#despite the fact it does not seem to help resolve anything

[drjokes]

the problem with like. experimenting with to identity/gender/whatever is that like. ideally i could figure it out and then make the change and then jumpscare everyone with it in post. “hey what’s up, new update, alright let’s move on”

unfortunately, these things require like time and messing around to figure out

also unfortunately, it’s impossible to achieve anything alone due to being human and community and all

usually that last thing is great but i really wish i could just skip that part and just retroactively let everyone know whatever it is i am

[zorosangell]

Hello, I'm thinking about how Zoro would react, if he finds out that Y/n saw him and the Wano princess Kozuki Hiyori sleeping together (that scene in Wano where Brook finds them), maybe Brook will tell Zoro that y/ n saw them or something and see how zoro would act when he realized that y/n saw the situation as a misunderstanding.

⛥ﾟ・。 firewood

synopsis: stumbling across a small shack in the country of wano, the last thing you expected was to find your boyfriend snuggled up with an oiran... zoro's got a lot of explaining to do.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, miscommunication, misunderstanding (it gets resolved), reader's crash out is hella valid, zoro is a lovable idiot, hiyori does a lil too much, i hope someone gets the reference i made

a/n: look at my sexy man in the banner <3 ugh i love him sm

"(y/n)..." Zoro stirred awake, letting out an annoyed groan at the sudden cold air blowing in. "(y/n)... you leave the window open?"

Instinctively, his arm reached out for you, snaking around a waist that felt starkly different from yours.

'The hell?'

Not only that, but it also felt significantly warmer, not nearly as cool as the ice cube he was used to sleeping with (i.e you).

"Since when are you so warm?"

Confused, the swordsman's eye slowly fluttered open, expecting to be met by the soft, sleeping expression of his girlfriend.

Only to find a woman that was—in fact—not you nuzzled into his side.

"Huh...? Hey! What the—?! What the hell?!"

"She's so warm... good to know."

"(y/n)!"

Instantly, Zoro yanked himself out from under the woman, allowing her head to fall off his chest and thump against the mat as he frantically scrambled to his feet, cheeks burning at the horribly compromising position.

"Y'know, it's nice to learn that while I was off fighting members of the Tobi Roppo, you were here," you chuckled, humorlessly, as you leaned against the open doorway. "Shacked up with the oiran."

"(y/n), that's not—! We didn't—! Fuck, it's not what it looks like!" Zoro quickly defended, turning to you sincerely.

"Of course it's not. She just happened to fall on top of your chest—your shirtless chest, by the way—and your arms just happened to wrap around her. Totally unromantic."

"I thought she was you! I forgot—"

"Oh, Mr. Samurai! You're awake," Hiyori beamed, stretching her arms as she finally sat up from the floor. "How are you feeling after last night?"

"Last night?" you sharply cocked a brow, turning to the swordsman with a simmering glare, "What happened last night, Roronoa?"

'Oh, shit.'

This was bad.

"Nothing happened! I swear!" he truthfully denied. "I just—!"

"I wanted to thank him for what he did in the snow!" Hiyori perked up, talking to you like a lifelong friend despite not having the slightest clue as to who you were. "He was amazing! So fast and rough! I've never witnessed anything like it!"

"He was, was he? Fast and rough?"

"Will you stop talking like that?!" Zoro huffed, sending a deadly glare toward the oiran. "It's not what you're thinking, (y/n). She was being attacked and I helped her. That's it. Nothing else."

"I'm supposed to believe that after hearing what she just said?" you scoffed, turning and walking out the door. "Yeah, sure. I'll see you on the night of the raid."

"(y/n)!"

Frantically, Zoro shoved his arms through the sleeves of his yukata, snatching up his haori and practically stumbling out the door after you.

"Mr. Samurai! Where are you going? Who is that woman!?"

"(y/n)!..." he called, completely ignoring her, a pit sinking in his stomach at your frigid demeanor. "(y/n), wait! You're out here in just a kimono, you'll get sick!"

"You didn't seem too worried last night!"

"(y/n)!" he groaned, finally catching up to you and attempting to grab your shoulder, to which you harshly flinched away.

"Don't even think about touching me with the same arm."

"(y/n), nothing happened!" Zoro pressed once again. "I don't even know her name!"

"Yeah, well, you two seemed awfully comfortable."

"I thought she was you! I forgot where I was and woke up with someone laying next to me. I just assumed it was you."

"How do you make that assumption?!"

"I don't know! Who else do I sleep with?"

At that, you sighed, shoulders sinking as you finally began to consider the possibility that maybe your swordsman wasn't cheating.

And was honestly just completely dense.

Noticing the subtle change in your expression, Zoro took it as the go ahead to hold you, eyes flicking from his hands to your face as he slowly pulled you into him, wary of whether or not you felt like being touched again.

And, weakly, you complied, melting into him like sun-warmed butter as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you flush against his warm chest.

"(y/n)..." he started, his thumb and forefinger lifting your chin so you'd meet his gaze, his chest swelling at the sight of your cute, reddened nose. "Why the hell would I need another woman? You've got more than enough personality to keep me completely occupied."

"Hey!"

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss at the tip of your hairline, allowing you to look in his eyes and search for insincerity.

Which—to no one's surprise—was nowhere to be found.

With a small huff, you rested your hands on his chest, finally fully caving into your swordsman's embrace.

"...Nothing happened?"

Zoro shook his head, his calloused hand sliding to cup your cool cheek.

"Nothing happened."

Relieved, you let out a small sigh, which was quickly cut off with a yelp as Zoro swept you off your feet, scooping you up bridal style before turning to trudge back toward the shack.

"Zoro!"

"M'gettin' the feeling you still don't believe me... so I'm gonna prove it to you right now."

Despite the frigid air, your face flushed with heat, eyes widening at the sensual nature of his words.

"Zo, she's still in there..."

"Send her out for firewood. What I got planned won't take long."

He paused a moment, a faint, rakish grin rising to his lips.

"Unless you want it to."

"Zoro!"

[rainydaydreamsideblog]

(The Maze Runner) Arguments With Him

Author’s Note:  In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version.

Warnings: Mentions of anger, arguments, conflict.

Thomas:

To him, a little heated argument every now and then is not the end of the world. He's used to communicating a bit loudly at times with others in the Glade, though he doesn't do so unless provoked. Thomas prefers to have everything out in the open. He'd rather you speak your mind than contain anything, even if it's uncomfortable.

The argument will be brief, and he does what he can to have it resolved before you both walk away. He is never too proud to apologize and make things right for any part he played, and he doesn't hold grudges. It's a clean slate with him.

Newt:

As second-in-command, he's quite used to handling disagreements. There are plenty that occur day to day in the Glade. Even so, things can be a bit different when it's with someone you're in a relationship with. He's quite patient with you, but he's only human. When he's angry, his voice is low and stern at first. He does not wish for things to escalate, but he will eventually raise his voice if the argument drags on and he feels it's not getting anywhere.

