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[calexox]

PAIKOT-IKOT LANG MULA NO'NG MAILANG, GAWA NG 'YONG TINGIN AT NGITI Photojournalist!gn!MC Notes: step 2!Qiu & Tamarack · just a short, no proofread, based on one of my favorite Webtoons: Read Between the Lines, VEERY self indulgent to my mc :3

THEY say photojournalists have a great eye for things; because they have a knack for seeing for finding beauty in the simplicity of things.

✦ Which is exactly why you found Qiu "Autumn" Lin — whose last wish was to be caught up in these crowds in a school fair— so intriguing.

They didn't stand out. With their head turned down and their hood up, you could barely make them out for other than a checkered blue blob amongst the other students who rushed back-and-forth between booths.

You wonder, what could a person like them, in this state, be doing at school during an event like this?

To explain, you'd expect Qiu in an environment like this if you were ten. He might've even asked you to go with.

They don't act any different, at least. They look fed up with how cramped it is in the middle of the lane.

They even look like they're looking for something. Or someone? Though you doubt they'd go through that much trouble...

You'd catch them from the corner of your lens when you'd check your camera roll, though you never remember seeing them in the area until then (Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie).

You're actual encounter with them was under the bleachers.

It wasn't a regular school day so it wouldn't count in attendance, for those uninterested. Even if it were counted, most teachers wouldn't bother. So everyone else was genuinely into it. So the only two people trying to get away from the crowd would be you, finding a place people wouldn't interrupt you to take a photo of them, and Qiu who you assume wants to get away from the bustle.

✦ You're running out of hope. You're liking none of the shots you're getting of the orchestra and they haven't even begun!

You sigh, deleting all takes you deemed bad until all there was were photos you took before this very day.

But you shall not falter! You needed at least one to make it on the pubmat! You didn't just get a good Canon camera for nothing!

Your gaze runs around the room, lingering from one band member to another when you spot her.

Tamarack Baumann, dressed from head-to-toe in concert black, holding her instrument close to her with a timorous expression on her features.

You almost missed her. Most would have, especially with the way she'd try to blend in the crowd, diminishing her presence. But as her friend and neighbor for years, you'd recognize that tuft of sparkling hair anywhere.

You suck in a breath, holding your camera up to your eye and pointing it towards her. You're far from discreet, but you tinkered and zoomed in with the lens as fast as you could, taking advantage of this candid moment.

Click! Click! Click!

You'd take a moment to admire your work, amazed. Had the quality gone up? Wasn't lighting usually better in person than on camera? How was it the other way around now?

Oh you're going on a field day with this.

[calexox]

I HAVE LOST IT ALL (HELP ME BREATHE)

── ♡ QIU LIN & TAMARACK BAUMANN

qiu contemplates the present. tamarack thinks about the past and what was lost along the way. you believe your future will be bright.

If Tamarack could be compared to a tornado, you would be a hurricane.

It’s an odd thought Qiu Lin ponders at age fourteen. It’s been four years since they had gained two new neighbours. In those early days, riddled with misadventures and emotions, they felt a connection to the pair of you that was hard to put into words. They reminisce over an old myth their mother liked to tell them during rainy evenings inside, her crocheting and them absentmindedly tossing a handball at laminated floors, watching it come back into their waiting hand listlessly.

The red thread of fate. An invisible string around the finger of those destined to meet. Perhaps that felt like an accurate way to describe it. Something about their neighbours did feel pre-destined. An inevitable that couldn’t be fought against. Yet, the myth was about lovers. Did they love you and Tamarack? It was cruel to speak it into the world, but they weren’t sure of the answer.

After all, things have changed since the three of you were ten years old.

They had adopted a mask of apathy. It was a slow change, carefully planned and executed, as it was in their nature. Even with their burnout, they still took precautions for their image, and this instinct only displeased them more. It was an ironic cycle of dissatisfaction. Tamarack had lost her cheek, her usual assertiveness now disguised behind carefully thought-out words and cautious eyes. People walked on a tightrope around her and she merely returned the favour. There is no permeance when it comes to Tamarack Baumann.

You were much more difficult to describe on the account that Qiu can’t decide if you changed as a consequence to them. Your eyes are clear, you walk with a secret purpose, and they still see the same person they had met in their backyard. Being fourteen didn’t stop you from looking at the world with the same reservation, curiosity, disdain and love as when you were ten. Yet, there is no longer anyone around you. Despite their isolation, Qiu had managed to keep those who had been “in” their circle since the beginning as companions. Even Tamarack had found friends.

Yet, for some wild reason completely incomprehensible to them, you decided your circle would still be limited to Tamarack and Qiu, who could hardly call themselves your friends anymore, but neighbours at best. Despite this, you never gave chase. You didn’t push for their company. You didn’t push for conversation. You simply sat there as if their time and care were a given, as if you deserved nothing less. Perhaps your entitlement should irritate them, but it doesn’t. You liked to act as if you could see something they didn’t, every time your eyes met Qiu’s in passing, it was as if you could already see years into the future. It’s unsettling. It makes them wonder if you also believed in things like the red string of faith. Maybe if the both of you were still friends, they could’ve asked.

Their handball, now slightly tattered with age, rebounds into their gloved hand.

Your mother used to intimidate her.

It was a secret Tamarack had intended to take to her grave. Not out of consideration for you (she hardly had any filter when she was ten years old), but because she was embarrassed that the lady next door was what managed to spook her before the idea of bears or thunderstorms.

Your mother, Opal, was kind. She was nowhere near mean. Yet, she talked like an adult. She talked like an extremely mature and smart adult, even to little kids who are barely gauging the world. Tamarack knew a lot of people tend to talk to their kids as if they were grownups, something about building confidence and intelligence. However, she, whose grandparents spoke to her like the child she was, didn’t understand why your mom used such big words and became super serious out of seemingly nowhere. The unpredictability of nature didn’t scare her. It’s the unexpected behaviour of adults that made her nervous.

