Snippets. - Blog Posts

sometimes u write things and u gotta scream about it. you gotta just wail a little bit. let the demons out.

putting my head in my hands. the grief. the grief of not knowing now where you belong .... of trying to find a place and making it for yourself and yet nothing fits the same ....

he's stupid and he's biased, your honor.

Here is the problem: Hunter doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

He wouldn’t even know what to do with his hands.

that first & last line parallel ... i feel it in my blood like caffeine.

it's that good ouroboros lore, it's the feeling that your decisions have already been pre-made, far before you, beyond you? how the story is already set, long before you'd ever even taken a breath?

if your narrative isn't an endless loop, doing spirals around spirals until the entire thing a a parallel of itself, a parable of it's own telling, what're you even doing, u know?

it's giving 'what do you want and how much is it gonna cost me' sibling energy and it brings me so much joy

thinking ab the similarities of luz and hunter and how they are so different in their experiences and yet so alike.

they are both so desperate for acceptance. for acknowledgement of who they are, who they want to be – for love, given without terms, unconditional. to be seen, in the light that is all their own, without being asked to cut off corners, pieces of themselves that aren't ... acceptable, by most, that would be easier if they weren't there.

their stories are different and yet their hearts are the same. they want to be strong, brave, enough to get through the next thing, and the next, and the next – still holding on to a hurt that makes them. that changed them, fundamentally, so long ago. how it still changes them today. how there is no separation, even still, even here, in the light of the human world, bright enough to dream by.

so can you see it, the way they are tectonic plates, shifting up against one another, holding up and together entire worlds? the weight of responsibility, of what it means (and what it is) holding on to hope. what it takes from you, and how you have learned not to talk about it, because who else would understand? and how would you hold yet another piece of it, too heavy for your hands?

the earthquakes that would result in them butting heads. the way the story has always led to the parallels of things. the way brothers and siblings will eventually come to this point, the event horizon of hurt and hope. the way the bones of it have always been lying in wait, to return to this, right here - what becomes of us now?

the way it was always going to come to this. the story doesn't know any other way. so it will do it again, it will do it over, and over, and over - until it can get it right.

(including a small snippet of a vague chapter intro:)

A firm hand landed on his jacket and jerked him to his feet and against someone. He instinctively clutched onto their jacket as they turned him away from the onslaught of bodies, shielding him with their body.

Izuku swallowed and opened his mouth to thank his rescuer. He looked up to see none other than Yagi looking down at him with a dispassionate state. He could feel his entire face turning an interesting shade of crimson.

“You need to keep on your feet, Midoriya,” she said in a low voice, either unaware of his impending combustion or just not caring. “Crowds can be dangerous.”

“Look, I don’t hate you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“All I’m saying is if you got hit by a train, I wouldn’t care at all! :D”

“The moment Hizashi sees her, throwing herself at a three pointer like a human cannonball, he knew- he was going to be best friends with her if it killed him.”