Cold fear dumped into Katsuki's veins. "What pre-school? Which one!" Not Katsumi's pre-school. Any other, but his daughter's. There were ten just in the city limits. The odds were in his favor here. Right? Yes. Definitely. It wouldn't be-

"Sunrise. Corner of Sunrise and Palm," Negative said quickly, eyes darting to him, "Where did you say your daughter goes?"

He took off, blasting away from the ground like a rocket. Negative raced after him, propelling herself into the air to catch up. As in all of his dreams, it was as though he was moving through molasses, every movement agonizingly slow. No matter how badly he wanted to go faster, he never could.

As they landed on the street just a block away, a giant explosion blew the roof off the pre-school. Flames billowed into the sky. Windows shattered all along the street. Debris and ash rained. The screams and cries of trapped children pierced through the explosion deafened air.

.....

"Katsumi!" Katsuki croaked breathlessly, clawing at the fabric beneath his fingers. Or trying to. Whenever he woke from a nightmare so suddenly, he could never move, incapacitated by a crushing force on his back that left his lungs empty. Just like he'd been in that moment. Breathless, silent, terrified, motionless. In the time right after waking, he was subject to his own memories. They flashed through his mind, a disturbing reel of destruction. The collapsed in ceiling. Blood and dusk covered children. Katsumi's small, unconscious face. Bloody palms and bloodier skirt.

"Katsumi!" he croaked out again, louder than before, but still nearly silent. Finally -finally- he could curl his fingers into fists. Spell broke, he shoved himself to his feet, frantic. Katsumi. He had to get to Katsumi. She was-

Strong fingers wrapped around his wrists, pulling him to a stop as his palms popped violently. "Kacchan? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"K-Katsumi! I need to- I- Katsumi-" His breath came in quick, staccato pants. Dizziness settled over him, and distantly, he knew he was hyperventilating. "Katsumi! I need to go to her!"

Izuku hushed him quietly, green eyes luminous in the moonlight peeking through parted curtains. "Katsumi's fine, Kacchan, she's sleeping in her room. It's okay. She's okay. She's safe. Kacchan, breath, you're panicking."

He was panicking. He knew that, but he couldn't calm down until until he saw her safe and whole. Free from blood on her skin. "I need to see her!" he gasped. On nights like this, when nightmares chased him out of sleep, he slept in her bed. He cradled her against his chest, heart racing until her soft all-spice and mint scent lulled him back to sleep. It was desperately embarrassing. What kind of father needed his daughter to help him get back to sleep instead of the other way around?

Under Izuku's scrutiny, he felt the ugly, disgusting truth on his skin. The shame of how weak he'd gotten. He was supposed to be her protector and rock, not the body that needed her as a crutch. He couldn't put his truth into words, he could only whisper, "I need to see her."

Without another question, Izuku silently stood and led Katsuki to their daughter's room. They silently slipped into her room, and Katsuki immediately went to her bedside, pushing her chair out of the way to kneel close to her head. He stroked her hair, already feeling himself calm.

Izuku watched, scent held close and in-check against his body.

Katsuki wished he would let go of his control. Let his scent mingle. All of their scents belonged together. They should permeate the entire apartment, drive out the weird smell all apartments that had sat empty for any amount of time possessed.

"Papa?" Katsumi whispered sleepily, eyes remaining closed, "Did you have a bad dream again?"

Katsuki hummed, heat pressing in at his eyes as he held her tiny hand between his.

"It's okay. I'm safe. Go back to sleep." She reached out her other hand, stroking his hair in return and quietly hummed a familiar tune. "Daddy's here now. Nothing can go wrong anymore."

Tears trickled down his face, and he pressed it into her blanket until her hand stilled and fell away. With a sniffle, he stood, laid her hands across her stomach, and left.

Izuku was slow to follow, but eventually, his weight sunk down onto the edge of the mattress in Katsuki's empty bedroom. The room was darker than the living room, but he felt every single aspect of Izuku there at his side like a fire on a cloudy night.

"Are you okay?" Izuku's whisper sounded like a shout in the silence. Somewhere beyond the room, wood sighed and settled.

"Yes. We're used to it. Happens all the time." He didn't turn to look at Izuku, simply staring into the dark.

Izuku paused meaningfully. "That doesn't mean you're alright."

He was right, Katsuki knew he was. He was always right. So, Katsuki couldn't stop himself as he spilled all of his secrets. Eviscerated himself for Izuku's inspection. He told him everything. From the time he was a teenager to now. Every nightmare where he woke terrified Izuku had actually heeded his words and thrown himself from the school roof. Every sleepless night, gasping into the darkness when the weight pressed down just as soon as he started to fall asleep. Every worry, every shame, every regret he'd ever harbored. All those bottle feelings in his chest tipping forward to spread like an oil spill. He cried like he hadn't allowed himself to since the fight they'd had right after the Provisional Licensing exam all the way back in their first year at UA. Nearly nine years of tears burst passed carefully maintained dams in hot, fat droplets.

Izuku was a silent strength beside him, a hand on his knee.

When he was done, he was rung dry and exhausted.

Izuku drew him into his chest, lips pressed to his temple and then into the crown of his head. Instead of saying anything about what Katsuki had spilled -a blessing if there were any- he asked, "Do you need to take off your prostheses too?" Katsuki nodded tiredly and started to pull away, but Izuku stopped him. "Can I do it?"

Katsuki hadn't let anyone intimately touch him or his prostheses since he'd recovered enough to do it himself. And the removal of his prostheses felt like a very intimate situation. Only Katsumi had been allowed to help him, and only with oiling and cleaning, but never to remove or install them. Sheer need at the mere suggestion of familiar hands on him punched him right in the chest. Right in the gaping wound where his secrets used to be held. "Yes," he whispered, voice desperate with longing.

He stretched out his left leg and right arm, staring at Izuku as he moved to crouch between his thighs. Such easy intimacy. Intimacy he could never bring himself to find with anyone else because he didn't want anyone else. If it wasn't Izuku, he didn't want nor need it. He didn't realize how much he'd really missed his best friend.

Izuku slid his hands up his arm, and Katsuki imagined he could feel the sensation again. Skin against skin. Warmth against warmth. But it was just that, his imagination. Only driven home when Izuku found the edge of the synthetic skin sleeve and peeled it back to reveal the titanium beneath.

"This is amazing. It's beautiful." He ran his fingers over the arm, studying every screw, every joint, every fiber. "Where do I-" But he found the switch without Katsuki's instructions, a slender flush piece that had to be pulled up with the edge of a fingernail. Meant to prevent accidental or purposeful disengaging during battle. He flipped it without warning.

Katsuki grit his teeth against the cry of pain as the nerves disengaged, digging his heel into the hardwood beneath him. Panting, it took him several breaths to realize Izuku was peppering kisses across his shoulder and the crook of his neck. When his breath finally slowed again, jaw unclenching, Izuku moved down to his leg.

He lifted the leg over his shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss in the wake of his hands until he met Katsuki's skin close to the crease of his hip beneath his shorts. A shorter expanse of skin than Izuku had been expecting that he worshiped almost reverentially before finally moving to the leg sleeve. He repeated the same process as the arm; sleeve, inspect, memorize, switch.

Pain. Katsuki would never get used to the pain. Everyday, it was like he was experiencing the pain of connecting and disconnecting nerve endings for the first time. It was necessary though. He could sleep with the prostheses installed, but eventually without proper disconnection once a day, the artificial nerves would burn out. Prostheses were expensive, more expensive than even a hero's salary could cover if he didn't take care of them. Engineers could fix metal, add plates for strength, replace screws, but artificial nerves required a whole new unit. They were cultivated from samples of already existing nerves from the patient to promote optimum assimilation and mobility. They were infused and grown into the metal and wiring. That took time, money, and massive amounts of quirk energy. All of which were scarce for Katsuki, especially with two other prostheses to add to the bill that had to be modified every couple of months to keep up with Katsumi's growth. Not to mention upkeep, oil, and the cleaning solutions to keep them operating properly. At least they never had to worry about corrosion.

Izuku stayed between Katsuki's thighs, laying the prosthesis carefully to the side. He rested his head against Katsuki's leg, eyes closed. "I missed you, Kacchan. I don't want you to leave again."

"'s not part of my plans."

"Good." Izuku smiled then, opening his eyes. "Let's go to bed. You've got a long day, and I've got a shift with Todoroki to take for Burnin."

Katsuki groaned. "Fuck, that hag is still around?" He allowed himself to be pushed back into the bed, Izuku blanketing him with his body. They were both bigger now, bodies more filled out and different from before, but they still fit together perfectly. Just like they always had. Like they were two halves of a single whole.

"She's going to live longer than any of us."

Another groan. "God, you're right. Can't believe I'd ever say I'm thankful for working for Best Jeanist. I'd take that Levi's wearing motherfucker any day over her."

"You're only saying that because it's been so long since you've directly worked under him. Who was your boss in America?" Their conversation petered off quickly, and they fell into sleep easier than they had in five long years.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #omega!katsuki #alpha!izuku #disabled!katsuki #deaf!katsuki #they have a kid together #she's adorable #bakugou-midoriya katsumi #here have yet another thing that I love dearly #my writing #coming home #two shot #christmas preemie

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

Awake, My Glory

"My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and make music. Awake, my glory! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn!" - Psalm 57:7-8

The fifty-seventh Psalm is attributed to David. The time to which it is set down in the title is, "when he fled from Saul in the cave." The writer cries to God for refuge. His soul is among lions. His enemies have prepared a net for his steps. Then he cries as if to arouse himself to joy. "Awake, my glory! Awake, harp and lyre!" The verses of the Psalm which follow give us the music which flows forth from the awakened strings. "I will praise you, O Lord, among the people.. .. For your mercy is great unto the heavens."

Many of us need at times to make this same call upon ourselves to awake. The harps are hanging silent on the walls. The figure of instruments of music sleeping is very suggestive. They are capable of giving forth rich melodies - but not a note is heard from them. There are two thoughts suggested by this prayer. One is that life is meant to be glad, joyous. It is pictured as a harp. The other is, the splendor of life, "Awake, my glory!"

It is to a life of joy and song we are called to awake. Life is a harp. There is a legend of an instrument that hung on a castle wall. Its strings were broken. It was covered with dust. No one understood it, and no fingers could bring music from it. One day a strange visitor appeared at the castle. He saw this silent harp, took it into his hands, reverently brushed away the dust, tenderly reset the broken strings, and then played upon it, and the glad music filled all the castle. This is a parable of every life. Life is a harp, made to give out music - but broken and silent until Christ comes. Then the song awakes. We are called to awake to joy and joy-giving.