However, her opinion of Opal has shifted since she turned fourteen. It’s likely because she can now understand most of what the older woman says, so conversations with her felt less daunting. However, interactions with her have also dwindled majorly over the years on account of the both of you drifting away from each other. Tamarack wishes she could have pinpointed the reason why you both no longer sat together in class, or why she stopped coming over.

(Well, even if she did know the reason, would she have made the necessary chase to be your best friend again?)

Usually, Tamarack’s grandmother preferred to hand over any meals to the neighbours on her own. It gave her both the opportunity to soak up praise first-hand, and an excuse to linger for conversation. However, today she requested Tamarack to send over Apfelkuchen to your household since she had a doctor’s appointment she was running late to. So, in what seemed like a long while, she rapped her knuckles against the mahogany of your door and stood with clammy hands holding tightly to the circular dish. After exactly a minute, the doors open to reveal Opal. Her round eyes widen for a split second at the sight of the golden-haired girl, before swiftly offering her a pleased smile.

“Tamarack? It’s been a while,” She greets conversationally, even if she’s looking down at her from her height. Tamarack returns her welcome with less confidence and enthusiasm, before launching into a quick explanation about what brought her to standing on the porch.

“I see,” Opal takes the dish from her outstretched hand, gently but securely holding it in her grasp. “Please send your grandmother my thanks, and I greatly appreciate her sending over her delicious baking.”

She nods along to the older woman, but she cannot stop her eyes that linger behind Opal. Perhaps, deep inside, she wishes you were lingering downstairs, eavesdropping on the conversation before making your entrance to interrupt your mother’s flow of conversation.

(It’s what you would have done back then.)

Of course, you do not show up and soon Opal bids her farewell, with the obligatory show of gratitude for coming to deliver the cake, and that she was welcome at your house at any time. It’s an offer she’s heard countless times but hasn’t accepted in years. She’s sure Opal would have been floored if she actually kicked off her shoes at that moment, and welcomed herself inside.

She makes the short trek back to the comfort of her own house. However, in that minute-long walk, she swore that with every crunch of boots against dried leaves, she could hear the bells of your gleeful laughter beside her.

All good things come in threes.

The first time you heard that saying was back when you lived in a small apartment with your mother. You had no backyard and no kids your age to play with outside of school. Your mother was often swamped with work, and due to the irregular times she would be home, your elderly neighbour offered to take care of you until she was back from work.

Thanks to this, you had become familiar with the smell of strong incense and sandalwood, and of porcelain cats in display cases. You had also picked up the faint scent of tobacco, which was desperately covered by air freshener and open windows before you arrived at her door. Of course, at that age, you didn’t know what it was and assumed it was one of those heavy and weird perfumes adults tended to use.

Even if she was a bit odd with her patchwork skirts and collection of dolls with glassy eyes, she was not a bad person. She let you watch TV whenever you asked, listening in to the static voices of a smooth-sounding woman with the thrumming of her sewing machine in the background. Usually, she let you do your own thing, whether it was sitting on the floor and colouring in a picture book, or watching whatever channel you flipped through. Sometimes, she’d sit on an aging armchair, watching as you coloured out of the lines of a picture of Barney, and preach to you whatever happened to cross her mind. Many things slipped from one ear and out the other, but one saying from her managed to stick to the metaphorical walls of your brain.

All good things come in threes.

You aren’t sure why, but it became your anchor in your childhood. It bled into your everyday life; this belief that happy days are sure to come your way as long as it all happened in threes. You kept three different types of socks for every colour. When you went shopping with your mother, you made sure to put three bars of chocolate in the cart instead of the one you were allowed (and your mother discreetly put it back before you noticed). You kept three glitter pens in your pencil case.

When you first met Qiu and Tamarack, it was the third of the month. You became a trio on the third of the month. You moved to a three-house cul de sac on the third of the month.

Golden Groove was your fortune, you were utterly convinced of this fact. Qiu and Tamarack were your destiny. Even when with age, you began to stop buying and keeping threes of everything, you still did not let go of this notion. Even if conversation had begun to dwindle and invites to hang out had slowed to a stop, you were undeterred. They were your constants, and whatever path of life you all walk will inevitably converge and become one again.

You reflect on this as you lay in bed, hot tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. In your open palm lies a polaroid of Tamarack and Qiu, much younger, squished together at each of your sides. They smile at you as if in love.

[calexox]

Hi hi! Dropping these here bc Tiktok algo is really killing me rn TT TT

[calexox]

Hi!

Any dialogue ideas between two really smart people (Sherlock genius type) who are stupid when it comes to the other? Some sort of love-hate relationship, so insults kind of thing.

Example:

"Wow, I never thought you'd be stupid enough to try and do this"

"Well, you're here with me, so that makes you stupid too"

**A plus would be people's reactions upon seeing them be like this

Hi :)

Two smart and also stupid people in love

Coming right up! (I already liked your own prompt so I’m also putting it on the list.)

"Wow, I never thought you'd be stupid enough to try and do this.” "Well, you're here with me, so that makes you stupid too.”

“Is it really that hard for you to admit that I’m clever?” “Yes.”

“You’re saying that you’re only attracted to someone’s brain, but I totally caught you checking out my butt.”

“I still beat you that time at chess.” “You’re never going to let me live this down, right?”

“You’re smarter than you look.” “Is that a compliment for my intelligence or an insult for my looks?”

“You’re both so smart and yet so stupid.”

“How do I know if they like me like that?” “You would think that with your IQ you could figure this out on your own.”

“You must be the reason for global warming because you’re hot.” “Actually, it’s primarily because of too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.” (old prompt)

Have fun!

- Jana

[calexox]

sick scara but he doesn’t admit he is actually sick … he tries so so hard to act normal but fails because u see him slump in his bed, eyes drifting, nose red, & coughing in spasms. he clearly feels like shit. “no, i’m not sick at all,” said the definitely sick guy running a fever. he groans and scoffs all he wants until he realizes that he has YOUR full, utter attention, willing to relent to any of his whims no matter how unreasonable it is. like a switch went off his brain. that plushy you always cuddle? nah, you are cuddling with him now he doesn’t care. cooking? you will personally feed him, will you? what? he is sick, didn’t you say you were going to take care of him? ….Holy fuck he is going to be so bratty & demanding all day. might as well feed him grapes on a sliver spoon while u are at it.

