#will only show up if its stormy/overcast

[sanestnoel]

For All Time | Lovebrush Chronicles; “Hereinafter”

Even in dreams, you think of him.

a/n: the extremely late valentine’s entry for the discord event orz im so sorry chise, you can blame school, but you can blame me too :') its been so long since i made a tumblr post pls so sorry if the formatting is weird

(You might convince yourself you were past the point of being human, but what emotions you thought you had destroyed were merely buried behind ice and snow. You were half-human, so you found existence dull.

How long has it been since you were born? Centuries have passed, millennia perhaps and how you measure time was by the routine flip of a calendar and the decadent feasts you hear the capital throwing despite the withering world beyond its walls. Your skin retains its unwrinkled state, your hair remains its length, you were only going through the motions of following the river of time. You were the most truthful to yourself and you could tell that you were following this river alone and it seemed it would stay that way until you ceased to exist.

Perhaps a change was in your speech, you understand more of magic runes than the machinations of human language. You understand even less of how to describe the hollow feeling in your body. Your desire to live was what kept you alive, but could this be living? Choose life, they had said, please choose life.

You hardly remember what it means to choose life, like how you can barely remember their voice as they say it, their appearance. Had their hair been as pale as snow? Or as dark as the ebony nobles cherished as their desks? Were their eyes as stormy as the overcast skies? Or as bright as forget-me-nots?

It did not matter, when you would rather etch into memory for as long as eternity, the way their warmth seeps into your monstrous bones.

They hold your hand, gently. With only five fingers, a small hand, this is what steals your lonely heart. It holds your palm like it was wrapping around the ice surrounding your heart, its warmth melts it until it is skin to beating muscle. One finger sinks in, the other caresses and the remaining three fill you. You were a cold, cold man whose feelings were crushed under the weight of the world, but they held you gently. It was not that you were in love, you know less of that than you do of happiness, but how could you describe it? You only know that your heart lives within another, and you doubt they shall ever return what they have unknowingly taken.)

You wake up to the chill of dewy mornings after the rain. Past your window, you catch the sight of a raindrop falling from the tips of leaves, beyond it is a slightly foggy expanse.

You squeeze your hands, it’s cold, he had said that it was incredibly warm, but perhaps he only thinks that because his hands were even colder.

Beanie comes to lick your fingers, his warm tongue over the numb ends, when you look to your left you see the clock ticking back at you. It was close to the time you feed Beanie, which explains the seemingly affectionate behaviour. You scratch his chin absently as you notice that the pot of fake flowers on your bedside table has been shifted—and wedged underneath was a fraying letter.

Something in you wants to leave Godheim behind for good, but the larger half pushes your hand to stretch and delicately slide the letter out. It’s sealed with wax and the paper is extremely old to the point of fragile. The insignia of the green wax is, you recognise, as Alkaid’s seal.

You pry the wax seal open with a nail.

“Dear friend,

I hope this letter finds you well. I was unsure if the letter would arrive safely and intact since you had described that the flow of time between our worlds is significantly different from one another.

Godheim is recovering smoothly if you are worrying, most would not know of your deeds but trust that everything we do to rebuild our home shows our gratitude. We will not take you and Archmage Clayden’s sacrifices lightly.

Speaking of the Archmage, I wish to write a biography about him. Since you had been witness and part of what the Archmage has done for Godheim, I wanted to inquire if you could perhaps send a letter detailing your shared experiences. The Archmage is still largely known with an infamous reputation, but I wish for others to know the side you have seen, too and for others to remember the Archmage as incredibly...

You stop reading. Distantly, you can feel the rough paper slip from your hands. The mention of him has you reassessing the dream you had. You can barely remember the contents of it, but the visceral loneliness is embedded into you.

What had been a dream for you... was a memory for him.

#lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush clarence #lbc #for all time #for all time clarence #clarence clayden #lovebrush chronicles fanfic #lovebrush chronicles scenarios #idk what im tagging HELP oh my god its been like two years since i deleted my tot tumblr :sweats:

[bluesthebest]

Palpitoad

PokemonHistory | Closed

"Howdy Clay, curious about your little pal here, huh? They got some interesting, albeit, disgusting factoids on some of our past discoveries down the murky lakes with some culture relevance. I’ll let Rotomdex give you the breakdown."

He taps on his pokedex with the pokemon in question showing it on screen and it’s robotic cheery voice comes up.

"Number 536, Palpitoad, the Vibration Pokémon. Semi aquatic, often plays a crucial role in its pokemon ecosystem by controlling insect populations, often seen in Unova located around large swamps. Areas within: Moor of Icirrus, Icirrus city, Route 8 waters, and Pinwheel Forest. They have also been spotted in areas throughout Galar but only in stormy weather, overcast, foggy, or sandstorms. With the exception of Bridge Field and in Kalos through the Friend Safary as of recent date. Their primary source of foods are bug pokemon, including but not limited to: Sewaddles, Karrablast, Shelmet, and many other small insects that dwell in wetlands.

Palpitode has the ability to sense vibrations through its skin and remove debilitating effects when it rains thanks to it’s sticky and webbed layer of mucus that coats it’s entire body. Previously it was discovered that it would actually absorb it into it’s skin and form welts rather than reject it completely, it was a way for it’s body to use as a defense mechanism if it were to be bitten or eaten. Demographical and environmental factors point to this creature being fully water/ poison type once. (product of being exposed to bug types like Venomoth or Spinarak) but was reclassified to water/ ground when it was determined that it had grown into this evolutionary advantage to not only make transport easier through a highly conductive terrain but also counter the large influx of Joltiks and Galvantula giving it’s resistance to electric types and paralyzing slime. Humans have used it's slime for it's effects that had helped create medicine for anti-inflammatory,antivirus, anti-infection, and analgesic or harmful poisons. Be advised not to kiss or lick Palpitode’s or any of it’s evolutionary line, toxins are debilitating and life threatening if consumed in high dosage even if it has significantly reduced over the century.[1] A discovery in Unova region on the outskirts of Mistralton City very close to Moor of icurrus,fossils showing a part of the Palpitode evolutionary line. Akin to many of it’s kind linking back to one predecessor that lived before humans, having an enormous skeleton and completely terapod, with a large mouth and eyes on top of it’s head to see through the murky depths. It could barely see around itself but it’s mouth was large enough to break many shields and swallow most things whole, that was unfortunate enough to step into it’s muddy home. The bones show that it too had welts, or curvature showing traces of it so this trait has been passed down through many of it’s generations. Despite this creatures size has significantly reduced even Seismitoad being only a half of what it used to be.[2]"

"Also doesn't have the giant sharp teeth or stubby legs " Blue interjects.

"It's pre-evolution, Tympole older counterpart had developed unique sound to it’s advantage to navigate and help keep itself withing it's own circle but it also had a rather strange defense mechanism. It's eyes. Mainly the warts around them. Speculation arises that it's warts grew close to it’s face causing them to leak through looking like they're crying when a predator showed up, it's speculated to turn most of them away. Evidence from what could be seen as tissue scars on the mummified specimen, that was fossilized but almost perfectly preserved Tympoles cluster with Palpitoad near them. The Palpitoad itself had curves in areas behind it's eyes but seemed to be able to preform the same action. [3] It’s modern iteration warts grown on the side of it's head with not nearly as much warts, it used its vibration and sounds to help navigate the dark trenches of mud it safely guides itself and many other Tympoles rarely ever found alone, always following a much larger Palpitoad. Method of transport, some would be stuck on Palpitoads' skin as another form of travel. Or inside Seismitoads mouth." [press continue to resume] "

"Alright I'll give it a pause here before it goes on forever. Hope that was informative"

The Rotom hid itself away again.

#pokemon history! #not real at all but related to toads!] #hc #[1] Toads are actually used for this kind of things they are pretty toxic] #[2] this is direct reference to the prehistoric toad/frog the Eryops! #[3] Toads actually have warts in very unexpected places!] #CW: pokemon anatomy #CW: kinda gross #thanks for the ask! #quakingclay

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day. 

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love. 

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin. 

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

 “Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints. 

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly. 

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”  

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.” 

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and  you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him. 

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point.  You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks. 

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please,"  he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is. 

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”  

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today.  “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

 “Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind. 

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day. 

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall,  meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

 His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.” 

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink. 

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful. 

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers. 

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you. 

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.  

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way. 

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too. 

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

[cornflowercanine]

hi heres a post of me talkign a8t my goats goatlings is a petsite where ui   have   goats .  u can customize them with appearance dolls make them Fight and Kill for loot/strong/mony (sugar stars) and u can 8uy foods and toys and Pretty Items with that monys. theres an arcade 8ut none of the games are fun. the goats cant die 8ut if theyre too sad/hungry they wont fight goATLINgs ISNt 8LuE its just that windows 7 classic theme + firefox = weird shit XD if u join goatlings 8c of me put vriskaleijon in the referral

first off look at my HA (i think it stands for human avatar) i think its pretty and my widdle snake holding my aro flag :33

im gonna go in order of when i got the goatlings and will include desc if they have one, 8ut itll 8e cropped out if they dont, none of my goatlings have treasure/a collection 8c frankly idk how it works and i dont want to know

this is d4mz i forget to write the four in her name ALL the time shes my oldest goat shes old enough to make eggs on the stove and get allowance and go to the convenience store to get a soda and chocol8 for all the 8a8ies 8ut thats it. she ONLY likes edgy things her fave toys are punk/pop rock dino and spiked yoyo and she really really wants to/tries to KILL 8ut isnt super good at it 8y default. her personality is like tawnypelt warrior cats. she used to midkey h8 me 8ut shes mellowed out

this is sears33r they factkin silver the hegheg from the sonic fandu8s. they know everything constantly all the time so is constantly learning things and this 8rings them indescri8a8le pain hence the name ‘sear[ing]s33r’. despite knowing literally everything which 8a8ies dont tend to do theyre pro8a8ly like, 13/14. tells d4mz when she n33ds to cut up some fruit to f33d to dolewhip. never happy 8ut always loved. 8ad at fighting

this is dolewhip his name is dolewhip 8c i made my goatlings while a fair was happening and someone there was selling yumy dole whip and i was constantly thinking a8t it so this is his name now. hes a child an infant a 8a8y a little kid can 8arely even walk and his toucan is his 8est friend. everyone takes turns carrying him not so much 8c he n33ds to 8e carried 8ut 8c we love him

this is payshes her description is self explanatory for her name i realized RIGHT when i applied her AD that she does actually have peixes horns. her personality is exactly as youd expect. she isnt particularly good at fighting 8ut she is very very happy. i give her all the toys/food i get from watery explore areas and she loves that shit. cridea told her what fictionkin is 8ut she still doesnt call herself a kinnie 8c She doesnt kin the peixes. she IS the peixes. the peixes kin HER

this is cervalces (sir-val-s33s) (ok i just watched a video and its apparentally pronounced serval-siz 8ut) xhe’s like, a few million/thousand years old technically? like a sudden reincarn8ion of cervalces   into a partially goat .  xhe’s cool xhe’s 8igger than an elk 8ut smaller than a moose. isnt really a part of the family 8ut lives here anyway. pro8a8ly sticks xer head through the kitchen window when im chopping vegeta8les for scraps. pretty mellow. CAN kill when i want xer to (hence 8eing lvl 14) and is a Little default 8etter at it than d4mz 8ut like, eh

this is cridea   shes   named after   cridea j33vik . was the first rad i ever got and practically fell into my hands. she has a completely average personality and a8ility to fight. doesnt like edgy things as much as d4mz 8ut 8uys chains/weird jewelry every time she goes to the convenience store with her anyway. is mostly just there to 8e pretty. knows what fictionkin is and kins cridea j33vik. a regular ass friend!

this is sphaeralcea (sfuh-ral-s33-uh) i got xyr 8c i adored xyr AD and thought it was super cute and lovely colors and i named xyr after a cute tiny peachy orange flower that grows around here and is adora8le. xi is full of fury xi h8s every single thing i give xyr xi LOVES killing and does a critical hit every other turn. xi loves killing so much i wanted to get xyr a 8attle axe 8ut it wasnt avalia8le so now xi has a revolver and loves it. xi will kill you. i love xyr regardless.very pretty very angry

this is tzhive. she was a nightmare to get. she has a8solutely no personality and is horrifically 8ad at fighting. also mostly just exists to look pretty. may8e 8eing named after Just A Literal Fucking Landscape/House contri8uted to her having no personality or nota8le good tr8s past ‘pretty’. perhaps takes after dragonmom the most in that she Cant Fucking Do Anything and pro8a8ly isnt even conscious. shes kinda like the ‘none of these ppl are actual sincere friends 8ut theyre the only ones that let me hang out with/follow them’ of the fishy/water goats i have. i love her regardless. 

this is nan8asen -points at their desc- and also when i looked up nan8asen it apparentally literally just means ‘shipwreck’ so it fits either way. theyre dead!!!!! when looking at their AD to come up with a name the only thing that came to mind was Lighthouse The Hush Sound, which is a song a8t a haunted lighthouse, so theyre dead theyre a ghost they are not corporeal. theyre Ok at fighting 8ut i dont think they Want to. pro8a8ly good friends with cervalces in that they are technically older than the rest of the goats. was not trying to get their RAD 8ut they came to me anyway and now theyre here so theyre not really a Part of the family 8ut just lives here regardless. no8ody can talk to them easily (s33; is a fucking ghost) 8ut i dont think they mind this much. pro8a8ly has (semi) carnivore t33th

#clove rambles #long post if u open the cut XD #i also wanna note d4mz technically knows what fictionkin is from cridea/payshes 8ut does not care. #she doesnt identify as damara she doesnt kin damara she does not even really care a8out damara 8ut she is a reincarn8ion of her #nan8asens 8asically entire thing is aesthetic XD 8ut like aesthetic with personality #will only show up if its stormy/overcast #u can send me asks a8t any of them and i will answer :P!

[kaibacorpintern]

the wound

word count: ~2500

summary: kaiba has some pointed thoughts about yuugi’s recent cooking injury. platonic rivalshipping. post-DSOD

a/n: a woman has too many unfinished one-shots in her google drive so i’m making time to finish them instead of overthinking them (and never finishing them.) yes this is about cooking and yuugi and kaiba and depression. yes i have already written about this. whatever man. enjoy.

