|
|
Post by Ayumu Miyazaki on Jul 27, 2011 19:06:03 GMT -5
----------------------------------------------------
✂--i’m falling down into my shadow--
---holding my breath--- [/font] -----------------------------------------------------
The light breeze rustled lightly through the large dogwood tree, sending leaves scattering off their branches. Ayumu watched them dance slowly in the wind. His eyes followed them as they twirled downward and touched down gently on the swaying grass. A leaf brushed his nose; he sneezed in response. Frowning crossly, he peered across a long stretch of grass to the enormous school looming in the distance. He didn’t like how the many buildings marred the large open field with their bulk. It seemed to disgrace the nature around it. He tore his gaze away from the academy and faced the opposite direction in a vain attempt to forget about school.
Finally possessing the will to do something, Ayumu had dragged himself from the darkness of his dorm room back at Gaikoku no Akademi. He’d spent his first few days at the academy cooped up in his dorm wallowing in self-pity and grief over the deaths of Ren and Chiyo. With nothing in particular to do after leaving the confines of his dorm, he had wandered his way across campus and out a ways from the used grounds. Ayumu didn’t really see the point in doing anything, even leaving his dorm. He didn’t see the point in even going to class either, but he did so anyway. He didn’t want to get kicked out of the academy. He couldn’t go home, not yet. Facing his parents wasn’t something he looked forward to. In the past, they had pretended like he hadn’t existed. After Ren died, they had beaten him and blamed him for their eldest son’s death. If he went back home, they’d either beat him or ignore him. At least when they beat him, though, they acknowledged his existence.
Ayumu leaned back against the thick trunk of the tree. He gazed upward at the sky with pale bluish gray eyes, taking in the fluffy white clouds and the darkening blue sky. The time was around five, in between classes and dinner, when the students had free time to change out of their uniforms and do whatever they pleased. Not that Ayumu had the will to do much.
He didn’t have any friends to do anything with either. He kind of liked his solitude, and didn’t particularly like most people, but he was beginning to tire of being alone all the time. He longed for some kind of company. He secretly wished someone would try to talk to him. However, he wasn’t about to go up to someone and try speaking with them. He was half afraid of attempting to make friends. In his past school, no one even went near him after they realized what the state of his mental health was like. No kid wanted to sit with the insane kid. He had been ignored like at home, or teased relentlessly about how he belonged in a mental institution. Of course, his parents wouldn’t hear any of it. Why, they didn’t even believe he existed. At the memories, Ayumu’s left hand automatically slipped into the pocket of his black jacket to grip the pair of scissors he always kept there.
Ayumu pulled the brim of his big tan hat down and closed his eyes. Ever since he found out about the death of Chiyo, his brother‘s fiancee and the last person he had to take care of him after Ren died, he had felt more alone than ever. He literally had no one. Ayumu curled up below the large tree, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his head in his arms. His fingers itched to grab hold of his scissors, to cut something to pieces, a reflex that was caused by his mental instability; he bit his lip, fighting to suppress the maddening urge.
----------------------------------------------------- ✂--the deadly night is waiting--
---black paper moon--- [/color] -----------------------------------------------------
tagged -- open.
word count -- six-two-nine.
outfit -- click.
notes -- mindless ramble. 8D
song -- PAPERMOON by Tommy heavenly6.
|
|
|
|
Post by rei on Jul 29, 2011 9:44:41 GMT -5
Mark Gonzales had his brown eyes on the sheet of paper in front of him. Nearly stumbling down the steps when the next line of text registered in his head, great, how did he fail another test? Brushing his hand through his hair he hissed under his breath in quick Spanish. “Esto es una pendejada...” his brown eyes dark, his father would be ashamed once more. Shaking his head he continued walking away from the school building. But when he stepped into the shelter less ground the air froze up around him. Taking a deep breathe he thanked the fact he decided in the last minute to put on a jacket before leaving his dorm. It would be getting colder now, not that Mark liked it, but it was part of nature. Summer was hot, Spring was warm, Fall was cool, and Winter was cold. It was normal, at least here it was, back where Mark came from it was different, you barely noticed the seasons, in fact their weren’t even four seasons.