[calexox]

chat chat i love tam & qius relationship actually !!! did you know that becausr u should know that

i find them very interesting. they both have what each other wants. in step one, tamarack has the ability to be apologetically herself, and from a young age, she already knows that she shouldn't care for the people who don't care about her. qiu has the skill to be socially aware, and he's well liked because of that -- his ability to read people and situations and create a positive outcome from it.

but in step two, they change. tamarack starts changing herself, even hiding certain things as she's self-conscious and too aware of how people view her. there's this need in her to be liked by others, which explains her anxious demeanor that we see. qiu starts to close themselves off, because of frustration that no one seems to appreciate who they truly are, and they're not even sure who that person is.

they both have something that the other person wants, which is a factor that causes all this tension in between them.

EUGGH my messy qpr 💔💔💔

[calexox]

Beeping Monitors and Broken Bones

Hospital au, kunikuzushi x gn!reader, they're both kids here (9-10 y/o) AN: first post! I hope it's not too bad </3 I'm not a native speaker so writing this long was a little hard for me + I'm posting on my laptop so it's harder to navigate tumblr since i'm not used to it

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The first thing Kunikuzushi felt when he woke up was pain.

The second was anger.

His legs were encased in heavy casts, his entire lower half immobilized by thick bandages and an obnoxiously tight hospital blanket. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nose, and the steady beeping of medical equipment rang in his ears. The bright overhead light burned his eyes, and the room felt uncomfortably cold. He hated it.

He hated all of it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be outside, running, jumping, living. Instead, he was here, stuck in some stupid hospital ward, unable to move, unable to leave. It was unfair.

He scowled and turned his head, only to freeze when he realized he wasn’t alone.

There was another kid in the hospital bed next to his. They looked about his age—maybe a little smaller, their frame fragile and thin beneath their oversized hospital gown. They had a nasal cannula hooked around their ears, the tubing trailing down to an oxygen tank beside the bed. Unlike him, though, they didn’t seem upset about being here. They just sat there, legs swinging idly over the side of the bed, watching him with an expression that was half curious, half amused.

Then they grinned.

“Whoa,” they said, pointing at his cast. “What did you do to break both your legs?”

Kunikuzushi’s glare deepened. “What does it matter?”

The kid shrugged. “I mean, it’s kinda impressive.”

He wasn’t sure if they were mocking him or not, but it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He turned away, fixing his eyes on the ceiling, hoping they’d get the message and leave him alone.

They didn’t.

“You don’t look like you wanna be here,” they commented.

“No duh,” he snapped, finally looking at them again. “Why would I? Normal kids don’t belong in hospitals.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He realized his mistake immediately when the kid’s expression shifted—just a little, just enough for him to notice. Their smile dimmed, and something flickered in their eyes. It wasn’t sadness. Not anger, either. Just… understanding.

A quiet sort of acceptance, like they’d heard those words before.

“I guess that makes me not normal, huh?” they said lightly, their voice lacking any real bitterness.

Kunikuzushi’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know why, but their response made him feel worse.

He expected them to be mad. To argue. To tell him how unfair he was being. But instead, they just laid back against their pillow, gazing up at the ceiling like they’d done this a thousand times before.

“…You live here or something?” he muttered after a moment, unable to stop himself from asking.

They let out a small, breathy laugh. “Feels like it. I’ve been here for… a while.”

Something about the way they said that sent an uncomfortable chill down his spine.

“How long?”

They tilted their head, thinking. “Since I was five.”

Kunikuzushi blinked. Five. That was years. He tried to imagine it—spending every single day stuck in this place, never going outside, never running around with other kids, never knowing if you’d ever get to leave.

He couldn’t.

“…That sucks.” The words felt weak, but they were all he could come up with.

The kid didn’t disagree. They just smiled again, but this time it didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, only broken by the quiet beeping of monitors. Kunikuzushi shifted uncomfortably in his bed, trying to ignore the strange, guilty feeling creeping up his throat.

“…I was riding my bike,” he said abruptly.

The kid blinked. “Huh?”

“That’s how I broke my legs,” he muttered, staring down at his hands. “I was trying to drift. Thought I’d be cool.” He scoffed. “Didn’t really work out.”

The kid let out a small giggle. “Yeah, no kidding.”

He rolled his eyes, but the sound of their laughter—real laughter, not the tired, forced kind—made him feel… lighter.

“I didn’t think you were the reckless type,” they teased.

“I’m not,” he huffed. “It was just—” He hesitated, then grumbled, “I don’t know. I just wanted to feel… free, I guess.”

Their expression softened. “I get that.”

He glanced at them. “Yeah?”

They nodded. “Yeah.”

Kunikuzushi didn’t know why, but that made him feel a little better.

Just a little.

—

Days passed. Then weeks.

Despite his best efforts, Kunikuzushi couldn’t shake off the kid next to him. They were always there, watching him with that same amused expression, making conversation even when he clearly wasn’t in the mood. But instead of annoying him, like he expected, it started to become… normal.

Comforting, even.

He learned their name. Their favorite snacks (even though they weren’t allowed to eat a lot of them). The stories they made up in their head to pass the time.

In return, he told them about his home. About the outside world. About all the places he’d go once he got out of this stupid hospital.

And each time, they’d listen with a wistful sort of expression, their fingers lightly gripping the blanket over their lap, like they were trying to hold onto something they knew they could never have.

One night, after the nurses had turned off the lights and the halls had gone quiet, Kunikuzushi lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The rhythmic beeping of machines, the faint murmur of nurses in the distance, the sterile scent of disinfectant—it was all so familiar now, almost normal. He hated that.

His legs still ached, though not as badly as before. He could move them a little now, just enough to remind him that one day, he’d be able to walk out of this place. One day, this hospital would be nothing more than a bad memory.

But this kid—they weren't like him.

He turned his head, watching their in the dim light of the monitors. They were awake, staring at the ceiling just like he was. The glow of the screen cast soft shadows on her face, making them look almost ghostly, like they weren't really there. Like they could disappear at any moment.