++++

Same time as usual. Two in the afternoon, on Saturdays. Same place as usual. The picnic table under the massive oak in the park, two blocks away from the Kame Game Shop and twenty minutes by subway from the station under the Kaiba Corp tower. Seto took the subway mostly out of scientific interest, taking a professional curiosity in the world Atem had wanted to live in, and because Atem had told him to enjoy it. What had he seen here, in the faded orange seats and bright pastel advertisements and the quiet scattering of human-not-Puzzle bodies? What had he felt, as the subway swayed around the curve in the tunnel, unseen in the darkness and known only by its momentum, making everyone sway with it? Hands curled around handrails and books. Fingers on phones. The train burst into daylight. The side of that girl’s head against the glass, watching Domino slide by with an equally glassy look in her eyes. Two layers between her and the city. Missing someone? Or just bored of life? 

He slunk off the subway, unnoticed and unknown, in an immaculate white hoodie and aviators, stainless steel water bottle dangling from one hand. Yuugi was waiting for him at the park entrance, as usual, wearing some kind of fashionable belted dark purple romper, with the usual tote bag full of games hanging from one hand. On the other hand, something unusual: his fingers stuck out from a half-formed mitten of gauze, giving his slender hand a clumsy, snub-nosed silhouette. He was having trouble holding his iced tea, thumb and fingers alligator-clamped around the lid. Someone had drawn a pair of flowers in pink marker across the back of the mitten, a bumper sticker of cheerful admonition: 🌺 BE CAREFUL! 🌺 Not Yuugi’s handwriting. 

“Hey,” Yuugi said. “How’re you doing? You sleeping better?”

Seto pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, over his bangs, crown-like. 

“On and off,” he said, which was true. His nights were now vast, tossing oceans of insomnia between shores of just good-enough sleep. Last night he’d simply given up trying to swim and instead, for the first time in years, read a book for amusement instead of education. Some sci-fi novel Yuugi had mentioned and Seto bought on a lark from the bookstore in the subway station. Most of his amusement came from correcting the bad science in the margins, until he woke up at dawn with his glasses bent and his bed linens blotted like calico cats with black ink. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Yuugi said, lifting his mitten-hand. “So, I was making a ceviche yesterday…”

He told the story as they walked through the park to the oak tree: the protagonist was a ripe avocado, its tough, disingenuous alligator hide concealing a soft, buttery-green flesh. The arc of the conflict: avocado against knife, a natural antagonist. The climax: the knife, ignorant of its own bluntness and made arrogant by the shine of its own steel, slid off its trajectory like a failing rocket and plunged at speed through plant skin and plant flesh straight into human skin and human flesh. The resolution: two identical cuts, a half-opened avocado and a half-opened hand. Man versus fruit. 

"There was so much blood Otogi almost fainted," Yuugi said, thumping the tote bag onto the wooden table and straddling the bench sideways. "So we went to the ER and they stitched me up, and then when we got back home I finished making the ceviche. What game? You pick."

"Hive," Seto said. He couldn’t stop looking at his bandaged hand. It drew his attention like a glitch on a screen, an inescapable aberration. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, it hurts, but whatever, you know?” Yuugi said, digging into his tote bag for the drawstring bag of wooden tokens. He spilled them onto the table in a clattering cascade of wood against wood. They rapidly sorted them out. “It’s not my first cooking accident.”

Seto raised his eyebrows. It was a testament to the amount of time they’d been spending together lately - every Saturday afternoon for a handful of hours, until he made some excuse to leave, and Yuugi accepted it not because he was gullible but because he knew Seto had a battery and it ran low - that he didn’t even need to ask a question, and Yuugi simply provided an answer, with examples.

“So, here, I was frying onion rings for Jounouchi, and I splattered hot oil all over my arm,” Yuugi said, lifting his hand and pointing out a haphazard constellation of white scars over his forearm. “Then here - I was baking cookies for Shizuka’s birthday and touched the tray fresh out of the oven with my bare hand, like a moron, I dueled Jounouchi after and drawing my cards was like, ow - ” he waggled his fingertips - “and this one is another burn - ” a long white ink-stroke across his wrist - “from when I was making ramen for Anzu, ‘cause she was home from New York. And this one - ”

More interesting than how and what were who. This burn for Honda’s birthday barbecue, that cut for Otogi’s game night. A violent kiss between blade and fingers behind a frothy veil of soapy water, cleaning up after a movie night. Another spray of oil splatters, frying tempura for his mother. A lot of meals for her, his grandfather, Jounouchi. Every scar Yuugi showed him had a name attached, almost all of them below the elbows, as though collected there for easy reference. Seto frowned as Yuugi's fingers flew over this map of friendships and family, their routes landmarked by midnight breakfasts, lazy brunches, beautifully-wrapped bento boxes. Something about it tasted sour to him, his tongue held tight and bitten between his teeth. All of his own scars had only one name.

“You probably think I’m a klutz,” Yuugi said, with a sheepish smile, sliding one of the wooden tokens into place around their hive. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” Seto said briskly. “I’m not some dumpster for all your insecurities. You think you’re a klutz. You have no idea what I think.”

“I - ” Yuugi started, and huffed, with another smile, his chosen defense against causing offense. “Sorry, force of habit - ”

“Forget it. You don’t ever cook for yourself?”

“Duh. Of course I do. And I eat what I make with everyone else. It’s not like I make a pizza for all my friends and just sit there watching them while they eat it,” Yuugi said. “But I like cooking for people. I love... nourishing them. Knowing they’re not going to go to bed hungry or anything, and I can make something for them that makes them feel good.”

Seto tapped a wooden token on the table, under the guise of thinking about the game but really thinking about the kind of friends Yuugi made, and how he made them. Jounouchi. Honda. Atem. Himself.

“Did you ever cook for Atem?” he said, because he couldn’t help it, and braced against the soft look that came his way, with a default smile, a pre-emptive look, I'm fine. this didn’t hurt me smile.

“Yeah,” Yuugi said. “I did.”

Like what? Did he like it? Did he help cook or did he just watch? Just the two of you or with everyone else? Tell me. What did you nourish him with? What do you think he’s eating now? I ate pomegranates when I was there. Bread and honey and figs and garlic and beer. Nothing I ate makes me spend six months with the living and six months with the dead so instead I trade off day and night. Sometimes I leave for a few minutes, mid-afternoon, and I can hear my own name clattering through me as Mokuba calls me back. Seto kept all these comments to himself. There was only so greedy he could get with Yuugi’s grief; only so much he could share of his own.

He slid his wooden token into place around the honeycomb of pieces. Yuugi swiftly countered. Seto lapsed back into thought.

Yuugi took a quiet slurp of his iced tea, gave it a shake, rattling the ice until it settled, and took another, watching ducks paddle into the reeds at the edge of the pond and paddle out, a portrait of calm patience. It had taken him some time to get comfortable with Seto’s long silences. In concession, Seto made the effort to shorten them.

It was the kind of day where stepping into the shade made a difference. The air was darker and cooler under the trees and the flowering bushes that lined the park paths, while the rest of the earth baked in a cloudless dry heat. Seto made his move and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows.

“How about I cook for you sometime?” Yuugi said brightly, nudging another wooden token against the others with a single fingertip. 

Seto scowled, not at the suggestion but at the way his thoughts splintered apart, like two halves of a wooden log split by an axe. He had no doubt Yuugi would pull out the stops for him, slave and sweat for hours over some seventeen-course feast of modern art finger foods. Or maybe something cozy that made him feel like he was just nineteen instead of nineteen and exhausted. Whatever it was, Yuugi would put in the effort. But.

“No,” he said, and made sure to clarify this refusal before the clouds finished gathering over Yuugi’s face in a dejected overcast grey: “I don’t need one of your scars named after me.”

“I - what?” Yuugi said, flashing him an uneven, sideways smile, and Seto felt a flicker of irritation. Atem would’ve understood immediately. But, in fairness to Yuugi, he was being a little obtuse.

“You have a way of suffering for your friends,” he explained. “And I think part of you likes it.”

Yuugi straightened up in his seat, suddenly electric. 

“What the hell? It’s just cooking,” he said, with a stormy flash of lightning in his violet eyes. “You’re reading into this way too much. I cook because it’s fun and artistic and I like feeding people, not because I like… self-flagellating or something. Seriously, you can’t just spout off - ”

“You misunderstand me,” Seto countered. “There’s no reason to… hurt yourself on my behalf. If you want to eat together, I’d rather go to that kitschy little ice cream place down the block and get a fucking waffle cone. I don’t want you unable to duel because you burned your hand trying to pan-fry a steak for me.”

Yuugi opened his mouth, brows furrowing together… and scoffed, a surprisingly affectionate sound.  He rolled his eyes around the park, his gaze swinging across the sunlit grass, and looked back at Seto. 

“Okay. First of all, I've mastered the art of the pan-fried steak, and you should try it,” he said. “Second of all, what makes you think you’re not someone worth suffering for?”

Seto snorted, masking his inwards flinch. Mokuba already suffered enough, thank you. And for what? A ghost of a brother. A black hole, a perpetual collapsing. Things went in and they crossed the event horizon and the pressure squeezed them for eternity without ever letting them reach the center and nothing ever came back out, as much as it wanted to. The scientific term for such distortion of effort, stretched to an immeasurable length without breaking, was spaghettification. Even a black hole needs to eat! 

He slid one of his tokens back and forth with his fingertip, short, scraping jerks of wood against wood, thinking. 

“Direct attack on my life points,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you also got me pretty good,” Yuugi chuffed. “Let’s call it even. But relax. It’s just cooking. I love the process, and I love the result, and I love doing stuff for my friends. It’s not some big… metaphorical… symbol of something. This - " he lifted his mittened hand - "doesn't mean anything except I mishandled a knife. It’s not like… you and Duel Disks.”

But Seto also loved the process and the result and more than once he'd injured himself, machining parts or fiddling with wires that, like all wild living things, bit back in fear of his touch. He splayed his hand over the table, watching blood drip onto his work station, knowing he should get up, clean it, bandage it. But it was only two in the morning and there was work to do.

“The Duel Disk is a symbol of Kaiba Corp’s future,” he said, closing his hand into a fist. "I know what you've done for your friends. I’ve seen it. Doesn't that merit the same... mythology?"

Yuugi gave him a funny look, half skeptical, half knowing.

"That’s nice of you, thank you," he said, and an uncomfortable blush crawled up Seto’s neck. Sometimes he did understand. “Are you sure you don't want me to cook for you?”

Seto opened his mouth, closed it, folded his arms on the table. He felt like he was trying to explain the feeling of the color blue, or the arguments for why numbers do or don’t exist, or what it was like to dream. Well, you see, the last time I saw Atem, he told me - correction: the last time as in the most recent link in a chain of time, not the last time as in the end of the line, because he also told me we’d see each other again - he told me to enjoy this, and you know me, I never do what I’m told. And I can’t do what he told me to do because he was my friend, and if friendship is just getting caught in a great sticky web of small cuts and large cuts and burns and bruises and tears and suffering because they’re here and suffering because they’re not, then just go ahead and let the spider drink me up and dump what’s left of me in the dirt. I am so sick and tired of pain. Mine. Yours. Ours.

But he did enjoy these afternoons. He was enjoying the process of making this: he had more with Yuugi now than he ever had before. He reached across the table and took Yuugi’s bandaged hand between his own hands, running his thumb carefully over the inked warning. Yuugi's hand relaxed in his. Yes, Yuugi was wrong. It was the same as Duel Disks. In any act of creation there was pain, there was power, and there was glory. What difference was there between a hologram of a dragon and a steaming bowl of soup? Both nourished something. Both were an answer to hunger. Discovering an emptiness and filling it.

“Okay,” he said, releasing Yuugi’s hand. “Alright. Cook for me.”

“Yeah?!” Yuugi said, with rising excitement, beaming. “What should I make? What do you like?”

“Make me a steak,” Seto said, smiling. It felt good to see Yuugi smile. His hypothesis neatly undermined. See? It’s not all damage. “No. Surprise me.”

#fanfiction #intern memo #rivalshipping #a lite snack... once i've written up a few more i'll cross post to AO3 #okay good Night i am. wiped the fuck out

[technicallyswagpizza]

EDITING AN EXISTING LIGHTING MOD TUTORIAL // part 1

If you are like me, you might have fallen in love with custom lighting mods and how pretty they make our games look. But there always seems to be something that irks me, be it how dark it is at certain times of the day or the water colour seems off, thus I learned how to edit one and here’s how you can do it too!

There are two ways of editing a lighting mod, one is by adjusting the RGB values in .ini files and the game adjusts the colour ramps for you (EA base game lighting works this way, I have never tried this method so cannot really say much about it other than here’s an old tutorial for it in case the lighting mod you want to edit has been created that way) or by taking the ini files into a photo editing program and editing each colour ramp manually by hand (EA travel and some other worlds lighting works this way, BrntWaffles and Awesims used this method with their lighting mods too). I have learned most of this by trial and error, piecing information together from different tutorials and through this MTS topic by Simsample and friends, but some of the posts/pictures it references to are long gone and it can be a little hard to follow. There’s some really important info buried in there though! I have shamelessly stolen a few pictures for this tutorial too as they are most helpful. I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry (ノдヽ)

Programs you need:

S3pe

Photoshop or Gimp (DDS plugins for Photoshop -> this and this, Gimp has this feature built in already)

Files you need:

An existing lighting mod .package file of your choise

Alternatively a custom world that has custom lighting in it that you want to use and convert into a standalone lighting mod

PoisonFrog’s Colour Ramp Designer .psd file, optional but extremely helpful and 100% recommended

PoisonFrog has created a file that has grouped each EA lighting file together based on which world or expansion they came from. You can use it to compare how the lighting differs from world to world or how the weather changes the colours of your world, you can also use it as a base to create a completely new one from scratch or just brutally smash different bits together. It also includes a helpful timeline layer so you can adjust your colours according to the time you want them to appear.

// Disclaimer: This tutorial goes through the basics and covers simple things such as editing cloud/water/sky colours. There is so much more to weather files than just colours, but this tutorial would end up far too heavy otherwise so I will leave out the INI file things such as cloud thickness, bloom, fog values etc, and we shall dive into those at a later date.

