#The Obvious Solution

[ruesol]

John Price never really understood your humor. But it was the same for most older people. Especially when it came to someone as detached from the internet as John. It was a good thing your boyfriend had you to keep him updated with whatever new ridiculous term or phrase was popular.

“I can’t hang out today–nature’s punishing me for not being pregnant.”

It started as a fleeting joke. Something you and your friends always said whenever it was that time of the month. It had been ingrained into your entire group’s vocabulary after years of use. Now, it was just a casual way of saying, ‘hey, I got my period.’

It was odd to him at first. Why would the trees care if you’re not pregnant? he asked with a confused face, prompting you to giggle and kiss his bearded cheek. Fifteen minutes later, the man was enlightened on why you were blaming nature–Mother Nature to be more specific. You expected him to forget about it afterwards (like he did with most slang), but what you didn’t expect was for him to take it seriously. Not in the way you thought at least.

You were expecting more care from him–tip-toeing when you were sleeping, not cooking meat while you felt nauseous, and buying ample sweets and unhealthy snacks for you to munch on while crying over silly romcoms.

But instead, you received more sensual touches and lingering stares at your lower abdomen. You’d often have to push him away from your sore and tender breasts. “You wouldn’t be so uncomfortable if you were pregnant, you know,” he’d often joke, making you choke or spit out whatever was in your mouth. He’d massage your back and take small breaks to palm himself as he imagined you requesting a massage because your belly had been feeling too heavy lately.

It was all too much. Too surprising. The two of you had never spoken about children, yet you felt like you had unlocked a different side of him. A side that was hidden away for your safety because now, the man was convinced that you needed to be with his child to satisfy Mother Nature.

“I don’t think we should disrespect Mother Nature like that. Don’t you agree, love?” he mumbled into your ear as he parted your legs with his big, rough hands. “I don’t wanna see you in pain. You’ve been punished enough.” He kisses your neck with fervent need–a deep and dark desire to fill you with his seed. You sluggishly try to push his shoulder to get him to stop leaning over you. “John–”

But the man’s strength prevents him from budging an inch. “Shh, none of that. You’ll take everything I give you,” he says as his cock nudges your entrance.

[catbunblue302]

No spoilers please because I'm only on book 2, but if Kaladin, Shallan, and Adolin don't end up in some sort of throuple I am going to go insane. They are so bitch4bitch4bitch

[unsexy-nun-costume]

new concept dan would be jealous of his clone bc phil would be interested in them

[little-pondhead]

Classic "promised-at-birth-to-the-Ghost-King" story, except the contract never states how, exactly, the King is to use the offered soul. Usually, one would be offered as a bride or sacrifice. But with Pariah Dark sealed away, his retainers got a little lazy in the last few millennia. They just made some generic contracts and practically handed them out like candy.

When Danny took over as king via conquest, that included all the weird and messed up soul contracts the previous retainers had signed. And since ghost magic was a thing and seemed to have it out for Danny personally, many of these contracts updated their terms and conditions as soon as that crown hit Danny's head, reflecting the new King's subconscious desires and personality.

This caused many issues with those still around to profit from these contracts. Some people lost their power, some gained more, and some were unbound and kicked to the curb. A few special people found themselves dropping dead after their less-than-ethical abilities disappeared.

Danny was unaware of the chaos he had unintentionally caused for quite a while. It was only brought to his attention when a letter arrived on his desk one day with a copy of someone's valid contract enclosed. The new changes have been highlighted, and a separate note is attached.

It seems that in exchange for blessings of near-immortality for her infant son, a mother had offered Pariah Dark both their souls in order to ensure her child's survival during harsh times. (The souls were to be collected upon death and were to be used as soldiers in the King's Army.) The mother's soul had returned to the Keep decades ago and was recently assigned to tend to the gardens, while her son seemed to have grown into a fine gentleman and was still alive. He used his mother's gifts to serve his country and loved ones well, it seemed.

At first, Danny didn't see what any of this had to do with him. If the mother was already a part of his kingdom, and the son would be eventually, why was a letter about the whole thing showing up before him?

