hermits rest

it's the side effects that save us - Chapter 12 - renaissance - Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

final chapter! thank you to all my readers for your support xx


“You should come to the community centre with me,” Yuuri says, leaning over the kitchen counter. He’s making katsudon, to celebrate finding a supermarket with a whole aisle devoted to food imported from all over Asia. “There’s a Japanese class starting soon.”

“I’m enrolled in first year Japanese already,” Viktor says. “Why the rush? Do you just want my company, darling?”

Yuuri looks away; it’s how Viktor can tell he’s blushing. “Well, you speak Saga-ben, and your accent is atrociously foreign. You should get a head start on standard pronunciation and grammar.”

“I’ll see,” Viktor says, which is code for, Anything for you.

Which, of course, turns into a definite yes. Viktor leaves the flat for the first time in days to go to the shops, and he buys a notebook and five ballpoint pens for his Japanese lessons. He even finds a cute pencil case, with a cartoon dog on it. It’s not “too soon” anymore.

Half of my plans for today:

- change crab food/water
- change crab air pump arrangement
- make crab tank cover
- give crabs pumpkin to make up for tank fuss

Sorry I’m a big scary giant, I swear I don’t want to eat you, please have an Apology Treat :C

anonymous asked:

usuk, "You want me to do what?” If you want that is!

“You want me to do what?” sputtered Alfred.

It was Alfred’s turn to do the dare. Truth or dare was a game they’ve played since they were children, except their version had no truth and was full of dares. They thought the dares made it fun. In fact, they thought it was fun enough to play fifteen years later, even after saying I do in front of the altar.

“You heard me,” said Arthur, scooping a spoonful of Lucky Charms. “I want you to say hi and bring a cake to the new neighbours.”

Perhaps Arthur had a burst of inspiration from his cereal.

Sundays were supposed to be lazy. It was the time of the week when they could stay at home wearing pyjamas and cuddle all day— Arthur forgetting about interior design project deadlines, and Alfred taking a break from his restaurant chef duties. Their quiet morning was going along nicely until Alfred almost choked on his cereal after Arthur gave his dare.

“Why would I do that?” He asked.

“Why not?” asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow. “You’re Mister Congeniality.”

Alfred fiddled with his spoon.

“Are you scared?” asked Arthur, the tone of his voice filled with sarcastic surprise.

The new neighbours in question arrived yesterday, and the only thing Alfred and Arthur knew about them was they moved from Sweden. Alfred was easily intimidated by the taller one. He was so big and muscly, and he looked like he’d never smiled his whole life, making Alfred think he was the type who would bite his head off before he could open a conversation.

“Hell no,” said Alfred.  

“Get on with it then,” replied Arthur, a smirk on his face.

They never backed out on each other’s dares as they were determined to one-up the other to prove who had more bravado (or who was more stupid). They had wilder dares back in high school and college, which had gotten them into more trouble than they bargained for. Now that they were married, they toned their game down a bit, or else, they’d be kicked out of society and live as hermits for the rest of their lives.

Begrudgingly, Alfred started making strawberry shortcake. Arthur watched him from the kitchen counter, his chin resting on his hand, while Alfred mixed dry ingredients to bake the sponge.

“That big guy actually looks like our chemistry teacher in high school,” said Alfred, taking the tub of cream cheese from the fridge. “Mr. Walter, you remember him?”

“The one who almost flunked you in his class?” asked Arthur. “Yeah, I remember him. He’d always suspected I was doing your homework, not the other way around. I thought he had a big crush on you.”

He stood up to dip his fingertip on the whipped cream mixture.

“Mmm…” He said. “Tastes good, chef.”

“You wait for my next dare,” Alfred said under his breath.

Arthur smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. He reached for the bowl of strawberries. “I’ll slice the strawberries. I won’t mess up this one, at least.”

