seen from Türkiye
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seen from Japan
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seen from Vietnam
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seen from United States
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Thought Experiments (3700 words) by tarosek
In another world, Wylan would’ve been strong enough to tell Jesper first. This was the one that flickered in Wylan’s peripherals most often; it was the one where they were laying together in Jesper’s bedroom—in what could be Wylan’s bedroom, if he accepted the key Jesper had just dropped into his hands.
Or: Wylan versus his missed opportunities to reveal his secret.
Where did I go?
I know this is a comatose blog, but I feel like I owe my followers, especially some of my most loyal ones, an explanation of what happened.
It’s been what...3 years since I was truly active? Gosh that’s been a long time. Here’s an explanation of why I left, what’s happened since, and the future.
I just...had a TodoDeku dream
Okay so what was happening was that for a mission the class had to go somewhere on a jet. It was a part of an endurance test. The jet was supposed to move so fast that however couldn't stay in their seats and flew off would fail the test as well as fly out of the jet. (Don't worry they were given parachutes). Midoriya is in the most back seat because he had arrived the jet late. And the person right in front of him was Todoroki. While everyone was panicking and tried to hold onto their seats for their life, Todoroki was fine for he had just frozen his feet onto the floor. Midoriya was at disadvantage for he was in the back of the jet and the door was open right behind him. Several people had fallen out of the jet already. He needed something to hold on to. So he held onto Todoroki. But he wasn't holding onto his shoulders. At this point he went straight to the waist, like giving a hug from behind. And hell Midoriya has even buried his face into Todoroki's back. Of course Todoroki was shocked because let's be real, how often does Todoroki gets hugged? So he kinda just sits there in shock only before putting his hands over Midoriya's hands as a way to secure him. So like students are flying out of a speeding jet and cut to these two just... ...hugging.
a hypothetical n-b + natalie meeting
(spitballing here + very not canon but takes place post-two sides but pre-point of departure)
it's stupid. she knew it was a bad idea when she crawled out the window four hours ago. she knew it was a bad idea—that's why she didn't call henry to tell him about it.
the worst part is that she doesn't have a good reason for it, not today, anyway. it's been a week since her mother left. a week since she last saw gabe. she's already cried over both of them and then some. she's fucking tired of crying.
and maybe that's why she's found herself here, on the stoop of the only nearby club that doesn't check ids, high out of her mind. she can't tell if the buzzing in her ear is a bug, the electricity running through the neon signs behind her, or a figment of her own traitorous mind. it's hot. she feels like she's dying.
she jumps at the scuffle of movement behind her. "hey, you alright?"
it's a boy her age. dark hair and eyes, brows drawn in concern as he kneels next to her, jeans scratching against the concrete step. she thinks she might've seen him at a swim meet, once upon a time. he smells a little like pot, but maybe that's also her. she honestly doesn't remember what she's taken tonight.
"best day of my life," she deadpans with a near-hysterical laugh. "my mom's *finally* fucking gone, and so's my dead brother. everything's perfect, really."
he freezes. gives her a second glance, this time with growing recognition in his eyes.
"no fucking way," he mutters under his breath.
she huffs. "welcome to my life," she says with a loose shrug, lacking the presence of mind to put together what's on his.
"natalie," he says, staring intently at her. "natalie goodman, right?"
her ears are ringing as she raises an eyebrow at him. "and you are?" she asks.
"your brother's—" he trips over his own words for a moment, "—best friend?"
it's her turn to freeze.
"you're fucking with me," she bites out. "my brother—"
"gabe," he says quickly, shutting her up. "his name's gabe. no one else would know that, right? he said he didn't know yours before you met, so..."
she stares at him. a million half-spun thoughts streak through her brain at once—how the hell is he here, how's gabe, what world is she in—
but ultimately, the one that wins the race to her mouth is this: "*best friend?*"
he sputters, clearly not having been expecting the question. "yes?" he replies. "i, uh, think we are, at least."
she stares at him. "you're still not together?" she asks, remembering the disgustingly fond look on gabe's face when he'd described this boy. "what did you do at the dance then, stare at each other longingly for an hour like losers?”
"it's complicated," he says with a wince, fidgeting with a ring on his thumb.
"more complicated than meeting his dead sister outside the club?" she retorts.
he grimaces. "i don't want to scare him."
she snorts at that. if only she'd lived in the same world as them, she thinks. they'd already be together because natalie would've locked them in a closet together *weeks* ago.
"is that your way of saying *you're* scared?" she asks him, raising an eyebrow.
he stiffens. she finds it terribly amusing.
"why are both of you so good at that?" he wonders aloud.
"calling you scared?"
"reading people," he clarifies.
natalie raises a skeptical eyebrow. "i think you're just not subtle," she says.