Christ's life was a perpetual song. He gave out only cheer. He even started to His cross singing a hymn. When He arose He started songs with His first words, "All hail!" "Peace be unto you." What music did you start yesterday, as you went about? What song is in your heart singing today? "Awake, harp and lyre!"

But there is something else. "Awake, my glory!" Glory is a great word. It has many synonyms and definitions. It means brightness, splendor, luster, honor, greatness, excellence. Every human life has glory in itself. Did you ever try to answer the question, "What is man?" It would take a whole library of books to describe the several parts of a life. Merely to tell of the mechanism of a human hand, to give a list of the marvelous things the hand has done, would fill a volume. Or the eye, with its wonderful structure; the ear, with its delicate functions; the brain, with its amazing processes; the heart, the lungs - each of the organs in a bodily organism is so wonderful, that a whole lifetime might be devoted to the study of anatomy alone - and the subject would not be exhausted!

Think, too, of the intellectual part, with all that the mind of man has achieved in literature, in invention, in science, in art. Think of the moral part, man's immortal nature, that in man which makes him like God, capable of holding communion with God, of belonging to the family of God. When we begin to think even most superficially of what man is, we see an almost infinite meaning in the word "glory" as defining life. "Awake, my glory!"

No one, even in the highest flights of his imagination, ever has begun to dream of the full content of his own life, what it is at present; then what it may become under the influence of divine grace and love. Even now, man redeemed is but "a little lower than God." Then, "it is not yet made manifest what we shall be." The full glory is hidden, unrevealed, as a marvelous rose is hidden in a little bud in springtime. All that we know about our future - is that we shall be like Christ. We are awed even by such a dim hint of what we shall be - when the work in us is completed.

The call to awake implies that the glory which is in us - is asleep. It is a call to all that is in us - of beauty, of power, of strength, of good, of love - to be quickened to reach its best. We are not aware of the grandeur of our own lives. We do not think of ourselves as infolding splendor, as having in us the beauty of immortal life. We travel over seas to look at scenes of grandeur, to wander through are galleries, to study the noble achievements of architecture; while we have in ourselves greater grandeur, rarer beauty, sublimer art - than any land under heaven has to show us. Let us pray to be made conscious of our own glory. "Awake, my glory!"

We are to call out these splendors. The harp is standing silent - when it might be pouring out entrancing music. The hand is folded and idle - when it might be doing beautiful things: painting a picture, that would add to the sum of the world's beauty; doing a deed of kindness, that would give gladness to a gentle heart; visiting a sick or suffering one and winning the commendation, "You did it unto Me!" The power of sympathy is sleeping in your heart - when it might be awakened and be adding strength to human weakness on some of life's battlefields, making struggling ones braver, inspiring them to victory.

Suppose, now, that all the capacity for helping others, lying unawakened in each one's heart and hand, were brought out for just one week and made to do their best - what a vast ministry of kindness would be performed! Suppose that all of each one's capacity, for praising God were called out, that every silent harp and every sleeping psaltery should be waked up and should begin to pour out praise - what a chorus of song would break upon the air! One of the Psalms begins with the call, "Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name!" That is what this call, "Awake, my glory! Awake, harp and lyre!" means. If we truly wish our glory to be awakened, we must seek to have the best in us called out to its fullest capacity of service.

This story comes from Japan and tells how only the Bible can prove itself true. A man had obtained a Bible and became much interested in it. After reading it, he said, "This is a fine thing in theory - but I wonder how it would work in practice ." On the train on which he was traveling was a lady, who, he was told, was a Christian. He watched her attentively to see how she would act, how her conduct would illustrate the Book in which she believed. He said, "If I can see anything in her conduct like this Book, I will believe it." Before the day was over he had seen in her so many little acts of unselfishness and kindness, so many examples of patience and thoughtfulness, so much consideration for the comfort of her fellow passengers, that he was deeply impressed and resolved to make the Bible the guide and inspirer of his whole life. Thus it is that the glory of our life should be awakened.

In one of Paul's letters to Timothy he gave this young man an earnest charge. Timothy was not living at his best. Paul bade him to stir up the gift of God that was in him. Timothy had abilities - but he was not using them worthily. God had put into his life spiritual gifts, capacities for great usefulness - but Timothy was not exercising His gifts to the full. The glory in him needed to be waked up. "Stir up the gift of God that is in you," bade Paul. The picture in his words, is that of a fire smoldering, covered up, not burning brightly, not giving out its heat. Timothy was bidden to stir up the fire that it might burn into a hot flame. Many Christians need the same exhortation. They have the fire in their hearts - but it needs stirring up. "Awake, my glory!"

Do you think you have been doing your best? Can you think of a day in the past week, which you made altogether as beautiful as you could have made it? Could not the artist's picture have been a little more beautiful, a little broader and nobler in its technique, a little finer in its sentiment? Could not the singer have sung her song a little better, with a little more heart, a little more sweetly! Could not the boys and girls at school have done a little better work and have been a little gentler among their schoolmates? Could not the men have been a little better Christians out in the world; and the women better, kindlier neighbors? The best day any of us ever lived - might we not have made it a little holier, a little fuller of divine love, a little more sacred in its memories? Must not every one of us confess that the glory in us needs awakening?

No doubt the body is a clog to the mind and the soul. Many of us have burning desires for holiness in our hearts - but somehow we have not the power to express the desires. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote to a friend, "You cannot sleep; well, I cannot keep awake." In the lethargic condition of his body, his magnificent intellectual powers were held as in a stupor. No doubt many men with great spiritual fervor are unable to express their earnestness of soul, because they are hampered by an unwholesome somnolence. We need to call upon our souls - to wake up! We need to call upon God - to wake us up.

"Awake, my glory!" The word gives dignity, splendor, honor, greatness, divineness to our life. It calls us to make our lives worthy of the name. The lowliest human life - is glorious in its character, in its possibility, in its destiny.

Recently a Sevres vase, some sixteen inches high, was put up at auction. It was dated 1763. No history of it was given. No one knew where it came from, who made it, or who its owners had been. But the vase was so exquisite in its beauty and so surely genuine, that it brought at auction twenty-one thousand dollars. Yet this rare and costly vase, was once only a mere lump of common clay and a few moist colors. The value was in the toil and skill of the artist who shaped and colored it with such delicate patience and such untiring effort. He did his best, and the vase today witnesses to his faithfulness.

If we would only always do our best in all our work, we would live worthily of the glory that is in us.

The Parthenon at Athens was encircled within by a sculptured frieze, five hundred and twenty feet in length. It was chiefly the work of Phidias. The figures on the frieze were life-size, and stood fifty feet above the floor of the temple. For nearly two thousand years the work remained undisturbed and nearly in its original state. By the explosion of a bomb-shell, the frieze was shattered about the close of the seventeenth century and fell upon the pavement. Then it was found that in every smallest detail the work was perfect. Phidias wrought, as he said, for the eyes of the gods - for no human eyes saw his work at its great height. It is in this spirit, that we should do all our work - not for men's eyes - but for God's. We should do perfect work, for no other work is worthy of the doer. "Awake, my glory!" Do your smallest task as beautifully as if you were doing a piece of heavenly ministry, and were working for the very eye of the Master Himself!

Let us set higher ideals for ourselves. We are not merely dust - we are immortal spirits. We are children of God - and this dignifies the smallest, lowliest things we do. Sweeping a room for Christ - is glorious work. Cobbling shoes may be made as radiant service in heaven's sight - as angel ministry before God's throne. The glory is in us - and we must live worthily of it. Let us call out our best skill, our rarest power, for everything we do. Our days should be ascending days in the scale, each one made more beautiful than the last. We never get to the best opportunity - tomorrow will bring us into a more heavenly atmosphere, than today's.

This is the call to us in all life. There is no end to life. There is always something beyond. Life is immortal. When our glory awakens and presses on, it will always find something beyond. Only heaven is the end.

"Awake, my glory!" Shall we not make this demand upon ourselves! We are asleep - and cannot wake up. Yet we must wake up - or we shall perish spiritually. The parable speaks of those whom their Lord had set to watch - but whom He warned against sleeping. "Lest when he comes and finds them sleeping ." We need to pray for nothing more earnestly, than for power to keep awake.

We must get awake first ourselves. "Awake, my glory!" Then it is a great thing to be an awakener of others. Some men have this power in large measure. Everyone who comes near them is quickened, becomes more widely awake, is inspired to live better. Christ awakened the glory of His disciples. They were plain men, without the education of the schools, without the art of eloquence; but they lived with their Master, and He taught them, put Himself into their lives, then sent them forth. Every particle of the glory in them - was awakened, and they went out and woke up the world. That is what God wants us to do. Get awakened yourself, and then wake up your friends.

Shall we be content to stay asleep any longer? Must our harps still hang silent on the wall, giving out no music? Must the glory in us continue to sleep? Shall we not rather call upon ourselves to awake and then call upon God to awake us? Then our lives shall open into beauty and into power. Then shall we be the people God wants us to be!

#Devotional Hours Within the Bible #J.R. Miller #Awake My Glory #Psalm 57:7-8 #March 19 #2021

[arcanawildcard]

How about shuann soulmate marks au? First meeting and no powers?

taking requests here! (be prepared for a wait tho orz)

read on ao3

By the time ‘来栖 暁’ appeared on Ann’s wrist at the age of 16, she had her type nailed down to a T. Her reasoning was that if she was going to live her life without a soulmate (like 95% of the world’s population) she was doing to make perfectly sure that the guy she did fall for was as close to a soulmate as he could get.

He had to be about her age or a little younger. Good-looking and strong and smart and brave. A romantic. He had to be able to make her laugh and always cheer her up when she was feeling down. Taller than her, but only a little, with broad shoulders. Kind, gentle, reserved, but a bit of a rogue too. The perfect gentleman with a hint of mischief and a sliver of danger.

(”You might as well start on hair and eye colors with a list like this,” Shiho told her when she found Ann’s notepad.

“Oh! That’s a good idea.” Ann retrieved her notepad and tapped her lip with her pen. “What do you think about grey eyes?”

“Don’t ask me.”)

