writing hall

I always find it kind of weird that matriarchal cultures in fiction are always “women fight and hunt, men stay home and care for the babies” because world-building-wise, it makes no sense

think about it. like, assuming that gender even works the same in this fantasy culture as it does in ours, with gender conflated with sex (because let’s be real, all of these stories assume that), men wouldn’t be the ones to make the babies, so why would they be the ones to care for the babies? why is fighting and hunting necessary for leadership?

writing a matriarchy this way is just lazy, because you’re just taking the patriarchy and just swapping the people in it, rather than actually swapping the culture. especially when there are so many other cool things you could explore. like, what if it’s not a swap of roles but of what society deems important?

maybe a matriarchy would have hunting and fighting be part of the man’s job, but undervalued. like taking the trash out or cleaning toilets: necessary, but gross, and not noble or interesting. maybe farming is now the most important thing, and is given a lot of spiritual and cultural weight.

how would law work? what crimes would exist, and what things would be considered too trivial to make illegal? who gets what property? why?

how would religion work? how would you mark time or the passage into adulthood? what would marriage look like? if bloodlines are through the mother, bastardy wouldn’t even be a concept - how does that work?

what qualities would be most important in a person? how would you define strength or leadership? what knowledge would be the most coveted and protected? what acts or roles are considered useless or degrading?

like, you can’t just take our current society and say you’re turning it on its head when you’re just regurgitating it wholesale. you have to really think about why things are the way they are and change that

can you imagine. Library au Keith and hunk work in receiving, processing new shipments/donations and putting books back from the dropoff chute. Pidge is IT support for the library and keeps the servers secure and lightning fast and definitely doesn’t spy on people with her network. Shiro and lance are the receptionists bc Lance thought it would be a good way to meet some smokin bodies and shiro just really loves books okay. Coran owns the building and Allura manages it and takes down all the mouse traps Coran puts up because “they’ve never chewed anything or pooped on the books, Coran!" 

 And there are the usual library shenanigans including but not limited to 

  •  - a closet full of books. no context it’s just there and Coran wants it to stay. 
  •  - squirrels sneaking in through the dropoff chute when the weather gets colder - hunk and keith hunting the squirrels bc they’re not always busy
  • - hunk wanting to be humane only and Keith slowly putting his knife away
  •  - Keith this is a library why do you have a knife
  •  - *squints into the horizon like a war veteran* squirrels
  •  - pidge suggesting that the mice are helping the squirrels
  •  - keith’s war against rodents begins and Allura scrambles to set up cozy hiding spots for them all just out of Keith’s reach
  •  - and then he finds his pistachios MISSING and his pear has been nibbled upon and he mc freaking loses it
  •  - shiro puts this sign up on the dropoff chute very quietly and kindly and he just kind of puffs up knowing that he’s done a Good Deed
  •  - people start obeying the sign and Lance leaves the front doors open so he can hear it every single time it happens. He has a tally chart.
  • - the chute opens one day without anyone shouting down it and Keith runs upstairs and looks around "did you see any squirrels ma'am" 
  • - Lance is dying bc it was him. 
  •  - klance makeouts between the bookshelves 
  • - the dudes from the computer repair shop next door coming in and asking if any of the webcams in the library had mysteriously turned on too 
  • - pidge is a good liar bc obviously she was behind it. 
  •  - hunk and allura putting food for the squirrels on the roof in an attempt to keep them safe from Keith 
  • - hunk and allura realizing that the squirrels are determined, suicidal little shits and so they just put food in the corner of the library or up on the highest bookshelves and hope that their tails will do the dusting for them 
  • - shiro sighing at literally everything as he hand feeds the squirrels 
  • - is he Snow White like how does he do that 
  •  - Keith’s Betrayed Face when he sees shiro schmoozing the squirrels 
  • - *whispers* I thought you loved me 
  • - shiro rolling his eyes so hard he goes and joins a bowling league 
  •  - the dudes from the computer repair shop coming back AGAIN and asking if show tunes had started playing in the library 
  • - pidge must physically remove herself from their presence bc she’s trying very hard not to cackle like an overlord 
  • - Keith brings in a CAT 
  • - allura is horrified and literally clutches her chest 
  •  - Lance falls in love with the cat, feeds it treats and snacks and gives it lazy toys until it gets ULTRA FAT 
  • - Keith comes to the conclusion that his bf sabotaged his cat plan on purpose and cuts off the nookie supply for a month
  •  - worst month of everyone’s lives tbh 
  • - hunk begs Keith to please just fuck Lance again 
  • - a hanjo in the Scientology section at the very least please please please 
  •  - pidge and shiro end up stuck in the weird book closet somehow 
  • - shiro COULD break down the door but that’s just a lot of work 
  • - why break things when you could have a book fight 
  • - they throw a couple hundred paperbacks at each other for 20 minutes 
  •  - pidge builds a throne of books and rules her domicile (400 books and shiro) with cunning and dignity 
  • - until shiro slaps her in the face with a copy of pride and prejudice and the war begins anew 
  • - the library has like three floors and everyone knows to stay out of the left wing of the third floor during lunch breaks bc Lance and Keith honestly don’t care if u see their butts they will not stop 
  • - shiro or hunk lifting pidge onto their shoulders to put more food on the shelves for the squirrels 
  • - the general populace of the town not being weirded out by any of the shenanigans in the library 
  • - it’s just another beautiful day in mr Roger’s neighbourhood for them 
  • - Keith runs by them with a knife in his teeth and a net in his hands? Totally normal