Brushing his hair out of his face he stared down at the sheet. Math, it was always math that involved the most thinking, no that was inaccurate, everything involved thinking. Of which he did greatly, but not for math. The boy never spoke, he never did well, he just kept to himself. It had been that way for a long time now. It wasn’t like his father cared, as long as his boy went to the most expensive school for smart kids and seemed to be brilliant he was happy. The problem is, Mark’s father never remained happy, maybe it was because Mark suffered a depression and his mother committed suicide. Maybe Mark’s father never remained happy because he knew Mark’s mother never loved him, or maybe it was because he never loved her, but her sister. The marriage was forced, neither side anxious for getting married. But it was all part of a big picture, the greater power for the family.
Mark turned his gaze upwards to the sky, it was getting dark, the scenery tinting a light gray as the time seeped away like sand. Sighing Mark continued his walk, keeping to himself and ignoring the brilliant students who were not in a special needs program like he was, ignoring the future business leaders, scientists, inventors, or prize winners. Mark though, knew in the bottom, that being here was pointless. What would he become? He couldn’t even pass a math test, he wasn’t tall nor social, he barely ate, he couldn’t focus on anything. Mark was a lost cause, a waste in such rich grounds, but it’s not like Mark had a choice. He would much rather be attending Colegio 24 de Mayo, where all the other Ecuadorians his age went, or at least the ones he believed he belonged with. The students in 24 de Mayo weren’t rich, nor brilliant, it was just another school in his point of view, another prison that he would be forced to attend. But at least in Quito he could get out of it without being hunted down or caught. At least there he could speak his own language and have a slightly larger probability of getting friends, whereas here his probability was lower than imagined. Then again the boy never spoke to anyone, maybe seemed to be a bit intimidating, Mark never smiled nor laughed. What was there to laugh at? The fact his mother went insane and committed suicide? The fact his aunt hated him and his cousin wanted him gone from the face of the Earth? What could he possibly feel happy about? There was no joy in his life, not a good memory, at least not one that lasted.
Then the wind picked up slightly blowing the light paper out of his hands. Cursing silently he chased after it and nearly ran over a boy. Feeling annoyed at his paper, embarrassed at the fact he was chasing it around, and stupid for not looking at where he was going his languages mixed in a strange jumble. “Perdon no te, I didn’t mean to nearly run into you…” wow that sounded strange. Great now they would know he was in the special needs program.
Word Count:709 Outfit: CasualTags: Ayumu Miyazaki, OPEN Translation: This is bullshit, |
|
|
|
Post by Ayumu Miyazaki on Jul 29, 2011 12:54:28 GMT -5
----------------------------------------------------
✂--i’m falling down into my shadow--
---holding my breath--- [/font] -----------------------------------------------------
The scissors in his pocket were cold against the skin of his palm. He had given in to the urge to grab hold of his most prized possession, but only after subduing the maddening reflex to cut something to pieces. There was nothing nearby that he could have really cut up anyway. But still, he didn’t trust himself holding those scissors when he was like that. He hadn’t quite had one of his fits of insanity, but he knew he had been close to it. During those fits, there was no stopping him from stabbing anything, or anyone, in the immediate area. He leaned back against the tree. His free hand, not the one gripping the scissors, held his knees to his chest. With his hat pulled down over his face, he closed his eyes again and relaxed. His mind wandered as he dozed.
Being way out across campus and far away from any of the school buildings, Ayumu certainly hadn’t thought he would run into anyone. Or rather, that anyone would run into him. He had been only half conscious, slowly drifting further and further asleep. It was a welcoming feeling; he hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few nights, instead crying and grieving over the deaths of Ren and Chiyo. Nighttime was his chance to let all his hurt feelings out. He wouldn’t show his true emotions during the day around other people, much less cry. Ayumu woke with a start as something blew into his face. Panicking, he clawed ferociously at it with both of his hands. Eyes crazed, he tore it right in half. His eyes widened when he realized what it was. Somebody’s math test. Whoever took it had failed it, too. Ayumu looked up, searching for the owner, just in time for someone to nearly trip over him. Ayumu forced himself to fall over, trying to squirm away from the boy before he actually did trip over him. That was all Ayumu needed: physical contact.