Slicing the plump berries carefully, Arthur quietly relished on the domesticity of their tasks. Despite not possessing any talent in cooking, Arthur liked spending time with Alfred in the kitchen. It was Alfred’s favourite part of the house (aside from the bedroom) where he could express himself freely and share his love for food with Arthur.

When whipped cream covered and fresh strawberries swirled around the top tier, they went outside for the moment of truth.

Arthur stood in the garden, pretending to tend to his rose bushes. Across the street, Alfred rang the doorbell. As soon as the door opened, a Maltese dog started barking at him.

Alas, the intimidating man answered. He stood there wordlessly, staring at Alfred. He wanted to turn back already.

He almost sighed with relief as the other man came into view. “Hello!”

“Hi!” said Alfred. “Uh, my husband and I would like to welcome you to our neighbourhood!”

He pointed at Arthur, and his husband waved, giving them a winning smile.

Alfred handed them the box of cake.

“Wow, that’s lovely!” exclaimed the shorter man.

The intimidating man nodded.

“That’s very thoughtful of you! I’m Tino, by the way, and this is my husband, Berwald.”

Berwald grunted. Alfred felt himself melt under his gaze.

“I’m Alfred,” he said, stretching his arm for a handshake. “And that’s my husband, Arthur.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” said Tino, beaming. “Would you and Arthur like to come over for dinner tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” said Alfred. “That will be nice.”

“Does seven o’clock sound good?”


“Okay, see you then, Alfred!”

“See you.”

Tino turned to their pet, and said, “Look, Hana, they brought us a cake!”

Then, they closed the door.

Fighting the urge to cackle, Arthur joined Alfred inside the house. Realising Alfred still felt sheepish, he stopped laughing.

“Did he bite you?” He asked.

“No,” said Alfred, lunging at Arthur. “I will bite you. In bed. Now.”

Arthur yelled and made a bolt for the stairs. Laughter echoed on the walls of their house.

Dismal // A Phan One-Shot

Genre: angst, fluff

Words: 1.8k

Relationship status: together

Warnings: swearing, existential topics 

Summary: Having an existential crisis on a moving tour bus through the middle of America isn’t the greatest of circumstances. At least Phil is there to shine some light on Dan’s dark thoughts.

A/N: I wrote this based on both Dodie’s video “I’m really scared of dying lol” and “Car Radio” by Twenty One Pilots. I’ve recently been getting into both Dodie and TOP :3 I’m late to the game, I know. 

Sorry it’s short. I wanted to make it longer, but I didn’t know how. Also I’m tired and I have, like, three other fics I want to finish writing. (Hint: that’s not going to happen). 

Keep reading

The problem I have with networking and just sending people letters like ‘I have skills hire me’ is that I feel so rude and presumptuous doing that. I just imagine the Important People at the company being like ‘how dare this random girl waste our time asking us for a job like she expects one to be handed to her, that’s rude and entitled and if we’re her mom’s friend who her mom has been bugging her to ask for an internship, we’ll be insulted that she expects special treatment even though her mom hasn’t actually seen us in a long time because adult friends have no free time and we’re more acquaintances anyway why is she sending her loser kid to bother us let’s throw out the letter and never reply.’ I realize that companies employ people whose sole purpose is to go through applications, and they don’t think it’s rude to send one in, they just think ‘oh, more work for me to do, I might be annoyed at the fact that I have to read a lot of these but these pieces of paper are totally divorced from the people who sent them in in my mind so I’m not mad at the applicants, just the situation.’ But I still feel so incredibly rude and presumptuous and conceited and invasive when I send an application in anywhere. And I think I’d feel the same sending any of my creative writing in for potential publication. Even though I have a degree in Creative Writing with a pretty high GPA and an award from the school and nothing but nice things said about me by my professors AND a small but affectionate audience to my fanfiction online. I still feel like an absolutely clueless and talentless kid who is underqualified for everything. And that’s why applying for jobs is so anxiety-inducing. 