1. UNDERSTANDING THE FILES

1. Open your .package in S3pe.

Within the .package there are INI and IMG files. Each INI has a corresponding partner IMG file as one controls the weather conditions (INI) and one controls the colours (IMG) that we see during that particular weather. I will call them siblings because well, they are related as the image shows. You can ignore the INI files for now as we are only changing colours. Lets say you want to change the water colour for your world, so this means you need to edit each and every IMG file and find the colour ramp that controls it. But if there is only a particular time of the day, lets say you feel the sky is too dark during the stormy weather, you would only edit the IMG file called S3_00B2D882_0076A684_E422CDDE7FE1F25F%%+_IMG.dds (instance number in S3pe would look like 0xE422CDDE7FE1F25F) as it’s the one controlling stormy weather colours. 2. Some mods might have neatly labeled file names, while other mods seem a bit more cryptic and it may take a little detective work to figure out which IMG file is the one you need (In the #2 picture I have opened 2 different lighting mods in S3pe to show the difference). If that’s the case, look at the last digits of IMG instance numbers and match it with the codes on the right side in picture #1 or scroll all the way to the bottom for codes in this tutorial. Right click the IMG.dds file(s) and Export to File, don’t change the IMG name as you need it to match its sibling INI file later! Save them to a folder somewhere. 3. Open your IMG.dds file in Photoshop or Gimp, if you get a pop up asking about mip maps just say no. You can also open PoisonFrog’s .psd file (It should work with the latest Gimp too) and copypaste your IMG.dds file over there so you can compare it against EA lighting or simply just for his helpful timeline layer. By default the IMG files come with no explanation as to what each colour ramp does, but you can use Awesim’s labeled ramp to help and identify the colour bar you need to edit. PoisonFrog also sort of.. But not quite explains them. His pictures are gone, but this may be helpful to someone?

// Photoshop Tip! When you zoom in real close you might be facing a super annoying grid which makes it hard to see what you are doing! You can get rid of it by going to View -> Show ->  Pixel Grid -> untick it and you can see clearly again.

2. EDITING THE FILES

4. Once you have identified the ramp you need to edit, avoid drastic and sudden colour changes so the transition looks nice and tidy in game. This is particularly important with both ends of the ramp that they are consistent with each other, so once midnight comes and goes otherwise you get choppy disco like flashes of colour (If your world is a nonstop danger disco then go for it, otherwise keep it smooth). You can use selection tool to separate the ramp you want to edit, play with the hues/brightness/vibrance and see how it changes your ramp. Gradient tool is a good option too for mixing your own colours.

PoisonFrog’s .psd file is once again really nice for this as you can just yoink some other world’s colour ramp and copypaste it over the one you are editing. Or copypaste a small part of it, you don’t have to change the whole ramp if you have a specific time of the day that annoys you! You can also create your own groups within it, take apart other lighting mods and drop them in so you can mix and match their weather files.

5. Done with your colour tweaks? If you used the .psd file provided, copypaste your layer you were working on from there to over the original IMG.dds file. Make sure there are no extra layers floating around, merge everything together! Saving is a little different with Photoshop and Gimp, with Photoshop you can use Save As option while with Gimp you have to use Export As (Please correct me if I’m wrong with Gimp settings as I don’t really use it) to replace the original exported file. Copy the settings shown and make sure no mipmaps bit is ticked! If you have been saving as .psd or changed the file’s name, make sure the name is now EXACTLY as when you exported it earlier.

3. COMPILE THE FILES

6. Before continuing, you might want to make a backup save of your original lighting mod, so any changes you do to it that you might regret later can be reverted. Either way, open the lighting mod .package you exported your IMG files from earlier in S3pe again, hit Resource and Import from file to bring your edited IMG files in, replace and overwrite the old ones with your new ones (The old ones get crossed over and replaced only if you used the original names! If you have loads of IMG or UNKN files and nothing gets crossed over, your file names are incorrect!) and save.

7. Drop the .package in your Mods/Packages folder, make sure you have no other lighting mod in there. Boot the game and enjoy your new lighting mod! Alternatively if you are making your own world and you have a certain aesthetic for it, you can merge the package into your CAW map and that way whoever plays your world will also get to enjoy the unique lighting!

// OH NO!! If it’s looking funky, colours are way off or everythings gone spooky black, you haven’t used the right .dds settings while saving and/or your IMG.dds file names are wrong thus they are not linking correctly with their sibling INI files. Double check the settings/names and reimport them into your .package file.

Under the cut you can find all the .dds file names and instance numbers for easier use and access. It’s a long-ish list thus it’s hidden.

These are the file names you see in the very first image, but I figured the instance number might help you to identify them in S3pe easier. You can copypaste the INI and IMG names if you have accidentally renamed your file to something else. Clear weather type INI: S3_1F886EAD_00000000_967BC6C3B3808C00%%+_INI.ini Instance number: 0x967BC6C3B3808C00 IMG: S3_00B2D882_0076A684_7529C26EE8E2A9E6%%+_IMG.dds Instance number: 0x7529C26EE8E2A9E6 Partly cloudy INI: S3_1F886EAD_00000000_560C0FD7012DA7F3%%+_INI.ini Instance number: 0x560C0FD7012DA7F3 IMG: S3_00B2D882_0076A684_ECCBBCB773C02131%%+_IMG.dds Instance number: 0xECCBBCB773C02131 Overcast INI: S3_1F886EAD_00000000_8DEA7AE7631A026A%%+_INI.ini Instance number: 0x8DEA7AE7631A026A IMG: S3_00B2D882_0076A684_F0A86F660985BF20%%+_IMG.dds Instance number: 0xF0A86F660985BF20 Stormy INI: S3_1F886EAD_00000000_2C02B3532B64EB49%%+_INI.ini Instance number: 0x2C02B3532B64EB49 IMG: S3_00B2D882_0076A684_E422CDDE7FE1F25F%%+_IMG.dds Instance number: 0xE422CDDE7FE1F25F Custom weather type INI: S3_1F886EAD_00000000_FE1F6A95A24A604A%%+_INI.ini Instance number: 0xFE1F6A95A24A604A IMG: S3_00B2D882_0076A684_28C841C9462BCDE0%%+_IMG.dds Instance number: 0x28C841C9462BCDE0

Let me know if you know a better way or I have made an error in this tutorial! I’m happy to answer questions too if you have any.

#the sims 3 #ts3 #simblr #lighting mod #ts3 tutorial #ts3 lighting mod tutorial

[akaiiros]

The tide is out, skies grey and overcast. The smell of ozone tangles through the air, crisp and sharp, warning of rain to come. I trace idle patterns into the sand with a jagged half of a shell, turning the sand over until I reach the water. Stare out at the horizon, the dark cut of the clouds against blue skies. The sea is calm, but underneath the surface, she churns black and deep. 

I walk to the cottage where she lives, only a few miles off the beach. She doesn’t prepare for floods. Raise a hand, knock at the door. Take a deep breath. She opens with a bright smile and shining eyes and sweeps me up in her arms, kisses me and asks me where I’ve been, I’m late for our date. “Sorry,” I say, “I got held up.” She doesn’t question it, takes my hand in hers, small and calloused. She’s wearing a red sundress despite the promise of rain, tanned skin and freckled cheeks. Nothing about her belongs near grey. 

I feel myself waver, wane. Not yet. Not today. 

We walk to the cafe where we met, just after I’d moved to town. I wanted a new start, new ideas. I used to belong to the city, with its bustling streets and stale air and hurried rush to go as far and fast as possible, never reaching the end. When I leave the cottage, the road ends after only a few miles, running into the ocean or the forest, with only a single road leading away.

We sit down at a table, she rests her chin on her hand and asks me how my day went. “I’m still getting used to it,” I say. Working at a small bookstore is a far cry from the accountant I’d almost become. She smiles, dimples showing. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon.”

The sun has set and the moon has come out by the time we leave. There are so many millions of stars out here, so many more than I’m used to. I feel small, infinitely tiny. We walk along the beach and she’s quiet next to me. I stare out at the horizon, wonder if she feels this tiny sometimes. Wonder if she just feels free, instead. The tide has come in. I walk her home, leave her at the door with a kiss.

I walk back the very next day. “Hey,” I smile, letting myself be swept up by her beauty once again. Maybe not today, either.

It’s a Sunday, her favorite day, with the sun shining down bright and warm. I should’ve worn lighter clothes, but I always run cold. She’s wearing a sundress the same color as her hair, bright gold against the sun. 

“Can I take a picture of you?” she asks. I smile. “Sure.” She always brings her camera everywhere with her. I’ve told her she should become a professional photographer, but she insists that it’s just a hobby. I don’t know how to pose, she tells me to just look at her. The picture looks beautiful. “Can I take one?” I ask.

She’s the one who should be in front of the camera - sun-kissed in every sense of the word, a smile as dazzling as all the jewels in the world. I’m bad at taking pictures, but it doesn’t matter. She could make anything look gorgeous just by standing next to it. I print out the picture, tell myself I’ll keep it as a memory. She shines, and my heart aches to spend every moment of every day basking in her light. 

Not today, not today.

A week later she asks me again, “do you like it here?”. I tell her yes, so much, so much because of her and because of the sky and the sand and the stars. She smiles. I get lost in it all over again. “Do you think you’ll stay?” 

I look away. How do I tell her that every day I’ve spent with her has been the best of my life? That I was made only to hold her close and tell her that she’s the only person I’ve ever loved so much I felt like my heart was running straight out of my chest so that it could meet hers?

I don’t answer. Later that night I walk to the rocks on the other side of the beach and wait for the tide to come in and sweep me away, and I sit on one of the rocks while the waves thrash against the shore and I stare out at the stormy sky and think oh, but I don’t belong here. 

I don’t belong in the free skies and the single solitary road, I don’t belong to be wild and untamed and tangled in the dirt, I’m not supposed to be warm, I run cold. I belong in the streets that swallow me whole within the glass walls that keep me together and heels that click against marble floors. I belong in a cold and harsh place because I know how to tame concrete. I know how to make my way through the city without getting lost and I know how to live life full of rough edges, I know how to keep control. 

I don’t know what to do with soft sunsets and warmth and love and homemade pie, I don’t know how to walk barefoot in the sand, how to learn to fall asleep and not wake up at every little noise. I don’t know how to love. I know cold, I know sharp, I’m good at it, I belong in a place where I can cut order and wear a mask and live above the ground. It’s what I’m good at.

How do I tell her that I can’t cope with feeling too small and too large at once with the stars out the way they are? How do I tell her that I’m as jagged as the rocks I perch on and as rough as the tide that sweeps them away? How do I tell her that she’s chapstick and sunsets and soft yellow skies and everything that I can’t control? That she’s untameable in the way a deer is untameable, and I never learned how to speak softly?

I can’t wait much longer, to tell her that what she’s looking for isn’t me. I love her, I love her, I love her, but she deserves someone who can belong next to her.

I knock on her door the next day. “I can’t do this anymore.”

She looks at me with question and resignation in her eyes. Like she’s not sure if she understands, but she knows nevertheless. She’s so beautiful today. She always is. Her sundress is a soft pink today. God, I love her so much. I don’t know how I can possibly love her in the way she deserves.

“Why?” she asks me, softly. Simply. 

“I don’t belong here.” I say. She nods. 

“But do you want to?”

I stand there, blinking. “I don’t know how.”

Her eyes are dark chocolate in the morning light. “Do you want to?”

I shake my head. I can’t let myself become soft and slow and as beautiful and golden as honey, I can’t ever be someone who shines and I can’t wear sundresses and I’m not the type of person who can lay in the sun without burning, I never have been.

“I can’t love you in the way you deserve. I can’t love you the way you love me.”

Pink lips, pink cheeks, long eyelashes. Golden.

“Do you love me?”

I want to say no, I want to tell her that she doesn’t know what she’s asking, that my love is a wild and wicked type of love, not soft and nurturing the way love is supposed to be. I want to tell her that I want to love her so badly, I want to know how, I want to learn how, I want nothing more than to learn how to love her as soft and sprawling as the ocean. 

“Yes,” I breathe.

She smiles. “Then that’s all there is to it.”

#to the song Flawless by the Neighborhood #short story #prose #song piece #flawless #my favorite

[brownskinsugarplum76]

Third Shift, Part 1

I'm still plugging away on the story I started for Robert's birthday, but here's everything up to the smut, which is halfway written. Please excuse any errors. ☺️ More tonight, I hope! It takes place on Robert's 21st birthday, in 1969, a day during which Zeppelin performed 2 shows virtually back to back.

Shout out to Robert, as always, for being the best muse I could've asked for. Happy birthday, sir. 🙌🏽🎁🎂❤️❤️❤️

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

"Good evening, Schenectady! The birthday boy is here!" Robert proclaimed loudly to no one in particular as he entered. The locals, rough-looking men who could appreciate what amounted to a truck stop stripper bar, suspiciously eyed the willowy hippie dandy with the British accent who bounded through the sea of wooden tables. Before the blue-collar men could return to their drinks they noticed the rest of the boy's long-haired entourage, and a chorus of grumbles and groans filled the room.

"He needs those birthday punches sooner than later," muttered Bonzo, watching his friend, in his birthday oblivion, blissfully ignorant to the bar's shifting mood. "I know I can give 'im as good as that American roadie tosser did me for my 21st."

As the rest of the band and Cole found an open table, Robert breezed his way to the bar between two men who were nursing large mugs of beer and lost in a heated conversation about the year's prospects for the New York Jets.

"Look at this long-haired freak," said the man wearing a Jets hat. "Kids got no respect for themselves today, I tell ya. No respect for themselves or this fine country."

Robert almost pointed out that he was from England, but thought better of it. A bar brawl and physical damage to his angel face would not help him win the hearts of any local girls.

The thought vanished quickly from his mind. He was too high to care after successful back to back shows that night, his revelry for his milestone 21st birthday, and a long swallow of whiskey in the car. Besides, he'd heard every negative comment about his hair and his clothes before.

"Oi love," he called loudly at the back of the bartender, who was restocking bottles of vodka and whiskey. No top-shelf brands, Robert noticed disdainfully, having acquired taste in this area under the tutelage of Cole. "A pint for the birthday boy, please?" He'd never met a beer or a cider he didn't like and figured it would be a safe bet.

"A pint of what?" she said without turning around.

"Ah, fuck," he said, quickly flashing an apologetic smile when the men at his sides whipped their heads toward him to deliver severe scowls. "America... Right. A beer, love, please? And it really is my birthday."

"Happy birthday, Mr. Out of Town," she said with sarcasm, moody from the high of catching Zeppelin's early show that night followed by the lows of the regulars' crude come-ons. "We've only got domestic," she continued. "I hope that's good enough for you."