Ayumu hated being touched, to the point where any physical contact caused him to panic. And, for the most part, sent him into a scissor-stabbing frenzy. He couldn’t even count all the times he had gotten in trouble in past schools for stabbing his classmates with sharp objects just for poking him or grazing his shoulder. Some called it severe claustrophobia. Ayumu wasn’t really sure what it was. He just knew that whenever he tried to make friends, it always backfired the moment he was touched.
“Perdon no te, I didn’t mean to nearly run into you…”
The boy was obviously embarrassed at nearly running him over. Ayumu supposed he must have been the owner of the test that had smashed him in the face. Still a bit frazzled, Ayumu sat up and said in a quiet voice, “Erm, that’s okay…” He noted that the boy had spoken half in a different language; Ayumu wasn’t at all surprised, since a good majority of the students were not native to Japan. He must have come to the academy from a different country. He bit his lip, tearing his gaze from the other boy to look at the test he still held in his hands. It was now torn in two from when he had panicked. “Umm, I’m sorry, is this yours…? I didn’t mean to rip it… It just… startled me.” He hoped the boy wouldn’t be too mad at him. Ayumu hadn’t been able to control himself. Then again, whenever he used the whole ‘I didn’t mean to’ excuse, no one ever bought it. Then he would get beaten up and called all sorts of horrible things. Telling people the truth, that he was mentally unstable, seemed like an even worse idea. He didn’t want to make his insanity known. Getting beaten up seemed like a much better choice to him.
----------------------------------------------------- ✂--the deadly night is waiting--
---black paper moon--- [/color] -----------------------------------------------------
tagged -- mark gonzales, open.
word count -- six-three-one.
outfit -- click.
notes -- i hope he's prepared to get stabbed with scissors.
song -- PAPERMOON by Tommy heavenly6.
|
|
|
|
Post by rei on Jul 30, 2011 7:24:59 GMT -5
Mark blinked startled as the boy ripped his paper in half. Now what was he supposed to feel? Happy that that horrible page had been shredded into two sheets, or angered at the fact it had been ripped? Deciding for a neutral emotion he skidded to half nearly ramming into the kid who ripped his paper. And due to the fact he wasn’t in the mood of probably getting punched for ramming into him he rushed his sorry, mixing his languages in a sloppy form. Which would probably get him into trouble, weren’t you only supposed to speak English here? Well I guess it’s a good thing I was sent to many American schools before…he thought bitterly. In Manta, Ecuador they use to have an American Military School for the American children, unfortunately his father found a way to get his son into the school.
Sighing he felt flustered. Great, I mixed my languages and am standing here like some idiot who doesn’t know how to look at where he is going. Great…he thought annoyed. Taking a silent breathe he tried to remain calm, not wanting to scare nor anger the younger stranger. Erm…that’s okay… the words made him feel a bit confused. How was it okay that he nearly rammed into the kid? Then an old term popped into his head, what was it? Ahh, Common Courtesy…it seemed like everyone except the Ecuadorians used it. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously he didn’t know how to reply. How would he know how to reply? Normally when someone nearly runs you over you don’t say ‘it’s okay’ you say something along the lines of ‘why don’t you watch where you’re going?’ but this school was international, so these kids may know more of common courtesy than him.
