Since The Raven King comes out today, I wanted to post something special before I dive into the end. I’ve been wasting away months of my life drawing all the scenes for this video, and now it’s finally done. I hope you enjoy it!
I have learned a thing concerning Tumblr’s search- if you put # in front of the search term (ex. #search term instead of the search term by itself), then you only see posts that are tagged with that term, instead of seeing every post that even so much as mentions it in the text body.
My browsing experience is about to get better (because as it turns out, if you tag a post “anti pairing” then it shows up in the regular pairing search because it included the word - but using the # trick, it now it won’t do that).
HUZZAH! It is National Library Week, bookworms and library cats!!
And that means it is the perfect time of year to show some love to your local (and not local) Libraries, both in person and online. So, just as we took time to make a special post on Follow a Library Day last year, we’ve created ANOTHER master post to honor all the libraries we know so far on tumblr so that you can #followalibrary!!
Check out their tumblrs below and show them some love, bookworms! (Alphabetical by url)
Whew! There’s a LOT of you. :) But we now this list is just getting started! Feel free to keep the library love going by adding any libraries we missed/don’t know of yet! (And if you’re not following US already, well, what better time to start than this week? ;) Eh? Eh?) And, of course, never hesitate to visit your Library in person. We love seeing you! :)
Now that the ask box is open again, I want to ask if you do soulmate AU's? If so, could you write an AU that you have the first words your soulmate says to you printed on your wrist. And that the words Tsukishima has on his wrists is something really negative. How he would react when he would hear his soulmate say those words. (Is this understandable? I feel like this was really confusing)
A) Soulmate AU’s are the reason I’m alive
B) Get ready for insecure Tsukishima Kei because that’s how I write this nut + this fits so perfectly for my headcanons of him I’m bawling y’all
Golden, silky cursive down the muscle on his wrist. It would’ve been so beautiful, if not for the words they said.
“You’re a failure.”
Words appeared during puberty, the peak of your hormonal blossoming. They started out faded, barely noticeable, and as time progressed, they became bold, powerful, the center of every pubescent teens sad, hopeful life. The very moment the faded gold ink first began to bleed into him at thirteen years old, Tsukishima Kei already knew he was beyond fucked. At thirteen years old he was lost, Jean Louise Finch in “To Set A Watchman”, discovering the bitter, cold truth. At thirteen years old he wasn’t ready for love, the only love he ever had washed down in the drain along with any jubilance he had left. At thirteen years old with the constant reminder of absolute pessimism lingering on his wrist while other boys fawned over sweet subliminal messages of infatuation, Tsukishima Kei lost himself more.
At fourteen years old he ripped himself apart. The gold ink that bled into his pale, scar shaven skin was still prominent, becoming brighter each time the flesh was bruised. He tried, he really did, to make himself the image of perfection. Knowing that one day, the person who he was to be tied to for eternity would think of him as a failure was just another weight onto his already collapsing being. Yamaguchi hit puberty later than he did, he peaked right after the first semester of their third year of middle school, and as he began to grow, the turquoise tangent on his wrist grew too. “Don’t be upset, I could name one hundred things I admire about you” it read, and Kei couldn’t help but wonder how Yamaguchi managed to be so fatefully tied to a woman of wisdom while he was anchored to a pit of pessimism.
When he was fifteen years old, he couldn’t take it anymore. When high school came, the hype of soulmates did nothing but erupt even more. Outside of volleyball, the only thing his volleyball team ever seemed to talk about was soulmates. Beautiful, funny statements in soft purples and reds and blues, they were all so lively yet Kei couldn’t wonder how his statement out of all of them was colored bright gold. As the year went on he grew tired, the eerie message doing nothing but causing him grief. He couldn’t help but dread recalling midterms, when all that went through his mind when he was studying is the cute gold calligraphy of ‘failure’. Yamaguchi found his soulmate, a lively one from a rival school, a kind, wise hearted soul just like Yamaguchi always dreamed. His friends, or acquaintances, as he liked to put it, we’re falling in love and finding themselves left and right, and by the time spring arrived and every first year on the team found his soulmate, even standoffish Kageyama who couldn’t talk to a female for his life, he drew the conclusion that he might as well be alone forever. That thought was ridiculous though, he knew it. He still had well over seventy years of his life left, and six years left of education, so not finding his soulmate in his first year of highschool would definitely not render him lonely. Although, he felt like it. He felt alone, and it made him feel pathetic. It made him feel like a failure just like those bloody golden words on his wrist prophesied.
He drove himself to move away at nineteen. He hadn’t found anything in his eighteen years in Japan and he hoped, and prayed there would be something for him beyond the borders of the familiar. So, he set off for Cornell, an Ivy League college in America. It was risky, it really was, even if he was the top of his English class. They had a good multicultural scene over there, he was told, and for some reason, that just dragged him in further. His wanderlust grew and grew the more and more he looked around into the vast world in front of him and by the time he was already settled into Cornell, he just wanted to pack his bags and travel somewhere else again. He couldn’t though, at least not until junior year. Cornell was treating him nice, a cosy establishment in the middle of nowhere and honestly, it reminded him a bit of home. If you traveled to the highest point on campus all you could see was miles of rolling hills and maple trees, crows flocking through the air at the break of dawn and the familiar chill down his spine in the winter. Although through it all, he still hadn’t met his soulmate. His brother encouraged him to still have hope through it all.