She finally turned around and gasped. "You're the guy from Led Zeppelin, aren't you?"

"Robert Plant's the name." His smile, with its luminous, hypnotic quality, dissolved her shock and revved her desire. He liked the reaction he usually got from his smile, but he hoped that people would remember his name soon.

"Hey, you were at the first show, yeah? Front row, jean shorts, tight little T-shirt?" Somehow his smile became more intense, magnetic enough to make her face flush and her breath catch.

"You saw me?" She filled the mug with beer, higher to the top than usual, in direct defiance to her uncle's strict instructions.

Robert thanked her and sipped the beer she sat before him. He sighed. "Fine American lager, this is."

"Don't tell my uncle, but it's our best, and it's on the house for you, birthday boy."

Robert grinned broadly. "To answer your question," he said, then took another sip, "I would've been blind to not have noticed you. I couldn't resist your stare and you're, uh, rather lovely… Even now, in your work outfit."

She knew her work t-shirt was stained from a beer mug she had knocked over earlier. There was nothing she could do about that, so she toyed with her hair instead, finding a stray lock to tuck behind her ear. "Well, then, please tell me you're the prince who has come to whisk me away from all this." She waved her hands at the backs of men who might have been star high school football players in their heyday but were now graying or balding men, or both, with expanding waistlines and protracted bad moods. She rolled her eyes.

"I, uh, could be, if you want… For tonight, anyway."

"I don't get off until 2, though. Are you really going to stick around here until then?"

Robert looked around sheepishly. He knew Cole's skin must've been crawling, and he'd also heard whispers about more strippers visiting the hotel for him. "I…"

"Fucking hell, Robert, did you forget about us at the table, matey? Too busy chatting up a bird? We've eaten all the peanuts we can stand, you wanker. Get us some bloody beers, too!"

"Sorry, Bonzo," Robert said, without turning around. "Four more beers for the band and our road mom, please."

"I think you're right… We won't be closing your bar down, sweet. I think they have another surprise for me at the hotel." He gave her a puppy dog frown while she poured more beers. His wide-eyed stare went overcast in a way that he surely knew would be irresistible.

The more she stared into the depths of his stormy blue eyes, the more his gaze seemed to issue a dare. A barely perceptible upturn of his lips was the only clue that she wasn't imagining things.

She batted her eyelids and offered a similar sliver of a smile. His challenge had been accepted. "What a shame… But, you know, I have another idea…" She grabbed the strings that weighed down the corners of his shirt's V-neck opening and pulled him closer.

Robert didn't need another hint. He purred as the softness of her lips met his. Then he smirked inwardly as his tongue effortlessly teased her lips apart and swirled in her mouth with a tantalizing churn. He witnessed her bravado buckling under the heat of his kiss.

Her hands migrated to his mop of large curls as he gently grasped her shoulders. The two men seated in front of her groused and said it was time to get better seats for the show anyway. She knew they were the only ones who would care about her spectacle with Robert after having their space invaded; everyone else was too drunk or lost in conversation to care.

She eventually pulled away. She was fearful that her uncle would see her, as he was due in at any minute.

Her breathing went shallow and her heart began to race, but she found her voice somehow. "The show will be starting soon. When it does, meet me outside. I'll be on my break. You came in a car, right?"

"That I did, darlin'. A car that no one will be using during the show… Ah! An angel's face and a devil's mind. A combination I love."

She smiled. "Oh, Robert? One more thing…"

"Sure," he said without a clue of what she was going to say.

"Let's see your bartending skills… Don't forget the beers," she said, gesturing to the full tray before her.

"Barkeep! I thought you'd never come!" Cole clapped Robert on the back as he sat the tray down. Robert breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that all the drinks made it to the table without one drop spilled.

"Lovely new friend you have there…" Jimmy offered before trailing off. He eyed the beer suspiciously before pushing it away from him. "I'm going to pass."

"Now, now, Pagey, you'll need it for a tick while we toast Robert," Bonzo chided. "And then you can give it to me."

Robert had finished his drink but raised his empty mug for the toast, as did Jonesy and the rest.

"Right. Percy, my mate, you wiggled your ass into something great for both of us. I am forever grateful that you thought of me for the New Yardbirds, as it were. There's a matter of a petrol bill to settle still, but let's forget about that for now, yeah? I'm glad we're on this ride together. Before we all say cheers, just know that I plan to dole out your birthday punches when you least expect it. Twenty-one of 'em. Jonesy will count to keep us honest."

"Anyway," he said, looking over at Robert, "Happy 21st birthday, Robert. Chin chin."

Everyone touched glasses. Everyone with beer took a sip, Jimmy included. Robert took a healthy swallow of Jimmy's beer before passing it over to Bonzo. As much as Robert wanted another pint, he knew he wanted to be as alert as he could for the bartender and their rendezvous.

***

The entertainment was announced, and Robert rose from the table.

"And just where the fuck are you going?" Cole glared as Robert pushed his chair under the table. "You're the only reason we're here right now."

"I'd say it's safe to wager that Robert has made plans for private entertainment," Jimmy commented.

"The bartender," echoed Jonesy.

"You mean you don't want to witness the finest strippers that upstate New York has to offer?" On with you, then." Cole waved a dismissive hand and lit a cigarette.

"May I borrow the car keys?" Robert asked Cole, while his eyes pleaded even more.

"Here."

Robert caught the keys as they hurtled through the air in the general direction of his head.

"And don't drink all the whiskey with your lady friend!"

Robert bowed, tipped an invisible hat to Cole, and then walked briskly to the door.

"Hmmm… I may have spoken too soon about the quality of Schenectady's strippers…" Cole exchanged glances with the rest of the band as a voluptuous blonde took center stage and waited, with her hands on her hips, for the music to start. "My sincerest apologies, greater New York." Cole whistled loudly and turned his chair completely toward the stage.

#Robert plant #classic rock #fan fiction #Writing #wip

[peinde]

In Depth Headcanon Prompts;

☠ : Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying? The persistent thought she has of being better off dead still lingers, but it’s getting softer. ☯ : Do they believe for every darkness there is a lightness? If not, why? Not entirely yet. She’s trying her best, and with the support of her loved ones it’s starting to work, but she’s still got lots of work to do. ♥ : Name one thing about the way their emotions work that they despise. She only ever really feels a few. Shame, rage, self-pity, amusement and (more recently) love. She doesn’t feel or understand empathy or fear, and the emotions she feels tend to run shallow. She’s often frustrated with her own emotional unintelligence. ☆ : Would they ever wish upon a falling star? If so, what would they wish? No, she doesn’t believe in stuff like that. She gets any and everything she wants regardless of luck. ☁ : Describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day. Working or curled up with her wife and pets. ☂ : Storms or clear skies? Clear. εжз : What about nature do they find calming? What about nature do they find disagreeable? Everything and nothing. She loves nature, and only truly feels at peace when surrounded by it. ☎ : List three or more people they would call out for during an emergency. Her wife, her mates, her friends. ☛ : What is their typical response to being given orders? Indignation. She doesn’t take orders from anyone. ☢ : Describe a thought or dream that would cause them to have a mental meltdown. She doesn’t dream, and if she were to use more than the minuscule amount of brain power she allows herself to, any thought she had would cause her to have a meltdown. ✄ : Are there any reasons why they would ever think of self-harm? If so, what are they? Her thoughts would easily drive her to self-harm. ❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust. She’ll sit differently, usually with her legs further a part, her hands occupying more of the space around her, her posture not so stiff, her shoulders not so high, and a generally more relaxed demeanour. ❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust. She may drop the tone of her voice, from one of cheerful airheadedness to one of relaxed charm. ✗ : Explain how they portray feelings of hostility or dislike. She’ll go very stiff and cold. She’ll most likely refuse to speak, and if forced to, will only do so in harsh quips or one word answers. ⊗ : What is something that causes them to question themself? Most of the things she does makes her question herself. ☾ : On a sleepless night, what would they be found doing? Any one of her hobbies. ☤ : Is there anything about their health they are continuously on edge about? Something they disregard? She disregards everything. With her powers, nothing can touch her. ✓ : Name at least two people who can trust them with their life. Her wife, her mates. ❣: Describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them. Agreeing to spend time with her when requested. ✖ : Describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive. Discussing disapproval of something she does. ♆ : Are they prone to violent outbursts or thoughts? Very much so. They’re much more under control now. ✏ : What are their creative outlets? She writes, plays instruments, gardens, bakes and cooks. ✉ : Do they tend to rely on words or actions more? Words. ♡ : Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back. Dead fish remind her of her lusus. It’s nostalgic, but it’s not pleasant. ۞: Are there any inner demons they can never seem to get rid of? What are they? Her terrible self esteem always seems to rear its ugly head sooner or later.

#not glubbing 38( #fis)(canons #long

[multiimuse]

☆☁ ☂ εжз❤❥❣✖♡ for the stray dogs :)

☆ : Would they ever wish upon a falling star? If so, what would they wish?

Chuuya - Please, as if there’s any value in something that stupid. You won’t catch him doing it. Make your changes yourself, get what you want yourself, and if you can’t, then it probably wasn’t worth wanting, anyway.

Alcott - Absolutely. It isn’t that she necessarily believes it will amount to anything, but there’s always the chance that it could. As for what she would wish for? Her family to be happy and whole again.

Ranpo - Depending on his mood at the time, yes. But he wouldn’t wish for anything serious; maybe that he’d win a lifetime’s supply of candy, or that a case comes it that isn’t boring and barely worth bothering with. ... The candy wish has better odds.

☁ : Describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day.

Chuuya - He’s not one to pay too much attention to the weather, unless for some reason he’s spending a rare private day at home. If that’s the case, he’ll devote his time to one of his private hobbies. There is something to be said for writing poetry on a rainy day, after all. 

Alcott - Did you mean an excuse to bury herself in books? Because that’s what storms and rainy days are for her; she’ll stay inside with a good book and some tea and keep herself thoroughly occupied in the process.

Ranpo - If he has to go out on a case on a rainy day? He’ll spend it complaining and will absolutely require a bribe to get him to head out. If he has nothing to do he’ll hole up in the office with his snacks and computer card games; he’s not very fond of having to go out when it’s wet.

☂ : Storms or clear skies?

Chuuya - Clear skies. Storms are an inconvenience. (Though a fight in a storm is pretty damn fun sometimes.)

Alcott - She prefers storms, as long as she can stay inside and watch them without being exposed to them!

Ranpo - Clear skies, if mostly because particularly bad storms make it hard to do anything fun!

εжз : What about nature do they find calming? What about nature do they find disagreeable?

Chuuya - The ocean’s pretty calming, if you can find a place to watch it that’s away from the major ports. It’s relaxing to watch the water now and then. He doesn’t like how quiet and isolated heavily-natural areas tend to be, though: give him the city, give him places full of people and the things they create. It’s what he knows and what he’s comfortable with.

Alcott - She finds rainfall calming, along with falling snow and  warm fires. She doesn’t like when it gets too hot, and pollen is the bane of her existence every spring. ... Also, insects. They’re a part of nature, but they’re a part that she dislikes and thinks should stay away from her.

Ranpo - There’s really nothing in nature Ranpo finds calming, per se; it’s just kind of there, full of things to notice and remember if it involves a care but that can’t hold his attention on its own. Hm, maybe you could call that disagreeable, in a way?

❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust. 

Chuuya - Generally, one of the easiest ways to tell if Chuuya trusts you is if he falls asleep on or near you. He can’t and won’t let himself rest around someone he doesn’t trust, bar overindulging in alcohol. So, then, if he falls asleep, he trusts you not to betray him or harm him or otherwise let him come to harm. (Using Corruption is also something of an exception, because he literally can’t stay awake after it ends; his body and mind need rest too much to let him remain alert in the immediate aftermath.)

Alcott - She’ll smile more, she’ll try to be helpful, and most importantly you’ll see her more often, because she won’t be hiding away as much when she gets shy and anxious. If she trusts someone, she feels safe enough to stay by their side, even when she’s scared. 

Ranpo - With Ranpo,when he trusts someone, he’ll listen to them. He’s naturally prone to trusting his own intellect and opinions above everyone else’s, so listening to and acknowledging others’ opinions and points doesn’t come easily to him. In fact this can be a struggle regardless, but that he’s willing to make the effort to try and to pay attention goes a long way toward showing how much he trusts a person.

❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.

Chuuya - A verbal expression of Chuuya’s trust would have to be him admitting things about himself; things he isn’t comfortable bringing up or talking about --- vulnerable areas that would normally never be addressed at all. In addition, he tends to worry more openly about the people he trusts, which includes asking after them especially when he has cause for concern. 

Alcott - When she trusts someone, Louisa talks to them! She becomes more vocal. and while her uncertainty and anxiety aren’t gone, she can carry on full conversations, often at-length. In short, she’s more sociable when she trusts you, and it’s very, very obvious. (In addition, she’s much less afraid of voicing complaints and exasperation with the people she trusts completely, because she knows their reactions well enough to be sure it’s something she can handle.)

Ranpo - This one is hard to answer, because Ranpo is pretty open, verbally speaking. He’ll ramble about anything and everything anyway without caring whether or not it makes sense to anyone but him; he’ll whine and complain and demand ego-stroking from the world at large. His sign of trust is in the pauses, in holding his words back, in not complaining when he otherwise would be --- and, perhaps most significantly, with very specific people and specific circumstances, he’ll be straightforward and focused, dropping the whining and immaturity because there are things more important than his comfort zone.

❣: Describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them.

Chuuya - ...For one thing, don’t mock him. Don’t mock him or wind him up and manipulate him. Show an interest in his interests, appreciate his tastes, and don’t pry too much into details that he doesn’t want to share. Granted, to get to this point you already have to have built up a certain amount of trust with him, or else he’ll stay relatively neutral. And if you’re on his bad side, good luck. (That being said, if someone like Dazai stopped mocking him he’d be suspicious and somewhat concerned by default.)

Alcott - Keep her in tea and books, respect her need to have time to herself to think and plan, reassure her if her anxiety’s getting to be too much. Relatively simple things, really; she’s easy to please and doesn’t see a point in asking for much when it’s much better to appreciate what’s being given freely. It’s just good manners, really!