Then he read the revised contract, which bore his magical signature. A signature that overruled the power of Pariah and binding it to him.

'...and as such, in return for the abilities stated above, [Mary Pennyworth] and [Alfred Pennyworth] will fulfill the conditions detailed below, upon pain of Ending.

[Mary Pennyworth], when returned to the Kingdom of Dark Kingdom of Stars, will work as a lieutenant in the Skeleton Army caretaker in the Gardens of Pluto.

STATUS: COMPLETED

[Alfred Pennyworth], when returned to the Kingdom of Dark Kingdom of Stars, will work as a general in the Skeleton Army caretaker of the King and his Court.

STATUS: PENDING'

Danny had to re-read the contract several times to understand what it was saying. He now had a caretaker? What did a caretaker do? Was it like a ghost parent? Could this guy ghost-ground him??

He sighed and pressed the speed dial on his phone for Tucker. Time to find out who the hell this Alfred Pennyworth guy was, and how to break a magic contract when it wasn't even fulfilled yet.

Meanwhile, Alfred had just found the original copy of the contract amongst his mother's belongings after it glowed and drew him in. The paperwork cleared up a lot of mysteries he'd always wondered about himself, even if he disapproved of his mother's methods. Nonetheless, he smoothed out the aged paper with dark green ink, noted the fresh (sloppy, a teenager?) signature, and began preparing to meet this supposed new King and his Court.

It wouldn't hurt to make introductions before he died, after all.

[nenoname]

"yolo" stan (semi)canonically says as he laughs at the idea of eating healthily + doing exercise while he instead lies depressed on the floor every morning.....

while i definitely get everyone's reasoning, it's a bit funny that ford trying to restrict his diet to healthy food is such a popular hc cos the family spoiled stan for a week by giving him all his fave foods (to the point that they just have like. bowls of bacon on the floor) plus we have ford being the one to give stan alcohol on multiple occasions and i doubt anyone can break stan's pitt cola addiction....

also if ford still keeps up his training regime i think stan would bully him for that- 'oh look at me i do 1000 pushups every morning and eat steamed carrots for fun!!' 'nutrition pills actually' 'that's worse!!!!! you do know that right!!!'

[sweetteaanddragons]

B2MEM - Defenses and Endurance

@spring-into-arda (357 words)

He had many excellent defenses, long prepared, as to why he should not go back to Aman. They began with the Oath - and frankly, Maglor felt that should be enough on its own - and slowly wound down to the frankly less noble.

He thought he had prepared for any attacks anyone might make on the subject, whether verbal or otherwise.

He had forgotten to account for Elrond turning to begin addressing the matter and stumbling into his own desk like the fevered elfling he once had been instead of the great elf lord he had become.

Maglor was across the room in a moment, half supporting him; Elrond was still leaning far too heavily on the desk.

“You’re exhausted,” he said, and he wanted to say it lightly, but he could not quite hide the horror of just how much weariness Elrond had managed to conceal behind his perpetual mask of serenity.

“It is nothing,” Elrond said, but he could not quite hide the way he struggled, just slightly, to catch his breath. “The ring fails. I must adjust to it until I have sailed.”

Until.

And there Maglor hesitated.

Elrond would improve after sailing, he told himself. Things would be better once he was no longer trying to support the Valley with strength he no longer had.

But Maglor knew, better than most, that Aman did not heal all ills.

Especially of the spirit.

“I will be well,” Elrond promised him, arms faintly trembling as he allowed Maglor to help him into a chair. He hesitated, then said - “Will you sing something for me? It will help, I think, and I should not like to worry the others - “

All the old songs of endurance, of strength unfailing, sprang at once into his mind; they had helped in worse cases before and could again.

“Of course,” he agreed. 

(It did help.)

(And since it helped - )

(He could not bear sending Elrond to sail alone, never knowing if it had been enough.)

(If there was any aid he could give him - )

(He owed Elrond that. He owed Elrond every chance he could give to enjoy Aman hale and strong. He owed him that and more.)

(Elrond had already asked him once to return with him.)