He couldn’t be fair-haired because there was only room for one dumb blonde in their relationship, she didn’t have the best impression of redheads for various reasons, and brown was just so... normal, you know?

(Shiho had been muffling snickers at that point, but she helped Ann come to the conclusions of dark grey eyes, curly black hair, preferably Japanese without further commentary.)

It was kind of silly, she knew, but it felt like a talisman. She’d have a soulmate, or she’d have a guy who was perfect for her anyway. Her standards didn’t have room for the likes of Mr. Kamoshida or that one Photography Club member who kept trying to get creepshots of her when she passed by. The girls could call her a bimbo and the boys could call her a frigid bitch and it would all be fine because she was just waiting for Mr. Right.

So her perfect guy had to be good with kids and kind to animals. He had to be a little bit noble and a little bit sly. He had to hold her hand in public. He had to want her—not her looks, not her body, not her connections or status, but her—more than anyone else.

He had to listen to her. He had to hold her but couldn’t coddle her. He had to support her in her dreams. He had to want marriage and children one day. He had to—

And then, one sunny afternoon in April, three kanji hastily inked themselves across her wrist, and no amount of scrubbing washed it away.

‘来栖 暁’

After so much time spent wanting to know who her soulmate was, it was kind of a shock to find out that he’d actually gotten close enough for their souls to, well, brush.

Maybe he’d moved to Tokyo, or maybe he’d just come to visit, or maybe-maybe-maybe...

Well, it wasn’t like she had any idea how to find him—at least not yet. The name would probably pop up online, if nowhere else, and he might even come looking for her first, but right now, at this moment, he could be just another face in the crowd shuffling through Shibuya Square and she’d never know.

It was an odd feeling, but she didn’t have the time to dwell on it. Her agency had her weekend packed and she barely even had the time to make an attempt at her homework before it was Monday again.

Monday was misleadingly clear until it started pouring down right in the middle of her walk to school, and she found herself ducking under an awning with another unlucky student who’s forgotten his umbrella.

She was just contemplating making a run for it (she’d look totally lame, but it would probably be even lamer to turn up soaked through) when she felt a stare burning into the side of her face.

The other student was the culprit, eyes wide and lips parted in that kind of open awe she got sometimes, that kind that didn’t feel hungry or creepy the way some did, just... admiring.

It was a warm feeling, one that bubbled giggly in her throat—and then she registered the actual look of him

And blinked.

Dark grey eyes, curly black hair, definitely Japanese, a little bit taller than her, handsome and broad-shouldered and somewhat reserved—

Ahahaha, no way.

It was ironic that she’d meet a guy that looked like a perfect 10 on her (slightly joking) list of requirements only a few days after finding out her soulmate was nearby, but that just had to mean things were looking her way, right?

She smiled at him, then resettled herself and went back to contemplating the rain. Inconvenient as it was, it was also really pretty.

Mr. Kamoshida was... nice enough to give her a ride to school and save her from looking flustered and lame or soaked and lame, and she made it to class without further incident.

And then, just slightly late, the boy from under the awning walked in after Ms. Kawakami.

He was a transfer student, Ms. Kawakami said, and he’d be studying with their for the rest of the year.

He wrote his name on the blackboard and murmured his greetings in a low, velvety voice that she could really get used to hearing, but she couldn’t fully appreciate it.

‘来栖 暁’ he’d written. Pronounced as Akira Kurusu, he’d said.

That was her soulmate.

Akira’s soulmate was in Tokyo. He was pretty sure, anyway.

Somewhere, somehow, ‘高巻 杏’ was or had been close enough to ink their name on his wrist in the space of a nap on the train.

It was one more new thing in the whole slew of new he was walking into, and it should have been a shock, but he was traveling out of his hometown for the first time, he was alone in a big city, he had narrowly escaped a prison sentence for a crime he hadn’t committed, and he was barely acquainted with a picture of his new guardian, much less the man himself—

Well. Tokyo was the biggest city in Japan. There were over 9 million people here and more passing through on the daily. His soulmate could be... anyone, really.

Well, no. They were Japanese, he knew that much, and 杏 was generally a female name—an Azu, or Anri, or Kyou, or Suume...

That was about it, though. He should probably start looking for her while he was in Tokyo; much more convenient and accessible than his hometown, if nothing else.

Just... maybe not right now. Right now, he needed to sleep for a week.

Forgetting an umbrella on his first day at his new school felt like just par the course for his current string of luck.

The girl who joined him under the awning he’d taken shelter under did not.

Pale gold hair like starlight, eyes blue enough to make up for the muddied sky tenfold, quiet melancholy on a face so beautiful it was almost ethereal. She stood with casual confidence and enviable ease, like this was just another day to her, like she’d been like this so long she didn’t even notice that the world was hers anymore.

Which she didn’t, he guessed, but meanwhile his breath was caught in his throat, pulse throbbing in his fingertips, because oh, wow...

He’d known people looked like that in magazines, but seeing the real thing—seeing someone who was about as flesh and blood as divinity could get with his own two eyes—now this was something else.

She met his eye with a much milder surprise than his own, her confusion unfurling into a warm smile (oh) and quiet giggle (oh), and then looked away while he gaped like an idiot.

Just proof that there were all sorts of people in Tokyo, he supposed once he’d shut his mouth and scrambled his wits back together. It was a crazy city to put people like the two of them side-by-side.

Not that it really mattered.

He’d probably never see her again, and he was one of those lucky few with a soulmate he had to find besides.

Tokyo was a crazy city, but maybe... maybe it wasn’t all bad.

He saw her again.

And, for all intents and purposes, he’d be seeing her six days a week for as long as he was in the city.

Since, you know, he sat in the seat behind hers in homeroom.

Their homeroom.

The homeroom that they shared, being in the same class and the same year and the same school and all.

The school that was now buzzing with rumors about his probation and what kind of cruel, evil, morally bankrupt deeds he’d done to earn it.

Not that it... really... mattered...

It wasn’t like he’d ever had a chance in the first place, but he’d give just about anything to be entirely invisible in her eyes (and the rest of the school’s, if he was being honest) if that would mean she didn’t look at him with quite so much... alarm.

Ugh.

Oddly, it was her best friend who was the first person after Ryuji that didn’t look at him askance.

“Hey,” she said after he’d bumped into her just inside the door to the courtyard. “Don’t let them get to you. This school loves rumors.”

“What rumors?” he deadpanned, though the words were very, very welcome, he couldn’t lie.

She smiled, genuinely relieved. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.” Then the smile dropped as she looked behind him. “Ann? What’s wrong—”

The girl—Ann Takamaki, professional model at the age of 16—gave him a contorted attempt at a smile of her own and unceremoniously hauled Suzui-san away.

...Juuuuust his luck.

He was really going to go get his lunch and try to eat away his sorrows, but on his way to getting a drink from the vending machines, he heard Suzui-san’s voice from the rest area within and paused to eavesdrop.

“What do you mean, ‘don’t know how to talk to him’?”

Huh?

Apparently it was Takamaki-san she was talking to, because it was her voice that answered, “What if I mess it up?”

“Don’t you just go up and say hello? Ask how he’s settling in? This is small talk, not rocket science.”

Were they talking about... him? No way, right?

“I can’t do that!” Takamaki-san squeaked. “It’s gotta be, like, special! D-Doesn’t it...?”

“I don’t think so. He seems lonely. I bet he’d be happy even if it wasn’t special.”

“Mm...”

Right, so, it definitely wasn’t him they were talking about because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to take the disappointment if he thought they were talking about him and they weren’t. Maybe they were talking about one of Takamaki-san’s coworkers or something.

Maybe. Probably.

Definitely not him.

“Well, if you really want it to be special, you could always start off by shoving your wrist in his face,” said Suzui-san. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Sorry... It never seemed to be the right time.”

“It’s fine. I’m going ahead, okay? And talk to him the next time you see him.”

Takamaki-san groaned with a shluff of fabric that suggested she’d slumped in her seat, and then Suzui-san was rounding the corner and Akira had nowhere to hide.

She slowed to a stop when she saw him, pursing her lips and blinking big puppy-brown eyes.

The look faded into wry acceptance after about two seconds. Walking closer (out of Takamaki-san’s earshot?), she murmured, “You heard all that, huh.”

He nodded cautiously. No sense in denying the obvious.

She studied him for a moment, then decided, “That makes things easier... I think. Follow me for a second?”

He nodded again, still mentally trying to catch up with this new turn of events.

Suzui-san led him... in a circle. Back into the school building and out another door, then back to the vending machines, where Takamaki-san was still sitting at the table.

“Look who I found,” Suzui-san announced, and then looked at Akira expectantly until he entered the rest area.

Takamaki-san, for her part, was just as gorgeous and just as alarmed as ever. Akira was of the private opinion that the way the light played over her face and throat belonged on the silver screen... preferably aiming that look at someone who was not him.

“Ann wanted to talk to you,” said Suzui-san, the blatant liar. “I’m going back to class now. See you later!”

And with that, she left Akira alone with Takamaki-san’s steadily growing horror.

The seconds stretched out like eons as the blood drained from her face and tried to rise in his, his mind pinwheeling as he tried to grasp why Suzui-san thought Takamaki-san wanted to talk to him when she was so blatantly terrified of him.

“Um!” she finally squeaked. “Hi!”

“...You feeling okay?”

“M-me? O-oh! yeah, I’m- I’m fine!”

She was a terrible liar. That would have been adorable in any circumstances but these.

When he didn’t immediately reply, she flushed, gaze darting away as she blurted, “So! Um, how are you liking Tokyo?”

“It’s alright,” he said slowly, the eavesdropped conversation dancing through his brain. “Kind of hectic. I never knew trains could be that packed.”

That was about three times what he’d normally say, but Takamaki-san looked borderline desperate.

Seriously, what was going on here?

“Oh yeah, that shocked me too when I first moved here, y’know? I grew up in Finland and it was way quieter than here.” She was gaining her composure back piecemeal, and she managed to look him in the eye with a shy, unsteady, but real smile. “Speaking of trains, have you had the chance to check out the Underground Mall at Shibuya Station?”

“No, not yet.” Suzui-san hadn’t honestly led him here for small talk, had she?

“Oh man, you totally should,” she said, still pink-cheeked and breathless but blossoming into a vivid expressiveness that had butterflies sparkling to life in the pit of his stomach. “They have, like, everything there—you have to see it to believe it.” She scratched the back of her head, suddenly bashful. “I could, um, show you around sometime... if you want.”