“Umm, I’m sorry, is this yours…? I didn’t mean to rip it… It just… startled me.” the boy said ending the brief five seconds of awkward silence. With these words Mark let out a silent sigh of relief. At least one person knew how not to hold a strange silence for long. Just standing there he realized he was expected to reply, or he expected he was expected to reply. ”Er…I guess it’s fine…Um…I didn’t need it anyway…”
[/color] horrible, how could he not know how to hold a conversation for long? Blinking he tried to look a bit more casual than the wow-what-was-i-supposed-to-say look. But due to the fact Mark had no people skills he couldn’t exactly pull it off. Which resulted to another problem. What was he supposed to say now? Hey it’s fine you ripped up the sheet I failed but my father has been waiting to see, or hey you need to fix the ripped up sheet I wish I never had. Either way it sounded strange, or that’s what Mark thought. See, Mark never really spoke, so he never really knew what to say when he did feel the urge to speak. Not that he felt that urge right now. His feelings right now where more along the lines of great-another-awkward-silence. But that didn’t mean he didn’t like this kid, it was more of a, ‘hey I don’t know you’ kind of feeling towards this stranger. Stranger, that was the answer to end this strange 10 second silence. ”Er…mi heisse is Mark Gonzales-I mean my name is Mark Gonzales,” idiot! He cursed in his head. How is it he couldn’t even say his name was Mark Gonzales without screwing up or mixing languages? See this is why Ecuadorians are known and certainly don’t make the cover of international news. And if they do, it’s cause they have family elsewhere and pretend like they aren’t Ecuadorian. But who was there to blame? Mark knew, like everyone else, Ecuadorians don’t do things unless they know there is something in it for them. Not that Mark was this way, but most of the Ecuadorian population was this way, or at least the most of the rich Ecuadorian population was like this. And if a Ecuadorian was to try to become something great, he or she, to avoid all the conflict over ‘what’s in it for you’ and ‘why are you doing it’ just says they aren’t Ecuadorian. Which upsets the Ecuadorian public and makes them a bit ruder and meaner to the other Hispanics from different countries, which in turn creates even more problems over the ‘Ecuadorians don’t have much of the hospitality needed to succeed’. In short terms, most Ecuadorians were screwed. But that’s what makes them amazing, these people seem to know more of the ‘life hates you’ part of living life and ‘how to move on’. Which is great, unless you like in Guayaquil and are hated, because then your life doesn’t really last as long as it’s intended to…[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size] Tags: Ayumu Miyazaki, Open Word Count: 806 Outfit: HereNotes: *pulls out rock* I think he's prepared xD |
|
|
|
Post by Ayumu Miyazaki on Aug 14, 2011 12:52:52 GMT -5
----------------------------------------------------
✂--i’m falling down into my shadow--
---holding my breath--- [/font] -----------------------------------------------------
Ayumu felt guilty for ripping the boy’s paper. It wasn’t like he had wanted to, or even meant to. It had just been an accident. There was nothing he could do about it now, though. It was done, and there was no reversing it. If the boy decided to beat him up for it, so be it. Ayumu wouldn’t struggle. Though he would probably scream a bit if it hurt too much. He might even end up crying too. Being beaten would probably only bring up memories he was hoping to forget. Memories of the pain while he was in the hospital after the car wreck, of being beaten by his parents when he returned home. But being beaten up was better than revealing his mental instability. He would do anything to keep that a secret.
“Er… I guess it’s fine… Umm… I didn’t need it anyway…”
So he claimed he didn’t need it? The boy didn’t sound at all to Ayumu like he meant that. Though he couldn’t blame the kid, for not exactly wanting it, after seeing the failing grade written on the front of the test. Ayumu hesitantly held out the torn test to the boy. “Gomen,” he apologized, but in Japanese this time. He didn’t even notice himself slip up. Japanese was his first language, and he was so used to speaking it. He kept his fingers on the edge of the paper, hoping the boy wouldn’t accidentally touch him when he took his test back. If he did… well, Ayumu didn’t want to think about that. If he did, Ayumu would surely panic, and probably end up stabbing him with the scissors in his pocket. Then the two fell into silence. It was utterly awkward. Ayumu shifted nervously, chewing on his bottom lip. He was used to silence and all that, and usually enjoyed it, but this was just uncomfortable. The other boy finally broke it, and spoke.
“Er… mi heisse is Mark Gonzales--I mean, my name is Mark Gonzales.”
His name was Mark Gonzales, then? That certainly wasn’t Japanese. Ayumu wondered what country he had come from. Following with his own introduction, Ayumu said, “I’m Miyazaki Ayumu,” he said. “Actually, since you’re not from Japan, you probably don’t use the same naming order as I do. Miyazaki is my surname. Ayumu is my first name.” He cracked a small, timid smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Gonzales-san.” He addressed Mark by what he assumed to be his last name, given other countries’ naming order, with that particular honorific because they were just acquaintances. Even though he was speaking English, it was still a habit for him to use honorifics and address people by their last name. In the school, too, it was required to call teachers by their last name with the honorific ‘sensei.’
Ayumu crossed his legs, perking up a bit. Even though he had ripped Mark’s test, it didn’t seem like he was going to beat Ayumu up for it. Ayumu was almost glad. He was being nice, too, and had even introduced himself. Maybe he’d make a friend! That is, as long as he kept himself form having a panic attack and stabbing Mark with scissors. He would just have to make sure the two didn’t touch. Even a bit of physical contact and that would be it.