The Hermit Tarot Spell

This spell is useful for uncovering hidden secrets, discovering the causes of things, to develop your critical and analytical faculties, for protection against gossip, for a good reputation and the regard of those in authority, for interesting encounters while traveling, and for enhanced ability to make shrewd decisions that will affect your life in important ways. 

As always, feel free to modify this spell to suit your own needs and resources. 

1. Lay down a grey altar cloth. 

2. Dress a white candle with Myrrh essential oil and place it in the North of the altar and light it. 

3. Put a feather in the East of the altar. 

4. Place a small bowl of Olive oil in the South of the altar. 

5. Place an hourglass in the West of the altar. 

6. Rest the Hermit card upright against the candle. 

7. Dip the feather into the olive oil and wipe a small bit on your forehead. 

8. Dip the feather into the oil again and sprinkle droplets around the altar in a clockwise direction. 

9. Replace the feather and turn over the hourglass, so that the sand begins running through the narrow channel. 

10. Visualize yourself as a tree, with the roots deepening into the earth, and the branches reaching far up into the sky. Feel the wind on your arms, and imagine that fruit of many kinds is growing from your fingers. Underneath your toes you can sense tiny animals burrowing into the ground. 

11. Focus on the image on the card, and allow it to grow, until finallyl the Hermit walks out of the card and into the room in front of you. Allow him to walk right into you physically. He has now become a part of you. 

12. When all the sand has run through the hourglass, sprinkle some salt around the rim of the altar, working in a clockwise direction. 

Spell from Terry Donaldson’s The Tarot Spellcaster


Grand Canyon B roll
This is what staring down nearly 7,000 feet of gain looks like. If you look closely at the second photo you can see the thin line of Hermit trail (right of Colorado river) snaking a few hundred vertical feet from the Tonto platform towards Cathedral stairs. The last mile of Hermit at the rim (not pictured) makes a soul crushing leap of 1,000 vertical feet before finally terminating at Hermits Rest (best name am I right?)

had a dream that i went to eat fancy korean bentos with nomi and @werewolfbisexual

it was rly cute and fun but the waiter who was serving us was so slow and unprofessional

he was literally making us serve ourselves bc he was busy eating his own lunch lmao

i took some rly cute pics with kay and aaaah i wish it was real that sounded so fun

ended my dream by seeing a friend who i adore and we hugged but it felt rushed? like she wanted to stop talking/didn’t rly care abt me as much as i cared abt her

yknow how dreams usually play on your small irrational fears.

well i think that’s what happened. i’ve been upset with my friends and possibly secretly only my own insecurities.

it stinks when you have feelings of doubt. people say they care about you, they say i love you but in reality their i love you’s sound so meaningless. so empty. so fake.

i lowkey want to be a hermit for the rest of my life. no social interaction. just me under my rock. forever.

wow that turned from happy to dark in a matter of minutes. sorry bt that. trying to record my dreams as i remember em.

Thanksgiving Creepypasta: Black Friday Sale: Everything Must Go

Length: Long


It’s that time of year again. Everyone’s talking about their plans for Thanksgiving, whether it be to complain about having to visit their obnoxious relatives or boasting about all the great food they’re going to be stuffing down their gobs in the next few days. 

Not me, though. I don’t have anything against Thanksgiving specifically, mind you. It’s the day after that that has my stomach in a knot: the day we’ve come to know as Black Friday. No, no, I’m not some anti-consumerist or anything like that. See, a few years ago, something happened when I was out shopping, and ever since then, I’ve found myself increasingly anxious by that one little date on the calendar.

Shopping hadn’t been my intention that day. In fact, it had been the furthest thing from my mind. I’d just spent all of Thursday one state over at my sister’s place to celebrate with her family. After several hours of non-stop crying from her kids and being crowded by in-laws, I was ready to go home and play hermit for the rest of the long weekend. 