His heart lodged itself in his throat, and he had to clear it to speak. “I’d like that.”

Takamaki-san actually glowed, which was putting a whole lot of holes in his theory that she was scared of him. “Great!”

(It was also putting a fair number of holes in his heart and his cool, because there was only so much a guy could do with a smile like that aimed at him and Cupid wasn’t blind.)

“Was there something you wanted me for?” he asked then, because this was good but he probably needed to leave to go cool his head down soon.

Takamaki-san sat bolt upright and flushed again. “No, well, just- just this, I mean—I really did just want to talk to you, and see how you were doing because transferring is hard, I should know, and I know I’m a little late with the welcoming committee but you should definitely check out the city, and... ugh...” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“It’s cute,” he offered.

She shrunk in her seat and blushed right down to her collarbones. “I... don’t think this qualifies as cute.”

“You’re right; it’s adorable.”

Her head jerked up, and even her mortification was beautiful.

“That... not fair,” she said weakly.

He tilted his head with a half-smile, entirely unrepentant. Making her blush was a way bigger ego boost than he ever would have guessed.

(...If this maybe-definitely crush didn’t die a quiet death soon, meeting his soulmate was going to be a mess.)

Almost as if echoing his thoughts, Takamaki-san wrapped her hand around her wrist and squeezed. There was an enigmatic little grin on her face, her eyes bright and distant. “Guess Shiho was right after all.”

“About what?” he said, wrong-footed by the non-sequitur.

She didn’t seem to hear him. “Hey, so, um...” She dropped her head, shoes scuffing against the ground in a fidget. “There... there was something else that I... wanted to ask you about.”

He waited.

She took a deep breath, then jumped to search her pockets, muttering ah, shoot, and eventually pulling out a crumpled receipt and a pen.

He had a brief moment to think that maybe she would suggest trading numbers, but then she started sketching out a kanji.

“Y-your name...” she said, and his stomach flipped clean over. “It’s, um. It’s spelled like this, right?”

She’d written out ‘来栖 暁’ with astonishingly neat penmanship.

“Good memory,” he said, and his voice came out rough. Especially good considering that she’d only seen it once.

(Unless she hadn’t only seen it once...? whispered something in the back of his mind.)

“Y-yeah,” she said, and exhaled slowly. “And... my name is written like this.”

‘高巻 杏’

...Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

(Maybe this rapidly growing crush wouldn’t be that much of a mess after all.)

He wasn’t sure what his face looked like at that moment, but it was enough to make her chest shift in a gasp in his peripheral vision. He was still kind of stuck on the 高巻 杏 part.

Then she started shifting her sleeves, and the glimpse of skin under them had his full attention.

And, there, like a dream, was his name.

“April ninth, around two P.M.,” she said, this actual goddess with a shy smile and his name on her wrist.

“I... was asleep on the train,” he croaked dumbly, then belatedly thought to offer his own wrist to confirm.

The look on her face made him wish that he’d done it ages ago. Timid trepidation met honest joy and unfiltered relief, stained-glass hues of emotion painting her face like art.

The sleeve slipped to cover his name when she went to push her bangs to the side, then rub the back of her head, then, mind apparently made up, she stood and walked over to face him.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, offering a hand—for him to shake, for him to leave his heart in—and meeting his eye, endless wells of sky blue and just as open, just as enticing. “I’m Ann Takamaki, and I’m your soulmate.”

It took three weeks for Ann to dig her old list back up.

She went through the whole thing, checking off almost all of them, then adding amendments to the rest and then checking them off.

Shiho, who was hanging out to borrow Ann’s 3DS, button-mashed what sounded like a combo and said, “I still can’t believe you managed to get the hair and eyes right.”

Ann flushed, pen hovering over the page. Her most recent memory of ‘the hair’ was the way it felt tangled in her fingers and the low groan that had rumbled in his chest when she tightened her grip just so, and her most recent memory of ‘the eyes’ was how the looked when they were glazed and dark and a little bit wild.

“Oh, well, y’know. I have a type.”

“Or psychic powers,” said Shiho, teasing.

Ann sat up. “Oh man, you think?”

“Better start picking out your title now,” Shiho agreed, then muttered, “Ah! Darn...”

Ann flopped back on the bed and held the list high above her. “Ann Takamaki, finder-of-the-Perfect-10-who-is-also-her-soulmate!”

“Rejected. It’s too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to think on it.” She let out that sigh sitting high in her throat.

Then she rolled over and grabbed her phone, because Akira might have some good ideas (or some funny ones, or some intended to make her blush down to her toes), and she really wanted to see if she could make him smile again (coaxing them out was becoming her new favorite pastime), and she had a really funny story to tell him about looking out for the perfect guy and finding out that she'd been unknowingly looking for her soulmate all along.

She was pretty sure he’d be able to appreciate the humor.

fun fact for those who don’t know already: kanji generally have a few readings, but that number goes through the roof when it comes to names. you could name all your kids the same kanji with different readings and they’d hate you for life, but like,,,,, you could do it. both ann and akira’s names have 11 common readings each, at least according to jisho.

#shuann #akirann #renann #ann takamaki #takamaki ann #akira kurusu #kurusu akira #ren amamiya #amamiya ren #persona 5 #p5 #anon

[scifigeneration]

How big will the coronavirus epidemic be? An epidemiologist updates his concerns

by Maciej F. Boni

A security guard wears gloves while holding a basketball during halftime of an NBA game in Houston on March 5, 2020. The NBA has told players to avoid high-fiving fans and to avoid taking any item for autographs. AP Photo/David J. Phillip

The Harvard historian Jill Lepore recounted recently in The New Yorker magazine that when democracies sink into crisis, the question “where are we going?” leaps to everyone’s mind, as if we were waiting for a weather forecast to tell us how healthy our democracy was going to be tomorrow. Quoting Italian philosopher Benedetto Croce, Lepore writes that “political problems are not external forces beyond our control; they are forces within our control. We need solely to make up our own minds and to act.”

And so it is with the coronavirus epidemic. How big will this epidemic be? How many people will it infect? How many Americans will die? The answers to these questions are not written in stone. They are partially within our control, assuming we are willing to take the responsibility to act with commitment, urgency and solidarity.

I am an epidemiologist with eight years of field experience, including time on the front lines of the isolation and quarantine efforts during the 2009 swine flu pandemic. One month ago, I was under the impression that the death reports due to COVID-19 circulation in China were giving us an unfair picture of its mortality rate. I wrote a piece saying that the death rate of an emerging disease always looks bad in the early stages of an outbreak, but is likely to drop once better data become available. After waiting for eight weeks, I am now worried that these new data – data indicating that the virus has a low fatality rate – may not arrive.

Young passengers wear masks on a high-speed train in Hong Kong, Wednesday, Jan. 22, 2020. At that time, it was hard to know how dangerous the virus would be. (AP Photo/Kin Cheung) AP Photo/Kin Cheung

Case fatality rate and infection fatality rate

By Jan. 31 2020, China had reported a total of 11,821 cases of COVID-19 and 259 deaths; that’s about a 2% case fatality rate. Two weeks later, the tally had risen to more than 50,000 cases and 1,524 deaths, corresponding to about 3% case fatality (the rise in the case fatality is expected as deaths always get counted later than cases). For an easily transmissible disease, a 2% or 3% fatality rate is extremely dangerous.

However, case fatality rates are computed using the officially reported numbers of 11,821 cases or 50,000 cases, which only include individuals who (a) experience symptoms; (b) decide that their symptoms are bad enough to merit a hospital visit; and (c) choose a hospital or clinic that is able to test and report cases of coronavirus.

Surely, there must have been hundreds of thousands cases, maybe a million cases, that had simply gone uncounted.

First, some definitions from Steven Riley at Imperial College. The infection fatality rate (IFR) gives the probability of dying for an infected person. The case fatality rate (CFR) gives the probability of dying for an infected person who is sick enough to report to a hospital or clinic. CFR is larger than IFR, because individuals who report to hospitals are typically more severely ill.

If China’s mid-February statistic of 1,524 deaths had occurred from 1 million infections of COVID-19 (counting all symptomatic and asymptomatic infections), this would mean that the virus had an infection fatality rate of 0.15%, about three times higher than seasonal influenza virus; this is a concern but not a crisis.

The IFR is much more difficult to estimate than the CFR. The reason is that it is hard to count people who are mildly ill or who show no symptoms at all. If you are able to count and test everybody – for example, on a cruise ship, or in a small community – then you may be able to paint a picture of what fraction of infections are asymptomatic, mild, symptomatic and severe.

Scientists working at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, Imperial College London and the Institute for Disease Modeling have used these approaches to estimate the infection fatality rate. Currently, these estimates range from 0.5% to 0.94% indicating that COVID-19 is about 10 to 20 times as deadly as seasonal influenza. Evidence coming in from genomics and large-scale testing of fevers is consistent with these conclusions. The only potentially good news is that the epidemic in Korea may ultimately show a lower CFR than the epidemic in China.

A quarantined cruise ship in Japan at the Yokohama Port in Yokohama, near Tokyo, Feb. 9, 2020. Cruise and airline bookings are down as a result of the coronavirus. AP Photo/Eugene Hoshiko

Impact of the epidemic in the US

Now that new COVID-19 cases are being detected in the U.S. every day, it is too late to stop the initial wave of infections. The epidemic is likely to spread across the U.S. The virus appears to be about as contagious as influenza. But this comparison is difficult to make since we have no immunity to the new coronavirus.

On balance, it is reasonable to guess that COVID-19 will infect as many Americans over the next year as influenza does in a typical winter – somewhere between 25 million and 115 million. Maybe a bit more if the virus turns out to be more contagious than we thought. Maybe a bit less if we put restrictions in place that minimize our travel and our social and professional contacts.

The bad news is, of course, that these infection numbers translate to 350,000 to 660,000 people dying in the U.S., with an uncertainty range that goes from 50,000 deaths to 5 million deaths. The good news is that this is not a weather forecast. The size of the epidemic, i.e., the total number of infections, is something we can reduce if we decrease our contact patterns and improve our hygiene. If the total number of infections decreases, the total number of deaths will also decrease.

What science cannot tell us right now is exactly which measures will be most effective at slowing down the epidemic and reducing its impact. If I stop shaking hands, will that cut my probability of infection by a half? A third? Nobody knows. If I work from home two days a week, will this reduce my probability of infection by 40%? Maybe. But we don’t even know the answer to that.