“I didn’t find my soulmate until senior year, you still have time!” He would say, but Kei would just shake his head.
He was in his junior year of college and he was presented with an opportunity of international education, an opportunity every college student hoped and prayed to have. He was going to Copenhagen, and he knew exactly why. Out of 196 countries and tens of thousands of cities, he chose Copenhagen, the heart of a freezing Nordic wonderland. It was said to be the happiest place on earth and to be frank, there was nothing Tsukishima needed in his life more than an optimistic habitat. So, as soon as the second semester came, he didn’t waste a minute hopping onto that plane.
At first, Copenhagen was weird.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just unfamiliar. It was far too optimistic, streets lined with bars and old woman walking dogs, college students in beanies smoking weed on apartment balconies. Everyone carried an “I don’t give a shit” vibe and just as Tsukishima thought he would maybe, finally meet his soulmate, he was shut down. Everyone in this city seemed to be far too nice to utter such a thing as the thing on his wrist. He was ready to give up.
It was Friday morning and Tsukishima wanted to die. His roommate was already up, playing loud, headache inducing music from his side of the dorm. As much as he’d hate to admit, he got himself drunk last night, well really, his roommate got him drunk last night, it was the bastards idea to buy three crates of beer for a small frat party. He sat up in bed and groaned, not even attempting to hold back his displeasure.
“I didn’t think you’d be such a lightweight, Kei.” His roommate snorted, turning off his music to slump next to Tsukishima’s bed frame. “You want a water or something, buddy?”
“Don’t call me a fucking lightweight, I had eight beers.” He rubbed his eyes harshly, not sure if the stars he saw were from the rubbing or the alcohol that still lingered in his system. “But yeah, the water would be nice. Thank you.”
Tsukishima really hated himself in that moment. He was never one to be late for classes, never one to drink on a school night. Tsukishima Kei was never, not once in his life, ten minutes late for an eight o'clock class on the other side of campus. Although today, he broke the lucky streak.
“Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” He muttered to himself, mustering up all his willpower to get out of his bed. His knees wobbled underneath him as he wasted no time getting dressed, chugging an entire water bottle in second, and throwing the empty container right back at his roommate.
“Don’t pee yourself out there, dumbass!”
“Fuck off, Mathias.” Was his reply, slamming the door behind him and immediately regretting his decisions from right now and the night before. Everything hurt, absolutely ached, and he began to wonder if perfect attendance was really worth the torture he was sure to endure in the next two hours. He pushed himself though, because skipping out would just mean that he was a failure.
By the time he arrived he was thirty minutes late. People were gawking at him, obviously taking notice of how he looked like an absolute wreck. He knew his eyebags had to be atrocious, but he was hoping and praying that he didn’t look like the walking dead. He took a quick seat in the back of the room, hoping that once he sat down people would lose interest and forget him. They did, one or two students still making nasty remarks a few rows in front of him. If he hadn’t cared so much about his reputation (and his mother’s money) he would’ve thrown his textbook at the back of their heads. The girl next to him fidgeted, scooting down the bench slightly to get away from him. She looked a tad bit uncomfortable, and part of him wanted to feel a bit guilty for her. He probably still smelled like alcohol, he thought.
“I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He snorted, once he caught her eye and got his things situated. Tsukishima didn’t know why he thought a self deprecating joke would lighten the mood, for her eyes just widened and looked down at the laptop in front of her.
“Oh, sure, you’re a failure.” She commented back, her sarcasm blatantly evident. She pointed towards a pile of papers on her desk and said something else, but Tsukishima had short circuited far too long ago to process the words she said next.
His whole life was a misconception. Six years of acceptance and self consciousness all derived from one, big, misconception. She was the one to bring the words on her wrist to his attention. Small, blocky orange writing stating “I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He still couldn’t process words, his wrist feeling as if it were burning. His gut was roiling and he absolutely couldn’t believe the horrendous irony this situation reeked with. The professor kept talking, droning away about the history of a long dead African tribe, but he didn’t care.
“I don’t think you realize how much these words have made me hate myself these past few years.” he muttered into her ear, breath shaky and languid from the adrenaline rush he experienced.
“I don’t think you know how worried I’ve been for you these past few years.” She replied, her fingers absentmindedly running over her wrist. “I thought I’d meet you on a bridge.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Well, I thought I would.” She shrugged, nudging his hip and motioning him to collect his things.
“Let’s get out of here.” She implied, already shoving her laptop back into her purse.
“But I just got here.” He argued.
“But I just met my soulmate. C’mon, nobody’s going to think you’re a failure.”