It wasn’t until I drove past a large outlet mall and saw a sign for a cheap flatscreen TV that I decided to stop and take a look. The sad truth is that my own TV was plenty big enough already. I didn’t need a new one, I just wanted one because of how cheap it was. Drawn in by the sale, I parked in the busy lot and wandered in through the main doors.

As soon as I passed through the threshold, I was dazzled by the brightness of the interior. It was like leaving a dark movie theatre in the middle of a winter day, with a field of snow reflecting all the sun’s rays right into my face. It was bad enough that I had to squint for a minute as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. 

I could hear a simple elevator-like tune playing the same short chorus over and over again, sounding somehow louder with each rotation. As my eyes began to focus, however, the music faded to the background, like a cockroach escaping to a dark corner. I looked around.

I was in a mall. No surprise there. I was surrounded by pristine white walls, a flawless marble floor, and the lemony odor in the air all remind me of a newly sterilized operating room. Despite all the cars in the parking lot, the hall was strangely empty, but I could hear the chatter of a crowd in the distance. There were bright neon lights flooding the empty hallway ahead of me ushering me forward like a landing strip. 

I started to walk, but as I looked at the storefronts, I noticed most of the shops were still closed. That was odd. It was the middle of the afternoon on Black Friday. If there was ever a time for a store to be open, it was now.

Curious, I approached the closest store and pressed my hand against its window, peering into the dark interior. As far as I could tell, it was devoid of both people and merchandise. All I could see were half-melted mannequins standing single file between a row of empty shelves. Judging by the amount of dust I could see, this store had been closed for quite some time. All of the stores were as empty as this one, so I figured this wing of the mall must have been under construction or something.

I headed towards the sound of a crowd.

The mall’s appearance seemed to deteriorate the closer I got to the sound of a crowd, bringing credence to my theory that I’d entered through a part of the mall in the process of being renovated. They were probably finishing up work on the stores before reopening them.

Where the marble floor had once been flawlessly smooth, it was now littered with scuffmarks, dents, and pieces of chewing gum. The walls had yellowed and cracks had begun to form along their surface. Everywhere I looked, there were pieces of rubbish: magazines, plastic shopping bags, wrappers, clothing, cardboard cut-outs of cereal mascots, and even what appeared to be a brand-new laptop. Among the garbage, I saw a wallet on the floor.

Now, I’m not one of those sleazy jerks, so when I picked up the wallet, my intention wasn’t to keep it for myself. I genuinely planned on returning it to its owner. However, as I fingered through it, I couldn’t find a single piece of ID. Every available slot was filled with a different platinum credit card (no name marked on the front, no signature on the back). I checked the center fold and found a whopping $3000 in cash. 

I had two options: bringing it to the lost and found office, or abide by the tried and true “Finders keepers” rule. I still hadn’t decided, even as I stuffed the wallet into my back pocket and gave it a firm slap. I mean, let’s face it, if I did hand it over to the lost and found, they’d probably take the money themselves, right? I figured I’d hang on to it for now and hopefully come across its owner looking for it.

I continued down the empty hallway of blackened storefronts until I came upon Pluto’s Depot, a large electronics store with a banner that read, “Black Friday Sale: Everything Must Go”. Hundreds of shoppers were running through the aisles, grabbing everything they could get their greedy little hands on. They were screaming and clawing at one another, shamelessly stealing items from each other’s shopping carts. It was like Black Friday on steroids. Or… well, a regular American Black Friday, really.

I stood outside Pluto’s Depot, wondering if I should turn back. Whatever deals this store had, probably weren’t worth it, right? I could feel the bulge of the stranger’s wallet in my pants. Who’s to say its owner wasn’t inside? I certainly wasn’t drawn in by the 50-70% off posters clumsily plastered all over the store’s bumpy walls and displays. I for sure wasn’t attracted to all the phenomenally low-priced gizmos and gadgets on the shelves. I definitely didn’t have money burning in my pocket, begging to be spent. Not at all. I was being selfless, really. That’s what I told myself, at least.

As I stepped through the door, I was assaulted with the familiar scent of plastic and upholstery, the famed “new car smell”. I squeezed through a group of frantic shoppers to get to the shopping cart dock. Unfortunately, it was empty. If I found that flatscreen TV I saw advertised outside the mall, I was going to have to carry it in my arms, and my arms were quickly filling up already. There were so many cool things to buy, and so few things left on the shelves. 

By the time I made it to the back, every single TV had been taken. All that was left in that section of the store was the latest smartphone. I don’t remember the make and model, but I remember thinking Isn’t this supposed to come out next month? I grabbed it.

I doubled back and decided to peruse the store more thoroughly, taking a few more objects as I went along. But, as I walked through the aisles, I kept hearing the faintest groans coming from the posters on the walls. Groans that I ignored. I figured it was my imagination. Maybe I was hearing something from the other aisle. Hell if I know.

With nothing else to buy, I parked myself at the back of the checkout line. It stretched all the way down the aisle and around the corner. I had an armful of stuff weighing me down, but it was worth it for the discount. I had enough gadgets to cover everyone’s Christmas gifts, as well as a few things for myself. A mini drone, a fancy remote-controlled car, my new phone, accessories, a laptop case, that kind of stuff. 

Even with everything carefully-balanced between my forearms and chest, I still fought to open the phone so I could admire it. I was about to buy it, after all. Who cared if I opened the box before I paid? It was great: sleek, skinny, light. I couldn’t wait to charge it and start playing with it. I shuffled around impatiently, and looked at the line.

We hadn’t moved.

My neck was stiff, my feet were throbbing, and my back was aching. The objects in my arms felt as though they were getting heavier and heavier by the minute. The line was taking forever and no one seemed to be leaving the store, no matter how much time passed. I was tempted to leave, but I couldn’t give up. I wanted the deals. I wanted that phone. I wanted the gizmos and trinkets.

I must have stood there for another ten minutes without moving before I got frustrated and glanced towards the people ahead of me. Why hadn’t we moved? Had the cashier fallen asleep? I felt my stomach stop as my eyes scanned the line: the other customer’s shoes had melted into the floor and their hands had merged with their shopping carts. The closer they got to the register, the less the shoppers looked … human. Their shapes became less and less distinct, blending into the objects they were purchasing and the walls they were leaning against.

I let out a scream and I tried to take a step back, but my feet were stuck. I looked down, only to find my shoes had melded into the floor as well. Oh god, it was happening to me. In shock, I dropped the boxes I was holding, sending them falling to the floor. It felt as though an immense weight had been lifted from my shoulders. In the very literal sense. Like that carnival ride that looks like a flying saucer, pinning you against the wall. I hadn’t even realized how much pressure my body had been under until the pressure was gone, but it wasn’t completely gone.

My hand was impossibly heavy.

It was the phone. I was still holding the phone. It was planted firmly in the palm of my hand. I could see its slick black casing melting into my flesh. My hand burned. Desperately, I clawed at the phone, trying to pry it from my skin. It wouldn’t budge. I remember flapping my arm up and down erratically as though I’d just caught a spider crawling up my hand. It wouldn’t let go. The phone wouldn’t let go of me. And then, by pure chance, my hand caught the wall, and the phone shattered into bits and pieces, ripping one of the 70% off posters from the porous surface.

I was too busy nursing my hand to notice the wall at first. It was only when I heard a groan that I looked up, to find a tormented face looking back at me. He … she … it had completely merged with the wall. Oh god, was the entire store like this? I remember sobbing as I plucked broken pieces of phone from my palm while never taking my eyes off the person in the wall. My hand throbbed with pain, but with each chunk I pulled out, it hurt just a little less. Thankfully, when the last piece of plastic dropped to the floor, I was able to move my feet again.