What we should prepare for now is reducing our exposures – i.e., our chances of coming into contact with infected people or infected surfaces – any way that we can. For some people this will mean staying home more. For others it will mean adopting more stringent hygiene practices. An extreme version of this exposure reduction – including mandatory quarantine, rapid diagnosis and isolation, and closing of workplaces and schools – seems to have worked in Hubei province in China, where the epidemic spread appears to have slowed down.

For now, Americans need to prepare themselves that the next 12 months are going to look very different. Vacations may have to be canceled. Social interactions will look different. And risk management is something we’re going to have to think about every morning when we wake up. The coronavirus epidemic is not going to extinguish itself. It is not in another country. It is not just the cold and flu. And it is not going away.

About The Author:

Maciej F. Boni is Associate Professor of Biology, Pennsylvania State University

This article is republished from our content partners over at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. 

#science #medicine #covid-19 #coronavirus

[kangcrushupdates]

GIRLKIND BAD MANAGEMENT AND SUB-UNIT DEBUT

Hey fanforce and Girlkind occasional fans! I wanted to finally make a post about Girlkind bad management because i feel like nobody really seem to realize nor care about what is happening to Girlkind since the last time they came back, which was already a year ago. A Few of us are really concerned about Girlkind’s career as we fear things could get worse and worse till they probably disband and honestly it would be really sad to witness another amazingly talented gg disappearing like that. Fanforce alone is a really really small fandom and we realized we are not getting heard, we’ve been completely ignored since Girlkind debuted, so i’m asking kpop stans to help us and mass email the company, but first let me explain the full story of the problematic and messy things Nextlevel Ent. has done that ruined Girlkind career. I’ll try to list them chronologically.

Please read the full thing and help us save Girlkind

Culture appropriation, N word and lack of research: 

Girlkind debuted with Fanci a year ago and eventually started a meme that unfortunately will be linked to them forever, Girlkind is also known as the “Hood Unnies” because of the “All my bad unnies all my hood unnies” verse which kpoppies started using as a meme or a drag blaming Girlkind for lyrics they didn’t even composed. ROOM102 (worked with GOT7 countless of times) wrote the lyrics and composed the song for Girlkind, their company didn’t do any research and so didn’t care to double check a song that was also produced a year before its release, they basically had a whole year to eventually change the lyrics and also production but they just didn’t.

Same thing happened for Broccoli, which was a Parody single they legit called a “Mixtape” when it really wasn’t. The song was supposed to be an inside joke between us the fandom and them on their forced broccoli diet which they released a vlog about prior to the song. I don’t really understand what their company was thinking but they also thought it was necessary to release an MV for it (waste of money) in which they appropriated African hairstyles just for aesthetics. They wore Bantu knots and jumbo box braids acting hood in what looked like a urban area shooting with fake guns, now the question is...what all of this had to do with a song about a broccoli diet?? absolutely nothing, and it made things even worse, certain fandoms sent death threats, spread unnecessary hate and wished them to disband instead of educating their company sending emails, the girls were dragged for the entire year and still are now even though they had no control over it, while the company still isn’t educated.

During Girlkind debut anniversary this year i sent an email to educate the company, and throughout the year i wasn’t the only one, during Broccoli and after S.O.R.R.Y comeback, a few fans who didn’t leave the fandom sent a lot of emails too. Anyway in my email i also mentioned again to the company to double check lyrics for future covers and dance covers and make sure Girlkind doesn’t even get to mouth the N word. Unfortunately on May they posted on Bastarbastar (this app where underrated idols post their daily vlogs and short videos) Jikang’s cover of Venom by Little Simz which countains a lot of n words which Jikang eventually ended saying as well. I commented on the video ASAP and asked for it to be deleted together with other few people. The video was deleted 2 weeks after and so were the cuts posted on twitter from a few Girlkind fanpages. This shows the company never bothered to read mine and the other fan’s emails and prevent such mistakes from happening.

S.O.R.R.Y comeback and members disappearing: 

S.O.R.R.Y comeback was made possible through Makestar which  the company didn’t bother to even promote leaving all the hard work to fan pages with more or less 50-200+ followers each. We begged the whole kpop twitter and on here as well (i was girlkindsource at the time and god knows how much i begged for it to succeed) and after months of begging the project almost failed but suddenly succeeded literally 2 minutes away from closing with 1k dollar more than the goal. The teaser said we were going to get a Mini album, then a FULL ALBUM but we ended getting a SINGLE plagiarized from a demo on Diginoiz (a site that sells sound kits and demos). Knetz basically found out first and exposed and shamed both the girls and the company since the song was said to be co-produced by the members especially Medic Jin which is credited in the lyrics and melody composition as well. Their company seem not to know the difference between a single album, mini album and full studio album which are the basics when you enter the music industry how do they not know the-

Anyway, Girlkind S.O.R.R.Y comeback had 5 Live Stages ONLY, one nugu variety appeareance and consolation trains stages at military bases in which Medic Jin already isn’t participating in, and at this point we don’t know where the hell is Medic Jin, rumors said she left the group others that their company left a notice saying she was on hiatus on Girlkind Fancafe (which is false, we never found the notice), a few months after even Sun J disappeared and only 3 members were visibly active, Ellyn appeared in a drama, and only Jk and Xeheun were in dance covers. Their company would purposely crop Medic Jin out of teasers and missing in dance cover videos uploaded on youtube, but then she would be in Christmas and new lunar year greetings videos like how???

The company is not focusing on the group as a whole and is wasting money:

It’s been a year since Girlkind comeback as a whole, fans keep asking for comebacks but the company keeps focusing only on the same 2 members (Jikang and Xeheun). Since debut the company tried to make Girlkind look like Xeheun and the girls because she was supposedly the most popular member since she participated in PD101 S1, but things really didn’t happen that way, Ellyn happened to be the most popular member as she is also the visual, then Sun j because of her very cute face and aegyos, on the other side Xeheun, JK and Medic Jin ended being the least gp favourites but their company didn’t seem to care about statistics and proceeded giving JK and Xeheun poorly produced solos and MVs with little to any promotion at all wasting money and making their already least popular members flop. Girlkind was  almost debuting in Japan as a whole after a year but all of a sudden 3-4 days before the tour got cancelled and now the company is debuting a subunit made of guess what? JK and Xeheun. At this point the company really is refusing to focus on Girlkind and instead just wants to focus on two members, on top of that they also keep wasting money on projects that are really not realistic at all, Girlkind have little to any fans in Japan but anyway wanted to make them tour there to then cancel it all of a sudden “due to one-sided circumstances with the hosting company”, which i think it’s complete bs. I am SURE the reason it was cancelled was that they did not sell enough tickets for all the 5 dates, imagine 5 tour dates of a group with less than 5 fans in Japan, i’m sure the hosting company didn’t want to waste time and so they agreed to cancel the tour. Besides the tour their company wasted money for the Broccoli and S.O.R.R.Y MV (they flew all the way to Saipan for that bad MV when they could’ve stayed local and go to Jeju Island if they really wanted a summer concept for the MV), Xeheun and JK solos and unreleased shoots of their travel in Japan their company promised to release during the tour.

Girlkind honestly deserves so much more, each member is so talented and could easily be a main dancer in whatever group they would be if they weren’t together, however their company doesn’t seem to know how to showcase their talent and is making them look like a joke. Unfortunately they happened to debut in a really messy company with niggaboo stylists, negligent managers and at this point probably broke with little to no connections. The company is fairly new and we think this should be the right moment to proper educate them before it’s too late, but as i said before, we are a really really small fandom and i think that if we are in more emailing them about what we would like to see from Girlkind (dance or song covers, vlogs etc...), educate them on cultures etc... they would finally listen and take actions. Please help Fanforce save Girlkind and email the company at [email protected]

#girlkind #femaleidolsedit #underratedgirlsedit #underratedidolsedit #kgirlsquad #femadolsedit #ggnetwork #medic jin #jikang #xeheun #sun j #ellyn #t:info

[earmuffstar]

i would prefer not to

I wrote this for @quixoticpaperclip​ for the tua secret santa ( @secret-santa-klaus​ )!

Link to ao3 is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985285 For clarity, just know that the scenes in the italics are the “past” and the normal text is the “present.”

Click, click, click.

Hazel sits at the desk facing the wall in the corner of the room, a stack of papers by his side, his fingers coughing out a cacophony on the keyboard.

Sixty two papers transcribed; nine hundred and thirty eight more to go.

The clock clicks twelve, signaling lunch break and the instant rush of chatter, but Hazel continues typing. Today marks the 1,603rd day he neglects his break, which he knows only because it is also the 1,603rd day of his employment at this office. He — then, like now — has no need to talk to people who don’t know him and who will never matter in any significant way.

It’s simple math: some play their cards right, get lucky, or were born into fortune — they are the ones who become billionaires, find partners, and live happy lives with their happy families. The vast majority are left to repair their private jets and chauffer them from gala to gala, or to work nine hour days at minimum wage, six days a week, at data collection and transcription companies, with no one to talk to and no lunch break during which to talk.

Sixty three papers transcribed; nine hundred and thirty seven more to go.

Sixty four papers transcribed; nine hundred and thirty six more to go…

~

The gun rests heavy in his hand, his fingers having traced every inch so well and so frequently that he could reconstruct it perfectly from memory. Slide up to feel the groove on the left side; the notch on the right; the barrel. Safety. Trigger.

The sun is warm and the sky is clear. Hazel watches people hurry by on the streets from atop the roof of the skyscraper. Fascinating how these people remain completely ignorant of the fact that an assassin right above them holds a weapon that could end any one of their lives in an instant.

Hazel assumes his statue-like sniper position. He can’t afford to slack off. His first job must be perfect.

He has been tracking Target 314 — a man named “Daniel Peterson” — for several days, and has already mapped out his daily schedule, the route he travels on, and the buildings he goes to. Peterson works as a florist at “Growing Up,” on 442nd street, Monday-Thursday from 7-5, before traveling to his apartment two streets over, usually on foot, and cooking dinner before his husband and two kids come home for the day.

From this roof, Hazel has a perfect view into Peterson’s apartment (third window down, seventh to the left). He knows, from the cursory examination he made when he snuck in while the family was gone, that his bullets will pierce the glass on their windows.