The two of you might need a bit of time to cool off, and any time you catch a glimpse of him around the Glade during that period, you can see him grumpy and a bit pouty. After being apart, even if it's only for a short time, the argument suddenly seems silly to you both, and you make your way back to each other to work things out.

Minho:

Sass master. When you two get into an argument, pettiness and clapbacks are not uncommon. He doesn't raise his voice, but it's still safe to say that verbal jabs don't really help the situation. Sometimes it ends in you two going around in circles, going down rabbit trails and debating on things that are totally unrelated to the actual conflict at hand.

He's a got a pride issue when it comes to a resolution. There are indeed times you will need to reach out first to him and reconcile, but there are also plenty of times he will be the first one to do so. He is aware that his conflict style is klunk and is working on it, and he'll apologize sincerely for it after the fact. It's not unheard of for him to make it up to you with a sweet gesture like a bouquet of Glade flowers.

Gally:

He's a Keeper, and an alpha male, and conflict with him starts out with him speaking in a firm, almost authoritative tone- like he expects you to cease and desist or "fall in line." It's truly not intended to be condescending or belittling. He thinks, if only you could see his side, you'd see that he's right.

But it still can come across the wrong way because you of course have a mind of your own and of course he's human and is not always right. Not to mention he can be a bit petty. If things get heated, he may raise his voice a bit, his frustration evident, but he won't lose his temper with you. If you aren't getting anywhere, he might just throw his hands up and insist he's too busy to continue the conversation at the moment, but really, the two of you just need some time to think things over.

He'll approach you later, and despite being a notorious tough guy, he will be the first to utter a gentle and sincere, "I'm sorry" to you.

[nariism]

wherever you are, wherever you may be — i. rin

soulmates (name au) + "i'm done waiting."

synopsis. itoshi rin meets you under a sky full of fireworks. he spends the next 6 years of his life trying to convince himself that he doesn't love you. you spend the next 6 years giving him every reason why he should.

wc. 12.4k (i need to close my eyes and sleep for a while)

notes. huge thank you to ellie (@hyomagiri) and mari (@saetoshi) for helping me with this 🥹 this fic actually put me through it and i'm so grateful to both of them for their support 💗

— for my beloved @ode2rin 💐 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, Itoshi Rin finds himself standing at the daunting entrance to his local shrine.

The tradition is completely beneath him—something childish that he grumbles about under his breath despite letting you drag him all the way out here with soft eyes watching your smile.

Tanabata is the festival of stars. Of love.

It is a story his mother used to whisper to him as they watched the night sky in awe, pretending that the galaxy was collapsing in on itself to allow for a romantic midnight rendezvous between two lovers.

It’s something far too sappy for his liking.

But the food is okay, he supposes, and it’s a good opportunity to get out of the house and spend time with you which he seldom has time to do now that he’s back in his training season.

There were too many things about it that he loathed: the screaming children that would bump into his legs; the way his ears would stay ringing for days after the festival ended; how you could always convince him to come as if you were some sort of hypnotic devil in disguise, and how thoroughly wounded his pride would be at that fact.

However, his least favourite part of the festival by far is writing down his wish for the year on a scrap piece of paper and hanging it around a bamboo tree. One, because he can never for the life of him think of anything meaningful to wish for. And two, because he isn’t sure he even believes in that sort of thing.

Rin is struggling again this year, pencil lightly scratching his temple as he thinks.

He’s painfully aware that he’s never put so much thought into this before, but you seemed so excited to come all the way here before heading to the festivities that he couldn’t possibly let you down.

His wish dawns on him then, something he wants to do before the next time he makes the climb all the way back up here 365 days from now.

“Hey,” your voice calls out quietly. “What did you wish for?”

“What did you wish for?” Rin quickly refutes.

You cast your narrowed eyes from the side, tilting your little slip of yellow paper away from him.

“Only if I get to see yours first.”

Normally, he would give in to you right away. His resolve when it comes to you is embarrassingly weak. But there’s no way for him to explain himself. No way he could show you the words he’s written lest he hurt his ego.

He stubbornly folds up the piece of paper and shoves your face away. All you do is laugh and he feels terribly warm.

“No peeking,” he tells you when you kiss across his fingertips.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2018

A name appeared for Itoshi Rin when he turned thirteen years old.

He remembers the day well—it was hard to forget, anyway. As much as he wanted to focus on the burning of the name etching its way down his skin, he couldn’t. Not when he was blinking snow out of his lashes and watching his brother’s retreating back.

Rin likes to think that the universe fucks with him in any way that it can.

Maybe he had done something terrible in his past life and this was its karmic retribution, or maybe he was just unlucky.

What he does know is this: the name on his pinky only reminds him of all the things he ever lost.

Every syllable struck needles into his heart—a painful memory of crawling after the tracks of the wheels Sae left behind with his luggage until gravel and ice were stuck under his nails. Or worse, the clawing of his throat as they sat across from each other at dinner—the way he didn't even smile when Rin announced to his parents that his soulmate mark had appeared while his mother cried out in joy.

In fact, Sae didn’t talk to him for the rest of his visit. He remembers that hurt the most.

The name had haunted him for all the remaining years of his life—a forced memory that he wished he could forget. There came with it a feeling of loneliness that crushed him despite the proof on his pinky that there was another soul wandering the earth that would fix him.

He refused to believe it.

Only revenge would fix him. Only proving himself better would heal the cracks in his heart. Only beating Sae. Sae, Sae, Sae. His brother’s name had been repeated so many times that it was easy to ignore the other burning his skin.

In all those years he found it easy to cast aside his soulmate. To ignore it even if it hurt.

So he wonders why it’s so bad tonight.

He’s done everything he could think of: slathering cooling ointment down his finger to stop the searing, wrapping it in a cast to prevent himself from admiring it for too long, even tying a wish to a piece of bamboo hoping it would disappear.

A finger snaps in front of his face, drawing his attention to his teammates in front of him. Both look equally amused.

“You’re dreaming,” Isagi muses. “You’ve been spacing out all night. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rin mutters, swatting his teammate’s hand away from him. He had been staring again, longingly eyeing the way the letters danced down his skin. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“None of your business.”

“Yeesh, it’s not good to keep things bottled up, you know?”

“You’re annoying,” Rin glowers before it melts back into indifference. “I’m fine,” he reiterates.

Isagi seems unconvinced, as he usually is when Rin is being mysteriously vague about what’s on his mind. He and Bachira share a tentative glance before sighing and shaking their heads.

“Well… okay,” he finally yields. “We’re going to get some snacks before the fireworks start. If you’re going to sulk then at least stay put and do it here so we can find you again.”