(He would not make him ask again.)

[yogurtlamp]

as much as I love fics where Logan stabs wade in his sleep, that could so easily be solved if he just.... let his claws out, stabbed long rectangular foam blocks, and slept with the foam stuck onto his claws

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

GO FOR IT! ; YUUTA OKKOTSU

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, unrequited love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk. 

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki. 

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!” 

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you. 

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing. 

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him. 

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you. 

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun. 

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet. 

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm. 

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down. 

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes. 

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.” 

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. 

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right? 

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.”  yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer. 

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him. 

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

… 

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips. 

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway. 

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways. 

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence. 

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently. 

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful. 

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly. 

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right? 

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound. 

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?” 

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off. 

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure. 

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing. 

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them. 

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably. 

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes. 

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

[mellosdrawings]

May I ask what you like about Jamilkal?

Oh my gods ok Imma try not to infodump but also stay clear while I'm rambling.

So, mostly I'm a "platonic soulmates KaliJami" believer. It's less about romance or lust or whatever else and more about them just... gravitating around each other in a way that simply cannot be described with the words we usually associate with love.

Especially since you gotta add the hatred/hurt aspect to it all. The power imbalance. The fucked up situation they're both in. The traumas they've both gone through.

They love each other. They hate each other. They need each other. They keep sabotaging each other. They can't imagine their lives away from the other. They drag each other down and themselves all the time. They care so much for each other. They keep hurting each other.

It's all about tragedy. There is no way for them to heal and get a better relationship but by being separated. But they could never willingly part ways from each other. They'd need to be forcefully pulled apart, and even then they'd probably fight tooth and nail to get back to the other. Even when they're apart they can't stop thinking about each other. The other is seared in their DNA at this point, it'd be like cutting a limb to force them away from each other.

You might think "yeah but Jamil tried to kill Kalim." While he was overblotting, yes. As did all the overblotters, whether or not they loved the people they were attempting to hurt or not. But Jamil, while he did try to ruin Kalim's reputation and have him leave the school, never intended on hurting him. He could have done so much worse, Kalim and his family have so much faith in him, and the only thing he did was trying to get Kalim fired. He would have ended back under the Asim service as soon as school was done. He never meant to get rid of him forever, just push him away long enough so he could find himself.

Which he couldn't. Because fate simply refuses to leave them separated. Because Kalim or his father insisted they stayed together. And now you might think that Kalim is the one pushing this relationship, but have you heard just how much Jamil refers to Kalim? Kalim can live without Jamil, but damn is Jamil obsessed with Kalim. To an unhealthy extent.

Yes it's because of his upbringing. Yes it's because he fears for his and his family's sake. Yes it's because he's an overbearing mom friend. Doesn't change the fact that he has Kalim under his skin 24/7.

The point isn't that it's healthy. They could never be healthy together, no matter how much they try to change their dynamic. Jamil stifles Kalim's growth by being overbearing. Kalim stifles Jamil's growth by constantly relying on him. They feed off each other. Their flaws feed off each other. They just keep making each other worse.

And that's just such an interesting dynamic to explore. They're made for each other but they can't be together. Their story can only end well if they separate. It's as tragic as you could make.

So yeah. That's why I love KaliJami. They're a tragedy. They gonna burn together and they're gonna do it clinging to each other.

And boy, if that ain't love.

[mutedeclipse]

a twisted sort of bliss...

Happy Valentine's Day!!! enjoy my dark and twisted yuri

[dathen]

Another day, another “why didn’t Victor just make a woman with missing body parts to gift as a custom-made wife-slave to his other creation :// worst human being in history!!”

[skymallnine]

I’m sure this is not a novel observation, but it still really tickles me that Trials and Tribble-ations is so genuinely plot relevant. That final, quick sight gag determines the course of the entire Dominion War.

Rom was on the maintenance team when those tribbles overran the station, and that’s exactly why he understood how to destroy the morale of anyone else who tried to occupy it. He put a bomb in a tribble.

