Sorry I have been absent for so long! I have been shamefully absorbed in the wonderful game that is Fallout 4 and it has left me with little time to write. However, the Institute is defeated and I have 9 suits of power armor so now it's time for me to get back to writing!
(I did not forget about Red and The Seamless Coalesce Project lol)
This is another collab fic with my sister, BenignTuna on
It is a college kids AU; no invasion; no Hinatas or Nishizawas or Azumayas or Saburos; no Keron Army; just five kids trying to get an education and traveling through a world of drugs, alcohol, and sex.
This fanfiction is going to be mature with heavy drug use, very strong language and some sex. The sex will not be graphic. I am not writing a porno.
It is, as per usual, conducted with the use of gijinkas. My co-author drew some headshots of the quirky quintet for you to look at~
You'll have to head over to her deviantart account to see them since I can't link stuff here (CeruleanGuineaPigs on dA)
And I think that's it for now! Enjoy, everyone, and be sure to leave a review~
"'I really have discovered something at last. Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found out. The front pattern does move - and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it! Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over.'"
At a desk near the back of the room sat a sandy-haired, twenty-two-year-old wearing a green and white letterman jacket who was shifting restlessly in his seat, longing for the boring lecture to be over with. His name was Keroro.
"'Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern - it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads. They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside down, and makes their eyes white! If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad.'"
At last, the professor looked up from the worn anthology in his hands and faced the class again. Feeling grateful, Keroro sat up a little straighter, rubbing his right eye.
The professor, a kindly, stout old fellow with glasses who was called Randy Carmel, was overly fond of reading very lengthy passages without pausing. Now, thought Keroro, he would attempt to initiate discussion among the students by posing some question or another about the text.
"So, the narrator describes seeing a woman creeping around behind the pattern in the wallpaper," he began, and Keroro squinted at him impatiently. "What point do you think Gilman was trying to make with this shadowy figure?"
Keroro, having no intent to answer, glanced around the room instead. It was only the second week of the semester, but already he could see the weariness on the faces of his classmates. Many of them probably worked, like he did, and he had overheard some of the older women in the class discussing their children with each other; it was no surprise that they looked tired.
For several long seconds no one offered any answer, but finally a hand rose lazily into the air.
"Kululu?" Carmel prompted.
About half of the class directed its gaze to the back corner where Kululu was seated.
He sat sideways in his chair with his right hand noncommittally hanging in the air. He was sucking on two of his left fingertips. He crossed his legs at the knees and popped his fingers out of his mouth before saying, "She - the narrator - feels repressed. She is the woman in the wallpaper. Trapped in the house by John, who she mistakenly believes is her husband. Trapped in the wallpaper that she hates by its pattern, like prison bars. Her creativity is being suppressed by John, as well, when he warns her not to write or to use her imagination much. It's obvious that this story is a metaphor for the oppression of women in society."
Carmel looked politely impressed, but Kululu's quick answer could hardly have surprised him, Keroro mused. Ever since the first day of class it had been apparent that Kululu was smart; he always seemed ready with a succinct but thoughtful response to any piece of information he was given.
"That's right," said Carmel, nodding at Kululu appreciatively, "and we'll expand on that idea next class. Any questions?"
There were none, of course, and he bid the students a good day over the sound of the usual end-of-class commotion.
Keroro shoved his notebook into his bag and then slung it over his shoulder as he stood up from his desk. As he was leaving the classroom, he heard a notification sound coming from his pocket. He pulled his phone out and leaned against the wall beside the door that the rest of the class was filing out of.
The sound had been alerting him of an email that informed him that his Thursday biology class had been cancelled due to the teacher's coming down with an illness.
Keroro deleted the email and made to text his mother about the cancellation, but he suddenly realized that someone had come up to him. It was Kululu. He was standing very near to Keroro with his pale eyebrows raised expectantly.
Keroro stared uncertainly at his sharp, diamond-shaped face that was half covered by a pair of large round glasses with swirls on the lenses before coming to the conclusion that Kululu must have asked something that he hadn't heard.
"Sorry, what?" Keroro asked.
Kululu held up a box labeled 'Morley Menthol Cigarettes' and shook it in response.
"Oh, no thank you," Keroro said, shaking his head and smiling politely. "I don't smoke."
"I wasn't offering you one," Kululu replied, shoving the cigarettes into his back pocket. "I was asking for a light. But I guess since you don't smoke you won't have a lighter."
"Ah…" Keroro stowed his phone in his bag and walked off in search of a place to sit until his next class, which began in about an hour.
