Muero
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Summary
Watermelon Seed does behave most of the time; there are days when Hanako can almost forget she’s pregnant with an esper child. Then there are days where she has to sweep broken ceramics off the floor while holding the trash can down so it doesn’t float beyond the reach of her dustpan.
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Or: There aren't a whole lot of resources to help expectant parents prepare for a psychic kid.
Series
- Part 2 of MOM
Bookmarked by Muero
01 May 2025
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(noun): phenomenon in which the sudden introduction of air into a fire that has been depleted of all available oxygen results in an explosion
Teru confronts the reality that his relationship with his parents isn’t as rock solid as he thinks it is.
Bookmarked by Muero
31 Oct 2024
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Unlearning the lessons Shigeo had taught himself for five years is quite an undertaking. Uncorking those emotions and being forced to process them is overwhelming, after so long of having relative silence. He thought he’d gotten it down; thought he’d had it. It’s not so hard to laugh.
Dealing with fifteen years of trauma is also quite an undertaking, one that piles atop his carefully recovered shell with a vengeance. And it turns out that, despite his efforts, he’s been doing more harm to himself than good.
And it might just kill him.
Bookmarked by Muero
30 Oct 2024
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The Divine Tree rules over Seasoning City. Buildings are crumbling. The trains out of town have stopped running. It’s getting harder to find food that isn’t made from the Tree. No one cares. Everyone gathers around the broccoli at sunset to pray. Everyone acts so happy.
Except Takane Tsubomi, who, it turns out, gets bored of cult doctrine the same way she gets bored of watching dogs float. Tsubomi doesn’t know what you’re supposed to do when your city’s been taken over by a giant vegetable with the power to make everyone adore it, but surely there must be someone out there who does, which is why she finds herself skipping tennis club and picking her way through the root-covered streets to the only spiritual consulting office she can find that’s still taking appointments.
Bookmarked by Muero
03 Jul 2024
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You don’t have to do this, you know, Crowley said, somewhere around Aziraphale’s stomach. His hand was rough around the hem of Aziraphale’s jumper, tugging a little, like he was trying to convince himself to let go. I’m fine on my own.
I know. Aziraphale touched carefully—he was learning how to touch, like this—searching out the place right above Crowley’s left eyebrow where the migraine lived, pressing on it. You don’t have to be, though. You can just consider me a side effect.
Bookmarked by Muero
18 Nov 2021