The light in that window flickers on. A silhouette moves inside—

and

he

pulls

the

trigger

and

the

window

breaks

and

the

target

falls

down

and

he

shoots

and

shoots

and

the

person

stops

moving—

and Hazel freezes. Dimly, he suspects the rifle only stays in his hand because of his statue impersonation from earlier. That’s good — moving to pick it up would be an impossible challenge. Moving at all seems just as likely as suddenly gaining an extra pair of limbs.

He needs to pull himself together. What did he expect? This is his job, this is what he’s been trained for, this is what he needs to do in order to protect the timeline, which is something Daniel Peterson’s continued existence would have threatened.

Daniel Peterson. Daniel Peterson. Daniel Peterson.

((the gunshots still ring in his ears.))

Mechanically, Hazel begins to disassemble his rifle, the one that just killed a man cooking dinner, waiting for his family to come home.

~

Hazel climbs the steps to his apartment two at a time, since the elevator is still broken — they keep saying they’ll fix it but it’s been two years and the “out of order” sign still hangs on its door. Even after all this time, he’s still out of breath by the time he reaches his floor, which situated on the fourteenth floor of the building.

His apartment is… fine. “Fine” is an apt descriptor of the absolute lack of homeliness his apartment exudes. Three “rooms:” a bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen, all littered with some remnant of unproductivity. Cardboard moving boxes still partially unpacked, their items scattered out when needed; the half-painted wall in the kitchen (a terrible decision, he needs to paint it back sometime); the clothes on the bedroom floor he still has to wash; the counters unscrubbed and covered in grime and dust.

So many things to do, yet so little will to do anything. Not that it really matters. No one will be visiting anytime soon.

Hazel sets down his work folder and opens his fridge. The only thing inside is some milk and leftover Chinese food from two nights ago, which he takes out to eat cold — there’s really no point to heating it up, since it will all be going to the same place in the end. Straight in front of him, if he searched, he would still find the scuff marks that have been there since he moved in. He would see the two dents in the left corner of the room, if he looked. And since he already knows what he would see, he doesn’t bother looking.

So many days wasted here in this apartment. So many hours wasted going to work and copying papers and doing nothing of substance. And so much more time that will be wasted thinking about all that he has never done, and that he will never do.

What do normal people do at his age? Call up friends or family? He hasn’t spoken to either in many, many years, and will likely never be able to build either relationship for himself. He hasn’t been someone who could be a friend for so long, much less a partner. Besides, the chances of finding a romantic partner this late in life, once most everyone has already settled down, are infinitesimal.

Do normal people have pets? Hobbies? Goals? His work schedule doesn’t account for the well-being of another living creature he has no idea how to take care of. What “hobby” could he possibly attempt? What goal? Save up money to go to Disney World? He would have no one to enjoy the experience with.

He has everything — a job, an apartment, food — and yet he still feels his life slipping through his fingers every single day he lives it.

Hazel sighs. The food disappeared long ago, leaving him with its empty container that he tosses in the trash, which is overflowing since he hasn’t remembered to take it out recently. The clock he had dug out of its box and plopped on the table once he moved in reads 8:13 pm. It must be dark already.

Sleep would be easy to fold himself into and slip away inside, but something causes him to hesitate. The decision hangs in a delicate balance between the relief of turning off his brain and the reminder that he accomplished nothing today and that when he regains consciousness it will be to another day full of the same monotonous drudgery.

He sits for a while, not entirely sure how long. The kitchen, like his office, has no windows.

~

“Hazel. Welcome back,” the Handler smiles, all teeth and plastic. Hazel nods. He’s covered in blood.

“Your past few missions have been very successful.” The Handler tracks Hazel’s movements with her eyes as he begins to unload his supplies from his latest job: assassinating the CEO of some car company in Japan. The back of his neck starts to prickle. “So, due to your success, you have been assigned a partner for your work.”

Hazel pauses. “I work better alone.”

The Handler laughs, “I don’t think I made myself clear. You will work with a partner for all your future operations. Your skills will benefit one another, and you will become twice as efficient together than alone.”

All Hazel can do is nod. The Handler grins in response, letting out a sarcastic little clap as she moves towards the door, knocking on it only once before it opens. A woman enters in.

The Handler starts, “This is—”

“Cha-Cha,” the woman who just entered finishes. She stands with a sort of bold confidence, extending one hand for him to take. He takes it.

“Excellent! With you two working together, our efficiency will increase by 156 percent…!”

The Handler smiles, placing her arms around their shoulders, and neither Hazel nor Cha-Cha smile back.

~

Hazel is late to work.

Today should have been completely normal. His alarm went off right as usual, he left the same time as usual, and then everything went to hell. The subway was delayed by half an hour and the traffic was unusually bad, so he couldn’t even hail a taxi. Walking would have added almost an hour to his time, so he had no choice but to sit and wait for the subway to come. Now, right down the road, the crosswalk sign counts down, switching to the red “stop” symbol right before he can try to sprint across.

“Dammit!” he mutters, smashing the crosswalk button on the traffic light pole. He slams it again a couple more times for extra measure. After a short eternity, the light finally turns green, a gaggle of tourists bumps into him, and his hand must be too slick with sweat from the stress because he drops the folder with his stack of papers in it for work. Hilariously, the pages decide to mock him by fluttering all over the crosswalk.

And he thought his day couldn’t get any worse. If murder wasn’t illegal, at least a few people on this street would be stripped of their right to breathe.

Hazel tries to catch as many pages as he can, but there are too many people and too many papers and too little time and the crosswalk sign is counting down again…

“Here.” Hazel turns to see an arm extended, holding the rest of his papers. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Hazel intones, taking the papers before turning and striding away towards his office building.

“Are you sure, friend?” the person rushes to catch up, grabbing Hazel’s arm. “You look frazzled… I’m just heading to breakfast right now, you can come with me! I’d pay—”

Hazel turns back around, shouting, “No! I’m in a hurry.” Some part of him protests at his words, but he’s too tired to care. That person chose to help him. That doesn’t mean he has to be nice back. Besides, they’re acting annoying and getting on his nerves “I don’t have time to come and play nice with you. Goodbye.”

“Oh… okay, but—”

Hazel rushes off towards his office building, turning his mind towards only the papers he has to copy. He only remembers the person who helped him once his manager takes him aside during the lunch break to scold him for being late, and then puts them out of his mind once and for all. They don’t matter. He will never see that person again.

~

Hazel and Cha-Cha land in the alley behind the building. His vision swims for a moment, head tight with nausea, before the familiarity of this old routine settles in. He breathes, in and out, and his vision starts to clear.

“Our motel is on 49th street,” Cha-Cha mentions, already reading the file for this job. She always recovered from the “time travel hangover” better than him.

Hazel nods, still trying to regain his bearings. “Great. Let’s… start walking then. Not much time before night.”

“We landed on 49th street,” she says, meaning “you idiot.”

He didn’t know that. “I knew that.” He retorts. “We should still start walking.”

The corners of Cha-Cha’s mouth start to curve up at his blatant lie, and he is pleased despite himself. No matter how many people they’ve killed, sometimes it’s easy to forget they’re both still human. Despite his hesitance to work together at first, he finds that her ruthlessness complements his indecisiveness, and he remembers the tiny details she does not that makes or breaks a case. Each mission together turns out better than the last, and honestly, he is grateful for some sort of a companion.

“Who’s the Target?” He asks once safely inside the motel.

“Perry Andersen. We even got a picture of them this time. And the reason why they need to be eliminated.”

Hazel snorts. “Management feeling generous today?”

Cha-Cha lets out a tiny half-chuckle, which Hazel likes to think is because she knows he’s right. Normally, the higher-ups would give only the name, and leave them to scrounge for all other information they have once they arrive in the timeline.

Hazel glances at the photo. Some lightbulb flickers on in the back of his mind at the sight of the picture — an old connection he can’t quite yet make. He brushes it aside.

“So, what’d they do, then?”

“Apparently, Andersen attends one of the Robinsons’ dinners and inspires teleporters a decade early. And that’s not all — they even gave us the time. This dinner is tomorrow night.”

“Damn. They’re really not cutting us any slack. Would it have been so hard to send us any further back?”

“I’m sure they have their reasons,” Cha-Cha says, annoyed but not annoyed at his griping. Just like his annoyed-but-not-annoyed annoyance at management — it won’t be hard for them to find one person in just a couple of hours, especially with all this extra information being handed out like candy.

“We should head out, then.” Hazel doesn’t move.

“Yes. I’ll go to the library, you go look for clues in the city.”

“You went to the library last time. How about…” Ah. Hazel reaches down to find a penny stuck between the wall and the grate. “Heads or tails?”

Cha-Cha rolls her eyes, but obliges. “Tails.”

Hazel flips the coin. Tails.

“Fine.” Hazel picks up the briefcase — ridiculously heavy, they really should put more energy into making these things lighter, seeing as they have all the time in the world — and stands up to move towards the door.

“Meet back here by eight,” Cha-Cha calls.

Hazel doesn’t reply. He shuts the door and heads out across the sidewalk, towards the police station—

—and immediately trips over something long and tough, his briefcase flying across the ground.

“Are you alright, friend?”

Hazel freezes. He’s heard that voice before. The lightbulb in the back of his head burns brighter, and Hazel shoves it aside. It can’t be.

“Fine.” Hazel stands and doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t want to — can’t — see their face. Of course, the person just walks around to face him, and Hazel’s breath catches in his throat.

“Hmm… I think I’ve seen you before. Oh! You’re that man with the papers! From the crosswalk! Forgive me, I have a bit of a photographic memory,” says the person with the same face of the person in Cha-Cha’s photograph and the same annoying voice from his memory.

Of course it is. And of course they recognize him, too.

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you again! I never got a chance to introduce myself. My name’s Perry. Perry Andersen.”

With this one meeting, his job just became much, much harder. Did the Handler know she sent Hazel to kill one of the only people who was ever nice to him in this past decade of his life?

“Hey, do you live around here? I’m having a party at my house tonight. What do you say to stopping by?” Andersen offers. Hazel just breathes, trying to force his mind to think.

This is the perfect way in: go to the party, find Andersen alone — it shouldn’t be hard to take advantage of their kindness. He should say yes, tell Cha-Cha he found the target, and tell her the address Andersen will give him so they can plan. Kill this person who will disrupt the timeline by attending one little dinner.

Instead, he reaches out for the phone in their hand and smashes it against the sidewalk. Stomps on it again until it’s all broken glass and machinery.

