80% backstory/oneshots for A Shoulder To Lean On, 15% other fanfiction, and 5% prose/poetry that I'm too embarassed to show anyone IRL. Fanfiction.net here and AO3 here. Leave a comment if you like what you see!
Angsty DaiSuga, because why not. Inspired by a combination of reading fractalbright’s beautiful fic distortedly, yours and the song ‘When I’m Sixty Four’ by the Beatles running in my head ‘cuz we’re practicing it for choir. I recommend you listen to it before reading!
“When I get older, losing my hair . . .”
Daichi blinks awake, sleep receding in a gentle wave. The curtain are pulled apart just so, letting warm sunlight stream over the bed, and the familiar tune washes over him, transporting him back to years ago in a matter of seconds.
“Many years from now . . .”
A quiet thump as something is set down on the dresser, the rattle of ceramic cups and small, silvered spoons. Daichi mouths the next words almost unconsciously, blank eyes on the muted orange curtains.
(‘They’ll make it look warm and homey, Daichi - especially since you decided our room would be fine with just plain white walls. Honestly, the sheer lack of taste you have is unbelievable.’)
“Will you still be sending me a valentine . . .”
He squeezes his eyes shut against the memories - a pink tongue sticking out teasingly, brown eyes sparkling, that half smile that blossomed into a delighted grin so easily - and begins to get up, groaning softly when his back twinges in protest.
The song stops immediately, and warm hands are on his shoulders, easing him up.
“Good morning, Daichi. How are you feeling today?”
He looks up into dark eyes and pale skin, a beauty spot and a sweep of silver hair across the forehead, and swallows the quiet pain easily. It’s become second nature, now.
“Well enough, Koushi. Could you help me to the bathroom? And the kitchen, after I’m done with the hot chocolate.”
“Of course, Daichi.”
It’s maybe half an hour later that Daichi is sitting at the dining table, his hands curled around a cup of steaming coffee. Koushi had handed it to him almost absently, two spoons of sugar and a dash of milk mixed in perfectly. Effortlessly.
(‘Sacrilege, that’s what it is. The only coffee worth drinking is pure black - don’t you make that face at me!’)
Suga would have said that. Suga would have protested, teased him mercilessly, refused to add any sugar at all until Daichi caught him by the waist, pressed him against the counter, kissed him until he melted - and then again until the coffee was abandoned without a second thought. They’d come back later to find it stone cold and undrinkable, and of course Suga would blame him for that, pouting like a five year old while his eyes danced.
“ . . . would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty four?”
Daichi sips the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. Yet it doesn’t quite counteract the small, cold pit in his stomach, and he contemplates telling Koushi to stop singing - or at least to pick a different song. Chances are, though, if he did, Koushi would pick something silly, like Crazy in Love - he’s had an unaccountable liking for that song, of late, and if he sang that -
Daichi knows his cheeks are going red, he can feel it, and he hurriedly sips again, firmly pushing away the memory of what he and Suga were doing the first time he heard that song.
(‘You have to admit it does kind of suit the mood.’
“Oh, my g- Suga, it most certainly does not!’
‘I’ll have to go and thank you neighbours for it later.’
‘ . . . devil.’
A cheeky look, pink cheeks, still panting above him, chest rising and falling like an ocean Daichi can drown in - does drown in - over and over and over again.
‘Angel.’
And again.)
The pan sizzles as Koushi slips a spatula under the egg, sliding it off, being careful not to break the yolk. Two slices of bread, a knife and cheese, and then he’s waiting politely by Daichi’s chair, calm as a mountain lake.
“Will you be needing anything else, Daichi?”
“No, I don’t think so. Start with the garden before you sweep, will you?”
“Of course.”
Koushi slips on bright red gardening gloves - Suga’s beloved gardening gloves - and heads outside, clippers in one hand, trowel in the other. Daichi watches him go, hears the song start again, hears it float in through the open window.
“Doing the garden, digging the weeds . . .”
And he can’t resist it any longer. He’s swept back to his twentieth birthday, his twenty-third, his thirty-fifth, his thirty-ninth -
(‘Mine forevermore,’ Suga sings, a soft murmur against his lips. All Daichi can taste is cake cream, sugary and oversweet; all he can smell is sputtering candles, melting wax, Suga’s cologne -
‘Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?’
- and all he can see is Suga, still beautiful with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and fading hair.