Ranpo - Give him candy, help him navigate the train system, get the marble out of the ramune bottle for him, apply liberal amounts of praise. More specifically? Treat him like a person, have patience with him (he knows he can be aggravating to say the least; he just doesn’t see a point in changing himself. He is how he is and that’s that. Try to give him mental challenges --- even if they end up too easy, he’s still appreciative when someone’s willing to try!

✖ : Describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive.

Chuuya - The main thing that bothers Chuuya is the threat of betrayal and a loss of control. If you want to make him uneasy you need to make him doubt the loyalty of the people he’s surrounded by (admittedly not an easy thing) or make him feel like he isn’t in control of himself, his life, or his future. It’s one thing to serve a good boys, it’s another to be jerked around like someone’s plaything on a string, and not only does the latter tick him off, an implication that he might lose that security is unnerving if you can get enough weight behind it to make it convincing.

Alcott - She’s something of a nervous person anyway, so it’s not hard to make her uneasy. In particular, however she doesn’t deal well with risk and uncertainties. That’s why she works so hard to try and cover every detail possible in her strategy plans, and why she wants to be prepared for any eventuality. Catch her off-guard and make her have to deal with that fear she has of things being unpredictable or dangerous and she’ll be unsettled for ages.

Ranpo - It’s not particularly easy to make Ranpo anxious; he’s smart enough to see most threats coming and he’s surrounded by capable people who know how to look after themselves. However, if Fukuzawa and/or the Agency is threatened, and it’s a real threat, one that he hasn’t yet figured out how to deal with, one that can’t be prepared for, he’ll be knocked off-balance. In fact, anything that threatens his security will make him a little apprehensive, but again that’s very hard to do because his safety net is so strong. (However looking at recent manga events... ahaha...)

♡ : Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back.

Chuuya - There’s nothing that really evokes nostalgia in him, per se, but being near the docks when the fishing boats are bringing their catches sure does bring back one memory in particular. Mainly that of Dazai being dragged up in a fishing net along with the day’s catch, and the fact that he smelled like fish for a week afterword. He’ll never forget that incident.

Alcott - The scent of a fireplace will always make her feel a little nostalgic, especially if it’s accompanied by other sensory experiences such as soft music, particularly piano music. That particular smell reminds her of her early childhood, winters spent curled up together and listening to her father read to them all, or gathered around the piano while her middle sister played.

Ranpo -  Jasmine and lilies does this to Ranpo. That’s the scent of his mother’s favorite perfume, and smelling it reminds him of his life with his parents while they were still alive. Memories of the world making sense and being absolutely safe, knowing that adults who were smarter than him were looking out for him and loved him. He doesn’t (let himself) think about his parents too often, but that smell will take him right back every time.

#;hc: chuuya #;hc: alcott #;hc: ranpo #because apparently i can't stop #strangefellows

[hq-au]

AU where Osamu is a ningyo, of powerful tail and glittering crimson scales, a seas’ creature of sinew and speed. Engaging little with humans for his own safety, knowing well the dangers his kind face, he nevertheless enjoys watching them in curiosity, from the safety of a rocky outcropping, or the waves beneath a pier, or the inky black waters surrounding the nighttime fishermen. But Osamu is cautious, rarely careless; he has a talent for caution, to the chagrin of some of his fellow mariners, who say he is no fun. It’s true that he prefers to be wary and watchful, and collected when the weather is calm. But when storms rise, when the oceans rage, he lets himself rage with them. When no one is around, he throws himself into the surging swells with abandon, shouts and shrieks and is utterly free. He drapes himself in foam and sea-spray, and throws caution to the wind. Oh, what freedom, how cathartic a storm is!

One human interests Osamu in particular, if only slightly; a young man, small and lithe, with a bright head of hair, who enjoys surfing in the waves on the coast. He always sees him joking and laughing with friends, shouting about something or gesticulating wildly, and he wonders at what they might be talking of, that the boy is always so worked up, so energetic. He enjoys watching people equally, he tells himself, that he’s disinterested, but his attention always gravitates to the small human when his eyes catch him from the corners.

Osamu is content to watch them from a distance, both the boy and the humans in general, until one stormy day, when that same boy goes brashly surfing against mountainous swells, and wipes out near the Needles. Osamu, frolicking in the waves himself, spots him and rescues the boy from being dashed on the rocks and certain death, and deposits him on the beach, as high as he can safely manage without getting stranded himself. He stays only long enough to make sure he’s breathing, before twisting around and, with a heave of his tail, dashing into the water again. After that, he continues watching the coast as before. But the possibility that he was seen haunts him, and as the fear of that possibility nibbles and gnaws at him, he begins to be more brash. He starts playing with the nets of the night fishermen, he starts sitting above the waves beneath the pier. And, as he comes closer to the beach than ever before, he spots the boy again just as he spots him. The boy jumps and shouts something indistinct at the distance, and Osamu, cursing himself for his incaution, twists around to flee before he hears a call: “Wait!” Osamu pauses. For all the wrong reasons, he tells himself, but pauses nonetheless. And the boy comes to him, reaches him. Leaning on his knees and panting for breath, the boy takes a moment to recover, then straightens up, and breathes “So you are real after all.”

And thus begins a new relationship for the both of them, for Osamu and the boy, named Shouyou. They sit on the coast, fish and man, and converse, Shouyou grinning and gesticulating, and Osamu listening with the stoic, impassive face his friends ridicule him for. Shouyou falters every so often, worried he’s boring the other, but when questioned Osamu always affirms he’s interested, he’s listening. Shouyou will search him, with sharp eyes, for long moments, unwilling to be lied to, but will eventually satisfy himself with the truth of Osamu’s words, and continue. But it’s a two-way road, and Osamu makes the effort to share about himself every so often as well, even though he doesn’t particularly enjoy it, for Shouyou’s sake. The boy is inquisitive, and listens enraptured at every word that Osamu graces him with about the sea and its glittering wonders.

Osamu thinks he’s content with how things are. He convinces himself of it, as he has on things so many times before. But then, just as their friendship began in a single day, several months earlier, so too in a day does it change. It is a grey, wallowing, overcast day, and Osamu is feeling chained in his skin. Shouyou has on dark clothes, a denim jacket and sweatpants above his black wetsuit. Osamu, unclothed as always, glitters faintly in the half-light, a bright smear of color against a subdued world. The sand is grey, the waves steely. The wind whips at them. Shouyou falls uncharacteristically quiet, after a period of conversation, and Osamu grows concerned. He looks at the boy his friend, and sees uncertainty etched across his face, along with a strange, foreign emotion Osamu doesn’t visually recognize, but instinctively guesses at. “Hey, um,” Shouyou starts, but soon his words stumble and crumple over each other, falling into gibberish, while he slowly grows red in the face, and Osamu loses all hope of understanding the other in the least. Shouyou shouts in frustration. “Um,” he then says, starting over; “What I’m trying to say is, I really value our friendship! Right?” Osamu waits for him to continue, then realizes it’s meant to be a question, and agrees. “So we’ll be friends no matter what, right?” Shouyou asks. There’s a desperation tinging his words. Worried, Osamu quickly agrees, hoping to placate him, to reassure him. Shouyou breathes a heavy sigh of relief, and slumps onto his shoulders. Then, after a few moments, he sucks in a breath, and, before he can reconsider his actions, he leans in close, and bridges the space between them. Osamu doesn’t realize what is happening for a moment, but then he does, and he pushes back, returning with twice the fervor. He continues pushing until he’s on top of him, devouring his mouth, pinning him with his great weight, gasping and groping and mouthing desperately, kissing with teeth and tongue and lips and want, clinging to him with strong arms and taloned hands, doing everything he can to hold and capture this boy that he loves and wants in this moment more than anything else in world, and--- Shouyou pushes against him and vocalizes his fear, and Osamu comes back to himself enough to realize the boy is scared. He stops and slowly slides off him. Hinata is panting, a roil of emotions raging in his chest, gasping for breath. Osamu looks at him with bright, shining eyes, pupils blown wide with primal want, but his face is stoic again. His face is comfortingly familiar again. Shouyou’s fear, slowly, subsides.  They both lean back on their arms for awhile, panting, not speaking. Eventually Osamu can’t stand it anymore, the agonizing silence, and turns around and slides back into the ocean. Shouyou calls back to him to wait, but Osamu ignores him, and dives into the waves.

They talk about it several days later, when they next meet. Shouyou wants to take things slowly. Osamu promises him they can, and believes it wholeheartedly. But Osamu, so stoic, so stalwart, has made a habit of convincing himself of things that aren’t necessarily true. But he will try to go slow---to wait for Shouyou, his Shouyou, to catch up. His Shouyou, his now. It sends shivers up his spine, makes Osamu giddy with happiness, even if his face doesn’t show it. And he will go slowly, he promises. He will go slowly, he tells himself. As slowly as need be, and then some.

But Osamu is a creature of the sea. And, even when he is calm and collected on the surface, he is wild in his heart.

#mer!osamu just wants to kiss hinata all the time. wants to kiss him within an inch of his life. he wants it so badly. #osahina #miyahina #miya osamu #hinata shouyou #haikyuu #au #fantasy

[gloomy-goober]

Make Believe (Part 5)

@but-jesuschrist-im-never-good​ @vergeangst​ @louvrejpeg​ @here-to-vent​ @justanotherpurplebutterfly​ @holdnarrytight​ @fangirl4ever07​ @twinkly-lights​@fandomsandanythingelse @that-space-gay-writes​ @abstractedthinking​ @fandomsofrandom​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​

A ROMAN’S KINGDOM SPECIAL! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5! Buy me a Ko-Fi?

Note: This takes place late highschool-early college. Not sure where it fits perfectly into the time line of GUPoaW but I wanted to do a thing that was more fantasy but based in this universe.

Daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise! What could be more amazing than a world that can be shaped to the whim of the pure creative energy of a man? Or could it be something terrifying as pure energy can sometimes run without reason?

No sunlight appeared over the small village as morning began; the sky was completely overcast. It was like the universe was reflecting the terrible feeling of dread that permeated the air. Not even the birds dared to sing their morning song as if they understood the dark nature of the day to come.

Roman groaned as he slowly came out of the unconscious and dreamless sleep the night had brought him. The nature of the rising day seemed to cut into his very being.

His mind felt groggy and every muscle ached from the battle of the day before. Despite how quickly he fell asleep, he did not feel well rested. In fact, Roman felt like he had stayed up the whole night without even a quick dose.

The prince shifted onto his back and grimaced as his side flared up in pain. He did not have to look under his shirt to know that Patton’s steed had left a nasty bruise on his side. If anyone on their small band of merry men saw the bruise they would insist on him resting but the prince had a quest to lead and an investigation to begin. He could not let mundane things such as that stop them.

“Anxiety,” Roman mumbled the name as he rubbed his face to try and wipe off the sleep. Tired brown eyes stared up at the ceiling as he tried to fight a yawn. “Anxiety, I know you are a creature of the night, but we have a quest to start. There is simply no time to wait for you to rise from your coffin.”

Creativity’s eyes traced a crack in the ceiling as he waited for a grumbled answer.

A light breeze carried in the smell of rain that had not yet fallen and ruffled the prince’s messy hair. He did not remember opening the window the night before or if it had been opened by the anxious side. The thought of the oddity moved from his mind as he noticed a lack of grumbled words or the sound of someone shifting on a bed.

It was just the wind.

“Anxiety?” Roman grit his teeth and forced himself to sit up. His side screamed in protest at the movement, but he shrugged it off. “Anxiety it is time to-.”

His words died on his tongue as he turned to the bed across the room.

The window that was beside it was wide open; showing the dark clouds that had blanketed the sky. The bed itself was empty of the side Creativity was looking for. The blankets were strewn on the floor at the foot of the bed and the pillow had landed next to Roman’s.

“Well then,” Roman frowned at the scene before him. “Gets up early for once in his life and leaves the room a complete mess. Does he have no manners?”

Roman scoffed at the rude actions of the darker side as he turned to the more pressing matter of how much longer this journey would be. Without another glance at the bed the prince pushed himself up to his feet and stretched. The bruise once again reeled its ugly head and sending Roman into other thoughts he did not want to entertain.

If he could not beat this pain, any other battle that they may face on this long quest would be very difficult for him to fight. His companions would be vulnerable. The hero that he was supposed to be would be allowing them to be hurt for him when he should be the one to protect them.

Roman curled more into himself as the pain slowly began to subside. He could not let that happen; his family would not get in harms way because of a small battle wound.  I cannot allow that.

He took a deep breath and moved towards the chair that sat near the door. His white uniform laid on the seat; ready to be worn out once again. He moved slowly to get it on but once he did he felt some more confidence about his ability to help the others.

Whatever that they would cross he would be ready for it.

A knock on the door pulled him from the imagined horrors that they had yet to face. His world coming back to the current present of the Inn.

“Come in,” Roman stood up straighter and forced a smile onto this face to hide the concerns.

The smile turned more relaxed and less like a mask when Patton’s bright smile peeked into the room.

“Came to wake you kiddos up for breakfast. I helped make some chocolate chip pancakes, your favorite~.” The door opened fully as he spoke to show a borrowed apron covered in flour.

“That sound great, Patton. I was just about to head downstairs.”

“I’m sure you were, Mr. ‘We need to leave at sunrise’,” Patton laughed and turned to leave the room. “Make sure Anxiety is up and downstairs with you. Don’t want anyone getting cold pancakes.”

That last comment made the smile on Roman’s face freeze and slowly morph into a look of confusion. “I thought Anxiety was already awake and downstairs with you?”

Patton stopped in the doorway and looked back at the princely side. “No?” He seemed to look around the room as if he had just looked over the youngest side. “I thought he was still asleep up here.””

“No,” Roman threw the red sash over his shoulder, “I assumed he got up before me and was already downstairs being his gloomy self. Maybe he simply moved to another room while I was asleep. My mistake.”

“B-but I haven’t seen him all morning since I got up.” Morality’s smile had disappeared, and a dark cloud of worry seemed to over take him, “Roman you don’t think he got-.”

Creativity cut him off with the wave of his hand as he moved past the older side into the hallway. “Impossible. A creature would not dare take Anxiety when we are on our own tale’s path. More-so, while I was in the room. I am sure he just went to sulk in some hidden corner that has not been checked.”

“But-.”

“Look, you can check up here if you are so worried. I am sure he will turn up when we need him or when we don’t. He is good at just appearing.”

Roman started towards the stairs but stopped when he did not feel Patton following him. He turned to find the moral side staring back into the empty room.