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 8.1

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 8th snippet, part 1. Adar shows Morgoth’s crown to Celebrimbor. The smith has an idea. Adar lets him run with it.

Celebrimbor might not be a natural fighter, but he’ll still find ways to support his allies (especially his husband). It’s so very hard to write anything about this chapter without giving too much away, so I’ll just say – I tried to come up with a plot for this story, got hit with inspiration, and now here we are. I am so curious to see people’s reaction to this one! (And yes, Celebrimbor playing dice is indeed inspired by @plotdesigner’s fic ‚In My Scar Covered Heart‘. :P)

Celebrimbor hadn’t exactly been eager to catch a glimpse of Morgoth’s crown, to be quite honest. Knowing that it somehow still existed in middle earth and was in such close proximity to him was bad enough. If seeing it wouldn’t remind him of the silmaril or his family’s bloody history fighing the original owner of the crown, it surely would remind him of the maiar who had reforged it.

He didn’t have much of a choice however when, during another round of talks, Galadriel had asked – well, goaded – Adar into showing the crown to Elrond. Who, to her credit, had been rather disbelieving of the crown’s continued existence until then.

All three elves had immediately fallen silent and leant away when Adar had walked over to a wooden chest in the corner of the tent, opened it, and used his gauntleted hand to pull out a menacing-looking shape of darkened metal.

He carried the crown as if intending to place it on someone’s head, holding it with both hands and his arms stretched in front of his body as he came back towards them. Only his tight expression revealed that this was not due to reverence. 

It made sense, Celebrimbor thought – especially when Adar told the tale of how he’d been meant to place the crown upon Sauron’s red hair...and had driven it's spikes through the Deceiver’s shoulder and neck instead.

The coronation had been Sauron’s attempt to declare himself Morgoth’s successor; a position that would have placed all the uruk under his yoke. Celebrimbor couldn’t imagine he’d treated the uruk any more kindly than his enemies, so Adar taking the crown to him and ‘killing’ the maiar had likely been an act of desperation. And love.

No wonder Adar regarded the crown with such a complicated mix of emotions.

Adar placed the crown in the middle of the table, then sat back down to continue the conversation. Glancing at his fellow elves, Celebrimbor could tell that it was difficult for them to keep their attention focused on each other’s words instead of the object at first, but after a while, they managed.

The smith, however, found himself staring at it for the rest of the conversation. He registered some of the words – their talk revolved around Gil-Galad and his intention to visit the uruk camp to speak with Adar directly –, but for the most part, Celebrimbor focused on the crown and its design.

It did indeed look pointy enough to puncture flesh with, if handled with that intention. He could almost imagine how it must have gone – Adar holding up the crown, turning it around to thrust it into Sauron’s shoulder.

A dangerous position to strike from, though, as Adar would have had to leave his middle completely unprotected. But then again, Sauron had left himself open to injury as well. It made Celebrimbor question what their prior relationship might have been like, as both of them had served Morgoth...willingly or unwillingly. And Adar made it sound as if he knew Sauron quite well, to the point that he understood how his mind worked. 

Though it had not made him any less prone to the maiar’s scheming than Galadriel and Celebrimbor had been, the latter silently thought to himself.

He felt an urge to ask the uruk about these things; Adar’s past was still largely shrouded in mystery. But the uruk had avoided any clever attempts of Elrond and more direct goading from Galadriel to reveal more of himself so far, and only offered whatever information he deemed neccessary to defeat their common enemy. Nothing more.

And so Celebrimbor bit his tongue, and settled on waiting (hoping) for a time when Adar might be inclined to share more about this part of himself of his own volition.

The smith’s mind was drawn back to the crown then. It looked to be made of iron, though unusually dark. He tried to parse how it had been made, with what tools and in what conditions, whether any traces of the silmaril or Morgoth had seeped into the metal and still remained there.

He was so consumed with his musings that he startled slightly when Galadriel, Elrond and Adar stood up from the table - their current round of talks had come to an end. Or, at least a pause, it seemed. As Celebrimbor slowly got up, Elrond spoke. "We will bring this proposal to High King Gil-Galad," he looked at Galadriel to indicate he meant the both of them. "If he agrees, he will accompany us into your camp when we return."