‘Of course,’ he breathes, resting his forehead against Suga’s. ‘Always.’
And Suga smiles back, eyes deep and dark and overflowing with love.)
Daichi blinks, wiping away a lone tear that’s trickled down his cheek.
“Will you still be sending me a - will you still be sending me a - will you still be sending me a -”
He sighs, gets up slowly, sticks his head out of the window. “Koushi,” he calls. “Come in, please.”
Koushi walks in abashed, head hanging. He hates it more than anything when he fails in a function, any function at all - even if it’s something as minor as singing a song he knows Daichi likes.
“It’s okay. Just stand in your charging port for a bit, will you? That usually helps.”
He doesn’t even vocalize an affirmative, just nods and walks away, steps dragging. Daichi sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before he reaches out and touches the first number on speed dial on the videophone.
The screen springs to life, hologram projecting solid light into the air. The voxels shimmer, blur, and then compose themselves into Kuroo Tetsurou’s yawning form.
“Mornin’, Daichi,” he says sleepily. “Wasn’t expecting a call, something wrong?”
“Hey.” Daichi swallows, making sure his voice doesn’t wobble. “No, it’s just that Koushi needs a checkup.”
“Yeah? What’s the problem?”
“He’s been forgetting more often that usual, vocal function getting stuck, random loss of motor control - the usual.”
“Mhm. He’s, what, at least twenty years old?”
“Twenty four.”
“RIght. Well, it’s probably the usual, like you say. Bring him in whenever you like, I’ll let Futakuchi know.”
“Thanks, I’ll send him in by tomorrow. Were you working the whole night, by the way?”
“Yep. We’re on the verge of a breakthrough with constructing the first accurate, viable empathy program - or so Matsukawa says. He’s been driving us like dogs.”
“Retire already, why don’t you? Leave the revolutions to the younger generation. Besides, you can’t pull that hairstyle off with white hair. I mean, it’s not like you could with black either, but -”
“Oh, lay off,” Kuroo says lazily. “Like you have a strand of black hair left. Besides, I’m only sixty three, you know. Nobuhiko is still active, and she’s seventy five.”
“The mother of the robotics revolution gets a free pass, Tetsu. You don’t.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll retire when I’m seventy, Sawamura, and not a moment before.”
Daichi shakes his head. “At least get some sleep.”
“I’m going, I’m going. God, you’re worse than Kenma. Okay, so send Koushi in, I’ll make sure I’m there myself, yeah?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Cool. Oh, Daichi -” Tetsurou hesitates, pauses in the motion of breaking the contact. “Happy birthday.”
Daichi swallows again, harder than before, pushing it all down. “Thanks.”
He can see a glimmer of sorrowful understanding in Tetsurou’s eyes, even through the hologram, just before it fizzles out. He stays still, staring at the place where the image had been projected, clenching his fists desperately.
But he can’t, he never can withstand it. It breaks over him, a flood of sorrow and nostalgia and I miss you I miss you I miss you resounding through his heart, pounding into his aching body with pain that hardly seems to diminish, year after year.
At least no one but Koushi will ever know how he spent the morning sobbing quietly into the table. But he gets up, eventually, wipes his tears, washes the dishes, opens the curtains, smiles at Koushi when he’s done charging, reassures him, and . . . gets on with his day.
It’s what Suga would have wanted, after all.
And this will happen again next year, he knows, every year from now, it’ll happen even when he can’t remember Suga’s voice or the colour of his hair or how they both clung to Asahi, sobbing, after Nationals. But he takes solace in the fact that even if he ends up unable to remember anything about Suga at all, there will come a time when he will lie under the earth as well, cold and quiet, and when that time comes, when his mind and heart and soul end up somewhere brighter and bigger than this world -
- Suga will be the first one to greet him, smiling like they’ve never been parted.
hhhhh okay, first BNHA fic ever, hooray! No clue what the point of this is supposed to be, though, it’s just … words. Just ran away from me entirely. Exploring relationship dynamics, I guess? I don’t even know. Hope you enjoy anyway!
Summary: A battle goes wrong in a way it shouldn’t have, and Shouto is not happy. What he ends up receiving, though, is something precious he never expected.
Includes hurt, regret, friendship, and platonic love and care.