“Morality,” Roman sighed and walked back over to the other, “If it worries you so much we can search for him. He has to be somewhere in the Inn, after all.”

There was none of the usual over excited energy that Patton gave when he got his way; only the worried eyes of, what one would call, a parent as he turned to look at Roman. The older side gave a nod, “Thank you.”

The lack of excitement brought a small seed of worry into Creativity’s mind. Patton was attached to the anxious side, everyone in the mind palace knew this, but he was just realizing how much that attachment went. There could be a slight chance this was more serious then Roman wanted to believe.

“You can start with the upstairs. Make sure he did not just sneak into your room after you and Logic woke up. I will go downstairs to search. When you are done up here, we can go check outside if this place is empty.”

“And if we find him?” Patton asked nervously.

“Then we can all have a nice breakfast.”

“And if we don’t?”

Silence hung between the two sides. Roman shook his head and started to the stairs with quicker footsteps. “That won’t happen, Padre. Trust me.”  

He did not give Morality a chance to say anything more as he hurried down into the main room of the Rainbow Otter.

The common room was a scene of morning peace, just as Roman would have expected. Logan sat at a table with a mug next to the book he was reading intensely. Marge was over by the counter, the girl looked tired in more then the physical sense. The conversation yesterday evening seemed to have drained her.

The sounds from the kitchen led Roman to believe that her father was cleaning up the dishes that Patton had left.

There was no sign of Anxiety. Not that Roman expected it to be that easy.

“Good morning, my friends,” the prince greeted them grandly, “How are you this stormy morn’?”

“Unenthusiastic to be riding in this rain,” Logic answered without even looking away from his book. “But the sooner we get this journey over with the better.”

“Ah, Logan, I can always count on you to give the longest of answers,” Roman gave a small chuckle and looked over at Marge. “And, how are you?”

“Fine,” Was her short answer as she busied herself with an already spotless glass.

“Good. Good.” Roman nodded his head and looked between the two.

It took a few seconds of awkward silence to pass before Logan sighed and closed the book to look over at Creativity. “Yes, Roman?”

“Well, you know I never wish to be a bother-.”

“All evidence proves contrary.”

“But Patton is a little on edge because Annnn-,” he paused and glanced at Marge. His mind worked quick to fix his near error.

“Anon,” the name did not sit right but it was all he had, “was not up in the room with me. I just wanted to know if you have seen him,” He moved further into the room and started to open doors to look in. The restroom was clear and so was the coat closet. “It is no trouble. I am sure he just hid away somewhere.”

Logan looked quizzically at the other. “Whom?”

“You know,” Roman made a vague gesture, “Dark, stormy knight.”

“Oh,” Logan nodded, “No. I have not seen him this morning. I thought he was still asleep.”

“Ah well, he probably just took a morning walk,” Roman shrugged and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter. He rubbed it on his shirt to make the red surface shine.

“Was the window open?” Marge asked as she set the glass down.  

Roman paused just before he got a chance to bite down on the apple. He thought back to the smell of rain in the shared room and the breeze that had pushed it in.

“Yes?” He answered slowly and put the fruit down, “But I do not see how that is-.”

“Was it open before you went to sleep?” Came the next question before Roman could finish his thought.

“Well, I do not remember it being open,” Roman confessed and shifted on the balls of his feet at the gaze Marge had him pinned with, “But… but it is possible he opened it during the night. He does have this thing against small spaces. And new places. And old places. Just life in general, really.”

Her gaze did not faulter and Roman felt his guard go up. She was obviously not amused by his ramble of information. The look that Marge had on him was one of accusation; like he had done something wrong. “What does this have to do with anything? Did you suddenly get a no open window policy?”

Marge shook her head and went back to her already cleaned glass. “Most of the people that disappeared were taken at night through the window. Just thought it is strange that you can’t find him and that the window was open.”

“Most,” Roman countered weakly, “This…this does not mean anything. I was there all night, I would have heard something.”

“Roman,” Logan seemed to appear at the prince’s side, “Did you hear anything strange last night?”

“What? No!” Roman stepped away from them both, “I went to sleep faster then I ever had. Did not even dream.”

Logan gave the man a look that made the prince bristle.

“If anything had taken him I would have known!” Roman insisted, “Look, he is probably just somewhere we can’t find him.”

Logic did not react to the “We cannot just discard the possibility that we need to rescue him just because you are overconfident in your abilities.”

Marge stared down at her glass, “Or not seeing as you don’t want to help us.”

Roman’s eyes flickered between the two people in front of him. He felt helpless. He wanted to help the little town he loved like the second family. He should have been able to protect a person he was in the same room with.

“Villains don’t get kidnapped! He is not missing!”

Marge put down the cup down with a clatter and glared at Roman with fire in her eyes.

“But should the dancers, or the baker, or the Tailor’s daughter be allowed to be kidnapped? They are all loved by someone and yet they were taken because something out there thought they weren’t.” She came out from behind the counter and poked Roman with her finger, “And you want to keep on with this quest instead of even trying to help us. You don’t even think one of your own is important enough to go after! Do you just not care for anyone?”

“I want to help you, Marge, I really do,” Roman protested, “But I also owe it to them that I complete this quest and get them home safe.”

“Can’t do that if you are missing one.”

“We don’t know that he is missing,” Roman stood up taller, but he still felt small under her gaze, “Plus we don’t have a lead, so it would be impossible to even start looking for anyone.”

“You never asked for one,” she stated and crossed her arms.

Logan put a hand on Roman’s shoulder before the prince could say anything else. The side stepped forward and placed himself between the two.

“Do you know where we should look?” Logic stared at the woman calmly.

“What!?!” Roman expected last night’s speech to be restated by the collected side.

“Only care because your friend is missing?” Marge countered harshly.

Logan sighed, “I admit that I was…” he paused, “that I worded my ideals the wrong way yesterday. I am not an emotional man and I was explained the full situation. Your situation is something that should take priority in Roman’s life since it is his responsibility. Now that one of our own is missing it is now all our problems. I apologize.”

Roman stared at Logic in shock. That was the closest he would ever get to having Logan admit he was wrong.  If he was not so annoyed that his own view was being ignored he would have thought this moment special.

Marge seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and flushed slightly. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Your loss is just as important as mine.” She shook her head, “Gosh, I’m such an idiot.”

“Apology accepted,” Logan gave a small smile before he focused right back in on the problem at hand, “But I do think we should start on this rescue soon before the storm outside begins.”

“You are right,” Marge moved past them and headed over to the entry way wall. The two watched her as she took down one of the framed pictures and set it down on the table.

With a wave of her hand, they were both summoned to her side.

“This is a map of the town,” she explained, “Since the kidnapping began the old manor has been active. No one has really thought about it since mostly squatters live there but I have been keeping an eye on it.”

Her finger rested on the place that was labeled ‘Duke of Chicanery Manor’ in a neat, faded scrawl. Roman barely glanced at it as he followed the path back to where the Inn currently resided in the town.

“Chicanery,” Logan said the word slowly, “That word means trickery. Mostly in the sense of legal or political purpose. Interesting title.”

“Really, Nerd, that is the first thing you think of?” Roman grumbled under his breath and looked at the map, “This does not even matter. We have no proof that Anon is even missing. He could just be sulking in a corner somewhere. I bet this is all usel-.”

“Roman!” The sound of hurried footsteps came from the stairwell and Patton appeared. There were tears in his eyes as he clutched at something dark in his hands. “I can’t find him anywhere! All I found find was this and it is hanging in the window box. Please tell me you found him!”

The distraught side shoved what he had into Princey’s hands. The dark cloth was from the cloak that replaced Anxiety’s hoodie when he entered the imaginary kingdom. It was only a scarp, but it looked like it had broken off because it was pulled too hard to stay together.

Roman looked at Morality’s crushed expression when he did not get an immediate answer and then looked back at Logan and Marge. He pocketed the material and stood at the head of the table. His eyes locked directly onto Marge’s.

“What can you tell me about the manor?”

“Glad to have you on board,” Marge gave a weak smile before her attention was back on the picture of the manor. “The Duke used to live up there when I was younger, but he just disappeared one day. No one knew why or really cared to ask,” Marge said with a shrug, “But that does not matter. What matters is that it is the only location that could be the best lead.”

“What makes you think that the people will even be in there?” Roman asked as he broke his gaze away from Marge to focus on the path they would need to take, “They could be hiding in the woods.”

“I went up there,” Marge admitted nervously, “With Julia…after a few of her mother’s customers went missing. We heard things. It looked like someone had been staying there but we never saw anyone to confirm it.”

“Well, it could be squatters like you suggested,” Logan pointed out and then glanced at the path from the Inn to the manor, “But I suppose it is the best lead we have.”

Roman sighed and looked out the nearest window just as the rain began to fall. They did not have a lot of time before it would begin to pour, and their vision would be obscured.

“Lead?” Patton wiped at his face and moved over to look at the map. “What are we doing?”

“Staging a rescue for your friend,” Marge answered with an encouraging smile. “We are going to get them back. Everyone.”

“Yes, and I suppose we should not delay any further,” the prince sighed and stood up straighter and tried to flash them an encouraging smile to the three of them. “Our Dreary Damsel is in distress and these people have been gone for far too long.”

“You really think we can save them?” Marge looked up at her friend with hope filling her eyes.

“Of course. I am the hero, it is what I do.”

Roman did not have a chance to prepare himself before Marge launched herself into his arms. The girl hugged him tightly and buried her face in his chest. If Roman wanted to embarrass her, he would have pointed out the tears in her eyes. Instead he held back just as tightly despite how much his body wanted the hold to be gentler.

“Thank you, Roman.”

“Don’t thank me just yet, Princess,” he kissed the top of her head in a brotherly manner before their hug parted.

A clear of the throat broke the moment between the two and they both looked over at Logan, who now stood by the map.

“I do not wish to disturb but we really should not delay,” the logical side said, “I shall fetch whatever supplies we may need. If you could get the horses ready and by the door.”

“Of course,” Roman nodded and straightened out the white jacket.

“I’ll help Logan,” Patton said with a small sniffle and trailed after Logic as they moved to pack some more provisions for their journey.

Roman watched until they had disappeared before he started to the door that would lead to the rainy exterior.

Creativity wished it would stop raining but he could not will it to happen. His usual bend to the world around him would not listen to his desire. He tried not to let this worry him, it happed from time to time when the story got a little bit crazy. When this side quest had ended he would be able to focus his powers back into control once again.

He opened the door and stared out at the fat drops of water that were turning the dirt path to mud. His outfit would not stay white. He could feel it in his gut. What a shame.

“I’m coming with you.”

Roman turned around to face the inside of the Inn quickly and stared at Marge with wide eyes.

“You are doing no such thing!”

“I can help,” the Innkeeper’s daughter insisted and walked towards the prince, “I know the path to the manor like the back of my hand. I know who is missing.”

“It is out of the question, Marge,” Roman waved his arms in an ‘X’-like motion, “I have already risked one person on this journey and I will not risk you. It will be better if you stay here and take care of your father.”

Marge crossed her arms and glared at him, “You would not even know where to go if it was not for me.”

Roman mirrored her stance, “And I am grateful for that, but I am not risking your life and your father’s only child on this mission. Too many people are already gone.”

“Roman-.”

“That is final!” The prince turned on his heel and walked out into the storm.

He wished that the old Inn door could slam loudly but it just slowly closed as he trudged through the mud toward the stables. The jacket he had on stuck to his body as he pushed open the doors and let himself into the musty dryness.

The stables smelled like hay and poo. He was used to it but with the added humidity it made the royal scrunch up his nose in disgust. He loved his animals but sometimes they could just be messy.

Darling whinnied in greeting as his mud-covered boots made their way across the wooden floor over to her. The white horse looking perfectly content on staying inside as the rain pelted the roof over her head.

“Good morning, Darling. I hope you are ready for a ride.”

As if you answer him, the horse turned away just as he got to her gate. Her tail flicked as if she was offended he wanted her to ride in such conditions.

“I know, I know. I do not want to ride in this storm either, but this is of great importance,” Roman sighed and started to search for her saddle. “One of our own as been taken by an unknown enemy and we cannot hesitate any longer then we already have.”

The dramatic speech did not seem to sway the stubborn animal from where she was. She just ate some hay and refused to look at her owner. Roman held the saddle and glared at her back. He and his horse were too much alike sometimes. He loved and hated it.

“I will give you so many apples when we get home if you would cooperate with me.”

Darling’s ears perked, and her white head slowly rose from the hay to look back at him.

“I will not name numbers, but it will be so many,” He gave a blinding smile for good measure.

The horse clicked her teeth and fully turned for him to saddle her up. He made sure nothing was too tight for her to be uncomfortable but still enough to hold him in case of an emergency. Darling playfully nipped at him when he finished, and he gave her a mock glare in return.

Patton’s horse was more willing to be saddled then the royal steed. The chestnut colored animal did not even move as they were saddled and pet. They even seemed delighted to be led by the reigns out into the rainfall. Their ears were perked in interest while, in contrast, Darling’s were pressed back against her head.

The prince got to the doorway just as the other two sides stepped out into the morning air. Patton’s hood was pulled up over his head to protect him from the falling drops. Logan just allowed the water to fall onto his face and over his glasses.

Logan nodded to Roman as he helped Patton up onto the brown steed before he climbed up himself.

“We just have to head up this road,” Logan instructed as Roman climbed up onto Darling’s back. “It should not take us too long if the weather is kind to us.”

Roman took in a breath as the sky rumbled ominously, “Then let us get moving.”

With a flick of the reigns, both horses began to move down the muddy road out of town. Darling moved slightly faster to put Roman in the lead. Rain stuck his hair to his head and seeped into his clothes. He let himself move to the story that should be played out.

The prince and his party moved into the unknown to save one that they assumed was their enemy in disguise. Another road in their long quest to the Dragon Witch’s keep. It should feel like a great act of heroism…

But for some reason all the prince felt was dread.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #Growing Up Part of a Whole #creativity #princey sanders #prince roman #morality #patton sanders #logic #logan sanders #anxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #unedited #ROMAN'S KINGDOM SPECIAL

[shinsoukokuvalentine]

Hello! Love your fics!!!!! Can you write sskk going on a date? Thanks in advance!

Awww, thank you so much ^^ This may be a bit different than what you requested, but I hope you enjoy!

24/365:Difference

“Tablefor two?”