The thought unsettled him.

“…You ever gonna get out of here?” he asked quietly.

They blinked, then slowly turned to face him.

For a moment, they didn’t answer. They just looked at him, their expression unreadable. Kunikuzushi almost regretted asking—almost wished he could take the question back.

Then, finally, they smiled.

That same soft, knowing smile. The one that never quite reached their eyes.

He felt his chest tighten.

“Dunno,” they said lightly, like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Like they hadn’t already thought about it a thousand times before.

Kunikuzushi clenched his jaw. He hated that answer.

Because it wasn’t really an answer at all.

Because it meant they didn’t know if she’d ever get better.

Because it meant they might not.

His fingers curled into his blanket, frustration bubbling in his chest, but there was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

“…That’s stupid,” he muttered.

They chuckled softly. “Yeah.”

They didn’t argue. Didn’t try to comfort him.

They just accepted it.

Kunikuzushi turned his head away, glaring at the wall. His throat felt tight, and he didn’t know why.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

[calexox]

Drawn-out Argument

tags : hospital au, kunikuzushi x gn!reader, they're both kids here, fluff AN : i've actually written a few drafts for this au a few months back but I suddenly gained motivation to rewrite and finish one of my few drafts. I'll probably start a masterlist for this series soon(still trying get used to posting on tumblr), so comment if you're interested to be tagged!

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The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and clean linen, the kind of sterile scent that clung to everything, making it impossible to forget where they were. The only sounds filling the space were the occasional beeping of medical monitors and the faint murmur of nurses outside, their voices softened by the thick walls. The days had started blurring together—marked by meal trays with tasteless food, checkups, and the sheer frustration of not being able to go anywhere.

But in the past week or so, something had shifted.

Kunikuzushi still thought hospitals sucked. He still hated sitting in this wheelchair, his legs wrapped in heavy casts, the weight of them making him feel trapped. But the other kid in the bed next to his? They made things a little less unbearable. Not that he’d ever admit that.

They weren’t exactly friends. At least, he wouldn’t call it that. But they talked. More than he expected to, anyway. Sometimes about serious things, sometimes about completely pointless nonsense—anything to fill the dragging hours.

Like right now.

“I’m just saying,” Kunikuzushi muttered, arms crossed, “if I had to choose between being a cat or a dog, I’d be a cat. No question.”

The kid in the bed across from him blinked. Then squinted. “…You? A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“No way. You’re, like…a little chihuahua.”

His eyes snapped toward them, immediately offended. “Excuse me?”

(Name) grinned, propping themselves up on their elbows. “You’re always mad, always making noise, and if you could run around right now, you’d probably be nipping at people’s ankles.”

“That’s not—” He scowled, looking down at his hands on instinct. “I’m not even shaking—”

“You are shaking.”

“That’s because I’m angry.”

(Name) just laughed. “See? Chihuahua energy.”

Kunikuzushi groaned loudly, tilting his head back against the pillow. “I regret ever talking to you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

They just smiled knowingly. “Then stop talking to me.”

“…No.”

They chuckled, and the conversation faded into a comfortable lull. Kunikuzushi tapped his fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair, eyes flickering toward the ceiling.

Then (name)’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Hey,” they said lazily, pointing toward the bedside table. More specifically, the small leather-bound book resting on it. “What do you even write in that?”

His eyes flicked toward his journal, then back at them, immediately narrowing. “It’s not a diary.”

“I never said it was.”

“You were thinking it.”

“…So it is a diary.”

Kunikuzushi shot them a glare. “It’s a journal.”

“Right. So can I draw in it?”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s mine.”

(Name) groaned dramatically, flopping back against their pillow. “C’mon, I’m bored. You won’t even let me read it—at least let me draw something in it.”

Kunikuzushi crossed his arms, giving them a skeptical look. The idea of letting someone touch his journal felt…strange. Like handing over a piece of his brain for inspection.

But after a long pause—and an equally long sigh—he reached for it.

“Fine,” he muttered, flipping to a blank page before shoving it toward them. “Don’t ruin it.”

(Name) grinned in triumph, taking the book and snatching a pen from the tray table beside them. They immediately got to work, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

Kunikuzushi watched from the corner of his eye, arms still crossed, as they carefully sketched out two figures. It didn’t take long to tell what they were drawing—one was a kid with an IV drip in their arm, grinning brightly. The other stood next to them, scowling with his arms crossed.

It wasn’t hard to guess who was who.

He huffed. “Really?”

“What?”

“Why do I look emotionally constipated?”

(Name) grinned. “Because you always are”

He scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he rested his cheek against his palm and watched as they added little details—his sharp eyebrows, his messy hair, the slight puff of his cheeks like he was pouting.

After a moment, (name) leaned back, tilting their head. “Hmm. I don’t like how I drew myself.”

Kunikuzushi raised an eyebrow. “Looks fine to me.”

“No, I look weird.” They grabbed an eraser and hovered it over their own face.

He glanced at the condensation on their drink sitting on the tray table, some of it dripping onto the page earlier, though neither of them had noticed.

The second they dragged the eraser over it, the ink smudged.

(Name) froze.

Kunikuzushi blinked.

“…Why do I look like I’m dissolving?” they finally asked.

Silence.

Then Kunikuzushi slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. “Pfft—”

“This is terrible,” they whined.

He snatched the journal back before they could do any more damage. “Too late. It’s staying.”

(Name) gasped, reaching out for it. “Wait, let me redo it—”

“Nope.” He shut the book with finality, tucking it back onto the table. “You ruined it. It’s permanent now.”

They groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re the worst.”

Kunikuzushi just smirked, arms behind his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

-

Kunikuzushi didn’t immediately look at the drawing again after reclaiming his journal. He had spent most of the afternoon keeping it out of (name)’s reach, just in case they got any ideas about trying to "fix" it.

But later, when they weren’t paying attention, he cracked it open.