“Yeah,” Rin grumbles, already making an escape plan. “Whatever. Will do.”

As soon as the boys are out of sight, he turns heel and hurries away. The crowd is driving him crazy and he needs somewhere quiet so he can stare at his hands until his eyes are dry.

He comes to a pond situated just outside of the festival grounds, deep water glimmering under the moon and the passing lanterns.

Plopping down on the bench, he hunches over onto his knees with his elbows and takes a deep breath. It instead comes shallow, as if someone has just punched him in the gut. 

It’s then that he realizes he’s not alone.

Your yukata is muddy, fabric soaked and dripping at the sleeves though you don’t seem to care or even notice. You look frustrated for some reason, lip curled into a concentrated frown while you plunge your hands into the mud around the edge of the water.

Away from the crowds of people, he can hear the summer song of cicadas chirping all around. Your hands dip in and out of the water, quiet splashes filling the rest of the silence on top of the distant buzz of children laughing.

It’s just you and him. Something primal inside of him rages, pounding against his chest until it feels like he’s suffocating.

Run. Run. Run.

His legs jerk, urging him to stand up and leave, but he feels glued down to the bench—tethered where he sits and forced to watch you repeatedly sink your hands into the muddy waters.

No more than five minutes must pass as you both ignore each other, yet it feels like an eternity stretches by. 

Finally, you pipe up.

“You’re scaring them,” you tell him plainly.

His head whips in your direction at your voice, soft and careful. His teal eyes narrow at you. “Huh?”

Your frown deepens, turning to look at him with your hands still submerged. “The frogs.”

“Come again?”

“Your vibes. It’s scaring the frogs away.”

His eye twitches.

“Ever consider that you’re just dogshit at catching them?”

“Excuse me?”

“And look at you, making a total mess of yourself. Don’t you care that you have to go home looking like that?” He presses, leering at you like an insect he’s about to crush under his heel. You simply stare at him, expression blank.

Huffing, you tear away from him and sink your hands beneath the mud. “No. I don’t.”

He watches in silence as you sift around for a moment before pulling your hands up, a smile slowly morphing into your face.

“I got one…” You breathe, looking more elated than he thinks you should. “I really caught one.”

“First time?” He quips sarcastically. A part of him wonders why he hasn’t gotten up and left you altogether yet.

“Cut me some slack,” you complain, eyeing him from the side again. You gently run a finger along the back of the frog, trying not to scare it away. “I haven’t done this in forever.”

“Clearly.”

You snort. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Rin looks at you quizzically, puzzled at your sudden change in demeanor. You seem… softer. Less agitated, at the very least. You’re gazing at the frog adoringly, as if it had somehow solved all of your problems and was dragging you into another world.

Any retort he had ready to shoot at you dies in his mouth. The anger rising in his chest extinguishes in the blink of an eye, and a deep hush settles over you as he watches in curiosity.

For a moment, the universe goes quiet. He’s gotten so used to having everything on his mind all at once that the silence is almost unnerving.

He once believed that his world would end with an injury that never healed quite right, or when he was too old for any team to want him.

He once believed that his world would end when he could no longer imagine the feel of a ball between his palms.

He once believed that his world would end the day he couldn’t play football anymore—that the only thing that would ever kill him was if the chance of standing alongside his brother died with him.

But he was wrong.

Itoshi Rin’s world ends with the bellow of a firework.

In a few years, he would think of this stretch of a few seconds fondly. He would squeeze you a little tighter with his chin resting on your shoulder, staring up at a colourful sky. He would think it was poetic, in a way, that you were the one who painted his world in the same hues of shimmering gold.

Rin remembers, though, that only one thought had crossed his mind.

I’m so screwed.

He can see every fine detail of your face, illuminated in all the colours of the rainbow. And he can’t help but think you are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He can trace each intricate curve of your nose to your chin to the surprised parting of your lips; the way your lashes flutter as you blink rapidly, tensed from the sudden explosion.

The light fades faster than it appeared, yet it feels like a millennium has passed. The reverbing echo of the firework crackles across the sky, thundering in his ears so loud that he can feel it pounding in his chest.

(Or is that his heart? He can’t tell. He feels dizzy.)

Darkness envelops your bodies again, save for the dim glow of distant lanterns. Every part of you is seared into his memory, a floating image when he blinks.

The frog leaps from your hands back into the water, leaving nothing but ripples behind.

You stay there with your hands outstretched, looking lonely under the dark sky. Another one goes off above your heads, signalling the start of the display.

“There you are, Rin!” Bachira and Isagi come rushing over from the path, excited smiles and mirth bubbling in their laughs as they approach. “We thought you went home without us already!”

Rin slowly blinks out of his reverie. For a second, he glances in your direction again just to catch your eyes. 

“I almost did,” he grumbles, forcing himself not to stare.

“Fireworks are starting!” Isagi yanks Rin to his feet and begins dragging him away before he can even protest.

Without turning around, he can feel the weight of your eyes in the back of his head. There’s an unfamiliar ache in his chest, and the name etched down his pinky burns infinitely hot.

Later at home, he stares at the spot where Sae used to sit back when he still came to Japan for anything other than to take a new passport photo.

“My soulmate’s name showed up,” he had mumbled that night to break the tense silence. It was strange that he still felt like he owed his brother that much—to make his visit as normal as possible despite having his heart carved open.

Sae only looked at him blankly, spoon halting just above his bowl. He was eerily still, quietly deciding how to react. Then,

“Good for you,” he said. And nothing more.

Rin squeezes his eyes shut and he feels warmth rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wipes the tears away, pretending as if they never existed.

He spends the rest of the night trying to forget your face.

(And the next year trying to recreate it in his dreams.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2019

Rin makes it another 275 days before he finally remembers every piece of the puzzle that is your existence.

He saw you in his sleep. The back of your head, anyway.

You were sitting in his favourite café, at the table he claimed for himself right by the window. You ordered a coffee but let it sit for so long that the ice melted. Then, you wiped up the condensation rolling down the frosty glass with your finger.

Rin watched you from afar, observing you the way he wished he did last summer.

Maybe then he could have dived deep into the recesses of his brain to remember why exactly you struck him so. But there he was, stuck watching the back of your head as you gazed out the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your fingers drummed mindlessly against the wooden table, reciting a rhythm just slightly louder than the pounding of his own heart. 

“Can you leave me alone?” He finally called out, hoping it would stop your incessant beating.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“You’re annoying me,” he hissed. Annoying for disturbing his peace and quiet. Annoying for plaguing his dreams even after all these days.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Seriously,” he grunted, standing up from his seat so fast that the chair scraped horribly against the wooden floor. Still, you didn’t pay him any mind, instead more interested in the faceless people walking by. “Knock it off!”