“I madea reservation,” Atsushi smiles, holding Akutagawa’s hand as they stand in thereception room. Atsushi had advised him to dress up, and as Akutagawa looksaround, it’s no wonder; with its high ceilings, candlelit tables, andsparkling, ornate chandeliers, the restaurant is the picture of extravagance.

“Itshould be under Nakajima,” Atsushi continues. Akutagawa stays close to hisside, and he continues to glance at his hand in Atsushi’s, his head down andface hidden. They’ve been dating for years, yet he still has trouble showingaffection in public.

“Rightthis way, sirs,” the host says, leading the two into the restaurant. Akutagawasteps a little closer to Atsushi. They stop at a table off to the side of theroom, decorated with two small candles, a quaint vase of only a few flowers,and napkins on either side. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the hostsays before he walks back to his podium. Akutagawa lets himself relax a bit asthey both sit.

Atsushifrowns all of a sudden. “I know how tense you’ve been,” he says, startlingAkutagawa. “You’ve been gripping my hand hard enough to break it.”

With asigh, Akutagawa runs a hand through his hair. “... Right,” is all he can say.

“Are youembarrassed?”

Atsushi’squestion catches Akutagawa off-guard. He stares his boyfriend in the eyes tofind them overcast, like the sky before a storm.

“Do I…Embarrass you?” Atsushi asks, fidgeting slightly with his tie. Akutagawa shakeshis head quickly.

“Ofcourse not,” he says. “It’s not you. Being a couple embarrasses me.”

Theclouds in Atsushi’s eyes turn stormy, and Akutagawa immediately knows he’s saidthe wrong thing.

“Is thatit?” he says curtly. “You don’t want anyone in public to know that I love you?That you love me?”

Yearsago, his words would’ve stirred up a fire in Akutagawa’s belly and caused himto lash out, but now, after being together for so long, they only sting.Akutagawa’s face falls, and the thunder and lighting in Atsushi’s eyesinstantly simmers down.

“Ryuu,”he says, kinder, softer, “I’m sorry.”

Akutagawashakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs. “I just… Itfeels strange. Like whenever I’m holding your hand, people will stare. That’swhat it feels like. I don’t want everyone looking at me,” he confesses. “It’snot you. It’s… Everyone else.”

Atsushileans forward slightly, resting his hand on Akutagawa’s, who blushes a littleat the small gesture.

“Ryuu,” hesays again. “I know how that feels. But I don’t see them,” he whispers, histhumb stroking Akutagawa’s palm. “When I’m with you, all I see is you.”

Akutagawa’sblush reddens, and Atsushi smiles gently. “But I want you to be comfortable,above all else,” he says, but when he begins to pull his hand away, Akutagawaholds it.

“Wait,”he says. He takes a moment to look Atsushi in the eyes again, allowing theworld and all the people around them to melt away, leaving only the mostperfect man in the world and his despairingly imperfect lover, though he loveshim all the same.

“Itfeels nice,” he confesses, and Atsushi’s smile widens even as he blushes alittle as well.

“Sorryfor the wait!” a flustered waitress bursts out, interrupting their gaze on eachother. She swiftly hands them both menus nervously. “I hope it wasn’t too muchtrouble!”

Atsushismiles, and with another glance at Akutagawa, he chuckles a little, “No troubleat all.”

#Anonymous #shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku

[themarionetteanovel]

Chapter Nine - Trying to Confide

Carmen, Liz, and Jacob were already seated inside. During the entire meeting Claire kept zoning out, resisting the urge to rush to the storefront two doors down to see if the marionette had moved again. Someone inside the store had to be familiar with the circumstances surrounding Dave’s death. Maybe they were there that night. She shuddered at the thought.

“Claire.” Jacob was staring at her. He appeared to have been trying to get her attention for some time. “So what do you think of our plan?”

She had no idea what they’d just been discussing. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Carmen nudged Claire’s foot with the toe of her boot and mouthed to her, I’ll email you. She then made a sleep gesture, tilting her head and pressing her hands against her cheek, and winked. Deeply embarrassed, Claire mouthed, Thank you.

Jacob and the others, except for Carmen, packed up their things, said their good-byes, and left. Claire picked up her sausage roll. She’d taken only one bite of it so far.

“Are you okay, girl?” Carmen had long, curly hair, tendrils of which went nearly to her waist, dark at the roots and bleached at the ends from last summer’s sun. She had a wide, friendly face, the kind everyone immediately takes to. The sort of face Claire wished she had.

“I’m fine,” Claire said. “I slept badly last night. So what did I miss?”

“We’re going to act out that stormy night where they came up with all the ideas for their stories. Since they’re involved with the theatre group, Liz is going to bring period costumes for each of us and Phil’s going to bring painted screens showing the background of the seaside mansion. Liz is going to be Mary Shelley. You’ll be okay doing Lord Byron?”

“Imagine me as mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” Claire laughed, trying to force herself back to the present. She was still disturbed by that marionette and its little dance.

Carmen laughed too. “We’re not exactly typecasting this thing, huh.” She lowered her voice. “Seriously. Are you okay? You were out to lunch, girl. Are things going okay with Adam?”

“Yeah, he’s great!” She was tempted to lie, but Carmen knew her too well. They’d spent a lot of time together in first year and Carmen, too, had had to drop out the previous semester after a car accident. “Something really weird happened earlier, on my way in.”

“Phil said he saw you staring in the window of that store down the street.”

Claire blanched. They had to have been talking about her right in her presence and she’d had no idea. She really had been on Mars. “Can I show you something there?”

“Sure!” They packed their notebooks and tablets into their backpacks and strolled out of the café. The sky was overcast and the wind had picked up. She waited for Carmen to finish buttoning up her beige woollen cardigan and led her to the window of Maurer and Sons.

Claire stared anxiously around the window display. The velvet sofa and chair were still there. Those never moved. The xylophone was still poking out from underneath. The ancient metal Chinese checkers game was again propped up against the base of the wall on the right, the stuffed baby crocodile on their left. The old Bicycle playing cards were in their usual place, as were the assorted comic books spread out in a fan. The glass and metal lamp was still in the same spot.

The marionette was gone. She figured it would be.

“Never mind,” she said, frustrated. “I swear things appear and vanish in that window on an hourly basis. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone in there was messing with me.” She said so loud enough for anyone lurking inside the store to overhear.

“Who would do that to you, you’re so sweet.”

“Someone who knew Dave, maybe. Earlier I saw this puppet that looked exactly like him.”

“Come on. A puppet? That makes no sense.” Carmen checked her watch, the face of it inlaid with abalone shell that flashed silvery green and blue. “Anyway, I have to get to work.”

She wasn’t sure Carmen would be willing to accompany her to the site where Dave’s body had been found, but no harm in asking. “What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Again, work.” She sighed, smiling. “I’ll be at the store all day if you want to visit.”

“I’ll try. And if not, I’ll see you in class,” Claire said, hiding her disappointment.

Carmen pecked her cheek and Claire watched her amble down the road. One thing she’d yet to do, which various friends and family had counselled her to do, was visit the site where Dave had been found, to see it for herself. She should just get it over with. For all she knew, that arrangement in the store the other day was pointing her there. Maybe some clue lay nearby that police had missed. Or a new one had recently been planted by whoever was operating that marionette.

She began heading west, in the direction of the vacant lot where Dave’s lifeless body had been found after an anonymous tip to police. The call was later traced to a grimy payphone at the gas station next to Westwood Plaza. That was all she had ever learned of the witness’s identity. However that call had, for Claire, secured her conviction that Dave’s death had not been a natural one. Either Jordan was lying, or someone else had been with Dave that night.

#fiction #new adult fiction #mystery fiction #novel #mystery novel #cosy mystery #small town setting #whodunnit #missing person #unsolved death #antique store #curiosity shop #introverted main character #loneliness #marionette #puppeteer #books #writing

[rogerblackwolf]

The Pine Barrens Incident

(The Capture of The Jersey Devil)

The Pine Barrens, New Jersey

-2010-

A stillness gripped the air as the colors of twilight faded to darkness of night. Among the sea of stars, the moon shone brightly, illuminating the quiet forest beneath its face. Here in the southern part of New Jersey, covering nearly a million acres, multiple townships and counties was the infamous Pine Barrens. Among the pine trees and acidic soil no sound was heard; no crickets chirped, no birds sang, or even a rush of wind disturbed the silence of the Barrens. The only thing that broke the quiet of woods was a convoy made up of four Light Armored Tactical Vehicles(LATV), one Mobile Tactical Control Center(MTCC) vehicle, and one Heavy Armored Cargo Carrier(HACC) truck that turned off the paved road to an unpaved dirt road. 

The last LATV slowed to a stop as the convoy continued down the path, two men exited the vehicle in camouflaged tactical gear. One was armed with a modified M110 sniper rifle and the other with a modified M4 carbine as well as a spotting scope. Once the two men disappeared into the brush the LATV sped away to catch up with the convoy. The two men moved quickly, as quietly as possible through the woods before coming to their target, an old fire tower. As the two men ascended the tower, the convoy entered into a clearing big enough to set up for their mission.

Two five men teams exited their LATV’s to gear up with everything from bulletproof kevlar vests, night vision goggles, as well as a variety of capture equipment. The other two vehicles had a total of eight researchers plus their armed drivers. The MTCC parked and started extending its side panels to make room inside for the researchers who began setting up their computers, communications systems, and a projector with a screen for presentations. Within ten minutes the operation center was up and running, even with a couple of researchers looking at the Carranza Memorial they were set up around. The researchers manned their stations in the MTCC as the other Agents had finished checking their equipment and gear when one agent, a fit young man with blonde hair and a mustache, got a call on his radio.

“Woodsman 1, this is Woodsman 9, come in, Over.” A male voice said.

“Woodsman 9, this is Woodsman 1, send traffic, Over.” The blonde male responded.

“Me and Woodsman 10 are set up in the old fire tower /Break/ everything is quiet right now. Don’t know how much longer that’ll be. Over.” Woodsman 9 said.

“Copy all Woodsman 9, keep me updated, Out.” The blonde said before joining the other agents.

The agents finally entered the MTCC where the lead researcher named Dr. Ryan, an attractive redhead dressed in a form fitting turtleneck and knee length skirt that accentuated her hourglass figure, was waiting for them.

"Gather round, I'll give you all a quick recap before you take to the field. Your target is The Jersey Devil, which has been active in this region since 1735 so local legend goes. The Bureau has viewed the creature as a nuisance until a month ago when it attacked a hunter in Wharton State Forest." She said, clicking on a remote showing photos of a body propped against a tree. 

She clicks through the other photos that show the body having signs of severe trauma ranging from hoof prints, clawing, broken bones, and even his left leg was torn off mid thigh. Dr. Ryan then clicks to show a picture of a dead black bear.

"Officially the story was the hunter was tracking deer and stumbled upon a black bear which then mauled him to death, though some believe otherwise. Local game wardens then located and euthanized the bear" Dr. Ryan explained before clicking to the next set of pictures that showed the map of the forest. 

"The reason for the slow response time was to ensure the Jersey Devil remained in the State Forest or moved territories in the Pine Barrens. In that month, we have mapped out it's movements to this section of the forest, and it seems to return to this spot here every night which leads us to believe it's den is here." Dr. Ryan said pointing to a large dot on the map. She then showed high resolution pictures of the Devil. It was on all fours, the back feet were actually hooves, its front legs had three digits that resembled fingers and the arm was split in two at the wrist with a leathery membrane, it also had an elongated head similar to a horse with a much wider mouth. 

"Your objective is to take the Jersey Devil alive, a week before today, the team known as Trapper 1 set up special capture zones using electrified spider thread netting. The plan is to ground the creature using the net rifles then drive it toward one of these capture zones where it can be tranquilized and transported to the HACC. Your rifles have been modified with tranquilizer sabot darts, the dosage is three times what is needed to sedate an adult Silverback Gorilla. Due to the size and build of the Jersey Devil, we can estimate three to four darts should be the minimum needed for sedation." Dr. Ryan explained before asking if there were any questions.

Seeing that there were none she continued;

"I will now allow your Team Leader to take over from here. Agent Kennedy." Dr. Ryan said, letting Agent Kennedy, the blonde man from before, come to the front.

"The first phase of the operation is already in motion. Agents Kelso and Walker, callsigns Woodsman 9 and 10, have set up overwatch in the Apple Pie Hill Fire Tower northeast of this position. From here they have an unobstructed view of everything in the forest, as well as help coordinate which capture zone we should push towards. These darts are powerful, but they need to pierce the veins otherwise you’ll only make him angry, lethal force is a last resort. Any questions?” Kennedy asked.

One hand was raised by the newest of the team, he had to be in his early twenties at least.

“Yes Agent Miles?” Kennedy asked.

“What if the creature flies away before we can get a shot on it?” Miles asked.

“Woodsman 9 is the best shot on this team, if the Devil gets above the treeline then he will use the taser rounds to force it to land. The rounds are accurate up to 800 yards. Any more questions.” Kennedy asked.

When no one else raised their hands Agent Kennedy dismissed the team. They met outside, checking their equipment once more before the eight man team slipped into the woods. The team synced their radios to the MTCC so Dr. Ryan could keep tabs on their communications. She looked at one screen that had a live drone feed with its thermal camera active which easily spotted the team as they split into two groups of four methodically crossing a stream into denser woods. She also decided to listen in on their chatter as Agent Miles decided to ask questions.

“So what’s the story about this Jersey Devil?” He asked.

“You don’t know about the Jersey Devil?” The agent next to him asked surprised.

“No, not a thing.” Miles replied.

“Everyone stay off your coms, Miles wants a story.” Kennedy said, waiting for the coms to go silent before he spoke again.

“In 1735, an old woman by the name of Mother Leeds was pregnant with her 13th child. She went into labor on a stormy night and cursed saying “let it be a devil”, she birthed a healthy baby. But before her eyes the baby turned into something monstrous, it flew about the room injuring it’s siblings before flying up the chimney and into the woods, where it remains to this day. Every night you can hear its cry before it goes hunting.” Agent Kennedy told.

As if on cue, an unnatural screeching roar carried through the woods. The sound was so loud, so inhuman, it made everyone’s blood run cold, til Kennedy got everyone moving again towards the sound. Dr. Ryan came over the radio as she looked at the screen showing the creature on the thermal.