“What— Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Hazel says, and he does mean it, but this way Andersen will never receive the invitation to the Robinsons’ dinner. Andersen’s eyes follow him as he stands, probably still in shock from Hazel’s actions. Hazel’s pretty shocked himself. Without anything else to do, he starts walking away towards the motel.

He really just did that. He really just abandoned his job and the timeline for some annoying guy that invited him to his party. If anyone from the Commission finds out, he will be in real deep shit.

What’s he going to tell Cha-Cha?

“I ran into our target,” Hazel tells Cha-Cha once he gets back to the motel.

“You just ran into them? Just like that?” She sounds skeptical, even though this is one of the only things he will tell her in the next few minutes that’s actually true. He can’t tell her the whole truth — she’d rat him out to management for sure, no matter how much bonding they’ve been doing on their various murder missions.

“Yeah. Took them into an alleyway and shot ‘em. Shot someone else in the alley who protested too — it’ll look like they fought each other.”

Cha-Cha blinks. Hazel thinks she’s going to question his story again, but she just says, “Management will have to give us a raise — this must be our fastest job yet.” She pauses a moment, and Hazel feels his anxiousness start up again before she breathes, “That’s really all?”

Hazel internally sighs in relief, feeling the anxiety in his stomach subside. “That’s all.”

~

There’s someone in the office, which is only unusual because of the inherent strangeness of this person, the source of which he can’t quite place.

No one ever comes into the company except for its employees, and this person is not an employee. They look rich, but not the management kind of rich — their richness manifests as less stuffy and more phantasmally unreal. Their suit appears both old-fashioned and futuristic at the same time, and they carry a leather briefcase. No one here carries briefcases; this is honest-to-god the first one he’s seen in real life. The person appears to be reading something from a newspaper, but Hazel sees their eyes peek out over the paper, surveying their surroundings. Why?

They make eye contact with him, and Hazel looks away, eyes back to his screen without processing the words. When he looks back, the person is gone, and Hazel is left blinking at thin air.

~

“Birdwatching is my favorite hobby. The doves are just delightful this time of year.”

Agnes certainly looks delighted. Hazel could spend an eternity in the simple pattern during which she spots a new bird, writes it down in her notebook, and then sketches out each line of its form with careful strokes. Somehow, no matter how terrible the world is — how many gunmen shoot out her restaurant — she consistently finds more and more moments of quiet beauty in her life than Hazel has ever known.

An odd feeling builds inside him as he watches her. He ignores it in favor of listening to her talk — this time, about her plans for the future.

“I think maybe I’d like to retire soon, you know? Disappear for some time. Just go wherever the wind takes me.”

Oh. Guilt. That’s what this feeling is.

Agnes has spent her whole life working in a donut shop, yet she saved up penny by penny to retire in order to watch birds in her spare time. Hazel has spent his whole life hating everyone and everything with no greater plan whatsoever. He stood atop buildings and pointed a rifle at ordinary people — people like her — and chose who should be allowed to head back home that day and who shouldn’t. How could he possibly think anything between them could ever work out?

Cha-Cha is even more ruthless now than when they first met. If she found out his uncertainty with the Commission she would try to hunt him down, because that’s what happens to people who flee the Commission. Cha-Cha’s their best — she would absolutely be able to find and kill him and Agnes, too, if she knows about her. Which means by even interacting with Agnes, he’s putting her in danger.

“I have to go.” says Hazel, who suddenly feels very, very sick.

“Hazel—?”

“I’m sorry.” Hazel thrusts a ten dollar bill in her hand. “This is for lunch. Have— have a nice day.”

If she calls after him, he doesn’t know. He’s already driving away.

~

There’s a woman in the alleyway. Which is only unusual because he was looking when she appeared out of thin air.

“Hello, Hazel.” The woman smiles. “I’d like to offer you a job.”

Hazel blinks. The woman has no guards, no weapons in sight. Her confidence and ease in this situation only furthers his unsettlement, which begs him to retreat home to safety. But he spies the briefcase in her hand — the same briefcase that the person in the office carried — and she exudes the same uncanny out-of-time displacement as the first. They must be connected somehow.

“Who are you?” Hazel asks, taking a step back.

“Well, I’m the Handler. I am the head of the Commission: an organization intended to keep everything in this timeline working the way it’s supposed to.” She must notice his speechlessness, because she continues, “We make “corrections,” as we like to call them, by…” almost comically, she draws a line across her neck with her finger, “to certain people that prove to be, well, problematic to the timeline.”

“And I suppose you tell all these ‘corrections’ that you’re there to offer them a job?”

The Handler laughs. “Of course not, dearie. I’ve seen you. You would be a great asset to the Commission.”

Hazel eyes the woman— the Handler, if she is to be believed. He could probably take her if he needed to. Her grin only widens, as if she can tell exactly what he is thinking.

“Well then… why me?” Hazel questions, trying to stall for time. What kind of storybook bullshit is he supposed to be believing? He needs to think.

The woman smirks, “Only a truly desperate person would notice one of our agents.”

Sounds like a cop-out. “And why should I believe anything you say? Who’s to say this isn’t all one giant trick?”

“You’re stalling,” the Handler sings, and her certainty in the midst of his confusion only infuriates him more.

“ANSWER ME!” his hand slams down on the wall next to her, his breathing suddenly harsh. She simply pats his shoulder in mock-sympathy.

“Dear, if I wanted you dead,” she says, pulling something out of her bag. Hazel tenses, but she only pulls out a tube of lipstick and begins applying it, “you’d be dead already.” The Handler smiles once more, her hand — intentionally? unintentionally? — drifting to where a gun holster would be. If he didn’t believe her ability to kill him before, he most definitely believes her now. This lady could one-hundred-percent end him, and no one would know or care.

What can he lose? She already revealed her secret to him, so she has to know that if she lets him go there’s a chance he could blab to someone. If even one person believes him, her entire operation could collapse. His options are literally to kill or be killed.

“Okay,” Hazel steps back, lowering his hand from the wall.

The Handler smiles as if she knew what his answer would be all along. “Wonderful! Grab this,” she instructs, holding out the briefcase. All his anger dissipates, replaced with some anxious feeling as he realizes the full extent of his decision. Her breath is hot in his ear, and she grins. “You won’t regret it for one moment.”

~

Hazel pulls into the Griddy’s parking lot. Agnes hasn’t had as much business as usual since the shootout — that’s another thing to feel guilty for.

Agnes is at the counter, just like the first time he came in. He asked her once why she’s the only one ever at the counter and she responded that they do have other employees, but only part-time and she usually works at the counter anyway, because she likes greeting the customers.

He can pinpoint the exact moment when she finishes taking someone’s order, looks up, and spots him still standing in the doorway.

Hazel breathes slowly, in and out, in the same way he does after using the briefcases. Somehow, this nervous anticipation causes just as much nausea as literally breaking the laws of physics.

Agnes finishes ringing up the last customer in line and walks over to Hazel. She must sense his change in mood, because she tacitly steps outside to the small forest area behind the store — the same area Hazel ran off from yesterday. Hazel follows right behind.

“I was worried, after you ran off like that,” she starts, and her worry is another thing to feel guilty for. Still, she doesn’t try to push. He’s grateful for that.

Someday, if this all works out, he’ll tell her the whole story. For now, he can only give as a tiny bit, just enough for her to understand.

“I’ve done some… really bad things. Whatever you can imagine, it’s worse. It all caught up to me in that moment and now that I’ve really had time to think about everything… I guess what I’m saying is, you remember you said you might retire soon?” “Well, of course.”

“Do you have room for two?”

Agnes smiles. “Hazel, all I wanted in my life was to help other people. Seeing you come here, the way you’ve brightened up these past few days just from what I’ve seen when you come in and order a donut… It made my day. Of course I have room for two.”

Hazel exhales, and his life seems to stretch forth in front of him. So many endless possibilities — all filled with Agnes and everything they could ever do together. All the world and all of time seems so incredibly vast — they could go anywhere. Without thinking, he sweeps Agnes up into a hug.

“Oh, Hazel…” Agnes voices, smile and worry in her voice, “Are you sure about this?”

This plan could go wrong in about a trillion different ways: the Apocalypse is still in three days and Cha-Cha could find them and kill them with the rest of the Commission before then, or Hazel and Agnes could end up unable to stand each other after spending more time together and the whole plan could fall apart. But for the first time in his life — so long, and now so painfully short — he has reason to try.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

#tua secret santa #tua secret santa 2019 #tua #minific #if anyone reads this and it gets even one like or reblog i will be instantly validated for the rest of my life

[sneek-m]

Quick Japan Web: A Message by Tofubeats with No Destination - A Memory of the Fun Days at the Club

Tofubeats has a column on Quick Japan Web, and the latest post had him talk about filming his music video for “Club,” one of my favorite songs of 2020 so far, and some thoughts about the song after the coronavirus changed our lives. I thought it was a bittersweet post about how Osaka looked during the early days of the coronavirus -- if I am correct, he filmed the video in the middle of March -- and how music and live shows look now while we’re cooped in our homes. Here’s the link to the original Japanese post at Quick Japan Web. Below is the English translation by me.

Starting music production when he was in middle school, Tofubeats carry more than 10 years of experience at 29 years old. Recently, the producer/DJ got noticed for his remix of Sayaka Yamamoto for her first vinyl LP release.

The music video for his new song “Club” from the digital album TBEP, released on March 27, 2020, was supposed to document his live tour but…  Tofubeat talks about what happened and his current thoughts on “Club.”

Filming the video without an audience

It’s been a month since a national emergency was declared. I started to get worried that my body’s starting to get used to the stay-at-home routine, so I opened an exercise video, and now I think pulled a muscle after 30 minutes of full training. Hello, this is Tofubeats. Continuing from last time, this is about making the music video.

Production was moving along with a plan to have a crew follow my tour and film myself travel and prepare my shows, but more and more events started to get canceled because of the coronavirus. After all the scheduled events got cancelled, the director quickly put together a meeting and gave us this plan:

We will film the music video to the original plan

The event itself got re-scheduled, so we will still book the same venue and shoot the show without an audience.

Where the audience would be, we will include something (the sign) to show the effects of the show getting re-scheduled.

Additionally, we will use past live footage.

At this point, we were a week away from the shoot date. Even though it was so soon, we got to safely book the venue Misono Universe that we were supposed to play, and we filmed without a change in plans. Kiki Vivi Lily adjusted her schedule to come to Osaka even though she was supposed to travel.