----------------------------------------------------- ✂--the deadly night is waiting--
---black paper moon--- [/color] -----------------------------------------------------
tagged -- mark gonzales, open.
word count -- five-three-four.
outfit -- click.
notes -- so~ sorry i took so long. :c
song -- PAPERMOON by Tommy heavenly6.
|
|
|
|
Post by rei on Aug 20, 2011 8:13:31 GMT -5
Mark never really learned Japanese. So, like the idiot his father thought he was, he stood there and pondered the possible meaning of ‘Gomen’ which could mean, Sorry, Idiot who wouldn’t mind, Here take it, Uhh ok?, or something else. Frowning slightly he tried to seem cool about this mix of Japanese and brushed a hand through his hair. But due to his Japanese word Mark now figured this stranger, who so kindly tore his paper in two, was Japanese. Maybe all Japanese kids have the urge of slicing paper in two… he thought nodding as if he understood the boy’s Japanese word.
Feeling surprised by the long name he gulped. ”Uhh….do you have a nickname?” he wanted to say. But he didn’t since he didn’t want to get sliced in two like his failed paper. Hearing about the naming order he let a sigh of relief slip. ”That’s good cause I thought I might have to say ‘Hey Mikayazaki’ and that would be a long name…” he grinned. Hoping he didn’t screw up the Japanese name. Since he wasn’t Japanese and wasn’t use to the long and strange sounds their names made when said. Looking down at the sheet of paper he studied the wrinkles, surely if he taped it, it would seem nicer and I dunno…Not so destroyed…
It’s nice to meet you Gonzales-san… the boy told him. San? San is….Ohh yeah those honorifics they use in Japan! He thought feeling proud of remembering the use of these things. Grinning slightly he said. ”It’s nice to meet you Ayumu…” then he shook his head ”Er I mean Mi-ka-ya-za-ki…san…” he added the san remembering he was supposed to since it’s polite. And he had to break Ayumu’s name into syllables so that he didn’t end up like his paper sliced in two pieces for messing up the name.
Mark seeing that the boy was feeling a bit more relaxed let out a silent prayer of relief. Maybe today he wouldn’t get sliced in two. Taking his paper cautiously he said in a akward tone ”Uhh….so…what program are you in?” he asked hoping the boy wouldn’t ask the same, or else he might have to lie or just joke his way out. Unless Mark did want to admit he was in the Special Needs program, which would be the last thing he would do. Since it is embarrassing, even his father admitted it. Which is pretty cold.
Notes: Sorry it took so long and my post sucks. My muss has been at a all time low this week :( Word Count: 407 |
|
|
|
Post by Ayumu Miyazaki on Aug 21, 2011 17:39:26 GMT -5
----------------------------------------------------
✂--i’m falling down into my shadow--
---holding my breath--- [/font] -----------------------------------------------------
During the awkward conversation, Ayumu’s fingers found their way into the pocket of his oversized black coat and curled themselves around the cold metal of his scissors. He was hoping he wouldn’t get the urge to stab Mark with them at any point. It didn’t seem like the other boy was going to leave any time soon. Ayumu was half happy, half worried about that. He was glad that someone was finally talking to him. On the other hand, he was worried that something would happen that would trigger one of his fits of insanity he was so prone to having. If he went insane, that would be it. He would probably end up assaulting Mark with his scissors. If he didn’t kill Mark, then the other boy would at least be in the hospital for awhile. Ayumu would be expelled from school. And, even worse, it would be spread around that he was completely insane. He didn’t want to make his mental instability known. He didn’t want it to get in the way of making friends, either.
“That’s good ‘cos I thought I might have to say ‘Hey Mikayazaki’ and that would be a long name…”
The other boy grinned, but Ayumu couldn’t help cringing at the mispronunciation of his last name. It was Miyazaki, not Mikayazaki. Ayumu was hesitant about mentioning it, but he did anyway. “Erm, it’s Miyazaki.” But, he guessed, it was close enough. He could understand Mark having trouble with his Japanese name, since he was a foreigner. Ayumu noticed him glance down at the torn test paper again. A flash of guilt went through him. That was another lovely thing about his insanity. Anything touched him, caught him by surprise, and it would end up just like the test.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ayumu… Er, I mean, Mi-ka-ya-za-ki…san…”
Well, at least he remembered the honorifics. That was something most of the foreigners at the academy lacked. They always spoke so casually with people they barely knew without a thought in the world about Japanese customs. But still, he had misspoken Ayumu’s last name again. He gave small, nervous laugh. If this had been an anime, he would have had a sweat drop on his head. “How about you just call me ‘Ayumu-san’?” he offered. ‘Ayumu’ seemed like it would be much easier for Mark to pronounce than ‘Miyazaki.’ Ayumu leaned himself back against the tree, looking up at Mark as they spoke. His eyes darted nervously every few minutes. He still felt awkward having a conversation with someone.