I ran out of Pluto’s Depot without looking back or trying to help anyone inside. I ran through the hallway of cracked walls, stopping only long enough to realize there were eyes staring at me from within those cracks.

I staggered out of the mall and into the empty parking lot. My car was the only one there, off in the distance. I turned around, and instead of a large outlet mall I’d walked in earlier, found one of many crumbling, abandoned buildings we see nowadays because of the recession. By the time I got home and checked my back pocket, the wallet was gone.

That’s why I like to stay at home this time of year, because honestly, that fake mall is still out there somewhere, and I have no way of knowing which doors will lead me to it. I’m afraid it’ll lure me back in, and I won’t have the willpower to resist next time.

Credits to:  manen_lyset

Alright, here it is! Really sorry for the delay. Exams have been awful for me. The rest of this week will be equally hectic too, so I’ll try to get the prompts rolling one by one when I have the time to get to them. I hope you like it! (This is also my first time writing for these two, so I apologize if the characterisation seems a bit off)


Ishimaru clutched his chemistry paper with trembling hands, praying desperately to the heavens that all this was a dream. He wanted so much to believe that it was, but the strikingly red B-minus glared at him in a manner that made his guts clench.

“No. No, no, no, no. There must be some mistake! I—“ the prefect ceased his quiet muttering. He knew it to be true. He had overslept on the day of the exam and came to school late. When he arrived, he was forced to solve all the problems at double time, causing him to overlook many, many factors.

“This can’t be happening!” His fists clenched, wrinkling the pages as he slammed his head on his desk and shut his eyes. Maybe if he remained like that for the rest of his life, everything will be fine.

Yes. He was perfectly fine with this. There was absolutely nothing wrong with living a hunched hermit life for the rest of his days. This could work.

Ahh, Kyoudai!” A heavy hand slammed on his back, startling him out of his seat. “There you are! Say, now that these things are over and done with, what do ‘ya say we wreck some place else tonight?”

“K-kyoudai,” Ishimaru said feebly to his best friend, Mondo Oowada. “That, ahh, that won’t be necessary. I’ve no interest in wrecking anything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He straightened up and started to walk away, but Oowada tapped his arm to stop him. “Hey, what’s the big deal? You’re always up for when I say we go somewhere. The gang’s taken a liking to ya already!”

“I’m tired, Kyoudai. I just want to go home.”

“Don’t let down the gang, Ishi!” said Oowada, using the nickname he only resorted to when he wanted something from the prefect. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“I said I’m tired, Oowada!” Ishimaru snapped, taking the taller man aback. Ishimaru glared at him full force, his fiery red eyes trained solely on Oowada’s widened ones. 

Oowada regained his composure and nodded. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Ishimaru stood firm and held the test paper out to him, as if the mere action already spoke volumes.

Instead, Oowada laughed. “Hey, we got the same score!”

“This is not a laughing matter!” Ishimaru spoke in a commanding tone, hastily shoving the paper in his bag. “You of all people should know that I am not one to settle for such mediocre grades as this one in exchange for all the hard work I’ve put in for it. It’s simply unacceptable!”

“Relax, Ishi. You didn’t even fail! You should really let loose every once in a while. Hang with me and the gang. We’ll show you how to live.”

“Do you realize how many sleepless nights I spent studying for this?” He stared at the biker, willing him to understand. When the latter continued to appear clueless, he sighed in resignation and turned his back.

“It’s alright,” he said in a quiet tone. “I do not expect you to understand. I apologize for my previous… erm, rash behavior. Rest assured I’ll try not to let it happen again. Though I would appreciate it if you left me alone for a while.”

“Ishi—“ Oowada called after him, but he had already run out of the door. The biker ran a hand through his pompadour in frustration. What did he do wrong this time?

But then he remembered.


The night before the exam, something had come up. Oowada had gotten into a fight that left him bloodied and bruised. He knew no one would be in his house so he headed straight to Ishimaru’s, not giving a damn that it was already such an ungodly hour at the time. 