(reposted)
*
Shouto usually isn’t one to lose his temper. On rare occasions, yes, when he’s been pushed way over the edge or been offered insufferable provocation or has found himself in situations he can see no clear way out of. It had turned out, amazingly, that Midoriya Izuku (face like a blushing puppy, body like a Greek statue, voice reminiscent of nothing more than a shy deer, personality of an enthusiastically fanatic nerd) was one person who could actually get him furious and throw him off balance (the determination of a piranha that’s just tasted blood, too). Apart from him, though, no single person from 1-A gets him rattled. Bakugou tries - oh, does he try - but Shouto can easily deal with such overt displays of aggressiveness.
Any tendency to back down, to waver, show weakness, has been beaten out of him long ago. Now, he looks in the mirror and is reminded of a mountain lake - still and undisturbed. That’s not a bad thing, he thinks. If nothing else, it’s certainly a safe way to go through life; unaffected by little upsets, little irritations, reserving all focus and discipline for the things that really matter.
So it comes as a surprise, to put it lightly, to find that this - this - has upset him.
“You,” he snaps, whirling around, “are a reckless idiot. What the hell did you think you were doing?”
hhhhh okay, first BNHA fic ever, hooray! No clue what the point of this is supposed to be, though, it’s just … words. Just ran away from me entirely. Exploring relationship dynamics, I guess? I don’t even know. I hope you like, though!
Summary: A battle goes wrong in a way it shouldn’t have, and Shouto is not happy. What he ends up receiving, though, is something precious he never expected.
Includes hurt, regret, friendship, and platonic love and care.
*
Shouto usually isn’t one to lose his temper. On rare occasions, yes, when he’s been pushed way over the edge or been offered insufferable provocation or has found himself in situations he can see no clear way out of. It had turned out, amazingly, that Midoriya Izuku (face like a blushing puppy, body like a Greek statue, voice reminiscent of nothing more than a shy deer, personality of an enthusiastically fanatic nerd) was one person who could actually get him furious and throw him off balance (the determination of a piranha that’s just tasted blood, too). Apart from him, though, no single person from 1-A gets him rattled. Bakugou tries - oh, does he try - but Shouto can easily deal with such overt displays of aggressiveness.
Any tendency to back down, to waver, show weakness, has been beaten out of him long ago.
Now, he looks in the mirror and is reminded of a mountain lake - still and undisturbed. That’s not a bad thing, he thinks. If nothing else, it’s certainly a safe way to go through life; unaffected by little upsets, little irritations, reserving all focus and discipline for the things that really matter.
So it comes as a surprise, to put it lightly, to find that this - this - has upset him.
“You,” he snaps, whirling around, “are a reckless idiot. What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Look who’s finally back from the dead and got some work done
Okay, new post! My favourite kids, Yams and Tsukki, getting some screentime.
(Should I actually be working on the main story)
(Probably yes but i need to get all these little things out of my head first and also it’ll help with continuity, so yay for that I guess?)
Full story with my new first year kids on FFnet and AO3, check it out!
*
“Ugh, Tsukki, did you copy all the notes we were given in chemistry?” Tadashi asked, frowning down at the last notebook to go into his bag.
Tsukki frowned a little, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Of course. Why didn’t you?”
“Katou-san put me on the decorations committee,” Tadashi said mournfully, stowing the notebook away and getting to his feet as well. “Didn’t you notice I was late to class?”
“No. Were you?”
Tadashi rolled his eyes, heading to the door. Tsukki slung his bag over his shoulder, following him. “How hard is it to get the decorations done, anyway?”
“Well, there’s a lot of the school to decorate,” Tadashi sighed, stepping into the noisy corridor. “And anyway, when she said decorations committee, she really meant ‘committee that helps out with every prop or stall related problem any other class might have’.”
Tsukki made a non-committal sound, deftly avoiding a knot of students having a heated discussion by the stairs. “You can take the notes today, I’ll need them back by tomorrow.”
Tadashi followed suit, moving a little faster to keep up with Tsukki’s longer stride. “Sure. Hey, do you mind if we stop by a vending machine?”
“Closest one’s in the cafeteria, and it’s horribly crowded right now.”
“Well, we can use the one on the third floor.”
“I’m not climbing all the way to the third floor.”
“ … Okay, then what about the one outside?” Tadashi caught Tsukki’s mouth snapping open, and hastened to add, “We can use that side entrance, so we won’t get caught up in the worst of the evening rush.”