His gaze flickered over the sketch—his own tiny, scowling face, the little details they had added like the messy strands of his hair and the way his arms were crossed, as if he were mid-complaint. (Name) was standing next to him, beaming with an IV drip attached to their arm. And then there was—

Kunikuzushi squinted.

Something wasn’t right.

He flipped the book around and jabbed a finger at the drawing. “Why am I standing?”

(Name) blinked, then tilted their head. “Huh?”

“In the drawing,” he said, pointing again. “You gave me casts, but I’m standing.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at their own work.

Then they shrugged. “Wheelchairs are hard to draw.”

Kunikuzushi let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You just skipped that part? My entire situation? Just—poof, nonexistent?” He flailed a hand dramatically toward his actual wheelchair. “That’s, like, the most important part!”

“I dunno, you look fine standing,” (name) said with an amused smile, resting their chin in their hand. “Maybe it’s foreshadowing. Y’know, for when you finally get out of that thing.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Well, you can't know if you don't try!”

Kunikuzushi groaned, shutting the book again with a thump and holding it to his chest as if protecting it from further artistic inaccuracies. “I can’t believe this. I trusted you.”

(Name) stifled a laugh. “You’ll live.”

He just lets out a scoff.

Still, despite all his complaints, he found himself flipping back to the drawing later, staring at their scribbled figures for much longer than he meant to.

He traced a finger over the smudged ink of (name)’s face, then over his own legs—completely intact in the drawing, as if nothing had ever happened.

And for some reason, he didn’t really hate the idea.

[calexox]

now playing. . . i want you to want me by letters to cleo

if anyone knows you, they'll know the list, the list of top five things you hate about the infamous straight-a’s, cocky egoistical student known as scaramouche. you and he go way back when he used to be called kunikuzushi... well, actually, when he went by kabukimono. scaramouche is his “new brand” now. you hate how he was a sweetheart to a wannabe "badass" delinquent. you see him hanging with the group afterschool. they think it’s so tough to call themselves “fatui". whatever that means, you just hate the aftermath of your former best friend, scaramouche.

the list might be petty but hey, it's definitely a list. the list officially started in middle school when he began to mix with the bad crowd. his saccharine voice that used to talk sweetly to you as you two were best friends changed into something that could only be described as egotistic. the different friend groups he was in then, it made him think that he's the shit. when really in reality, he was the shittiest friend ever, ditching you at the curve to only be all buddy buddy with you later. only a sweetheart when you two were alone but the rudest guy you'll ever meet in front of his friends.

number one: you hate the way he talks.

scaramouche talks in such a condescending voice, it sounds too whiny, pitchy like he could be related to a banshee. it's so annoying when he's near your ear, spewing out lies to get under your skin. he always acts like he’s above everyone, especially you. like he knows more about you than you do yourself. sometimes, well let’s not lie, most of the time, you wish that someone finally gets the guts, the steel balls, to put scaramouche in his place. just to see the stupid smirk be smeared off his face, for that satisfying look of defeat etched into his porcelain face. maybe that would help you ascend to heaven when you die. 

it was late at night. you were chewing on your pencil, remembering a distant memory in middle school. it was stupid. totally stupid. you lost an academic event against him– whatever it was, it was devastating as it was ego bursting. you saw how he put up his fake facade of being grateful, you knew in reality that he would come over to brag to you. 

your friends were comforting you, saying that you’d get him next time, he would so lose for the next competition and that second place wasn’t so bad. it wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t scaramouche you lost against. yes, second palace to scaramouche. he sauntered over but really, it looked like he had a stick up his ass. he smirked, his voice pitchy and whiny as he called your name. kokomi gave him a dirty look as the others ignored him, averting their attention to you. 

but you took the bait, biting down as you looked his way. he said something so elementary. it was so stupid that you still get riled up from it. it was “you snooze, you lose”; it was unbelievably so dumb. he was smart enough to insult you properly and he didn’t give a shit to give you a better one. 

number two: his smile

you couldn't even classify his smile as a smile when it's always been a smirk. like he was a doll and the only face mold he has only been a smirk. you wish you could remember when he smiled so brightly you used to engrave it into your brain and dream of scaramouche being yours. alas, he's an asshole who's only emote in his inventory is to laugh like he’s operating without a brain. his hands look like skinny little tree branches as he chuckles like a madman. get a load of this guy. 

an idiot. 

number three: the way he stares

you two somehow managed to be in the same two classes together each year. it's like he pays the school to sit near you. this one time in class, miss linyang's liyuean history class, each table was a set of two and had to be coed. you were paired up with kazuha kaedehara. he was very cute as you could remember. but everytime you and kazuha interacted, you could feel daggers being stared behind you. you felt insane afterwards because even though you knew it was scaramouche. each time you turned around, his eyes weren’t glued to you but rather he was turned to his own partner, haypasia, doing whatever work they had.

during the second semester of history, you were paired up with another student, chongyun, who was a bit quiet but had an amazing work ethic. each time you two were working together, chongyun would always look terrified and guess who was behind you two....

scaramouche.

it's actually so sickening how he manages to annoy you. always stuck in your head, rent free. when you recounted this list to kokomi, she laughed at you a little and asked a question that irked you.

"name, don't you think these points are petty? are you sure it's out of pure hatred?"

you and kokomi were sitting in your bedroom while you debriefed midway through the list. she sipped on her tea quietly as you paused. is this pure hate or... wait? why are you second guessing yourself? kokomi doesn't know what happened to the two of you and why is she even asking that question? "pfft, kokomi, of course, it's a tad-"

kokomi placed her tea down on the nightstand and raised a brow.

"-- petty to list these as actual reasons to hate him. but i'm definitely sure these are out of pure... uhm, hatred. but nothing else."