He sat at a stone table underneath the shade of a large pine tree. He scrolled through Instagram on his phone for a few minutes, but then Keroro was forced to retrieve his jacket from his bag and zip it on over his letterman jacket; it was windy and bitterly cold outside. He looked around happily at the orange leaves on the trees and at the cloudy sky. Keroro loved autumn.
He heard approaching footsteps and looked around. It was Kululu again. He must have found someone that had a lighter because there was a lit cigarette in his mouth.
"Anyone sitting here?" he asked quietly.
"No," Keroro replied, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket.
Kululu sat down at the table opposite him and took a long drag off his cigarette. He removed it from his mouth and held it between his thumb and forefinger before slowly exhaling a puff of white smoke.
Keroro idly watched the cloud rise and dissipate before commenting, "You know, you seem really smart, Kululu."
"Yes," Kululu agreed.
Keroro eyed him for a moment, his lips pursed in a thoughtful way, while Kululu stared back unperturbed. Then, coming to a decision, Keroro said determinedly, "We should study together sometime!"
Kululu dragged on the cigarette again and, as he exhaled, gave an unsettling chuckle. Keroro shivered involuntarily.
"Sure," Kululu answered finally, his mouth curling at the corners. "Having someone to study with should be more interesting."
Keroro forced a smile. He had been planning on using Kululu's brains to his own academic advantage, but now he wondered whether it was a mistake to associate with him. He hadn't previously noticed how creepy the guy was.
Kululu ran his fingers through his curly blond hair, yawning, then took his phone from his pants pocket. He entered his password on the lockscreen before holding it out to Keroro.
"Why… are you giving me your phone…?" Keroro asked, feeling a little nervous now.
"Phone number."
"Oh! So we can study together," Keroro said, relaxing again and navigating to Kululu's contacts. "Right." He saved his phone number and handed it back to his new acquaintance. Kululu's phone case was white with a bright yellow swirl.
"Neat case," said Keroro.
"Oh, thank you. It's my own personal design," Kululu replied in his strange drawling voice.
Keroro was pretending not to be unsettled by Kululu's disposition when someone came towards them from the direction of the theater.
"Dororo!" Keroro greeted with relief as the dark-haired young man approached them.
Pale blue eyes were Dororo's only visible feature, as the rest of his face was covered by a medical mask. He looked stressed.
"Hi," he said distractedly, giving Kululu a brief glance before continuing. "Listen, I think that my binder must be at your house. Are you sure that you haven't seen it?"
"Um, it's the really nice red one, right?" asked Keroro.
"Yes! All my notes for English are in there and we're already coming up on a test. I really need it, Keroro."
"I'll look again, just in case it's there," offered Keroro in a guilty-sounding way. Kululu smirked at him.
"Oh! Uh, Dororo, this is Kululu," Keroro said and gestured to his companion, eager to change the subject. "He's my new study partner."
Dororo smiled pleasantly and extended his hand to Kululu. "It's nice to meet you," he said.
Instead of shaking his hand, Kululu lightly fist-bumped Dororo's fingertips.
Looking perplexed, Dororo retrieved his hand. "Um, I should go," he said. "Class starts in a few minutes. I'll see you later." With a wave, he headed back the way he had come. Kululu stared after him.
"Why's he wearing a mask?" he asked Keroro.
"What? Oh, he always has. Fragile health, I think? We've asked him about it before, but he always gives kind of vague answers. Come to think of it…," he said, seemingly to himself, "I've never actually seen him without it…" A distant look of curiosity settled on his face at this thought.
"Who's 'we'?" asked Kululu.
Keroro snapped back to attention and turned to Kululu, wondering a little at his nosiness. "Another friend of mine and me. The three of us grew up together. Actually, we all started college late together too," he answered fondly.
"Having friends sounds nice," Kululu said. He blew a white smoke ring.
"Uh, yeah…," Keroro replied, feeling very uncomfortable. He glanced down at his watch and said, "I think I'm gonna go get a sandwich before my next class. It was nice meeting you, Kululu."
"Mm-hm."
Keroro walked off towards the parking lot, trying hard not to look like he was attempting escape from Kululu's company; which he wasn't. Odd though Kululu may be, Keroro liked him anyway.
Fumbling with his keys a little, Keroro unlocked the driver's door of his '79 Chevy pickup, a hand-me-down from his father, and pulled out of the crowded parking lot. On his way out, he glanced at the sign that read 'Idaho State University - Welcome, Fall 2017 Students!'
Keroro snorted a little. He had felt everything but welcome at this school during the first few weeks of the semester - but maybe he just had shitty teachers.
(The passage being read from/the story being discussed in their class is The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman)