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Well. Seeing as moss is essential weird grass, I’m pretty sure it is edible to some extent. Don’t eat grass or moss though. However, I get the feeling it’d taste like water, grass, and dirt.

Stay safe, kiddo!

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this is my input for pride month.

i was not the first person to come out at my school. i was just the first person to come out by choice and by their own hand.

i came out for the trans girl who’s identity was only discovered because one of the boys didn’t respect her privacy.

i came out for the boy who had a crush on a classmate of the same gender, and told his best friend in good faith, only to come to school the next day and find that suddenly everyone knew.

i came out for the girl who moved schools after a teacher outed her during pride month, as he tried to prove how diverse and accepting the school was.

i came out because i am a senior student and i wasn’t going to leave this kids to stand alone.

i came out because my school actively ignores homophobic bullying happening everyday while they shout to the skies about how accepting they are and how they stand against bullying.

i came out because i trust in my own ability to stand up against the sheer bs from everyone.

i came out because i would rather act as a shield and take all that bs in place of the younger students who didn’t ask for the world to know.

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(( I found this cute little ritual altar while I was out walking in the park today. I don’t feel comfortable showing the whole thing yet, as I have yet to entirely decipher what its purpose was- but enjoy this image.

These are Runic symbols translating to: 


Pretty interesting stuff. I desperately wish to meet the people who performed this and learn more. )) 

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She feels as though he died that day.

Sometimes, she kind of wishes he had. Because even when he’s standing right in front of her, she doesn’t recognise the man looking back at her. At least when he died he still loved her, at least she could have clung to the fact that his last words to her were him expressing exactly that. But then, he’d be gone, and she hates herself for being so selfish. He’s alive, he’s breathing and he’s back at work, helping people.

The Chimney who loved her, who she loved, died that day. And the more time that passes, the more she’s starting to doubt he’s coming back to her. He’s not even trying. And maybe that hurts more than him not remembering because he can’t help that – he was trying to save someone else’s life, the fact he had been shot for his heroics wasn’t his fault. Coma; most definitely was not his fault, and the resulting amnesia? Again, not his fault. And she tried, she tried so hard not to blame him, not to hate him or be angry with him.

But he wasn’t trying.

He could remember Kevin dying, barely. Anything after that? Gone. It came back in bits and pieces – eventually, he could remember Hen, and then Bobby, even Buck. But he wasn’t the same person that they all knew and loved, there was a bitterness she couldn’t explain and sometimes, she felt as though he just simply, didn’t want to remember.

He hates her and she wishes more than anything that she can understand why. She’s carrying his child and he still looks at her like she means nothing to him. This isn’t Chimney, it isn’t any version of Chimney she’s heard about, not pre-rebar as Hen constantly reminds her and not pre-Kevin dying as Mrs Lee says when she tries to comfort her.

Her heart physically hurts as she stands there awkwardly, looking at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he’s just looking from her, to her ever-swelling stomach and then at the scan photograph she had just placed in his hands. There’s not an ounce of recognition in his eyes and she wants to reach out and kiss him, in the hopes that maybe it’ll trigger something. Maybe it’ll bring back the version of Chimney she loves, the version she needs and their baby needs. It’s been six months since he looked at her like she was his entire world, six months since he kissed her then flat stomach goodbye and told them both that he loved them. Six months since Bobby had turned up at dispatch and told her that Chimney needed her.

“Don’t you feel anything?” She finally breaks the silence between them, hating how awkward it is now. Even at the beginning, when he was in her apartment helping her to feel safe, there was never any awkwardness. Her bottom lip quivers and she can’t stop the tears from falling as she steps forward, daring herself to take his hand, but before she can, he pulls away from her as though she’s burnt him. Her fingers only brushing against his skin for just a few seconds, and a part of her hopes it’s enough. As though somehow, if he just lets her close enough, all the memories of their year together will come flooding back. “C-can’t you try? You would have fought for me, once, you would have tried. Can’t you just try, please?”

She’s more than aware that she’s begging him, she’d get down on her knees if she could and if she thought it would make a blind bit of difference. It’s been just over four months since he opened his eyes and pulled his hand from hers, since she had first seen that look of confusion on his face, the vacant look in his eyes when he stared at her. “Please?” She closes the gap between them, only able to because his back hits the wall and she essentially has him trapped.

“Just… kiss me once and if you don’t feel anything, if you don’t remember… I’ll drop it. I promise. I’ll stop coming around, I’ll stop… trying so hard. I’ll leave you alone.” He’s contemplating it and when he nods, there’s an entirely new surge of hope because she’s so sure it’ll work. She’s willing to forgive and forget the last few months because she can’t begin to understand how it must feel to have your whole life that you’ve worked so hard for, ripped away without seeing it coming.

His lips are on hers, and her hands clench, her fingers digging into the palm of her hand in an attempt to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing him. He’s not the Chimney she loves, not the one she fell in love with but his lips still feel the same, and for a minute, she allows herself to have just a moment of hope.

Until he pulls back and shakes his head, “Nothing. I feel nothing.” It hurts – she’s suffered beatings less painful than what she feels right then. Her entire body is shaking, and she finds herself stumbling back. He’d been distant, downright rude at times but never… purposely cruel. She finds herself angrily swiping at the tears that fall, wishing she could save her heartbreak until she’s as far away from him as possible.

The Chimney she loved would have held her as she cried, he would have run his fingers through her hair, pulling her impossibly close as he whispered words of comfort in her ear. He would have let her cry it out, and then tried to make her laugh when she was done. That’s the Chimney she remembered, the one who was about to become a father. She didn’t know who this person was.

His eyes are emotionless, as he shrugs his shoulders, “Save your tears.” He pushes past her, quickly heading towards the door of his own apartment, “I’m done here.”

She feels as though he died that day and he wasn’t coming back.  

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Kirino must have visited Shindou in the hospital, so here’s a missing scene. :)



There it was again.

‘I do think Tenma is the best choice as captain.’

A slight quivering of the bottom lip. A tremble in his vowels. Above all, he kept looking away. At the sheets, out the window, at the wall, anywhere but Kirino’s eyes.

‘I agree.’ If Shindou didn’t want to do it, Kirino wouldn’t push it. He only had to avoid saying anything that would incite any further-

‘Don’t lie.’ Shindou still didn’t look at Kirino, which wasn’t helpful in trying to place this comment.

‘What are you talking about? I do agree with you.’

Shindou shifted gaze from the wall to the window again. The breeze was playing with the leaves of perfectly trimmed trees, lining the hospital garden. Then he sighed. A shaky sigh, that hovered dangerously on the edge of being a sob. Or was Kirino hearing things?

‘Kirino, you have all qualities of a captain.’ Those unstable vowels were definitely no imagination. ‘The way you lead the defence, it’s…’

Kirino shifted in his seat, trying to think of what to say. It would be a lie if he said there hadn’t been a moment, however small, insignificant and ridiculous, he thought the coach would name him. Kirino, leader of the defence, master of the mist and Shindou’s right hand man. Only, then it would have been Kirino, leader of Raimon. When Tenma’s name was called instead, that moment had passed. Rightfully so. Because that was it, wasn’t it? Kirino put his hands on the side of the bed and leaned forward.

‘You’re wrong. I don’t have all the qualities of a captain. You know what I miss? I miss his spirit. And so do you.’

A twitch of the muscles in Shindou’s neck was the only response.

‘That’s why we fell prey to Fifth sector, you and me. We don’t have it, that fire inside of him that sets all hearts ablaze on the field. That’s what’ll lead us to victory. That’s why he’s best fit to be captain.’ Kirino then looked outside too. Some kids were playing with a ball. The weather was nice out, so he lifted himself up from the chair he sat in. His hands buried themselves in the mattress and the bed creaked.

‘Not that I wouldn’t have rather played with you.’ he added, though a little late, while opening the window to let some fresh air in. The kids down below held a match of who could keep the ball high the longest. Their giggles were audible now, as both a solemn reminder of the stakes for Raimon and a reflection of the very soccer they wanted to play. Kirino held the windowsill while trying to make sense of that thought, until he heard an actual sob behind him. Quickly, he spinned around.


‘No…’ The captain shook his head, tears in his eyes. He looked at the kids again from the bed where he sat. His voice was high with emotion.

‘I can’t cry. Not now-’ But his objections were stifled by another sob. He shut his eyes and the tears finally rolled down his cheeks. Kirino shot back to the bed and simply sat on his knees beside it. Meanwhile Shindou still tried to stop crying and wiped his eyes feverishly.

‘I’m sorry.’ he whispered, but Kirino would have none of it.

‘Just let it go,’ he softly pushed, ‘I know you’ve been keeping this in. For coach Endou, for Tenma.’

‘I was quite successful.’ Shindou smiled weakly. His voice broke awfully easily.

‘But you don’t have to. Certainly not with me.’ And that was the last thing Kirino said for a long while. Shindou cried. First he buried his face in his hands and his shoulders shook. Then he looked at the ceiling and murmured, between jaded breaths ‘I want to play. I do. If only I hadn’t- If only, but-’

When Kirino put a hand on his shoulder, his breathing got irregular and his lungs desperately fought for air as his tears fell again, tears of frustration and desperation and all pent up things he couldn’t get rid of. His collar became damp and droplets hung from his nose and chin. Finally, after an eternity, he just blankly stared at his legs and let his red eyes dry up. That was when Kirino pulled his hand back.

‘Thank you.’ Shindou’s smile was no longer weak. It was the smile of a player that had just finished a particularly difficult training. ‘I needed that.’ His eyes shone not only from reflecting the sunlight, but also from a happiness that surely laid in the trust he put in Raimon and its current captain. Kirino returned his smile with equal trust.

‘We’ll fight with you, Shindou. You’ll be with us on the field.’

Shindou nodded. ‘And, Kirino?’


‘Send the captain my regards.’

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