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

He bit the inside of his cheek in hesitation, the itch in the back of his mind ever present. “What’s your name?”

Silence.

You finally turned his way. Slowly. Agonizingly slow.  And Rin was right—you were still so beautiful, 275 days later.

Grinning at him big and bright, you almost seemed to collapse in on yourself with joy. Like a star about to implode, or maybe more akin to a firework.

Either way, his breath was stolen from him.

You silently mouthed your name, making sure he saw every vowel and accentuated syllable. Warmth flooded him in every way—probably brought on by the racing of his heart.

It was impossible that his soulmate was someone like this. Someone whose smile looked like it could heal even the deepest wounds.

You grabbed his attention again with a big wave of the arms, and he watched in anticipation.

“You’re—”

Rin followed your mouth as you sounded out the words without a voice.

“—smiling!”

He reached up to run his fingers along his bottom lip. And you were right, he realized, as he traced it midway up his cheek.

(When did he start smiling?)

(Why?)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin thinks about you just as much in the waking world as he does in his dreams.

It’s spring, though snow is still settled over the eaves of homes that he passes on the way to the grocery store. Apparently the winter cold is supposed to be especially long and bitter this year, permeating until mid-May.

He stares at his feet as they mark the virgin snow, decorating his sneakers white and making his feet cold.

Did you walk through the same snow this morning?

Then, when he’s going through the motion of smelling the bottom of pineapples at the store:

Do you like pineapple? What if you’re allergic?

(He shakes his head and puts them away. He suddenly isn’t craving it.)

His obsession with you has only intensified as the year has gone on. If you ever peered into his mind, he would receive a well-deserved slap across the face.

The soulmate mark engraved down his pinky has never bothered him so badly.

It’s like you’re constantly with him—a ghost haunting him, or perhaps more like a curse. Thinking about you takes up unnecessary space in his head. Space that should be dedicated to football, and football only.

He's about to go home so he can make a list outlining the ways he can forget about you.

(Ironic, he knows, but in all honesty he already exhausted all of his options from his first list.)

But then he comes to a stop outside of his favourite café. It looks the same, even has the same advertisements plastered in the window as the last time he was here.

He hesitates at the door, but when he walks in it smells the same. It's decorated the same. Not a single table is out of place.

He walks up to his regular spot, runs his fingers along the wood where he remembers you tapping in his dream.

There's no sign of your existence here.

Rin shakes his head in annoyance, cursing himself out in his head because he was stupid enough to think he would run into you here.

Then disappointment floods his body, like a dam had been released in his chest and it's flowing unstoppably to every piece of him.

(Wait, why is he disappointed? He really needs to take a nap.)

He runs his hand through his hair as a nervous reflex, simultaneously relieved and irritated that you're nowhere to be seen.

It takes him a minute to recollect himself, to realize that he probably looks like a crazy person just standing beside an empty table like a lost child who doesn't know where to go, and decides to just go home.

He pulls into the line to get a drink for his walk home when—

"Thanks!"

His heart drops.

You waltz out of the back, tying your apron around your waist as you exchange spots in the break room with one of your coworkers.

Rin is about to die, seriously. You must be new here, since he's been to this café more times than he can count and he's never seen you before. Or was it that he was specifically looking out for you this time?

Whatever the reason, he's dumbfounded.

“Hey,” your acknowledgment makes him freeze in his spot. “Frog guy?”

He looks at you stupidly, rubbing his eyes like a cartoon character as if he’s imagining you standing right in front of him.

His gaze drifts down to your name tag, fresh and newly printed with white marker. Signed at the end is a little flower, petals swirled into tiny hearts.

Your existence before him is undeniable.

"Um. Yeah," he sputters in disbelief.

"I..." You clear your throat, looking as bewildered as he feels. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

'You're my soulmate. Of course we'd run into each other,' he thinks to himself. Out loud, though:

"Yeah. Me neither."

The person behind him in line coughs quietly, impatiently tapping their foot. Rin takes the hint and quietly tells you what he wants. You lean in across the counter to hear him better, and his face grows warm.

Once you fill in the boxes on the cup, you place it down and move it to the side for someone to fill. It catches his eye immediately.

Itoshi Rin is scribbled neatly down the side of his cup.

“How did you...?”

You awkwardly shift in your spot, evidently embarrassed as you fiddle with the strings of your apron. Then, with your own hands.

“W-Well…”

His eyes dare to drop down to where your thumb is nervously slathering up and down the name on your pinky.

“Oh.”

"Sorry, I just figured—"

"It's fine," he interrupts. Your mouth snaps shut.

Tense silence stretches thin in the air, ready to shatter at any moment. But for some reason, he feels as though he's choking on nothing.

You fumble over the emptiness, quickly snatching up the cup to make his drink yourself after deciding it's too awkward to just stand there.

He watches you in a daze, half shaken and half in awe. Never in a million years would he have thought a dream would lead him back to you.

When you turn back around with a full cup, you look equally stunned. 

“Itoshi—”

“Rin. It’s just Rin.”

You look at him in surprise, lashes fluttering rapidly as you let it sink in.

It's not your fault. You don't know that it's a sore spot that he just so happens to share the same last name with the person he despises most in the world.

It's not your fault that he has a quick temper and his voice raises slightly, enough to make you flinch back just a tiny bit.

And it's definitely not your fault that it stings so much—that he had expected you to speak to him as if you'd already known him for a lifetime and not as if you were just two strangers looking at each other from across a bar counter.

“O-Okay," you take a deep breath, cheeks puffed out and expression unreadable.

You slide the cup across the counter and he catches it in his hand.

He debates whether or not he should say more, like apologize for snapping at you. But then someone calls you by your name, and the way it rolls so beautifully off their tongue catches him off guard.

"Sorry. See you, Rin," you smile sweetly. Maybe a little awkwardly, a small step toward the one he dreamed about. And his heart is set in motion.

Rin decides that today won't be the day.

Another day, he'll be brave enough to crack a joke so dry that you try and scrub his name off your skin. And another day, he will ask for your number because, yeah, you might be the most alluring person he's ever met.

As he turns to take his leave after just staring at the spot you were standing in for a solid few seconds, he can hear some of the other baristas clamouring for you.

He doesn't want to look. Really, honestly, he doesn't. 

But he does anyway.

It's just a quick glance over his shoulder—nothing more than a fleeting moment as he takes the chance to look at you one more time.

Those two seconds is all it takes for him to realize just how much trouble he's in.

You're laughing big and toothy, waving your hand in front of your face dismissively as your coworkers poke fun at how flustered you are. Then your hands are clasped over your stomach and you've doubled down a little in your awkward fit.

His heart has never beat so loud in his own ears.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Itoshi Rin used to smile just for the sake of smiling, once upon a time.