"Though, be aware that the king will not come here unarmed, or unguarded," the peredhel added. But it wasn’t said as a threat. It actually rather sounded as if Elrond was just relaying a fact that Adar should just take into consideration.

This, too, was a recent change. It seemed that Elrond was slowly opening himself up to the idea that the elves would indeed join forces with Adar’s army and march on Eregion together.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that, for a few days now, Adar had permitted Galadriel to leave the uruk camp and accompany the herald back on his way to the high king. Which she had initially taken as a way for Adar to test whether or not she would leave Celebrimbor unprotected amidst an army of enemies. But it turned out to be a show of trust instead - that she would help Elrond argue his case, and then come back to spend time with her friend again.

An arrangement that had worked out quite well, in fact; Galadriel had been reluctant to leave at first, but after some reassurance from Celebrimbor, she had. Only for a short while at first, and she had barely gone far enough to disappear from the sight of the guards around the camp, after which she had returned in a hurry.

It had taken a second and a third attempt until she left for multiple hours and came back at a leisurely pace, skeptical but ultimately pleased when she found that Celebrimbor where she’d left him, playing a simple game of dice with Glûg and another uruk guard.

After that, she'd been fine with leaving Celebrimbor and Adar for even longer periods of time, and whenever she returned and found them sharing a meal or conversing, a small smirk stole itself onto her face for reasons Celebrimbor could not quite parse yet.

Adar acknowledged the herald’s words with a humm. "Not unreasonable. Be aware, then, that I will not be unarmed or unguarded, either." This, too, was just presented as a simple fact. Celebrimbor couldn’t help but feel proud of how far they all had already come since the negotiations started.

"Not unreasonable, either," Elrond replied and actually quirked up his lips for a moment. While Adar didn’t return the gesture with a smile of his own, he tilted his head at the herald in a show of acknowledgement.

Elrond and Galadriel were quick to depart afterwards; they wanted to talk to their king, and if Ereinion indeed intended to come to Adar’s camp, preparations would have to be made. The two elves made sure to thank Adar for the food and drink they had received, and spent a moment to say their – temporary – goodbyes to Celebrimbor.

Once they had left, the smith sat back in his chair. "That went quite well," he judged as he gave Adar a smile of elation. "I think we might indeed be close to a treaty now, with the high king willing to walk into the camp to negotiate with you directly."

Of course, talks with Gil-Galad would surely pose their own difficulties. He had neither the fiery temper of Galadriel nor the biting sarcasm Elrond employed at times, but he was certainly not shy to state his own objections, would not back down in the face of adversity, and held himself with the grace and self-assured air – well, pride – befitting a king. Qualities that were beneficial for rulership, but which might clash with Adar’s own stubbornness and sense of authority during the coming talks.

Celebrimbor decided he would cross that bridge when they came to it.

"It did," Adar agreed, picked up his goblet and took a sip from it. He notably hadn’t sat down at the table again, despite the fact that there was still a half-unfinished meal on his plate. Perhaps he needed to walk off the tension. Celebrimbor had certainly seen him pace their tent like a wolf after the first few negotiations, agitated even as he refused to elaborate on the reasons why, before he stormed off to meet with his lieutenants.

The smith could usually guess the reasons nonetheless, anyways.

"You have been quite focused on that thing," the uruk stated, apropos of nothing. When Celebrimbor raised his eyebrows in question, Adar’s eyes briefly settled on the crown before the turned back to the smith. "Is it because of the gemstones it once held?"

Celebrimbor quickly shook his head, "No, I- it’s not that," his gaze wandered back to the object in question, as if drawn there by something not of his own will. "I was actually considering what it might be made of. Or how it was made."

A light snort, and Adar emptied his goblet before he went to pour himself another drink. Water, this time, instead of wine. Ever since the negotations had started to go more smoothly, wine had mysteriously disappeared from the table during talks. Now, the uruk only offered it when he and Celebrimbor were eating on their own.