Ishimaru had dropped his textbook when he saw him, ruby red eyes panicked. He led Oowada with gentle hands into his bedroom and tended to his wounds. The whole process had taken much longer than expected, with the two of them not saying much. Ishimaru had long since given up on trying to scold him for his violent ways. Instead, he made himself available whenever Oowada needed him.

Ishimaru was always there for him, even when no one else was.

So the reason why Ishimaru was sad was… because of him?

Now Oowada had done many disagreeable things. Some might even be borderline illegal. But nothing, absolutely nothing, filled him with as much guilt as the thought of having caused Ishimaru any pain.


When Ishimaru arrived within his bedroom walls, he thought he was safe. But as it turns out, that was not exactly the case.

His phone beeped and he opened it to see a new message from Oowada.

‘Hey. Are you still pissed at me? Or at your grade or whatever?’

His fingers refused to tap out a reply, so he simply leaned on the wall and waited for each text to come.

‘Ishi. At least talk to me, man. You can be such a drama queen sometimes.’

‘Forget I said that last part. Stop ignoring me, god damn it!!!’

‘You didn’t even call me out for swearing. Wow, you must be VERY upset.’

‘Ishi, just please tell me you’re fine.’

Ishimaru stared blankly at his phone screen, not entirely sure what to feel. The rotten test paper now laid in a crumpled heap on his study desk. He would have to have it framed as a reminder not to stoop down to the same level of incompetence in the future.

His phone beeped.

‘That’s it. I’m coming over.’

Wait. What?

Before Ishimaru could even ponder about what he just read, he heard the doorbell ring. 

Just how long had Oowada been standing there exactly?

He sucked in a deep breath and marched over to the front door, feigning the countenance of the steady hall monitor that he usually was in his best days. He opened the door, not really knowing what to expect. But it certainly wasn’t the gang leader with his head bowed, eyes obscured completely by his pompadour, hands in his jacket pockets and fiddling with something inside.

Ishimaru spoke. “Kyou—” 

“I, err. Got you something.” Mondo said, taking a hand out of his pocket as he held out a slip of paper to the prefect.

Ishimaru took it from him. “What is this?”

Oowada kept his head bowed. “Just read it.”

Ishimaru turned the slip over in his hands and read the messy scrawl of blank ink that was Oowada’s handwriting.


“I-I don’t understand…”

“The next time you feel sad because of something that I did, go ahead and slap me in the face as a fuckin’ reminder.” Oowada raised his head and looked him straight in the eyes as he mumbled his next words. “I don’t like it when you’re sad, Kiyotaka. And I’m determined not to let it happen again.”

Ishimaru’s jaw had dropped as he felt the initiating sting of tears in his eyes. He hastily rubbed them. He was not going to cry at a time like this!

But… What Oowada said was really nice. And the way he was looking at him made his heart beat faster, and a funny feeling erupt in his stomach.

I still don’t understand.

Ishimaru shook his head. He’d ponder on that later on. Right now, it was time to forgive his kyoudai. 

“Thank you. This was… surprisingly thoughtful of you.” Ishimaru did not know why he was feeling warm all over when it was freezing outside. 

“So,” Oowada said almost shyly, “Do you feel better now?”

The sincere look on his face. The hopeful, lopsided smile that settled merrily on his features. Ishimaru could stare at him all day, and yet he still didn’t understand why.

He realized he may have been quiet for a long time when Oowada’s expression changed to one of concern.

Say something!

Ishimaru slapped him in the face.

“I do now!”

“Graceful Divergence”

You’ve probably noticed by now the red dress in all my latest photos from Iceland…  A couple reasons for that: A. I had very little room in my travelling suitcase for extra outfits, especially considering I had to save suit-case space for transporting chocolate (yes, that was my most vital necessity for the trip), and B.  When I was thinking ahead about creating an Icelandic self-portrait series, I wanted something that would depict “standing out”.  Not just a bright colour to stand out against the Icelandic backdrops, but more something of a reflection of my thoughts as of late.

Over the last couple years I have been blessed with several new people in my life, engaging with them and learning of their own thoughts and struggles and triumphs.  I’ve been noticing friends who wish to blend in less and stand out more in this world, in a beautiful and positive way.  And then friends who already stand out but want more than anything to blend in, to be normal.  And It’s got me thinking of my own journey, of my last couple years of my attempting to step out of my comfort zone: Not worrying so much about my ultra social-awkwardness, taking courage in letting myself be seen even in that awkwardness, and trying to live more whole-heartedly.  I usually stay on the sidelines and try not to fully engage with other people’s lives.  I like to blend in and try not to be seen.  I often picture myself getting a little cabin in the mountains far from civilization and being a hermit for the rest of my life with just the company of my pets (which, let’s be honest… I still plan to do that someday).  But even so, people still notice.  People see me as I go about living my life.  And I’ve spent too much time worrying what people think of me, my awkwardness and my quirks and my keeping to myself.  But this has been something I’m learning to let go of, the fears of what people think.  Whether I’m trying to blend in, or make myself known, I’m learning to accept myself as someone who doesn’t need to worry, and learning not to be afraid to be different.  Often all I want is to be silent, to imitate my surroundings, try to blend in, and curl up and forget everything but to exist only as a simple extension of humanity and nature. 

But this year, to me, is about learning to take courage and not worry as I take each step on the path ahead of me .  And If we’re going to stand out, we might as well try our best to do so in a beautiful way.  

This is (probably) Not a Date

The minute I saw Kara’s gleeful face at the end of the last episode, I knew I had to write a fic where she teases Alex about Maggie. So here you go.

This is (probably) Not a Date

For the fourth time in ten minutes, Alex’s phone buzzed against her hip. She couldn’t hear it through the ear protection, of course. But it was incredibly insistent.

She took her last two shots, scowled at the target, (only three out of six hit dead center, ugh) and stepped back to check her phone.


So what are you and Maggie doing now?

Are you kissing at the gun range?

With those big eyeglasses? And the orange headphones?

That’s sooooooo romantic

She growled to herself and texted back, It was a random coincidence that we both came here at the same time. This is NOT A DATE.


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anonymous asked:

Who are all the members of the sea family????? I'm a new follower and am very curious!

 There are about pages on our main blog page, but here is the list and a quick description:

  • M.O.D.

M.O.D. stands for Marine Operator and Dictator. He is a transman, asexual, demi…?romantic, a proud pagan, and artist. He created the blog and translates Momma’s advice.

  • Momma

A sand tiger shark with a heart of gold, she is cisgender, heterosexual (well, that, and sharksexual. She is a shark.) and loves all of her babies with all her might! Her hobbies include scrapbooking, ninjutsu and knitting.

  • Sea Bear

Sea Bear is a very good friend of M.O.D.’s. They are genderfluid and queer. They are a bear. That lives in the sea.

  • Auntie Angler

A little bit cranky, and a little elusive. Auntie is best in situations where an iron fin and harsh honesty are needed. She means well. Auntie also has a very important job with a very fancy title. She is in direct care service in a residential setting for adults with disabilities, so she usually spends most of her free time resting.

  • Hermit Sam

A very cool and laid-back hermit crab that likes to smoke. They are agender, and they are the newest sea family member! They love hugs, heavy metal, and hugs. M.O.D. likes to jokingly call him Samwise.

title: you still get my heart racing
summary: i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words. — naruhina month 2015
rating: nothing really happens, but changing it to M.
notes: this was supposed to be short since i have to be up early to drive to uni tomorrow, but it didn’t work out that way. have fun.
link: for those who prefer ff.net.

day 10 — dating (you should be alone with me)

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