He had aunties who would pinch him by the cheek and fawn over him, cooing about how he looked just like his mother. How his face would cherub and the apples of his cheeks were bright red. Even when he grew out of his baby face, people would tell him how wonderful his smile was.

Sae rarely ever smiled, so it was something exclusive. He never felt like he was standing in his shadow. It was special—the kind of praise only one Itoshi would know.

Rin has forgotten how to smile like that.

He smiles to be polite to his family, if ever. Even then, it's not like he owes them that much. At some point, it became too much effort. And he had no reason to do it.

It was always a tiny thought bothering him in the back of his mind:

I'll never meet my soulmate if I'm always scowling like this.

He thought that was what he wanted, anyway. He wouldn't need to worry about running into his soulmate if no one ever looked his way. If everyone feared him enough not to spare him a second glance.

He doubts everything he ever thought as he sits on the edge of his bed staring at his desk.

It's lit up by a single lamp, shining down on his empty coffee cup like a spotlight opened up by the heavens themselves.

Your phone number is written just below his name.

Rin had almost tossed it into the trash without a second thought earlier in the day. He would have, if it weren't for the loose dog that blitzed by him and made him drop it.

Fate just loves to mess with him.

He picked it up and his thumb had stopped over the number. It was written so small, as if you had wanted him to miss it. Or perhaps you wanted to test destiny yourself—to see if the planets would align and he would discover your seven digits there for him to find.

And now he's home. He's been home, just looking. Contemplating. Stressing.

He migrates from the edge of the bed and settles into his desk chair. Then he gets up, moves back to the bed, and flops down. An endless cycle, back and forth, pushing and pulling.

Rin plops down onto his desk seat and sighs in frustration, ruffling his hair around before his forehead slams into the table.

Every part of his mind screams at him to stop. To toss the cup away and forget today ever happened. His head raises from his arms and he stares at the set of numbers illuminated on the paper, taunting him. 

Finally, he exhales through his nose, sitting up straight and reaching for the cup to toss. His fingers delicately brush along your phone number.

“So dumb…” He huffs, eventually finding his phone instead and opening his contacts.

It’s nearly midnight. He tries to imagine your face as you wait by your phone for a message from him, that stupidly hopeful glimmer in your eyes, and he feels sick to his stomach as he sends it.

Rin: hey. it’s rin.

He throws his phone down on the desk again, screen down so he can’t cringe at himself. A few minutes pass in complete silence as he sulks.

He considers that you may have gone to bed already, or you were offended by the fact that he ignored your offer to connect all day and instantly blocked him. Maybe you thought he never saw your number at all.

Then his phone buzzes. His body moves on autopilot, snatching it up faster than he can realize what he’s doing. He’s halfway through the embarrassing thought that he just immediately read your message after you sent it as your text sinks in.

Unknown: hi! it’s great to hear from you ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ

Unknown: i was starting to think you were never gonna text lol

Rin: i wasn’t

He chews his lip for a moment before quickly following up:

Rin: but i changed my mind. just cause.

Unknown: hahaha got it got it. ‘just cause’ (˘◡˘)

Unknown: rin

Unknown: wait nvm

Unknown: whatever

Unknown: rin

Rin: what

Unknown: let’s get coffee ^ ^

He stares at the screen in disbelief, watching the typing bubble pop up and disappear again and again. He can imagine again what kind of smile you must have on your face right now, or maybe you look flustered, or maybe this all means nothing to you at all and this is your way of being polite.

Regardless of the reason, he eventually types out his response.

Rin: ok

Christ, he’s so tepid.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2020

He comes to memorize every part of you, like how the sun kisses the horizon and the moon knows the tides.

Intimately, almost—if he didn’t overthink the way your touch lingered on him he could easily ignore the way it made his heart pound in his ears.

Rin learns the feeling of your fingers against his skin as you compress an ice pack to his knee. He knows your laugh—can pick apart sarcasm from genuine cheer unlike most other people he encounters. He’s never been good at reading people yet for some reason you’ve become an open book for him. 

It’s not fair that you’ve ensnared him this way, that he can’t seem to run from you (because his favourite coffee is from your café and he can’t be bothered to find a new place). That he finds himself instinctively reaching over to his phone when he can’t sleep (he has to make sure his alarms are on, might as well text you goodnight while he’s at it). And you’ve become annoyingly comfortable (he doesn’t have an excuse for this one—your lap is just conveniently a very nice place to rest his head).

He must be an open book, too.

At some point he probably stopped trying to hide his growing feelings for you, though you either didn’t notice his sudden shift or you didn’t care.

Vulnerability has never been a part of Rin, even before Itoshi Sae ruined his life.

He despises how you so easily pry him apart, skinning him alive with your hand lathering down his chest as you laugh. 

Still, he’s grown accustomed to your fingers stringing through his hair, to the way your head tilts when he explains football plays to you, to the obvious way you fluster when he attempts (poorly) at flirting with you.

He’s gotten especially fond of the way you meet him at the end of his practices with such sweet, wandering hands—pushing the hair stuck to his forehead from sweat away from his eyes; using a towel to wipe up his neck; the squeeze you give his palms as you examine them to see if there are any new cuts and bruises.

Usually, he’s the epitome of confidence in his plays. Today, however, his cheeks burn as you approach him with the same honeyed smile.

“My shots were shoddy,” he admits before you can even get a word out. You only raise a brow, hands faltering in front of you. “That was lame.”

“I think you’re good.”

“Good,” he frowns. “But not great?”

“The greatest,” you quickly correct yourself, smiling at his cravings for praise. You’re armed with a fresh towel like you always are, reaching up to clean his face as if it’s the only thing you were born to do.

He relishes in your gentle touch, peering at you through his lashes while you prattle on about how amazing he was even though he missed half of his shots.

You were so blindly supportive, it sickens him. 

Not because he felt you were being disingenuous, but because he’s not deserving of your praise. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels as though his soul is disconnected from his body. He used to walk the earth this way—uninterested in his surroundings and obsessed with only one thing.

Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae.

Suddenly, he’s thirteen again and gasping for air; screaming into his pillow and trashing their shared awards until his mother comes rushing in to stop him. He’s alone in a field, abandoned and crushed.

It’s not like he’d never lost before, even in front of you. Loss was just a part of football as much as he hated it.

But your praise only makes his stomach turn, because he knows you mean it.

You truly do believe he’s the best, when really he’s been futile in his attempts to catch up with the big brother he admired so much as a kid.

“Stop,” he gently interrupts.

Rin tries to use his hair to hide the wetness of his eyes, with little success. You can see right through him, unfortunately. It’s a talent he wishes you didn’t have.

“Rin?” You say softly, reaching up to brush the hair out of the way. He doesn’t try and back up or swat your hand away, instead letting you see his miserable expression. You sigh quietly, looking more exasperated than surprised.

“Sorry,” he mutters halfheartedly.