A fact that Celebrimbor had noted with a wry sense of humor – he didn’t believe Adar needed the wine to endure those conversations. It seemed more likely he wanted to savor it now instead of using it to calm his temper. Which was, in fact, a thought that softened something in Celebrimbor’s chest.

"Iron, from what little I know. It was Mairon who was gifted in the craft of smithing, not I," the uruk shrugged.

Celebrimbor acknowledged Adar’s words with a nod and humm, before he turned back to the intimdating shape in the middle of the table. "May I?" he asked as he pointed at it. At Adar’s slow nod, he extended careful fingers and gingerly dragged the object towards himself.

It felt frighteningly similar to any ordinary iron crown as he held it in his hands. Cold to the touch, and heavy – it would have likely been uncomfortable to wear for long on the head of any mortal being. It also seemed unwieldy, as the smith lifted it and turned it about in his hands.

Even if he didn’t have the strength of a warrior, Celebrimbor could tell this would be difficult to handle during combat. Which, come to think of it, could prove to be a disadvantage when facing Sauron, who was quick on his feet and – judging by Galadriel's and Adar's accounts – quite skilled in battle. If only it was a bit lighter, and perhaps, had longer spikes-

He stopped. Frowned. Then lifted his eyebrows as he stared at the opposite side of the tent, then back at the crown, and finally at Adar.

The uruk, who had let Celebrimbor silently consider the iron adornment without comment, wore an expression of intrigue that quickly changed to one of caution.

The smith sprung up from his chair, and held up the crown. "Would you...if it could be done, would you want me to...try and improve this? For the oncoming battle?"

There was a very long moment of silence. The uruk’s face held some surprise, but for the most part, it had turned to stone. The smith cringed at himself – in his enthusiasm, taken with his own rapidly forming idea, he had forgotten that this was Adar’s best chance at killing Sauron.

Of course, he wouldn’t want Celebrimbor to tinker with it, so close to finalizing the alliance with the elves and fighting their shared enemy. The smith didn’t even know if he could. And yet-

"I am not sure even one such as you might be able to do that," Adar said, slowly. His gaze slipped off to the side as he pursed his lips and drew his brows. His gauntleted hand flexed where he’d propped his arm onto the table.

And then, as he turned his eyes back to Celebrimbor, "But, if that is your wish...you may try."

Celebrimbor must have looked as astonished as he felt, he was sure of it. Especially so when, after a while, he could see a very small grin grow on Adar's face. It was just as unexpected as his permission, and caused Celebrimbor to fluster a little.

The uruk's next words were quiet. "Though, be careful as you do. After Morgoth, none other than Mairon has been able to even put a dent in this thing. Believe me, myself and countless of my children have tried."

Celebrimbor nodded, and pressed the crown to his chest. He noted with unease the the metal was not warming to his touch, but ignored that for the moment. "I am not certain I will be able to accomplish anything with it, either, but- I would like to try, at least. Since so much depends on it."

He didn't say it out loud, but he meant the fate of Eregion and Mordor just as much as that the two armies, and the lives of his friends, his own - and that of his husband. Which would be in such a vulnerable, fragile state if he were the one to brandish the crown against Sauron. The thought unsettled the elf, had in fact begun to disturb him the more he talked to Adar, learnt of him, stayed with him.

'I do not wish to lose him in this battle,' the smith thought. Not just because of the alliance, or what would become of Adar's children. No, this was - affection, as strange as it still was to admit to himself. He wasn't sure if the uruk thought of them as friends yet, but Celebrimbor certainly thought of them as more than allies by now.

With a resolute, determined expression, the smith straightened, and then went to wrap the crown in some rough fabric. He had a hunch Adar's children might not appreciate it if he walked through their midst with that thing on display.

"I'll ask Glûg to accompany me to Gurlak's forge. Would you send for me, if you receive any word from my friends?"

The Lord Father of the uruk made a shooing motion, and finally sat back at the table, ready to finish his meal. "I will. Go- I have a feeling this will take some time," he motioned at the bundle in Celebrimbor's arms, "And I need to prepare myself for what is to come."