simon as a photographer tho

  • it just so happens that a pitch is getting married
  • could be baz’s cousin or whatnot
  • and simon was hired as one of the photographers
  • so he’s just doing his thing right 
  • then the ceremony starts and the groomsmen and bridesmaids start walking down the aisle
  • and this guy all elegance grace and charm 
  • just started walking with a 3 year old kid who’s a ring bearer
  • and it was just so adorable 
  • that simon forgot who he’s actually supposed to be taking pictures of
  • then the reception came
  • simon thought he was being subtle enough
  • oh look he’s with the baby let’s take a picture of him or he’s with the groom that’s a nice shot 
  • when he was about to take another photo of him
  • he didn’t even notice that the figure he’s taking a shot of is slowly walking towards him
  • “what are you planning to do with those”
  • and simon’s just so awestruck that he just stood there
  • until he realized the guy is actually talking to him
  • and the question didn’t even make sense
  • “uh for the newly wed?”
  • and the guy looks so smug 
  • even took simon’s camera out of his hands and started going through the pictures
  • “delete this one I don’t like how I look in it”
  • at this point simon’s just bright red
  • and he’s like fuck it we went all this way
  • “You’re beautiful”
  • he didn’t even wait for the guy’s response and went on
  • “see how the light just hits you right? and the way you just stand out in the picture? you’re beautiful and I think i did a pretty good job at capturing it”
  • and the boy is silent the entire time and simon’s just deflating at this point
  • until he heard him whisper
  • “I’m gone for”
  • and simon’s like “sorry?”
  • “I’m baz the bride’s cousin. Shouldn’t you be having a break right now? C’mon let’s go ge drinks.”
  • “I’m Simon and yeah uh okay”
  • simon was close to passing out when baz offered his hand as they walked to the refreshment table

Every Tuesday my parents go to Austin’s Bar & Grill with 25 or more other old people. My parents start talking about what they’re going to order on the Wednesday after they were there on Tuesday. Sometimes it’s going to be salad and onion rings. Other times it’s hamburgers and, perhaps, green beans. They tip bigger than they would because others in their group tip smaller than they should. It’s something to do when you don’t have all that much left to do.

On their way to Austin’s, they will pass Garmin, a complex that started out small and just keeps getting wider and taller. My dad worked at King Radio for most of his adult life. It was founded by Ed King, a K-State graduate who built a company that became the gold standard for small aircraft navigational equipment. I worked there during the summers when I was in college where I shipped more 170B transponders than you could imagine. (Coincidentally, Mr. King paid for the International Student Center on the KSU campus and this is where Pete took me on our first “date” where he ate the food in the refrigerator that was not his.) 