You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Shame boils in his stomach at your reassurance. There is something to apologize for. Here you are, supporting him with all your heart, and all he can think about is his stupid brother. How he’ll never catch up. How he’ll never be good enough.

Doesn’t your kindness warrant his attention at the very least?

“Come on,” you tug at his hand. “Let’s get you a pick-me-up.”

Rin abides silently, body following yours off the field and onto the streets though his mind has floated off elsewhere.

He tries to count how many steps you take in between the field and the destination, but loses count somewhere around three hundred. Then he moves on to counting the hairs on the back of your head. He loses count at one hundred. Eventually, he gives up and opts for staring at your conjoined hands while he lags behind.

When you come to a halt, he nearly bumps into your back.

The ringing in his ears stops as he blinks at his surroundings. Waves crash against the shore of the sandbank, singing the song of the ocean. It had been so long since Rin walked down this stretch of the shore, he almost forgot what the sea looked like.

“Wait here,” you urge as you hold him by the shoulders then disappear around the corner.

He collapses at the wall separating land from sea, swinging his legs under the railings to sit comfortably as he remembers doing when he was a kid. His gym bag is abandoned behind him, cleats and all.

When you return, you shove a popsicle into his hand.

He’s confused at first, just looking absently at the packaging. It must be for a concerning amount of time, because you eventually pipe up.

“Do you need me to open it for you?”

Rin glares at you and your teasing smile. Carefully, he unpackages the treat and pops it in his mouth.

Sweetness melts over his tongue and he exhales sharply through his nose. You watch him in amusement with your own treat stuck in your mouth.

Silence engulfs you, eating Rin from the inside out until he feels ill. He holds his half-eaten popsicle in front of him, watching it melt down his hand.

You stare at him for a second before nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“I was being serious. You were really good. I can’t even imagine playing like you do.”

Rin’s stomach turns. The last thing he wants is your pity.

“You don’t have to be so nice,” he mumbles, resting his chin on the railing. “42 percent.”

“42 percent?” You echo, peering over the railing to get a better look at his face.

“The percent of shots I made today.”

“Come on,” you urge gently. “Aren’t you being too hard on yourself?”

“If I’m not hard on myself, I’ll never—” he stops, choking lightly on his spit. When you don’t interrupt, he shoves the popsicle back in his mouth. “Whatever. You wouldn't get it.”

It’s quiet again, save for the crashing of waves upon rock. Rin thinks for a moment that maybe he had gone too far, or that his little meltdown had freaked you out.

But when he finally dares to look at you again, you’re smiling.

“Maybe not,” you admit with a whisper. “But I do know this…” You reach over and cup his cheek with your free hand, thumb sweeping the expanse of his cheek soothingly. “There is no one—and I mean no one—who works harder than you do.”

He swallows thickly, subconsciously nudging his face a little further into your palm.

“You deserve to be a little kinder to yourself.”

The way his heart catches in his throat is strange. He can’t describe it. The warmth in his belly is foreign, but it’s pleasant.

For the first time in the year he’s gotten to know you, the thought crosses his mind:

I think I’m in love with you.

Rin’s mouth opens with the idea, but he forces it shut just as fast.

Fear grips his lungs and squeezes, stealing his air and forcing him to pull away from your touch.

“Okay,” he breathes in resignation.

You seem stunned by his sudden retreat, smile faltering ever so slightly. But you recover quickly, hugging yourself as you slouch over the railing.

Conversation moves on just like that. He appreciated that about you, too. He never had to dwell.

It feels nice, everything about this; to have his legs dangling over the edge of the cement, feet barely ghosting over the surface of the water; to have a popsicle melting between his teeth while he listens to you talk.

For some reason, it feels as though he’s reclaiming lost time, reliving a moment he thought he would never have again.

When he checks his popsicle stick, it tells him he’s a winner for the first time since he was thirteen.

(He finally allows himself to believe it when your knee gently knocks into his.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2021

“Frog cotton candy?”

“Frog shaped cotton candy,” Rin corrects, peering around the giant fluff of candy to look at you quizzically.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “But why?”

He grumbles quietly, cheeks a soft shade of pink as he shoves the treat into your hands.

“I thought you’d like it. Nevermind,” he deadpans, turning around to toss it into the garbage.

Your laugh crescendos and he feels his heart squeeze with affection. When your hand stops him by the forearm, he thinks he might explode.

“It’s cute.”

You pick apart the floss ruthlessly with your fingers, and he watches almost in a trance—hypnotized by just your existence.

(When you finally pop the sugar into your mouth, he imagines it melting on his own tongue. The thought makes him unbearably warm and he forces it away.)

His fascination with you doesn't end there.

There's a certain charm to you that he can't understand—something that draws him in, tantalizing but terrifying at the same time.

He can't help the way he watches in a daze, the way you've ensnared all his attention and taken up the space in his mind. 

Rin has never been good at being kind, but here he is.

Here he is, bringing you cotton candy because he thought it was stupid but cute.

Here he is, rolling up the sleeves of your yukata with a gentle scolding when you rush over to catch goldfish.

And here he is, letting you cling to his arm as if he's the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

He really, really hates it—how mushy you make his brain feel.

He's halfway through re-rolling your sleeves with a half-hearted scowl on his face when you stop him, hand pressed to his forearm.

“Listen, Rin.”

“Hm?” He leans down so that he can peer at your face hidden behind your almost nonexistent candy floss.

“I have to show you something.”

Rin stops dead in his tracks, raising a brow as he fully turns toward you. “What is it?”

“Can you close your eyes for me?”

His heart does a somersault in his chest. “You’re not doing anything weird, are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” You sputter.

He lets out a long sigh before complying, squeezing his eyes shut. After a long silence, he considers peeking a little bit.

That is, until he feels your breath gently fanning over his parted lips.

Nearly leaping back, he wills himself to stay grounded and slowly slides his hands up your arms until he gets to your shoulders. As he imagined, your body is impossibly close to his.

It takes every bit of concentration he has not to waver. If he really tries, he can focus on how your breath smells sweet of candy. How your hair blows softly with the summer breeze, tickling his cheeks. How you smell. How you breathe.

(Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. Is that okay?)

You tense up in his hold and suddenly you’re retreating from him, swiftly pulling out of his arms. Just as he’s about to ask you what happened, there’s a piece of candy shoved into his mouth.

“You wanted to try it, didn’t you?” You ask rather breathlessly. He opens his eyes, looking at you curiously.

Rin has never seen this expression on you before, lips pulled tight in embarrassment and pupils blown. You look more like a wild animal caught in a cage than someone who just made a move on him.

He gingerly takes the empty paper cone from your hands and folds it up, no longer able to meet your gaze lest he explode on the spot.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shuffling over to dump it into a bin. “Thanks.”