"if you say so."

number four: you hate it when he lies

okay before everything that happened. 

before the identity changes, you remember how his mother lost her twin sister, miss makoto. how that situation of his life has been flipped upside down and how that affected how he treated you. not pinning this hatred on his mother, of course. but you wish things were different.

or at least, there could been a universe you two were still buddy-buddy despite it all. when you asked him what happened, he told you everything was fine in a bittersweet, heavy on sweet, voice, so you believed him. even though you knew it was a lie. you tried to coax the truth out of him, but he never broke it to you.

only when you asked his stepmother, yae miko, she told you the truth out and plain. however, she only told you because she believed you were his girlfriend, and you deserved the reason why he started to ghost you. but you two?

it kind of makes you laugh a little that she believed you two were together. kind of stupid, isn't it? by the time you found out, it was too late. scaramouche ghosted you for a newer crowd and it was fine. you didn't really need him anyway.

number five: you hate it when he's not around

as much you didn't want it to, your routine wasn't the same without him. his presence lingered in the school hallways, in your house, near your bed and next to you. you could only live off of glimpses of him in school and sometimes looking at your archived posts on instagram. sometimes when the thoughts get to you, you go through a cycle of denial again. but you managed to stop yourself from actually sending a text to scaramouche or breaking no contact.

you settled for less of him in your life because that's what he has given you. but was it worth it? you don't want to second guess it because if you do, regret would seep into you and linger in your brain until you rot to death. even after your death, if archaeologists in the future find your body, they’d find your bones in the dirt aching with guilt and regret, all the emotions you hid away over the years.

well, kokomi was right. none of these are out of hatred. there isn't just five reasons you hate him, there's a sixth which was:

number six: you hate it that you don't actually hate him, just miss him

the school year was over and the summer has started, maybe, it's time to get over this. your group of friends suggested that you should get out more often. during the school year, you were swamped with your job at the cat's tail, studying and responsibilities were piled up. eventually you did fell for their nagging and had a one day off, you spent it with kokomi, yelan and kaeya. in the mall, debriefing sessions and just overall, quality time. however, yelan brought up the fact she was invited to a party hosted by the itto. but you knew if it was hosted by itto, it's likely to see scaramouche again. not like you couldn't handle it, it's just that... yeah, you couldn't handle seeing his face again. in the tevyat uni, you could because it was school. but out of school, it's over. it’s best to decline the invite and go home.

yelan saw the look of your face fall as she sighed, adjusting your collared shirt. "name, you need to get out more. just because the one who could not be named is going to be there doesn't mean you shouldn't know."

kaeya agreed with yelan, "why are you letting a man get in the way of fun?" you knew this feeling– this is when your friends were going to gang up on you. mentally preparing yourself for an ongoing chain attack,  kokomi added, "and we haven't seen you outside of your dorms or even video calls. please, name, we could have so much fun at the party."

you replied, "just give me three reasons to go." the three of them made eye contact with each other just before blabbering out reasons why you should go.

"you could stop stalking him on instagram!"

"okay, low blow, yelan." you huffed, pointing at her accusingly. “and you stalk him on instagram not me!” 

“well, i just want to tell you when he’s doing badly. plus, you could use this time to catch up with other people.” 

"you could finally pull a guy!"

“or multiple.. guys.” 

"or it could be just hanging out with us, the gang???"

"talking to people face to face instead of text to text?"

 "you keep reposting sad shit on tik tok, it's not healthy to surround yourself with that negativity."

“you listened to mitski a couple times this week #nooticing.” 

you won't lie, some of these things do hurt to hear and they're right. you should go out. it doesn't help being depressed everyday when you only have two months of the summer left. "alright alright. i'll come."

they celebrated with a cheer. in your soul, you knew, the feeling of regret would still reside in your head.

you already regret it and the emotion settled on your shoulder. you're at the party, in a corner, and somehow, your friends who preached being by your side disappeared into the crowd who was raving to the music. you were left alone, holding a red solo cup. since it was actually shinbou and yelan's house, not itto's, so you knew your way around the house. you saw people making out haphazardly  in the hallways, you winced at the sight of that as you made it out upstairs, near yelan's beloved koi fish tank. a familiar face saw you, you nearly flinched at the pair of indigo eyes but alas, it wasn't him. you took a deep breath, preparing for more bullshit coming your way.  it was venti, already tipsy, holding an empty bottle in hand.

"aha! name, i knew you would be there." he said, walking to you, holding onto your shoulder for balance. "c'mere, do you wanna play a party game? you don't have to, of course, but you look a little bored here, standing near..." he paused to look at the pink-blue colored fish and a white pearlescent fish. "mimi and gojo. oh no, that white fish is totally dead."

venti wasn't a bad person per say, but you knew he was heavily associated with scaramouche. putting it as “heavily associated” was an understatement, they were most likely friends. you didn't really want to see him even though your friends encouraged him to face him because he's just a man or something not worth to dwell about. you ignored the offer for the game and replied with a short answer, "i don’t think it is."

he nodded as he took a tiny swing of the bottle before realizing the bottle was actually empty. his shoulders moved up and down as chuckling, he changed the subject back to the game, "anywhoo, are you joining us in seven minutes in heaven? or speculating?"

you knew that he wouldn't give up on the offer. he's quite stubborn. you gave in, "the latter."

"alright, follow me." he gave you a cheeky smile.

you saw familiar faces like kazuha and he waved at you. you smiled back. the rest of the people sitting in the circle didn't look familiar to you. venti laughed, "whoops, guys, this is name and name, this is xiao, the star twins, aether and lumine, yoimiya, nilou, albedo and so-and-so!" he placed the green tinted bottle down in the center of the circle, "we are playing spin the bottle."

you glanced at each person in the circle. xiao looked like he was forced to be there. lumine looked indifferent to the situation while aether was giggly... tipsy? you weren't sure why venti said so-and-so but you're sure scaramouche wouldn't play a game like this. after a couple of rounds, only some of the people came out disheveled while the others were just getting to know each other. you feel like this game might be a set up, but you brushed it aside. feeling the fomo get to you, you joined the game. venti cheered as you laugh a little. it was your turn to spin, and you landed on...

some random guy. he wore a hoodie that obscured his face. this is definitely a setup isn’t it?, you thought, as venti pushed you two into a random room together and locked it from the inside. you flickered the lights on and the other person in the room looked in your direction. you two were on the opposite sides, the gap between you guys could be compared with the sun and planet uranus. you couldn't make it out who it was in the room with you as he wore clothes that covered any features of him. unlucky for you, you just know who it is, "scaramouche."

he chuckled just the way you hate it. how it gets stuck in your head and forever played in your head, how it picked at you. how irritating. "took you long enough, name. a bit slow on knowing this time."