Anyway, when he was at King Radio, Dad had a casual friend named Gary. They played softball together, talked about their young kids, got their hair cut by the same downtown barber. Gary and an Asian engineer at King went on to combine their names, Gar and Min, and formed the company Garmin. If my dad had been younger and less close to retirement, he would have gone to Garmin in those days when it was neither wide nor tall. Sometimes, as they drive to Austin’s for tacos and french fries, Mom and Dad mention Gary and wonder how things might have been had Dad been in on the ground floor.

Anyway, Austin’s and Garmin collided two days ago in my hometown. As you might have heard, two Indian engineers headed across the street from Garmin to Austin’s to watch what every sports bar in Kansas would be watching—the KU Jayhawks go for their 13th straight Big 12 conference title. A drunk, known to the Austin’s people, kept hassling the two men and was kicked out of the bar. He later returned, shouted something like “Get out of my country” and shot them. Another young man, who would have had no idea that he was going to become a hero that day, stepped in to help. One Indian was left dead, the other was injured along with the hero. Another day. Another angry white man with a gun. Another dead young man. Another time of us all saying we never thought it would happen in our town. Until it did.

And we’ll all begin the rituals that we’ve become so good at. A few days ago, I looked for a GoFundMe page so that I could donate to the desecrated Jewish cemetery in Missouri. Today I will donate to the GoFundMe for the Austin’s bar victims. Young kids and moms and teen girls will bring flowers to put outside the bar. Neighbors of the shooter will say that they knew their neighbor was a bit off but they never expected this. We will mourn the loss of a fellow human who was trying to make his way on this big earth. His body, paid for with GoFundMe money, will make its way home to his family. We are just really really good at this in America. Practice makes perfect.

Anyway, last night, with those words “get out of my country” that have been given more acceptance by Trump bouncing around in my head, I went to the town hall meeting at the church at the end of my street. Senator Jerry Moran was not there. To be completely fair, and I’m trying to be in these trying times, this was not an organized meeting. Moran had not set up this town hall meeting. He had not said he would attend the meeting. Rather, organizers set it up and invited him. Even on the website, it said that no one knew if Senator Moran had seen the invitation and no one knew if he would attend. So I can’t fairly say that he ducked out of meeting that he had never set up.

But his presence or absence isn’t really the story here. I live in Johnson County, Kansas. It’s not totally red like most of Kansas. It’s definitely not blue. But, still, parts of it voted for Hillary. Others voted for the candidates who could not win. If you add those together, more in Johnson County voted for someone not named Trump than voted for Trump. It’s not a purple area yet, but it’s definitely lavender. Olathe, though, is a red dot in that purple. It’s really red. Like maybe scarlet. And, still, the parking lot was packed. Perhaps with as many cars as would be there on a Sunday. It was dark and you could see the headlights of cars driving up and down aisles trying to find a place to park. 

My high school friend Verneda was there. We talked about the meanness that we hadn’t known existed in America. We talked about the night Hillary lost. We talked about how all this political activism was something new. We agreed that we needed to keep it up even when it was hard.

The meeting room was full. The overflow crowd had spilled into the lobby. No one in the lobby could hear the speakers inside. What most surprised me was the demographic of those there. I had expected young people in jeans and sweatshirts on this unseasonably warm evening. I’d thought there might be some moms there. They were there. But also there were so many old people. Like really old people. And they, the old people, were the ones in charge. One bent-backed lady with silver hair kept shushing those of us in the overflow area because she wanted to hear the speakers. She looked like those women who always run the polling stations. Those women who show up, do their job, get it done, and go home with no thanks. I repeat. The majority of the people there were old. I was—-surprised.

These old people had us fill out 3x5 cards with messages to be hand delivered to Moran’s office. They had a whiteboard where you could write a message to Moran, take a picture of yourself standing next to it, and as the old women told us, post it to social media. Social Media? These suddenly tech savvy ladies and gentlemen were telling these teens how to use social media to ferment discord.

When I was a teen, there was a song by Buffalo Springfield that I loved and, when I hear it, I remember Vietnam and halter tops and Jesus freaks. The song said:

“There’s something happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear.”