Tsukki hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Fine, but let’s make it fast. I want to get an early start on that history essay.”
“Mmhm.” Tadashi glanced at him sideways. “Don’t worry about running into Teruhashi-san, she doesn’t use that machine.”
Tsukki glared at him, eyes narrowing. “Who said anything about Teruhashi-san?”
Tadashi shrugged and looked straight ahead, trying not to smile.
This … came up to more words than I expected. Still feels a bit awkward, but hey, that’s what the edit button is for, right?
*
Yuuta tapped the toe of his shoe on the ground nervously, fingers drumming on the strap of his school bag, looking across the corridor to the gym door. He was not looking forward to this.
“Okumura-kun!” He turned to see Serizawa running up to him, arms waving and hair wildly fluffy, as it always was. Akiyama followed some way behind him, looking a little amused, accompanied by Suzuki.
Yuuta couldn’t help grinning as he waved back. Serizawa had that kind of effect - he exuded eager energy like a magnetic field. “Hey, Serizawa-kun!”
Serizawa stumbled to a stop beside him, panting a bit, and then shot up straight, beaming. “Hi! Are we late? We’re not late, are we? Ahh, you should have told us when you were coming! From tomorrow we all walk to practice together, okay? We need to build up our team spirit since we’re all in different classes!”
Yuuta’s grin stretched so wide at this that his cheeks were began to ache. How was it humanly possible for a single person to be so enthusiastic?
“No, you’re not late, I just got here myself. And sure, yes, we walk to practice together from tomorrow.”
“Awesome!” Serizawa cheered, pumping one fist, starting to move towards the gym. “Okay then, let’s go, what are we waiting for? Our senpais are already practising! We can’t slack off!”
Yuuta followed reluctantly, some of his good cheer fading. “Uh, yeah, that’s kind of … why I was …”
HELLO!! I love your writing so much omg!! I read your story on FFnet too and I gave a review under the name 'rara' once, though I know should give more reviews on ff. I love your OCs, they're adorable dorks crushing on yachi like omggg. they'd make a fantastic new 4 idiots, i love them already. and I especially love that you named them after the stage actors omg they're amazing aren't they?!!
OH MY GOSH HI!!!!!!!! I really wanted to ask you if you’d been following the story but I thought that might be a bit weird of me and I wasn’t sure whether to do so, so I’m so glad you got in touch! And ahhhhhhhhh were you rara?? I just realized, you posted as a guest that time, right? So I couldn’t reply. Damn I wanted to put a reply at the beginning of the latest chapter and I entirely forgot, I’m so sorry! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you like the story and you found it funny, and I’m especially glad you think the characterization is good, I’m super happy to hear that😄😄😄
And yessss they ARE dorks, they’re going to fit into Karasuno so well. I had fun giving Tatsuya a more immature side with this post, he’s not always all cool and calm, and I also really love the idea of all kohais crushing on senpai Yachi because she’s just so sweet. I’m glad you like them! And YESSSSS THE STAGE PLAY ACTORS ARE BEAUTY AND GRACE AND SUCH TALENT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH❤❤❤❤
Kohei had a family thing that evening, so he managed to get out of locking the gym up with the rest of them. From the way he’d griped about missing free practice with Akiyama and Okumura, though, you would have thought it was the end of the world.
But it meant that when Tatsuya could finally stop struggling to hold it together, at least Kohei wasn’t around to watch him break.
The gym door slid shut with a quiet thud, the older students’ cheerful chatter gradually fading. Tatsuya waited until he could no longer hear them before falling back against the wall, slowly sliding to the floor as his legs buckled underneath him.
Okumura and Akiyama were a bit absorbed in their practice, but it wasn’t five minutes before they were both crouched in front of him, sweating copiously, panting heavily and questioning him anxiously.
“You okay, Suzuki? You were kind of out of it the whole practice. You feeling dizzy or something? You should have said something before!”
“Um, your face is really red, Suzuki-san. Are you running a temperature?”
“Want us to come with you to the sick room?”
“Or I could get a painkiller or something from nurse-san …”
“Here, have a drink of water first.”
Tatsuya weakly pushed away the cool plastic that was being pressed into his hand, and pulled his glasses off with a shaking hand. “A drink of water … is not going to be sufficient.”
“What is it, then?”
“How can we help?”