When he turns around to look at you again, his breath gets caught in his throat.

Why are you laughing?

You giggle into your palm, hiding your gleeful smile from him as you double over slightly.

“Your face is all red!” You holler.

He grunts in embarrassment, using the back of his hand to hide his own face. “Shut the hell up,” he spits.

“It’s almost like you wanted me to kiss you!”

“Oh my god, please drop it.”

“No way! I’ve never seen you look like that before!”

(‘Speak for yourself,’ he thinks.)

“So what if I did?”

Your laughter halts as if it was swallowed into the pits of your stomach. Slowly unraveling to stand up straight, he sees another expression he’s never been able to imagine on you, but he can’t quite place it.

“Did what?” You murmur.

“Want you to kiss me.”

Your face is warm under the glow of lanterns, eyes shimmering with the overhead lights. Rin watches your mouth open and close repeatedly as you try and formulate some sort of response.

A firework explodes atop of you, and he wonders if it just saved you.

You seem jarred for only a moment more until you jolt, grabbing him roughly by the arm and giving him a pull.

“I just remembered,” you gasp. “I actually did have something to show you!”

Rin doesn’t get a word in before you’re dragging him along by the arm. With each boom of an explosion, your footsteps pick up, building into a full blown sprint out of the festival grounds and through the thicket.

You tug him along, guiding him by the hand through the winding path of trees and logs. His stamina is better than yours but you’re pushing up the hill despite your huffing and puffing—it makes him laugh with you.

When you break free of the forest, Rin’s eyes focus on a field of plush grass and buttercups.

You let go of his hand, flinging yourself forward and spinning on your heel to exaggerate how wide the opening is with your arms.

“Isn’t it great?” You shout over the fireworks. “Away from the crowd!”

He rushes up to you so that you can stop yelling, invading your personal space until you can hear him just at his normal volume.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you earnestly.

You grin up at him widely before pulling him along to the edge of the clearing. You plop down together, eyes glued to the sky as the fireworks rage on.

Rin only lasts a few seconds before his eyes drift to the side, trying to drink in your expression. It’s become a habit of his to try and imprint your very existence into his brain.

Against his better judgment, his hand creeps toward yours until your fingers are overlapped.

Thankfully, you don’t use the opportunity to tease him about it, instead shifting a little closer until you’re practically burrowed into his side. If it were anyone else, he would have shoved them away.

(When did he stop trying to push you away?)

When your pinkies slowly close together, he feels as if he can’t breathe properly.

Mark-to-mark, it’s as though he is full of all the love he’s ever felt for you from every life—past or future. Like there’s a love that exists within him that transcends lifetimes, if it were even possible.

If he were to peer into another dimension, would you still be together like this? Would you be plucking buttercups and mindlessly twirling them between your fingers? Would he be itching to envelop you in his arms just to devour you?

His thoughts cease when you take a deep breath.

“I used to come here alone,” you admit.

“No one took you?” He asks. Your gaze is piercing the night sky, never leaving the show. He can see the bloom of colours in them.

“Not since I was little, but I always loved it here.”

The question burns hot in Rin’s mind: even if it was a little lonely sometimes?

He remembers back to the night that he first saw you, with your hands dipping into the murky waters of a frog pond and an air of desolation surrounding you. Then he remembers how he couldn’t sleep that night. Not with the image of you crouching there alone burned into his memory.

“Did you know this festival is a celebration of love?” He suddenly asks.

Oh what the fuck? Oh, god. Why did he say that?

That was so lukewarm of him. So stupid. So pointless and lame.

He just wanted something to say to you, something that would make him stop thinking about how you might have been alone for all that time before you knew him.

The silence burns between you, tense and awkward until he starts stuttering out something else to fill the void. But then you look at him, slow and intrigued and so damn amused that he can feel heat rising to the tips of his ears.

“I had no idea.”

There’s a longing in your expression that tells a different story. A twitch of your pinky against his that gives away your blatant lie.

And, damnit. Here he is again, four years later under the same stars. Under the same fireworks. Only this time, he’s able to see your face even closer as it lights up a million different colours—teal like his eyes; rose like his cheeks; golden like the heart he’s tried so hard to protect.

Four years later and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen: pinkies interlocked, sheepish smile on your face, an undeniable shake in your voice that means you have more that you’re too nervous to say.

For a moment he considers finally letting go of all the things keeping him bolted and chained where he stands, swallowing the key to the cage surrounding his fragile, thumping heart. And for that fleeting second, he feels as though he’s the bravest man alive—that nothing could stop him even if you were to turn away and snub him out with the heel of your foot.

But how could he open his mouth and tell you anything when all he feels is the sick twisting of his stomach, the daunting glare of the older brother he adored so much, and the coldness of snow soaking his clothes as he sits in a field and cries?

There’s a burning, raging fire within him. Something primal and afraid and unchanging despite how much he wants to fall into your arms the way your shared etchings say he should.

It screams at him: run away. Run. Run. Run. This will only end in hurt.

He’s too fucked up. Too messed in the head and too quick to anger because he’s actually soft at heart, easy to betray—

“Rin.”

Your hand swiftly captures his face and he’s dragged unceremoniously out of his reverie.

Of course you would be able to pick out his turmoil by expression alone. By the droop of his lips into a frown—not the annoyed one he would flash his teammates, or the grimace he would scare children away with. The kind that’s sad and slow and timid, like an animal caught in a net.

“I’m really happy that we’re friends.”

“Friends?” He breathes, half confused and half incredulous.

Deep down he knows that it’s an attempt to comfort him without being too sappy. Maybe you can sense it somewhere in your soul that he would probably break down and sob if you were to make him feel any more vulnerable than he already is with you. It’s an effort to take away whatever guilt he feels and give him a chance to relax.

However, he can see a different tale in your eyes.

Loneliness as empty as the sky on a cloudy night. A yearning for more, for someone, for him, to fill the gap. I’m tired of waiting. That’s all he can read beneath the sea of colour exploding in your irises.

It only makes him feel worse, but he allows himself to be lied to anyway if only to feel the warmth of your skin against his just a bit longer.

“Yeah.”

Your pinky twitches again. He can feel the brush of your name against his, the grate of your matching soul marks. Your eyes tear away from his and are glued to the infinite sky above once more. To the stars you know are there but are covered by smoke and fire.

Rin only stares at you. He can’t focus on the explosions of fireworks anymore, not when you’re right in front of him looking so perfect. His summer treasure.

“Yeah?”

He knows he sounds dumb, repeating everything like an oaf who can’t fathom what’s being said. You giggle and it floors him.

“Just being able to stand here with you—” you glance at him again, only for a second. He can see the exhaustion in that moment, but he’s too selfish to pry. “—I think I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Even if…” He swallows harshly. It feels like shrapnel cutting down his throat. “Even if I can’t be more?”