That’s how it felt last night in this church lobby in scarlet red Olathe where I mingled with angry riled up Kansans. There’s something happening here. And Senator Moran and others would do well to pay attention.

my best advice for writing, no joke: read more books.

not just books you think you’ll like, but even books you think (or know) are going to be terrible or boring.

published books. the mainstreamiest of mainstream books. books way over your reading level or in a genre you think is intellectually beneath you. books you pick up and read the back cover of and think “why the fuck would anyone read this?”

because you’ll pick up a couple of things, namely:

  • what other people’s writing looks like
  • what good writing looks like 
  • what bad writing looks like

how did I figure out how dialogue works? did someone tell me? no, I just picked it up from reading other people’s writing, over and over again, and at one point I realized, “oh, you start a new line every time a new person talks.”

how do I know not to overuse a thesaurus for simple words like “said”? I read a lot of books where they didn’t do that (cough ELDEST cough TWILIGHT cough), decided that it looked silly, and didn’t put it in my writing.

you read a lot of books, and you start to pick up on what’s the norm, what you like, what kinds of things you want to write for yourself. I’ve read enough books to know that, for me, consistency and continuity are really fucking important. so now I take a lot of steps to make sure that I keep the continuity going. and that’s because I’ve read a couple of books (even books I’ve really liked! especially books I really liked!) where there was a continuity error, sometimes a blindingly obvious one that took me out of the story. if I’d only ever read books that had a great grasp of continuity, how would I know that it was important?

do you want to write well? I don’t mean “do you want to get published” or “do you want to make it your career,” because you don’t need those things to write. but do you want to write well? even if it’s “just” fic? even if it never leaves your documents folder?

read more books.

hey guys hear me out: legends as a ghost hunting show au

  • rip is the founder of the group and picks the places they investigate
  • ray and jax are the tech mainly, but leonard also helps out sometimes (he’s mainly in charge of Where Cameras Go and shit like that tho because he’s really good at memorizing the layouts of places and somehow knows exactly where to get the perfect angles)
  • nate is in charge of research and lore
  • everyone else is mainly just there to investigate and fight some fucking ghosts
  • they typically split into 2 teams: team A that consists of rip, sara, jax, and amaya; and team B that has leonard, mick, ray, and nate
  • team A is very organized and careful, they just sit around and try to get voices on their recorder most of the time (sara tends to provoke them a Lot and that usually gets a few good reactions)
  • team B is basically just watching an episode of ghost adventures with mick yelling at the ghosts to fight him (followed by ray and nate pissing themselves when they actually do scratch him or some shit)
  • ft. kendra, carter, and jonah that sometimes appear on the show as Special Guest Investigators
  • stein is in charge of evidence review with ray and jax, he’s too old to go out hunting with them he’d probably have a heart attack or something
  • the flash, supergirl, and arrow have their own ghost hunting shows too and they sometimes appear on each other’s shows to provide some extra insight on evidence captured, they’re all in Cahoots with each other and really admire each other’s work even if their television networks are rivals
all that we could lose

tell me a secret

she says it from under a blanket and he isn’t sure he heard her right, because she is his biggest secret (she has always been, since he was eleven and she was a red haired angel on a train) and there isn’t much else to tell. finally he points at a scar on his elbow and tells her the story of jumping off the refrigerator as a kid, sure he could fly. her face appears over the top of the blanket, hair in her eyes, and she informs him that he is a dork of the utmost calibre and then they’re both laughing.

tell me a secret

she nudges his arm and whispers it, in a room full of people a sentence meant only for him. he didn’t know this game would come back, tries in vain to find a way to tell her what he’s thinking (he loves her, loves her more than the sky and the stars and the sun). but it takes too long and she elbows him in the ribs and he admits that he shaved his legs once to see how it would feel. then her hand is on his leg and she’s frowning and telling him that he didn’t do a very good job, and right in the middle of the great hall his head floats up to the ceiling and into outer space.

tell me a secret

she says it from behind her notes and it sounds like an order, though he doesn’t really mind, he’s been hoping she’d ask again. he opens his mouth and almost says it, almost tells her how much she means to him (more than the universe, lily, more than every breath) but the common room is full and he doesn’t want her to think it’s another joke, not this thing that matters the most to him. so he describes the feeling when he first got to hogwarts, the feeling of intense belonging, so much that his heart hurt. and she snorts, waving the pile of assignments, saying that her heart certainly hurt - but he can see in her eyes that she knows what he means, maybe even more than he does. 