Celebrimbor threw the uruk a sympathetic glance. "If you want my advice, it might be a good call to serve wine once the high king arrives. He is rather fond of the drink, and yours should be of a taste he enjoys," he further thought on it, briefly. "Also, green foods - vegetables, leafy greens. Pickles might do, but do not serve only those." He drew a face.

Adar pinched his lips lest they quirk into another grin, but then showed his assent - and his thanks - with a tilt of his head.

Celebrimbor was struck with how little Adar used his hands in conversations; he and his fellow elves were quite prone to gesturing, whereas the uruk was still as a stone for much of the time and usually moved at a slow, almost leisurely pace. The elf pondered if this was due to the fact that he was so long-lived, or if it had other reasons.

"I will take that into consideration. Now, go. I am sure Galadriel and Elrond will be back much quicker than we might expect."

With a smile and another fond look in Adar's direction, Celebrimbor did as he was bid, and exited the tent. Luckily, Glûg was right outside - and judging by his very innocent, decidedly desinterested look, had been trying to eavesdrop. Again. Celebrimbor ignored it and said, "Glûg, please, take me to Gurlak at once."

[tbhmanchester]

can't believe the lack of chensper fics

[zukkaoru]

my controversial take re: bnha timeskip hero rankings is that there. shouldn’t be hero rankings at all anymore.

because see. this could fit SO perfectly with deku’s declaration going from “this is how i became the world’s greatest hero” to “this is how WE ALL became the world’s greatest hero”. no one is number 1, and so everyone is number 1 because everyone is a great hero in their own way. in the most recent rankings, deku isn’t even number 1, right? and yet. mha is “the story of how [he] became the world’s greatest hero”. the idea that you can be the world’s greatest hero in your own regard even when you aren’t number 1 is what society needs in the post-all might (and post-endeavor) world. if every hero can be the greatest at the same time, there is no singular number 1 hero who has to shoulder the weight of the entire world.

i also think this would actually be good for the bkdk perpetual competition because then there’s no Holy Word from above telling them who is “better”; they have to learn to discern that on their own. they can compete against each other forever without either one of them being handed the crown permanently or tilting society back towards the chaos left in the wake of all might’s retirement or, i don’t know, their competition clouding their vision and bringing forth new incorrect ideas about what a hero should be. you don’t become a hero for the competition or to prove your strength; you become a hero to help people. if hero rankings are reduced to the bakudeku fight for number 1, society is eventually going to end up right back where it was at the beginning of canon. someone like stain is going to stand up and say “this is not what being a hero is about” and they will be right, and it will create the perfect breeding ground for another rise in villain numbers.

like. can anyone hear me!!! all might’s reign as number 1 and his subsequent downfall were one of the igniting fires that spurred so much of the conflict in mha; why would we go back to hero rankings. why would we still have them. WASNT THE POINT. SUPPOSED TO BE. THAT HEROES SHOULDN’T DO IT FOR THE FAME. AND THE RESPONSIBILITY OF BEING “Number 1” IS TOO MUCH FOR ANY ONE PERSON TO HANDLE. i know horikoshi can’t see all the potential of his own manga but. please. guys. GUYS—

[cafulur]

Modern / College AU Labru Snippets:

- Laios and Kabru meet as classmates who get paired together for a project, and although they initially clash at first, through the assignment they find themselves clicking in the most unexpected ways.

- After the project is finished, they still keep texting each other. Laios sends Kabru a photo of an opossum that was lurking right outside his bedroom window late one night. Kabru later texts him a picture of a fluffy stray cat that won’t leave him alone every time he walks up to his apartment. He initially acts as if he doesn’t like the cat and that it’s bothering him by always following him home, but Laios constantly enthuses over text about how he would love to meet this cat someday. Suddenly Kabru is sneaking this cat little pets and treats in hopes it’ll stick around for when Laios may eventually (hopefully) come over. Before he knows it, Kabru has formed a soft spot for the stray.