“The target is 200 yards to the north in a clearing.” She said watching it on the thermal, just this big blob of white against a black and white background.

“Copy, moving towards the target. Over.” Kennedy said before motioning with his hand for his team to move. 

As the team closed in on the clearing the woods got extremely quiet, the only sound was that of the team and the breathing of whatever they were getting close to. Kennedy raised a closed fist causing everyone to suddenly halt, he then opened his palm before lowering it twice, everyone got into a kneeling position and trained their weapons on a dark shape in the clearing. There was a bit of overcast but there was enough light for their night vision goggles to make out the features, that it was easily six feet tall at the shoulder and despite having a pair of front legs complete with three fingers, it stood on two legs using the tail for a counterbalance almost like a dinosaur. Finally the clouds moved allowing the moon to further illuminate their quarry, they could now see it had a mix of long and short hair as well as fur, it’s head did look similar to a horse even down to the mane along the back of its neck, it even had a pair of horns like a cow. The creature had a pair of glowing deep amber eyes but it seemed to be more focused on sniffing as it stood tall to catch a scent, when it turned towards the team’s position everyone’s hearts stopped.

The Devil’s lips curled to reveal rows of sharpened teeth but before it could let out another screech Kennedy shouted;

“NETS!”

Immediately three men fired the net guns, one missing it entirely while the second hit its mark wrapping the arms against its torso and the third closed the Devil’s jaws. The team encircled the beast while it spun and struggled to free itself, before anyone could get a clear shot the wires holding the nets broke letting the Devil’s arms free. Once it was free, it's wings unfolded before with several great flaps it was airborne going above the trees. Kennedy rolled onto his stomach and got on his radio.

"Woodsman 9, the chicken has flown the coop you got eyes on it?!"

"Roger, he's in my sights." He replies, following the Devil's path, Woodsman 10 follows with the scope feeding Woodsman 9 info on the best shot. Taking a long exhale he fired two shots, the darts shed their casings as they exited the barrel flying in a near flat trajectory before impacting in the Devil's chest and throat. The Devil let out a screech in pain before it began hovering in place, its flaps became slower and slower before it finally tumbled through the trees to the ground.

"Woodsman 1, Target is back on the ground, I hit him twice. Over." Woodsman 9 said.

"Roger, moving in. Over." Kennedy said before turning to his team.

"Woodsman Team, the Devil is 15 yards from Capture zone 5, to the east." Dr. Ryan said over the radio.

"Got it. He's at Capture zone 5! Taylor take your guys and take the left flank. The rest of us go right. Push him! Push him!" Kennedy ordered. They quickly closed the distance to the Devil as it thrashed and snarled in delirium, but it was still very much a danger. Thankfully when the team got close it decided to run, on two legs at first but it's wings folded to allow for it to use its forelegs.

The Devil covered the 15 yards like nothing, it was going so fast it didn't notice the netting blocking its path. The minute it touched the hair thin wire it was repelled by the shock. It was so stunned it didn't react to the two darts hitting its chest and neck. The team watched the devil stumble as it's legs buckled before it finally fell onto its side. Kennedy and his team slowly moved in before one of the agents checked the Devil.

"He's sedated." He confirmed.

"Get the harness and muzzle on it." Kennedy said, before calling Dr. Ryan.

"Dr. Ryan, target is sedated, returning to camp." 

"Good work Agent Kennedy, we will have the HACC ready for you." She responded.

"Roger, be there soon. Out." Kennedy said before keying his radio to the fire tower.

"Woodsman 9 and 10, hold position, we'll pick you guys up on the way out. Over." Kennedy explained.

"Copy." Woodsman 9 responded.

"Roger." Woodsman 10 concurred.

"See you guys soon, Out." Kennedy added before taking lead as his team lifted the Devil with a stretcher back to the camp. It took them roughly an hour before the Devil was placed in the HACC, its restraints were checked and secured before an IV with a sedation formula was set up. The doors were locked shut with the camp ready to go in a matter of minutes. The convoy drove to the fire tower, picking up their last two agents, before finally getting on the road to deliver their quarry.

-Ten years later-

A lone vehicle drove down the woodland road just before dawn, coming to a small clearing just off the road. Once the vehicle was parked out of sight, three agents got out, two men and one woman, and began unloading some kind of speaker. The woman stretched, inadvertently showing off her pear shaped body, due to being stuck in a car for several hours. She then looked to the other two who had the equipment ready to move, she smirked before turning on her iPad to look at a hidden surveillance camera feed. The feed showed a single man, who looked to be in his late fifties, dressed in camo clothing and an orange vest armed only with a bolt action rifle which hung over his shoulder as he quietly walked through the woods.

“Right on time, let's get going guys.” The woman said with a hint of excitement.

“Yes Dr. Kirby.” One of the men replied as they followed after her.

The trio came to a good spot that Dr. Kirby had picked out, here they set up the speaker as Dr. Kirby checked the hidden cameras again. This time it shows the hunter getting comfy in a tree stand, waiting for any possible game. Dr. Kirby waited til the speaker was set up before using her iPad’s camera to start recording.

“This is Dr. Amber Kirby, from Research Team 06 in the Wharton State Forest for Simulated Presence of the Jersey Devil, along to assist me is Agent Nolan for security and Agent Alan operating the Roar Speaker. The witness is a hunter in Sector 19, beginning Simulated Presence now.” Dr. Kirby then signaled Agent Alan, who put on his hearing protection while Agent Nolan and Dr. Kirby plugged one of their ears. Alan turned the speaker towards the hunter, thanks to the GPS of the cameras, then played the Jersey Devil broadcast roar. The roar was loud, like a mix between a bear and a deathly howl, though it lasted roughly four seconds. The sound carried through the woods for miles, Dr. Kirby watched the hunter turn towards the direction of the roar but didn’t move from his stand. She told Alan to replay the sound again, which made the hunter get down from the stand and practically sprint to his truck. 

"Simulated Presence was a success, this is Dr. Kirby signing off for now." Amber says turning off the recording and saving them to the BSRC database. After the speaker was packed up they returned to their vehicle and drove off. While driving, Agent Alan spoke up;

"You'd think with all these simulations, people wouldn't doubt the thing still lives here." 

"They do, the issue arises when they stop believing and start asking questions." Agent Nolan replied.

"Yeah but I mean, do we really have to keep doing these every month? I mean that guy we just scared off probably won't go hunting ever again." Alan commented.

"A hardened outdoorsman like that, he'll go hunting again, no problem." Nolan responded.

"How about we talk about getting some breakfast. I'm starving." Kirby chimed in.

"I could eat too." Nolan seconded.

"Same." Alan added before driving to find someplace to eat. Thankfully their work was done for now, the next team would handle the nighttime Simulated Presence so they had the rest of the morning to get back to base. 

#BSRC #Story 9

[inspiruseducation]

                          Study Abroad & Your Career Will Thank You

In November 2010, on a cold wintry morning I was standing on an anchorage on the Magellan Strait in Punta Arenas about to board a German research vessel. There was nervous excitement in the air as I walked towards the ship. The heavy gusts of wind, the overcast sky, the smell of the briny strait and the stench of decaying seaweed brought about an uneasy calm in me, much like before a storm. Among all the thoughts running through my head of what the next three months will bring forth, I was most excited of the icebergs that my colleagues and I will encounter on my way to Antarctica passing through the stormy Southern Ocean on the R/V Polarstern.

I had felt the same nervous excitement, in August 2004, waiting to board my Lufthansa flight from Delhi that will take to study abroad in for Germany at the Jacobs University Bremen. The anxious tinge on my face and the edgy beating of my heart was not because this would be my first time traveling abroad, but rather I was traveling alone without my family members accompanying me. All the communications with the university was through email. My host family, who I have never had a word before or even know their name or what they look like, would have received me at the airport in Bremen. All the arrangements seem very un-Indian and yet I was excited to experience something new.

As soon as I got my visa and passport checked, passed the airport security protocols of an international traveler, I sat on the airplane wishing myself to sleep to be fresh for all the things to come. I landed in Frankfurt and at once, I noticed the alien weather, odd language, tall, fair and big people, somber food, pink money, green and yellow direction signs and funky electronic billboard advertisements. I decided to explore the airport as I had a few hours before my next flight and got on the sky train. I noticed very soon that the flight gate numbers reached triple figures and it was getting difficult to find my way around. To put it plainly, I got lost.

Fast forward to a frantic run at pace and illegible spurts of huffs of broken German asking for directions, I did manage to board my connecting flight to Bremen, much to the chagrin and amusement of the Lufthansa flight host. As I sat on my seat and broke in to a sigh of relief, little did I know that it was the start of multiple such assays, prepared to test the core of the international student characteristics in me!

I landed at the airport in Bremen, but there was no sign or presence of my host family.

The bag handle broke somewhere midair, I presume for forcefully stuffing 30 kilos of my belongings. The orientation emails from the university were very organized and told me how to reach the university from the airport in such a situation, but being in a foreign land and in that jiffy I was unsure of how to read the metro and train maps to reach Jacobs University Bremen. I made some enquiries but it was too complicated, which I later found out it indeed was! It required me to take 2 metros, a 20-minute train ride, a bus trot and short 10 minute walk.  

Instead, I started profiling prospective international students who might have landed at Bremen airport to study at Jacobs, and therefore maybe find a way to hitch a ride with their host family. On my third conversation with strangers, much to my relief, I did find one student from Ghana in Africa, who was heading the same way.

I landed on a Sunday when university officials were mostly away and offices were closed, except for a few student volunteers and the university guards. I was given my room key and the guards showed the direction towards my accommodation. My transponder key read D-211 at the Mercator Building, which I later discovered was recently erected, and was the root cause of further stress for the day. Even with the help of the student volunteer, I could not find Block D in the building. After searching for about an hour in the stinging rain, and coming up trumps with Block A, B, and C the umpteenth time, we decided to go back to the main gate to complain about its inexistence. Luckily, a Masters’ student from China showed us that Block-D is very much an integral part of Mercator; and is the connecting blocks of A, B, and C, (duh!!) and are usually reserved for the Master’s students. I had no complaints, as the room was bigger than the rooms given to Bachelors’ students and was single occupancy.  

The next day, during the academic orientation with my academic advisor, I discovered that I was registered for the Electrical Engineering and Computer Science Major and not my preferred Earth and Space Sciences. It did not however take long to change my Major and my international student journey was finally underway. Or so it seemed! Whether good or bad, ups or downs, I have never had an uninteresting day in my time as a student globetrotter.

From my orientation week at the Jacobs University until the day in 2010 on the anchorage, it had been a learning experience like never before. I was able to travel to 30+ countries, interact with people from 150+ nationalities, learn a new language, try multiple different cuisines, research about Earth’s past and its climate, explore the cold ocean in the Arctic and Antarctic regions, and achieve a UG degree.

Most importantly, I failed multiple times at things that I tried and classes that I took, but I passed even more times.

I also learnt to teach English as TESL / TEFL and learnt how to mix drinks professionally, to earn my pocket money.

I also lied in my CV that I know programming to get that summer job at the university to make ends meet, and crammed learning programming late into the night while I was impersonating an expert programmer during the day at the job.  

I took classes in Renaissance Art and Architecture, Victorian Poetry, studied about Biochemical Engineering, Drugs and Naturopathy, Astrobiology, as well as Psychology of our Senses and Perceptions and Decision-Making, along with my core courses in Earth and Space Sciences.

I learnt how to drive a boat, use a crane on a liner and swim with Jellyfishes and Seals without incurring their wrath.

I learnt that during long sea expeditions, you could get fresh food for only about 2 weeks, and live the rest on meat, pasta and cold cuts.

Through my friends from the humanities majors and social outreach work with the UNICEF, I also learnt how the United Nation works and how countries such as Germany and the Scandinavian countries plan their budgeting and investment in education research programs, which the whole world is trying to emulate.  

I heard lectures and talks from Nobel Laureates and other famous people and I watched the Champions League and World Cup football games live.

I was also penniless many a times and sometimes survived on eating just rice, onions and tomato puree for whole weeks on end.

I learnt the value of banking and financial security, as much as, the pitfalls of spending too much money through credit cards.

I learnt about student loans and about how to pay them back, slowly but securely.

I learnt that it is important to keep up and find time with your hobbies and passions, whether it is chess, theater or cricket.

I learnt that good research is gold and written communication is diamond.

Even more so, speaking articulately and networking is platinum.

I learnt that human emotions are fickle and true friends are hard to find.

I learnt about various religions and about atheism through the perspective of friends and acquaintances who follow them.

I played cricket with my other South Asian friends, from Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka.

I learnt that living away from home for a long period would make you question your own families’ beliefs and culture.

But no matter, how far you are, I also learnt that your family will always remain your biggest and most important support.

I learnt that honesty is strength.

I also achieved an MS degree from the public University of Bremen in Germany, where education was free of cost.

Earlier in 2012, again and for the third time, I was feeling the same nervous excitement, as I stood at the Guwahati airport, having returned from Germany to India for an indefinite period. I was unhappy because the PhD program that I wanted to embark on, did not work out for political reasons, and I sought time in the security of home. The warm and humid breeze, the thundering sky, the smell of the wet earth and the stench of spices and cow-dung brought about an apprehension of whether I will succeed, having come back to Assam after 12 years away. Among all the thoughts running through my head of what the next few months’ sabbatical will bring forth, I was encouraged and comforted by the thought that among all the skills I have learnt in my time away from India, adaptability and flexibility has been the foundation of them all. I was thus prepared to face all challenges head-on through an international perspective.

Eight years have passed since my study abroad in Germany experience, and I have only stopped to reflect on what I should be doing to find solutions to my challenges at hand rather than rummage deeper on my problems. This philosophy has helped me stabilize my journey in exploring my pedigree in education and counseling. In my time as an international student, I have always learnt that today I should be a better version of myself from yesterday. Therefore, one must always think big and create a dream big enough that your community can thank you for it. My dream is to bring such worldly awareness of opportunities through education and counseling to not just the North-East of India but the entire South-Asian region. This steadfast philosophy has catapulted me straight from being a teacher, to a counselor, and now to an Entrepreneur of sorts. I can only thank my international student experience that gave me the belief and foundational support.

Should I have studied abroad in Germany? Unapologetically, a definite Yes!

– @Abhinav B Gogoi

    Vice President – Eastern India | Inspirus Education

    Email – [email protected]

#StudyAbroad StudyinGermany UGinGermany MSinGermany