The filming crew met early in the morning at the Hi-Hatt office. I told them to do a good amount of preparation there, but the set up was very simple because it was made to be repeatedly used during tour, so with everything like cases all set, prepping and checking took about 10 minutes to finish. After a few hours, we headed to Shinagawa Station. Usually we take a taxi, but we got a car to film our travel to the station. We got a car because of comments from people saying how “songs with Tofubeats where a car comes out are cool.” [laughs]

Before, filming for the video of “Lonely Night,” I was nervous driving a car with the steering wheel on the left side for the first time, so I think here you can see me drive more comfortably. That time, I thought I should practice driving on the left side, so I went to a car rental in Nishimiya but they only had these expensive BMWs. Even though I was supposed to drive an SUV in the video, I remember half in tears driving this low car on the Hanshin Highway. Alone.

Maybe people are going to forget about the club

Going back to the story, after heading to Shinagawa Station from the office, we took a shinkansen to Shin-Osaka. Inside the rare, empty train car, it ran “COVID-19” on the captions over and over again, and even though it was before the national emergency, I got a feeling that our world was slowly changing. When we arrived at the streets of Osaka, I think it looked the same as before. After going through the city, we got to the venue. It was sad to see the “postponed” sign at the entrance of Universe.

Though the venue wasn’t going to have an audience, we did the same thing as if we did. We got out and checked the equipment, played some sound, and did soundcheck on the floor, and then the actual show… That was how it supposed to go, but I think I sang more than 10 times including rehearsals. Even though we didn’t use the actual sound, both of us performed as if it was the real thing.

During the show, it surprisingly didn’t bother me to perform in front of no one, but it felt strange to suddenly notice that there’s only a camera in the crowd or to have the “postponed” sign out. I DJed a few events after this, but I think I got to show a little that this would be the last day I would get to perform live at a venue.

As I often write, “Club” was made before the coronavirus (the finishing process overlapped, but I’ve had things like the lyrics done beforehand), but the circumstances completely changed since when I wrote about “going to the club if I can” with an attention to detail. When I watched the finished video, and saw clip after clip from DJ sets and shows that I didn’t think much of at the time, I got this strange feeling thinking, “was there really a time I performed in front of such a packed crowd?”

There’s a lot of old songs I made imagining the club, and I think I was exaggerating or romanticizing it. I thought it needed some drive like that to communicate to people through a pop song.

But I also wanted to write more straightforward. There were years where I couldn’t, and it was now that I finally had the skills (mostly lyric writing) to do it. But this message went out without anywhere to go and it’s now drifting without anywhere to be. Maybe people will just keep staying at home and forget all about the club. [laughs] It would be great if you can enjoy it as a memory of the days when the club was fun and as a promise to meet again.

#Tofubeats #translation

[sohmariku]

Hi Hi Riku! First I would love to a big hug and to say a big thank you for the time you take to do these subs for us, I am ready and waiting for Touken Ranbu SRS2018, I am looking forward to them. My question for you is what is the best place you went to in Japan? I am going with some friends next year, it will be my first time flying and first time visiting Japan and I just have no idea what I want to do lol. I am open to anything and everything. Thank you xx

Hey Anon,I’m glad to hear you enjoy the subtitles. ^^

Japan is quite a big country and every place has its own charm. Where you want to go entirely depends on the length of your stay I suppose.  If you’re staying relatively short (1~2 weeks), I personally think you should attempt to visit more than two (big) cities. If you have 3 weeks or more to explore the country, you might want to consider doing a bit more travelling. I have found the JR Railpass to be very useful when travelling between the bigger cities (especially if you want to use the shinkansen), but it can be quite expensive. Of course, there are cheaper ways to travel too.

Popular cities for first time visitors are Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka and Hiroshima. I’ve been to all and I’d definitely recommend going to these places and using them as your “home base” to discover more of Japan.

While in those cities, it’s all about finding place that are more or less in the same area and creating a way to visit them on the same day. A lot of places don’t require a full days attention. For example, I often combine a visit to Asakusa with a visit to Tokyo SkyTree. Or when I’m in Shibuya, I’ll walk over to Harajuku and Yoyogi Park/ Meiji Jingu. I might be in Ueno Park in the morning, but be in Akihabara in the afternoon.

First off, if you need some inspiration, you can check out my side blog @riku-in-japan. It’s basically my Japan Diary. Lots of photos, lots of text. But also lists of places to visit in TOKYO, the TOKYO AREA & OTHER PLACES IN JAPAN.

But for a quick overview of recommendations, read on!

TOKYOIn Tokyo you have all of the famous tourist traps spots. While I personally dislike to fight my way through big crowds, I do think it’s part of the experience. Visiting places like Asakusa, Tokyo SkyTree, Tokyo Tower, Hachiko’s statue (Shibuya) and Meiji-Jingu (Harajuku) is something I feel just need to happen, especially if it’s your first time in Japan. (Shibuya’s crossing isn’t quite as impressive as people pretend it is.) That said, I don’t think it’s worth paying to go up in Tokyo SkyTree. The view is gorgeous, but the view from the top levels of the Government Buildings in Shinjuku is just as stunning, and those are free. Also, the Sumida Aquarium (under Tokyo SkyTree) isn’t worth its high entrance fee in my opinion. Going to the Postal Museum in the building/shopping mall next door can be fun though.Other recommendations for Tokyo are probably the Metropolitan Gardens. There are 9 of them spread across the city. I particularly like the Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens, but the Hama-Rikyu Gardens are pretty nice too.Checking out the Tokyo National Museum (Ueno) or Edo-Tokyo Museum (Ryogoku) is also on the list of recommendations.For otaku shopping, you’ll have Akihabara & Nakano Broadway. For anything else, Shibuya & Harajuku. Ikebukuro will serve you in both (if you’re a girl), it’s the best. I’ve never been very impressed with Shinjuku for shopping.

If you’ve seen enough of Tokyo’s inner city, taking a train to Kasai-Rinkai Kouen can be pretty refreshing. Plus, I love the aquarium they have there! And it’s super affordable. You can also check out the Bird Sanctuary or just enjoy the view of Tokyo Bay. Just outside Tokyo you can find the Edo-Tokyo Architectural Open-Air Museum, which is awesome! (Make sure to wear easy shoes, you gotta take them off every time you enter a building.)

KAMAKURAWhen you’re in Tokyo, don’t forget to pay a visit to the old capital Kamakura. It’s a little train ride away, but well worth it! Popular spots include the Hasedera Temple, Tsurugaoka Hachiman-gu Temple and the Kotoku-in Temple, a.k.a. the temple with the Big Buddha! Aside from the temples, you can also pay a visit to the beach or do a little bit of easy hiking. There are a few trails scattered across Kamakura. One of them, the Daibutsu Hiking Course, runs between the Kotoku-in and Kita-Kamakura station and has become a favorite of mine.While you’re at it, you might considering to visit Enoshima Island too. It has temples, it has caves, it has a garden and a lighthouse. It’s beautiful and a favorite of mine!

OTHERWith Tokyo as your home base, there are many more places you can visit. One example is ODAWARA. Lovely castle and a beach! And a lot more stuff I never got to visit.Another tourist favorite is Mt.Takao. In case you want to do some light hiking. Different trails leading up to the top. The view is great, but it can be somewhat crowded. If you’re more adventurous, going to Mt.Oyama may also be an option.Oh, and of course there is YOKOHAMA, but somehow I’ve never really found anything I really wanted to see there. They do have this Red Brick House thing and the Noodle Museum, but I never explored either of those.

KYOTONext stop is Kyoto. It’s one of the must visit places! It has a lot of tourist destinations and you’ll find that pretty much every place is packed with people. Still, it’s gorgeous! Definitely visit Kyoto if you can!Top tourist destinations are probably Kiyomizudera, Arashiyama’s Bamboo Forest, Kinkaku-ji Temple, Nijo Castle and Fushimi-Inari Shrine. Kiyomizu is nice, worth a visit. Arashiyama though, it was a bit of a disappointment. On the photos the place looks more beautiful than it actually is. Kinkaku-ji Temple, probably the same. The garden is beautiful, but it’s so crowded! That golden temple is a sight to see though. If you prefer calm though, you’re better off visiting the Ryoanji Temple nearby. Nijo Castle is good. Worth a visit. Fushimi-Inari Shrine is awesome, but by all means, don’t go there during daytime! The place will likely be crowded. Best time to visit and climb to the top is just before sunset. That place is so damn beautiful in the dark!Other places to visit while in Kyoto are Yasaka Shrine and Kuramadera Temple. The latter can be quite a climb, but it’s beautiful! Though a little crowded as well at certain points. While staying in Kyoto, taking a side trip to NARA is also highly recommended! Visit the park and feed the (wild) deer some crackers!

Last time I was in Kyoto I followed to crazy itineraries. Two of them can be found HERE & HERE.

OSAKASome people love this place, but I have to admit I’ve never had proper time to really explore and appreciate the city. Osaka Castle is a definitely great! I have fond memories of that place. And I also loved going up in the Tsutenkaku Tower (at night) and walking around the Shinsekai area right next to it. Other than that, I’ve mostly been getting myself lost. It has good places for shopping too though. 

HIROSHIMASame story as Osaka, I haven’t had enough time to really explore this place, since I only had one day at my disposal. The Peace Memorial Park is very impressive though. And Hiroshima Castle has been turned into a lovely museum I can recommend. While in Hiroshima, visiting Miyajima Island is also an option. On the island you’ll find Itsukushima Shrine, it’s lovely. It also has (wild) deer walking in the streets and various hiking routes going up Mt.Misen, which is good for great views. Plus, the ferry boat ride to the island is nice.

OTHERJapan has a lot more great places to offer, but they probably aren’t for a first time visit. For example, Nikko, Nagoya, Hikone, Hakone, Matsumoto, Katsuyama, Karuizawa and Nakatsugawa. (Just listing where I have been.)HAKONE is pretty popular with tourist too I suppose. If you can somehow visit it in your schedule, it’s definitely a place worth checking out. It’s not too far away from Tokyo after all. You need to do some planning though, because nothing is right next to the station. You’ll need to walk or take a bus from there.

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So, yeah, Japan has a lot to offer and where you go is all up to yourself in the end. If you (or anyone else) have any question about anything I wrote (or something else concerning Japan), feel free to ask for more details. ^^