tell me a secret

they’re queuing up to get back on the train, go home for the summer and reckon one part of life with another. she kicks him in the shin before she says it, just to get his attention, but the professors are all looming and he can’t answer until they’ve all been checked in. the empty compartment is not where he had planned to declare his love, but empty was good (anything in front of people would be too much; there was nobody he cared to impress other than her) and he wasn’t going to declare love anyway, or at least not in the way he’d already done so many times. so she looked up expectantly and he tells her, with no preamble, how he would willingly die, with no hesitation, for the people he loves. she doesn’t have to ask if that includes her, but she does anyway, and his slow nod is everything in the world to her, everything.

james potter would offer his life for lily evans, and someday he will have to.

Dress to impress- Seth Rollins, prompts #73+#74

Seth Rollins

prompt: #73 “I’m not wearing that dress” #74 “I’m not wearing that tie”

warnings: none!

Requested by: @m-a-t-91

A/N: AYYYEE I’m back after a few days! schools started again so ya know I’ll probably do more imagines instead of homework. ANYWAY hope you enjoy this!


It was a simple April day, the sun was out, the sky was clear and the heat was something you loved. As it was April that would only mean ‘The Hall of Fame’ was coming up in a few day and you and your long term boyfriend Seth had gone out to buy outfits for this oh so special occasion.

The shops where pretty busy and it had only just turned 1PM. “Ya know I have no clue what to wear!” You mumbled as Seth casually draped an arm over your shoulder.The pair of you browsed over countless clothing items. “How about this?” Seth asked, you could here the grin in his voice as you looked up to see probably the most ugliest thing you could have ever laid eyes on. You raised an eyebrow and gave him a disapproving look before you both burst out laughing. “Eww it looks like my grandma’s curtains” you giggled. Seth turned around and went back to looking for him.

After a good thirty more minutes you both had a few options in your arms. “To the dressing rooms!” You yelled like a child and dragged your boyfriend till you where outside the rooms.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned in an hour and after countless outfits tried on by the pair of you there was nothing you could agree on, “I’m not wearing that dress!” You whined for what felt like the 90th time as Seth tried to get you to say yes to some dress that you hated, “Well them I’m not wearing that tie!” He grumbled back. “Fine be like that” you huffed and walked away, your boyfriend calling after you and you ringing up Bayley. “Hey girl,” you cheered down the phone “wanna help me pick out a dress for The Hall of Fame?”

Two more hours had passed and you and your best friend Bayley had finally got a cute black dress with lace top and long tight skirt with a slit down the side. “God you look amazing!” The younger girl squeaked and hugged you. “So what happened with you and Rollins?” You let out an uneasy laugh “well..” You started, Bayley cut you off obviously knowing that you didn’t wanna talk about it. “Its okay it doesn’t matter!” The pair of you smiled and walked out the shop and off to hang out.

The night of the Hall of Fame had come around and you had stayed at Bayley’s house, you tried to talk to Seth once but it just made everything worse. There was an awkward tension as you met up with your boyfriend to walk the red carpet. “You look stunning” Seth whispered in your ear as you posed for a picture. “Thanks” you whispered as you smiled, “See you have the tie I told ya to get.. looks good.” You winked “I’m sorry ‘bout the other night.” You finished, turning around and giving Seth a quick kiss on the cheek, “Its fine, I’m sorry too” Seth mumbled and you both let out a little laugh ready for the night to start.

Writing, it was like a heavenly balm, it was like the flowing out of deep waters, it was like the lifting of a load from the spirit; it brought with it a sense of relief, of assuagement. One could say things in writing without feeling self-conscious, without feeling shy and ashamed and foolish…
—  from The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall
My crazy week so far:

Econ: Moderate, I usually feel like I want to die but not so much this week (although I wasn’t there for most of it because of AP testing… Bless AP testing)

Stats: We did a problem on the Freshman 15 concept and were taught body positivity by our teacher and also had an interesting conversation about organs.