"that—might not also be wrong." he laughs quietly, ducking his head toward his shoulder, and it strikes natalie just how gabe-like the gesture seems.
it’s such a small detail, but it bothers her that she’s not sure who the habit originally belonged to.
had it been a conversation with anyone else, natalie might have left to continue mourning her flighty brother and the time she could've saved him time by forcing him to confess—but even high as a kite, she knows this isn't an interaction she can just walk away from. and anyway, natalie’s had enough moping about missing her brother for a lifetime—maybe two—so instead of letting herself spiral about it again, she leans into the easy performance, the annoyance, the snark. “gabe needs to get his shit together,” she huffs.
and maybe gabe’s not-boyfriend is sharper than he looks, because there’s a palpable shift in the air between them before he shrugs and says, “we both do. that’s just part of being teenagers, though, isn’t it?”
“don’t look at me, i actually have a boyfriend,” she replies, fiddling with her phone in her pocket. "henry's got a spine."
not-boyfriend is silent for a moment. "how'd he do it?" he asks.
natalie laughs. "we got high together and he started going on about the planet dying before dumping on me that he loved me." she wrinkles her nose at the memory. "he's lucky he's cute."
"don't think i'm going to do that," not-boyfriend says after a moment.
"probably for the best." she shakes her head. "i don't think it would work for anyone but henry."
he hums. "i'm sure he'd pick you up if you called him," he says, a touch too casual to be innocent.
"you're so not subtle," she says, fidgeting with her phone again. "but even if i wanted to, i doubt my data plan works between universes."
"is *that* how this is happening?" he asks.
she shrugs. "ask gabe—he's the one who brought up the parallel universes or whatever."
"sounds like something out of a sci-fi novel."
"my entire life sounds like something out of a shitty movie, what's your point?"
he frowns. "are you—" he cuts himself off, biting his lip. his hand goes to fidget with his ring again.
"am i what?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
he seems to consider his words for a moment, before asking again, slower, "are you not... happy? at all?"
she stares at him. "do i *look* happy?" she sputters, gesturing at her rumpled clothes that no doubt stink of pot smoke and sweat.
he winces. "not now," he tries, "but just—in general. your boyfriend—does he not make you happy?"
"of course he does," she snaps. he stiffens, flinching slightly at the outburst. she catches herself, leaning back and forcing a shrug. "i mean, henry's great, but he can't fix my life falling apart in a week."
"right." not-boyfriend looks away, a pensive look on his face. "right."
natalie freezes, finally registering why he might be asking. "you're wondering about gabe," she states.
he gives a dry laugh. "think i'm always doing that, honestly."
she studies him a moment, the conflicted look on his face as he speaks.
"gabe and i aren't the same person," she finally says. "i don't know what's going through his head."
he nods. "i know—"
"*but,*" she says, interjecting, "i know that when i get home, after i cry, i'm gonna fall asleep. then i'm gonna wake up to a good morning text from my boyfriend, and breakfast from my dad. and that's more than i could say a few months ago."
"and that's enough?"
she hesitates. "it's something," she says.
"it is," he agrees.
a beat of silence passes. natalie pulls out her phone, staring at her reflection in the black screen.
"i'm going to walk down those steps," she says, "and then i'm going to call henry." she jabs a finger in his direction. "but first, you're going to do me a favor."
he blinks at her. "shoot," he says.
there are a million demands she could make. she could tell him to confess, and cross her fingers that he'll comply without any way to hold him accountable. but she looks at gabe's not-boyfriend, and something in her softens. she wants to believe they can make it without her.
and so, she settles on this: "i want you to make sure you text my brother every day," she says, pulling herself to her feet. "make sure he knows you care. i'd threaten you with something if i knew we were ever gonna see each other again, but i'm just gonna have to hope the whole 'dead sister's last request' thing matters to you."
"i'll do it," he says. "no threats necessary."
satisfied, natalie nods and takes a step down the stairs. "good luck getting home!" she hears him call behind her.
by the time she turns back around, he's gone. she huffs a small laugh. "you too," she says to the open air, before unlocking her phone and swiping over to a familiar contact.
five steps home annotations
hello it's come to my attention that i put. too much effort into a poem that isn't even the main point of a fic, and i need you to understand how much thought went into something so inconsequential LOL
(the full fic if you haven't read it, though you need to have read the preceding installments to understand the context: Iterative Processes)
dear dead brother annotations :)
(got asked about these in a comment so here ya go <3 )
oops i started something again
Point of Departure (10088 words) by tarosek
It feels silly to call it grief—after all, he’s not really dead, just gone. Well, he’s also dead, Natalie supposes, but the Gabe Goodman who died sixteen years ago isn’t the same one she longs to see tumble through the kitchen window. That Gabe Goodman has only ever haunted her with his absence; the one she misses is the one who only ever wanted to be held, the one she wishes she had just one more chance to hold. Natalie misses her brother.
Or: Natalie and Gabe, after everything.