“You -” Tatsuya took a deep breath. “You don’t understand … what happened.”
Akiyama hummed softly, puzzled. “Tell us, then,” Okumura said encouragingly, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees.
“It - it was -” Tatsuya growled silently at how dry his mouth was and grabbed the bottle of water. He took a long drink, wiped his mouth, breathed as slowly as he could. “Okay. Um. God, I’ve been trying to keep it together the whole practice. Okay, so I was a bit early to practice today, right? And when I arrived, the only person here was … was Yachi-san.”
The sudden silence told him all he needed to know. Told him that they understood, now.
“Go on,” Okumura said, his voice the barest hint of a whisper.
A scene I wrote to explore a mention of sneaking out during training camp in my HQ fic, A Shoulder To Lean On (chapter six. Read five before six though). What could possibly have motivated level-headed Ennoshita to do such a thing? Well here, we find out! There’s a pretty drastic shift in tone towards the end, but I had fun writing it. Chose Kaori for this role because she seems kinda mischievous to me. Also I just put Eri in ‘cuz she’s kawaii and overlooked, an irresistable combination to me.
Hope you enjoy! Comments are very welcome.
Koushi carefully pushed the door closed, trying to be as quiet as possible - he’d noticed earlier that it tended to squeak as it slid over the last few inches.Beside him, Ennoshita shifted from foot to foot, eyes scanning the dark corridor.
“Relax,” Koushi whispered. The door finally touched the doorframe, and he turned to Ennoshita with a cheerful smile. “No one will turn up.”
“What if Coach or Takeda-sensei gets up for a drink of water or something?” Ennoshita muttered as they began to walk down the corridor.
Koushi snorted quietly. “Did you see how drunk they were? Takeda-sensei was literally carrying Coach up the stairs. Don’t worry, no adult is going to show up.”
“And if anyone else does?”
“We’ll bribe ‘em with chocolate or something. Or I can steal a bit of Kuroo’s whiskey. Don’t worry, Ennoshita.”
Ennoshita sighed. “Right.”
They padded up the stairs to the top floor. No one was using the classrooms here to sleep in, and it was eerie enough that Koushi felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to prickle. He resolutely shoved away the memory of the last horror movie Daichi had forced him to go to, and went to stand by the window, facing the stairs.
“If I hear anyone, I’ll ring once,” he murmured, tapping the pocket of his pyjamas.
This was entirely random - it popped into my head and I just had to write it. Enjoy!
“No. No! You can’t be serious!”
Daichi winced at Suga’s wail, covering his ears automatically.
“How could you do this to me?” Suga contained furiously, oblivious to Bokuto flinching as well. “Kuroo, how could you?”
Kuroo met his tearful gaze with cold eyes. “All’s fair in love and war, Koushi-sweetie. I’d advise you not to make a fuss about it.”
“You betrayed me!” Suga howled. “I trusted you, I believed in you, I was stupid enough to care about you -”
“Yes,” Kuroo snapped. “You were. You’re naive. You need to see that I’ll do whatever it takes to -”
“I’m your partner!” The tears spilled over, tracing curved trails down Suga’s blanched cheeks. “You asked me, and I was - so h-happy - and now - you - you don’t do that to a partner-”
“I do.” Kuroo looked away, as though the sight of Suga’s tears was indecent. “You should know me well enough by now. I do whatever I need to to win, and if you can’t handle that -”
Suga let out a yell of frustration, lunging across the bed and grabbing Kuroo by the collar. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, Suga trembling with fury and hurt, Kuroo lifting his chin and gazing stoically back.
“Fine!” Suga snapped, viciously enough that Kuroo couldn’t hide his slight wince. Suga shoved him back and clambered off the bed, scattered cards everywhere and nearly sending an empty bottle of vodka (one of many) crashing to the floor. Bokuto caught it with a yelp, reflexes sharp even when dulled by alcohol.
“Fine! I get it now. I get it. I won’t make the mistake of trusting you again, you utter asshole. Don’t come crawling back to me when you miss what we had together. When you realize -”
Daichi sighed and fell back on the bed, tuning out the rest of Suga’s rant. He only opened his eyes when he heard the door slam.
“Next time Suga comes over,” he said to the ceiling, “Can we not give him any alcohol at all?”
There was a brief silence. Then Daichi heard a soft clink as Bokuto carefully put the bottle back.