"you're not the type to play this game." you replied, your voice was not warm like it was before outside of this room. it was cold like when you lashed out on him long time ago. he doesn't reply for a while until he took off his mask and retorted, "neither are you but how would you know? we haven't talked in a while."

"'a while'? it was highschool. that's more than just a while."

he huffed, the stupid nails on a chalkboard voice coming back, ringing in your ears. "whatever."

"'whatever'!" you mimicked his voice. "you're still the same guy in highschool."

you noticed how your words pricked at him, expecting the relief in your heart. instead of the awesome feeling you’ve been yearning for since you were a tween. it was a pang in your heart, lurching forward. you saw the look on his face before, he's riled up. you've seen this face on him before but never as expressive as this. he grunted, his voice fluctuating between pitched to low. "i've changed."

you let out a sarcastic laugh, "yeah right."

the room was silent. you were sure these seven minutes might go on for decades now. you were waiting for the time to be over. he broke the ice, "you know what? why are you always pissed to see me?"

"what?"

"you think i'm stupid? why do you always get annoyed when our eyes meet or whatever."

"do you seriously don't remember anything? i didn’t think you’d develop dementia so early." you're in disbelief. how does this asshole not remember anything? is this how he lives life blissfully? you’re seething at this point, jealous that he’s unable to live the same pain he inflicted onto you. 

he rolled his eyes as you clenched your fist, almost winding it. just to be prepared to knock his head out before he uttered more bullshit excuses. "i remember that you betrayed me first."

huh? 

his sentence made you confused. betrayed him first? what kind of drugs is he on? baffled, you almost snorted. you quipped back without missing a beat, 

"what?"

so stoic, he didn’t even flinch but just looked at you with the same face you gave him earlier, "you broke the promise."

"well, you ghosted me and never explained why!" you replied. the gap between you and the indigo haired male slowly got lessen. he opened his mouth until he noticed that you were agitated. he closed it and inhaled, “fine, i’ll tell you since it’s obvious you forgot the promise.” 

an eye for an eye.

he sat on the bed, pursing his lips as if he’d regret even manifesting these words out loud. “i ghosted you because i didn’t want you to see me at my weakest… or at least, i think so. i didn’t understand the feeling i had at the time when i saw you with other people. i just wanted you to be my best friend. but there was this nagging feeling that you deserved better than me and you did.. you still do.” 

instead of reacting in disbelief, you pinched your nose bridge, “so instead of telling me, you just kept ignoring me?” 

“yep.” 

“you’re an idiot.” 

“i know.” he said with remorse. there was more to his words, something hidden. his gaze looked down at the wooden floors. “so what was the promise?” you asked, his head cocking up, meeting your eyes. 

“it’s something stupid.” 

“like what?” 

“that you’d be…” he looked embarrassed. man, you wish you had your phone on you because he was extremely red, flustered like you caught him in a trap. “... my girlfriend in highschool.” 

you couldn’t help but crack up, “i didn’t break that promise?” sitting on the corner of the bed, “if i’m being honest, if you didn’t ghost me, we’d be dating for sure.” 

he looked like he wanted to die. “so it was all my fault.” 

“nah, it was mine too. i didn’t ask you why you ghosted me either. i was too hurt by it.” you murmured, fiddling with your shirt. 

there was a pregnant pause. scaramouche murmured but it was loud enough to hear, “i think…” 

“what? just spit it out because this became seven minutes of closure.”  

"i think i have feelings for you, name."

you yelped, "...what?" were you really getting a confession from your ex best friend right now? if he was really someone you hated, then why was your heart aching again? "repeat that again?"

"i have feelings for you." in disbelief you laughed, watching him shrivel up into a corner. 

“again.” 

“no.”

you wanted to ignore this off like it wasn’t a big deal. as if this hasn’t been something you secretly wanted to happen, just not in this situation. your feelings were all over the place, divided on his confession. though, you always knew that you still like him and that kokomi was right, it wasn’t just pure hatred. you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him, no less, to love him again.

“as much as i reciprocate your feelings, i just can’t accept it.” you replied as his head lifted up, cowering in his hood. “you can’t expect to confess and think it would be all better because you did.” 

scaramouche paused, “but…” 

“but?” 

“if i earn your forgiveness, can it happen?” he asked, meekly. the facade of the confident guy diminished before you. 

you bit your lip, tilting your head left to right. “only if you do.” 

“i can accept that. i mean, i understand.” 

“okay.” 

[calexox]

scaramouche doesn't really get jealous of other people, he trusts you, right? yet— he does get jealous of objects, yes, and he's proud of it as well.

you spend too much time reading? your eyes practically glued all over the pages of your book before you hear a faint, "wow, i guess this book is a lot more interesting than me, huh?" or how dare you pet a cat for too long instead of giving him that attention? "i didn't know you had such great affection for strays, *must* be nice," to be the cat

or suddenly gush about a character from the book you've been reading— as always, you cannot catch his annoyed expression soon enough as he narrows his eyes and mutters, "pff, i could beat him in a fight, how embarrassing,"

"…kuni, it's a romance novel,"

"even better."

[calexox]

everyone knows that kinich is in love with you—well, everyone except you.

and really, as annoying as it is, most people can’t really blame you for not knowing. kinich is hard to read in any situation, but especially in these situations. it’s hard to catch the warmth that blooms in his eyes when he looks at you, or the way he follows you around almost unconsciously, protective.

but onlookers can tell, because there’s no faking the way kinich orbits you day by day.

that includes your best friend, heizou, who insists on proving it to you. he won’t stop going on and on about how kinich is so deeply in love with you, and you just won’t believe him.

so that’s how he finds himself face to face with kinich in the quad before class, weight shifting between his feet. he’s not nervous—heizou rarely is—but he can barely hold in a laugh when he sees you hiding behind a tree nearby.