- Both of their friend groups mesh and the two find themselves wondering each day when they’ll get to see each other next. They instantly attach in group settings without a second thought, and everyone notices the spark they have going on but them. Laios is excited in a ‘wow this is the coolest, nicest, most interesting friend I’ve ever had!’ type of way, while Kabru recognizes & reconciles with the fact that he’s crushing pretty early on.

- Toward the end of the semester, Marcille hosts a house party, and there’s actually a moment where Kabru sits with Chilchuck on the rooftop ?? It’s an extremely rare occasion and odd for them to ever be alone together, but Kabru had wondered out onto the second floor balcony for some fresh air + a moment to think, and spotted Chilchuck smoking a joint by himself atop the roof shackles to the right of him, just beyond the balcony.

- They watch Laios and a few others down below do something stupid and party related, like chug a drink or eat something fast in one go. It’s mostly quiet between the two up top, save for the few awkward hellos in acknowledgment when Kabru first shows up. Until Chilchuck, of all people, decides to finally break the silence between them. 

“I’d just be straight up with him at this point, if I were you.”

Kabru jumps a little at the unexpected suggestion, glancing toward him with wary eyes. He does his absolute best in every interaction to present himself in a very particular way. Had he been that easy to read all this time?

“Straight with who?” Kabru questions as innocently as he could pretend with a smile, brushing a curl behind his ear.

Chilchuck takes a drag and blows smoke up toward the sky, slightly annoyed but not trying to bite this time around. “Laios. It looks like you want something so bad, but you’re holding back or something. He’s not going to pick up on anything unless you spell it out for him, y’know.”

Kabru covers one of his ears as he feels them burn, looking down into the plastic cup barely filled with beer in his hands. “It’s not— I don’t…” he starts, but feels dumb finishing any semblance of denial. Surprising himself, he caves in, swirling the drink. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose this. His friendship has become pretty important to me.”

“Does Laios come across as someone who would make things awkward?” Chilchuck asks, snuffing out the nub of his joint into the roof and turning to Kabru. Kabru furrows his brow at him.

“Not typically, but I somehow can never figure him out when it comes to things I’ve never tried with him before. Risks with him are truly unpredictable.”

He hums in disagreement, watching the last of the smoke escape the joint before it completely fizzles out. “Eh, I don’t know. Think about it like this. If he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings, do you think he’d have trouble still being friends with you? Laios, being the way that he is, I mean.”

Kabru thinks about it for a minute. Laios really was different from other friends he’d made throughout his life. He didn’t waste time putting up fronts just to save face, and he can’t really pick up on things being awkward for either party. If Kabru confessed and got denied, it would hurt himself mostly, but it wouldn’t rapidly change the air between them. Laios probably wouldn’t want to stop being friends or need time apart just out of awkwardness, which is what one would normally expect after rejection. “I think I get what you mean. I suppose not.”

Chilchuck put the burnt out nub into his pocket to save for a final short smoke later. “I don’t know exactly what all goes on in that guy’s head, but being an observer, I’d think you’d notice by now when he’s actually looking back. I guess it’s easier as a third party.”

Kabru takes a sip of his beer as he carefully considers Chilchuck’s words and watches Laios down below. In that moment, Laios happens to look up and catch Kabru’s gaze, immediately smiling and giving him a friendly wave. It feels like it’s just between them, save for the audience member right next to Kabru witnessing the whole thing. Chilchuck sighs and stands up, dusting his pants off.

“You guys do you. I barely understand my own feelings and how to go about them these days, but if you already know yours so confidently, then there shouldn’t be much stopping you from sharing them. Bottling up seems a lot more painful. It’s hard to watch, anyway.” He stretches before crawling down from the roof shackles onto the balcony. He offers a small wave as he passes by to head inside. Kabru turns to watch him go, saying a soft “Thanks Chilchuck,” as he disappears into a hallway, presumably toward the stairs.

When Kabru turns back around and glances down, Laios is in fact still looking up at him. His face heats up a bit, unsure what to say or do in response, and then Laios is grinning brightly and motioning for him to come and join them. Kabru nods, downs the last of his drink, and then hurries inside, heart pounding in his chest.