“Bro,” Bokuto said reproachfully. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
Kuroo slumped, all the fight going out of him.
“I was going to fix it, Bokuto,” he said sorrowfully. “He just had to wait and trust me for a little bit more.”
“He couldn’t be expected to know that,” Bokuto pointed out.
“If he trusted me-”
“He trusted you till now. You really should have expected -”
Daichi sat back up with a groan. Bokuto gave Kuroo a fleeting glance.
“Uh, I think now would be a good time to explain to Sawa-kun about your, uh, relationship-”
Kuroo snorted. “Does he look at all surprised to you?”
“It was obvious, Bokuto,” Daichi grumbled. “They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other’s -”
A dull flush was stealing up over Kuroo’s cheeks. “God, were we really that obvious?”
Daichi snorted. “Of course you were.” He picked up his last two cards.
“So, where were we? Ah, yeah. Suga put down a reverse, and Kuroo betrayed him on his next turn by giving him a Wild plus-four, so he stormed off, and the colour is now red. Which means Bokuto draws four and skips his turn, which means it’s my turn, and my cards are -” He flipped them around and placed one on the pile, not even trying not to look smug. “A red nine and a yellow nine. Numbers match, so I can put ‘em down together. Uno and -” He placed the last card down reverentially. “- I’m done. I win, assholes.”
Kuroo flung his cards down. “Are you kidding me right now, Sawamura?! I betrayed Koushi for nothing, goddammit!”
Bokuto just sighed sadly, beginning to gather all the cards up.
Daichi wrinkled his nose. “Oh, poor things, you and your cheating partner, staring at each other’s cards the whole time and trying to get a look and mine and Bokuto’s. Screw you guys, it was so obvious you were collaborating. You owe me another bottle. I want it first thing tomorrow -”
But he was talking to thin air. Kuroo had snarled at him and vanished out the door. Daichi heard a distant ‘Koushi, come back! I’m sorry! I swear I’ll never give you a draw-four again! Or even a draw-two! I’ll give you all my Wilds, too! Please!”
“And stop calling him Koushi like he’s your boyfriend!” Daichi yelled after him, before keeling over and falling asleep the moment his head hit the mattress.
He woke up four hours later, sitting bolt upright with wild eyes and messy hair.
“Wait, that whole conversation sounded like -”
His voice trailed off. Bokuto was sprawled over Kuroo like an octopus, both fast asleep and drooling, and Suga’s legs lay across both of them, arms flung back and mouth wide open as he snored.
Daichi stared at them for a moment before his brain gave up. He reached over and managed to pat Suga’s cheek clumsily, vaguely glad he was back, before falling back once more and sinking into sleep.
Why evolution is more likely than creationism, from the petty teenager’s perspective
Evolution from animals seems way more plausible to me than magically being dropped on the earth with superior intelligence, because I do feel like we’re only one tiny step above animals
(and at least animals seem to have their shit sorted out)
and that’s because -
- because why is it her you like and not me? What am I missing? What does she have that’s better? Why do those chemicals flood your brain, why do butterflies dance in your stomach, when she smiles at you, touches you, calls you when you aren’t expecting it - even when you are expecting it?
You don’t know. She doesn’t know. I sure as hell don’t know.
I don’t even know why those chemicals flood my brain when you look at me, smile at me, call me.
The uncertainty, the helplessness - there was this video I saw, once, of a baby turtle, newly hatched, being tossed around by the waves as soon as she entered the water. She struggled against the current for a while, but had to give up, and ended up just trying to keep her head above water, because she couldn’t do anything else.
That is how I feel when you look at me. When you - smile at me.
Powerless.
Adrift.
And utterly without control -
(because I don’t want to feel like this, I know it’s her you love, I don’t want this, I don’t I don’t I don’t, but you do this to me and you don’t even know it, and all I can do is try to keep my head above water but you’re drowning me and you don’t know it and god that’s the worst part)
So yeah. A meager step up from animals seems pretty plausible to me. Subject to the whims and vagaries of biology and chemistry and nature, just like they are, with the only difference being an added dash of self-awareness.
Yeah, not the best evidence to argue the plausibility of a hypothesis, and such a massively important and impactful hypothesis at that - but I believe (or want to believe) that if there truly was some almighty entity that created humans, it would not be so cruel and capricious as to throw me in the water without teaching me to swim.