“Uhh… So… What program are you in?”
At least Mark sounded almost as nervous as Ayumu felt. So, he wasn’t the only one who felt all awkward in the conversation. “The arts program,” Ayumu replied. He added, “For drawing.” Ayumu loved to draw. It was something he could do in solitude without damaging anything. It relaxed him, too. He found that he had less mental issues while he was drawing. He drew people, anime style, of course, more than anything else. (He had trouble drawing realistic people, so stuck with anime.) His love for drawing people stemmed from his deep wish for some kind of companion. “What program are you in?” Ayumu asked. He blinked up at Mark, awaiting a response.
----------------------------------------------------- ✂--the deadly night is waiting--
---black paper moon--- [/color] -----------------------------------------------------
tagged -- mark gonzales, open.
word count -- five-one-zero.
outfit -- click.
notes -- i think mark should touch him so he can get stabbed. *shrugs* it would make things more interesting... |3
song -- PAPERMOON by Tommy heavenly6.
|
|
|
|
Post by rei on Aug 25, 2011 11:00:15 GMT -5
Notes: sorry my computer crashed so I'm on my iPod >.> I promise longer posts when my computer is fixed though! This post is an embarrassment, sorry.. Gah! Did he just screw up his name. Feeling embarrassed he rubbed the back of his neck smiling slightly. Er sorry about that Mi-ya-sa-ki-San... he said trying really hard not to mess up his name this time. Sure he wasn't Japanese, but he still needed to respect his name. After all he is in fact lucky to even be here, not only is he not a genius but he could barely get from the airport here without getting lost. Mark was as some would say, not the sharpest crayon in the pack. Not that he was stupid, he just wasn't the brightest. Not that he cared, he still had enough money to get away from the pestering Ecuadorian girls who all wanted some of his money. I guess that was everywhere, girls trying to get with you for money, but atleast here everybody was at least near the same status socially, mentally...he was infect below. Not even Mark would deny it, but it wasn't completely true, maybe if he tried he could do better, be better. But what was the point in that? Not like his mother cared enough to stick around long enough to see her son grow up. No she was another suicide joining the oh-so-great-dead that Mark didn't give shit about. Maybe he hated them, for taking away his mother. But hating the dead was pointless, even Mark knew that.
Arts that's cool for smart people, creative artists, all that stuff. Mark honestly never tried art, and now that he thought about it he wanted to. But he doubted he would be any good at it like that one guy who painted the Mona Lisa. What was his name? For a moment he stood there trying to remember his name when he realized he was still talking to someone. "Art is pretty cool. I don't do much probably a paper airplane every once in a while ..." he laughed. He wished he was talented at something amazing, but he wasn't so...
Ohh yeah I'm in the special needs program... wouldn't been something he would have said if he was completely honest. Deciding humor would be better than being found out he said "I'm obviously in the math program," his sarcasm joking as he pretended to hide his paper. Grinning he hoped the boy wouldn't ask something around the lines of 'really what program are you in?'
Looking around nervously he observed the scenery, a slight wind. Gentle glow in the sky, nice weather, or at least it was from under his jacket, some leaves falling, walking students. And a buzz, a highly annoying buzz from a small creature that glittered around Mark and before he could react to Ayumu's resting hand. Mark feeling highly aggravated couldn't help but swat at a small bug floating near Ayumu's hand. His finger tips slightly brushing the top of his hand as the insect flew away. This contact bothered Mark a bit, he didn't want it to seem like he was flirting with this guy, but he didn't want him to get stung either. Now that would be bad, for Ayumu and fir the possibly blamed Mark. Who wasn't in the mood for bring attacked by questioning teachers. Er sorry bout that a bug