“heizou?” kinich starts testingly. the two of them aren’t really friends, more like acquaintances by association. so it had probably been a bit strange to receive a text asking him to meet.

heizou sighs. “i’m gonna cut to the chase. what’s the deal with you and her?”

he doesn’t even need to say your name—kinich stiffens all the same, unnerved by the mention of you falling from someone else’s lips.

“…we’re friends,” kinich replies after a moment of horribly obvious hesitation. heizou has to fight back a gleeful smile.

“oh, great!” he sings, already moving to skip away. “that means you’d have no problem with me asking her out. i’m so glad we had this chat—“

“hey, hold on.”

kinich’s hand latches onto heizou’s shoulder, and suddenly the situation feels much less funny. when he turns, kinich’s eyes are narrowed, expression severe.

“for now. we’re friends for now,” he finishes. your eyes widen from behind the tree nearby.

heizou grins.

[calexox]

Average tumblr exp is seeing people reply to posts I made years ago and going “NO NO FUCK NOOOO” in agony but not having the heart to delete them

[calexox]

NOW PLAYING . . . SUPERPOWERS

summary : a skater completely smitten by a street guitarist.

characters : skater! kinich, guitarist! gn reader, skater! mualani

note : hi gang im back again after 5 monthz, might do a heizou or akito shinonome ver

skater! Kinich who is known as a skate prodigy in the skate scene at the park you would always perform at.

skater! kinich who'd always push his limits with tricks no one else dares to try, and he’s rarely seen without his skateboard.

skater! kinich seen as professional had one weakness, you. somehow, whenever he sees you nearby, it seemed like he forgot how to skate at all.

❝ IT'S CRAZY TO SAY THIS BUT YOU ARE THE GREATEST. ❞

skater! Kinich who would start timing his daily skate routes to pass by the spots where you're usually playing. He pretends it’s a coincidence whenever he shows up, but it’s obvious he’s there to hear you perform.

skater kinich! who would follow your socials and find out if you're going to be at a specific place for a gig, he’ll be there early, even if he has to skate across town. He’ll sit on his board, leaning back with his usual calm expression but hiding how much he’s enjoying listening to you or even just seeing you.

Skater! Kinich who'd think you would probably never notice him since he can't seem to gather the courage to approach you. Not like he didn't try, after your shows he would always try and approach you but would always get pushed by your fans.

skater! Kinich who'd start daydreaming about what it would be like to impress you with his skating skills, maybe even doing a few tricks in sync with their music or perhaps you just looking at him astonished with those pretty eyes he could get lost in.

skater! kinich who would eventually try skating in front of you and pulling off his best tricks, hoping it’ll make you smile or give him a little applause yet much to his dismay you seem much more focus on your performance.

skater! kinich who was dragged by mualani to interact with you after she caught his gaze lingering on you far too long and whenever they hang out to skate, you're always somewhere nearby.

skater! mualani who decided to become cupid as she set up a plan for both of you to interact more.

skater! mualani who easily befriended you and asked you if you wanted any skating lessons, telling you you'd be in good hands with a rather... Excited grin on her face? You reluctantly agreed as she bounced around from joy.

❝I'LL INTRODUCE YOU TO HIM RIGHT NOW!❞

skater! kinich who's heart nearly exploded when he hears that your the one he'd be teaching on how to skate but he masked it quite well.

skater! kinich heart pounds every time he has to help you balance or hold your hand for support. He’s careful not to make it obvious, but his cheeks betray him with a soft blush he can’t quite hide no matter how hard he tries.

skater! kinich can’t believe he’s actually teaching you to skate. He’s barely holding it together, trying to keep his usual calm attitude, but his heart is racing. He casually says, “Don’t worry, I’ve taught plenty of people to skate,” even though he’s never felt this nervous about showing someone the basics.

skater! kinich starts by showing them how to stand on the board, giving a few tips on balance. When you wobble abit, you instinctively reaching out to grab his arm for support. Kinich stiffens for a second, then quickly relaxes, hoping they don’t notice the slight blush rising on his cheeks and heart rate increasing.

skater! kinich who can't help but get lost in your eyes when you look at him for reassurance, feeling a rush of emotions he’s not used to. He manages to keep his cool, but his heart is pounding.

skater! kinich who would try and confess his feelings for you after a while.

skater! kinich keeps himself busy practicing tricks to calm his nerves. He tries to focus, but he’s so jittery that he almost falls on some of his simplest moves. He’s more nervous than he’s ever been, and he can’t stop rehearsing what he’s going to say in his head.

skater! kinich who's so lost in thought that he doesn’t even notice when you arrive—until you called out to him. His heart skips a beat, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

skater! kinich who'd starts with a casual line, trying to play it cool. But the moment he starts speaking, he realizes he can’t stick to a script. Instead, he just lets the words flow out.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, trying to control his beating. “Being around you… it’s different. Good different. You make me feel like I can do anything, and I… I just really like you.”

skater! kinich who hopes you like him back.

[calexox]

Step 2 Dynamic in my head ♥️

[calexox]

📋 ᪤ FLICKERING DIVIDERS 🍸 ᯤ :

# ——— GREY [#858585]

# ——— EARTH [#859990]

# ——— SINKHOLE [#4b6e70]

# ——— EMPIRE [#918368]

# ——— BLACKBERRY CORDIAL [#3f2b44]

# ——— (RED) TOLEDO [#3d2532]

# ——— YOUNG NIGHT [#212821]

¹¹/¹⁰/²⁰²⁴ © 𝘁𝗼𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆 :: all designs made are original, the names are also original. they can only be used under rightful credits given to owner. for both light and (preferably) dark mode use. they can used in anything as long as it’s on tumblr. all rights reserved

[calexox]

Glub Glub Glub

Based on Rafayel from Love and Deepspace

Hex code: #01213a *

Hex code: #005a8e

Hex code: #74a2c1

Hex code: #820341

Hex code: #54083e *

Hex code: #8f3183

*not suitable for dark mode

Find more here!

Sylus Ver1. Zayne Ver1. Xavier Ver.

Like/rb if use // No need to credit me

Requests for dividers are open!

[calexox]

wwarm up doodle