“If someone says you gained weight…Like… don’t even worry, you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t sell your organs to lose weight.”

“Which one is it that you can live without? Your kidneys or your liver?”

“Can you regrow your liver like a starfish?”

Psych: Nuthin’ here. OH! I did see two people dressed up in full Darth Vader and Storm Trooper costumes as I was walking to class though…


Thursday- Some senior says, “If I show up late tomorrow can I bribe you to mark me present with a plate of pancakes?” in which my Chem teacher rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, “Sure.”

Friday- There’s literally five minutes left in class and this kid walks in with a full plate of pancakes, I KID YOU NOT.

And what does he do next?


My teacher was speechless and then the dismissal bell rang.

Theater: Julius fell asleep with headphones and a comforter on.

We barricaded him with a folding screen and our Class Plants: Vern the Fern and Micus the Ficus. 

We took a group picture.

JuLius woke up…

Study Hall: We airdropped this picture to people under the name “JFK Lives” and freaked them the hell out.

AP Lit: Some girl came to the AP test in pajama pants. That has nothing to do with the story, I was just jealous that she took her AP test in comfort. We were going over Othello in class and talking about how Othello kills his wife by strangling her. This kid yells out, “Strangulation! That’s a really HANDS ON way to kill someone!” We did not do any more work that day in class.

I don’t really understand why these things happen I’m just so glad they do.

you: intellectuals think the same as everyone else, they just talk differently.

me, an intellectual: Although academic English is well-adapted to the low-context culture in which it is used, its inherent qualities are not sufficient to justify its relative inaccessibility; its use can only be explained as an expression of social status.

“Filthy Halls” deleted scene

Youji shows up at Masaomi’s house in Kyoto unannounced. “I was in the area,” he had said as an explanation, and they both knew how exceedingly unlikely that was without Masaomi pointing it out, so Masaomi didn’t say anything at all.

“My brother is dead,” Youji said finally, after dinner and then watching TV for a couple hours on Masaomi’s couch while Masaomi worked on his laptop.

“Congratulations,” Masaomi said mildly, knowing how Youji felt about his brothers. “The evil one or the dick?”

“The dick,” Youji said, “Although, I feel the need to point out that they were both evil.”

“I have very fancy champagne,” he offered, “Seijuurou is home though, so we’d probably have to wait until he goes to sleep if we want to get really drunk.”

“Ah, I see you’ve already mastered the finer nuances of good parenting,” Youji said fondly. Masaomi decided he would let Youji continue to think he didn’t want Seijuurou to see them drunk out of delicacy for role model purposes, and not at all because he was sure Seijuurou would find a way to exploit that weakness to his advantage. Youji leaned back on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. “I do want to get drunk, which probably means that I shouldn’t.”

“Fair enough,” Masaomi said. “I also have very fancy cake.”

“I could eat some cake,” Youji acknowledges.


It was on the third slice of cake that Youji’s phone rings. “It’s Ryouta,” he says, as an explanation for why he gets up to take the call. Masaomi tunes out at that point, because he doesn’t feel the need to listen in on Youji’s conversations with his son.

It’s not until he hears Youji cry out, “Ryouta, stop. I can help you, just tell me where you are. We’ll figure this out together. Ryouta!” sounding like a wounded animal, that Masaomi whips his head up.

Youji is looking at his phone and Masaomi’s heart stops for just a second—he has seen that expression on Youji’s face before, and it’s not good.

“What happened?” he demands, already getting up. He’s not sure what he’s going to do, but he thinks desperately that he has to stop Youji somehow (he’s not sure what he’s stopping Youji from doing, but he’s ready to intervene, to do anything, to make it all go away).

“Yukio,” Youji says, his voice a strangled whisper. “Something—something must have happened to Yukio. I have to—I have to go them.” He’s packing up his stuff and looking wretched and lost.

“OK, we’ll go them,” Masaomi says calmly. “Where are they?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Youji stops and swallows and looks at him helplessly, “Masaomi, I don’t know where my sons are.”

He sounds close to breaking so Masaomi pulls at him, steering him towards the laptop. “It’s OK, I can find them. Give me their cell phone numbers and tell me everything.”

“You can—you can track their numbers?”

I can,” Masaomi says, allowing that this isn’t something just anyone can do.

Youji paces, agitated, as Masaomi starts working at his computer. He’s only ever heard Youji sound so helpless once before, and he hates it. His own heart beats fast with the sense of urgency that he knows Youji must be feeling.

“Ryouta said—he said something bad might have happened. He meant Yukio.”

“Did he say that?”

“No, but—that’s the only thing it could have been, to make him sound like that. Something must have happened to Yukio, and I don’t—Ryouta sounded like he was going to do something dangerous and what if—”

“It will be fine,” Masaomi says, with firm conviction, like he can will it to be true. “Everything is going to be fine.”

They both knew that sometimes things weren’t fine. Youji almost died after he lost Hinami; Masaomi is positive he won’t make it if he loses those two kids. Masaomi works faster and then curses when the results settle in a location.

“What? Where are they?!”

“Iwatobi,” Masaomi says, knowing what that means to Youji.

“Oh, God, he must have—Seiji.

Masaomi swallows, knowing that Youji had good reasons to hate his brothers, and he’s feeling in the blanks about why his kids might have gone to Iwatobi. “You never told your gay son about your homophobic sadistic brothers?” Masaomi asks even as they’re already packing up and heading out the door.

“I didn’t think I had to!” Youji says, “I told Yukio not to go, he’s never disobeyed before—Jesus Christ, if he’s done anything to hurt my kids I’m going to kill him.”

The eldest brother, Masaomi thinks. The one Masaomi really should have done something about, years ago. Except Youji hadn’t wanted that, not really. And now they’re both regretting that inaction.

“How long does it take to get to Iwatobi?” Youji asks. “Do you have a jet?”

“Yes, of course, but it’ll be faster to take a helicopter, we won’t have to worry as much about landing—”

“Will a helicopter be fast enough?”

“One of mine will, I designed them myself,” Masaomi says.

“OK, OK,” Youji says, mostly to himself, as if trying to calm down.

The round the corner, and Seijuurou is standing there. Masaomi blinks, having momentarily forgotten he was around.

“Is Ryouta in trouble?” Seijuurou asks.

“He might be, and we’re kind of in a hurry—”

“I will go with you,” Seijuurou says.

Masaomi would protest this but they don’t have time. And Seijuurou might come in handy anyway. At any rate, his presence would keep Youji from losing himself entirely, so Masaomi just nods and they head out the door.

There’s too much at stake at the moment—Youji is already too close to losing his mind with worry, so there’s no point in adding to that. But a deeply unsettled feeling spreads throughout Masaomi as he thinks about Iwatobi and how he knows there’s other things in that small town that the Miracles might have to worry about.

And for the first time, he starts to think maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence that the secrets in Iwatobi happened to be in the same place as Youji’s home town.



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List of this that are definitely totally going to happen in lot season 3

- a 2 part episode of rip teaching his bf jonah hex the art of cake backing
- A league made up by all the historical lady figures sara made out with led by queen anne of austria
- Sara actually being king louis XIV aka the sun king’s real father
- Kendra shows up 6 months pregnand leading an army of thanagarians
- Kendra: Turns out I was an alien queen all along?? - She forms a harem made up by pretty white boys™ aka carter and ray
- Nate joins too so Amaya has to be Kendra’s second now obv
- Sara: what do you mean kendra started a harem anD I WAN NOT INVITED????
- Kendra was in fact going to ask Cisco to join too but she didn’t want ray’s huge dick to threaten his live.
- Kendra: Nate is made of steel tho and Carter is… Carter + they both had a lot of practice, they will be fine
- So Cisco is her official loyal advisor - Laurel is the mayor of star city. Oliver never existed
- Laurel and Felicity and Laurel’s alive bf Tommy are 100% fucking now, Sara is proud
- Black Siren also exists and is Laurel’s nemesis - There is one episode of Mick just playing with Axel the rat. That’s it, that’s all that happens in the episode. Just Mick Rory being happy
- Barry now co exists with another 1000 versions of himself the rest of the team flash have seen hell™
- The consept of time itself is officially the new big bad