“Even so.”

There’s a pause and you open your mouth to say more, maybe to give him an ultimatum or to elaborate on your feelings, but then you’re interrupted by the end of the display.

Counteless fireworks explode above you in the finale. Rin can hear the awestruck gasps of families down the hill, the distant cries of children and the faint shutter of cameras filling the air.

He realizes then: he’s been smiling. His cheeks hurt from how big it’s gotten. And you’re smiling at him, too.

(The fireworks rage on, but in the end, all he can look at is you.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2022

Falling in love with Itoshi Rin was one of the most foolish, most wonderful things that could have happened to you.

He was an enigma in and of itself, a mystery of a soulmate who was able to love you wholeheartedly and push you away at the same time.

There were nights where you would stay up wondering why he was your soulmate when it seemed like all he wanted to be was alone. Other times, you fell asleep smiling to yourself knowing that somewhere deep down you both belonged to each other. 

The universe chose you. The universe chose him. It was indisputable, yet you still had doubts.

Tonight is one of those “foolish” nights. It seems as though you have been stood up.

For three hours you’ve waited in the same spot at the gates of the festival, watching families and couples pass by but never the one person you’d wait until the end of the world for. The sun has long since gone to sleep over the horizon and the streets are fully lit up with lanterns for the festivities.

6 pm. That was the time Rin promised he would meet you. In the past, he was always late but at least had the decency to tell you beforehand that you could go ahead without him. Only when you arrived and sat down to wait for him had he finally messaged you.

Rin: gonna be late. see you at 7.

7 pm. That was the rescheduled time. It was when you expected to see him walking up to you in his yukata that you begged him to wear this year, matching adoringly with yours. And at 7 pm you would tell him. You would tell him everything.

For months prior you had practiced almost pathetically so, recited and perfected your speech while staring at your reflection in a mirror. You’d written him a letter, too.

7 pm. You were finally going to thank Rin for everything. For accompanying you to such a silly festival even though you know he loathes it. For meeting you under the stars and the moon and the fireworks time and time again. For bringing life back into a childhood memory that you had long since hated.

7 pm. You were going to tell him thank you. You were going to tell him you loved him, just as it had been written in the stars many years before you were born.

It’s 9 pm, nearing 10 and the start of the fireworks show. He missed the entire night without explanation.

At 9:58 pm, just as you’re about to give up all hope, you finally come face to face with teal eyes and a stupidly handsome face sheen with sweat. It shouldn’t hurt so much, the way he looks at you so dismissively as if he hadn’t blown you off all night. 

“Sorry,” he mutters disingenuously, attempting to brush past you without a second thought. “Let’s go, I’m thirsty.”

He has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and a windbreaker over his uniform. No sign of the yukata you had picked out for him to wear.

You don’t follow him, staring at his back in disbelief. When he realizes you aren’t trailing behind, he turns on his heel and raises a brow in question. “Are you coming?”

“I was waiting for you all night,” you tell him coldly. I was waiting for you all this time and you never showed up. 

He swallows thickly, suddenly overcome by guilt because of your downcast expression. “I know. I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time?” You scoff incredulously. Your mouth opens as if you have more to say, but you’re interrupted by a bang.

Rin’s eyes flutter closed. He can’t listen to this. He can’t watch.

He knows this all too well. He knew it all along.

The universe was wrong. Itoshi Rin was never cut out to be someone’s soulmate.

“We’re missing it…”

Your back is turned to him but all he can imagine is the terrible expression you must be making right now, twisted in sadness and anger. The worse image is a completely blank face—unfeeling and cold. He doesn’t even want to think about it.

Booms echo in the distance yet all he can focus on is the faint hum in his ears, the horrible churning in his stomach and the fog of guilt clouding his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that he’s sure you can’t even hear him under the deep, bellowing explosions over the horizon.

He doesn’t remember the last time he apologized for anything like this. Being cold and aloof was just in his nature. Never before had he felt like it was necessary to be remorseful for the way he is—for how he was made to be.

The slight tremble of your shoulders and the way you use the back of your sleeves to wipe tears from your eyes force the words out of him before he can stop it. He tells you again,

“I’m sorry.”

He weakly attempts to grab you by the arms, holding you from behind so he can make you look at him. You jerk away fast as lightning, knocking him away as you swivel around to glare.

“Why didn’t you come?” You demand. There’s anger shaking in your voice. Rin doesn’t know how to respond to it, not when you’ve always been so understanding and kind. Perhaps he was too cruel for you if he was going to break you this way.

“I got caught up with—”

“With football, right?” You laugh bitterly, taking a generous step back. Hurt pours from every inch of your expression and all it does is make his heart ache.

“Stop,” he suddenly snaps. You flinch at his tone and shrink back, only adding to his guilt. He always had the worst temper. “Don’t be like this. You know it was important,” he explains, gentler this time. Softer, trying to coax you back over.

There’s a beat of complete silence, save for the hollowed explosions in the distance. Rin blinks at you a couple times before his frayed nerves finally calm again. And then he realizes something terrible.

The look in your eyes, the deflation of your shoulders—this is what utter defeat looks like. For a moment deja vu rushes through his blood, bringing him back to a time when he too felt as miserable as you. 

Every year he’s had the opportunity to read your expression: I’m tired of waiting. But he always foolishly assumed you would still wait around for him forever. That your patience would be as infinite as the stars in the sky. That just because he had the privilege of having his name scrawled down your pinky, he would be guaranteed to have you.

It was disgustingly selfish.

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize again, you storm up to him and shove the piece of paper roughly into his chest. With the closed gap, he can clearly see the tears streaming down your face illuminated by warm lanterns.

“Just forget it.”

“Wait—” He catches your wrist as you push past him, stopping you in your tracks again despite your struggle to get away. “Come on, I said I’m sorry!”

“Rin,” you sniffle, voice breaking with just the syllable of his name. It makes him falter. “I’m tired.”

“But—”

“You can’t even spare me one night? Just this one night in the entire year?” You breathe, no longer trying to dance around the subject. “What is it with you? What are you so afraid of?”

Being put in the spotlight never bothered Rin before. It was easy enough to ignore when all his life he was watched carefully. But it’s different with you; you’re the only one looking at him in this moment yet it feels like the weight of a million pairs of eyes at once.

An answer comes quickly to his mind, almost natural. He knows exactly what’s wrong with him.

He’s afraid of being left behind again. Of being hurt. Rin is terrified of love and being loved because he’s too pathetically fragile.

The pieces of his heart are clumsily glued together and he’s scared that even the smallest turbulence would send it shattering into a billion shards again. He doesn’t know how to put himself back together properly anymore. 

Itoshi Sae permanently fucked him up.

Though they were on slightly better terms now, the scars would always haunt him. The simple solution is to shut everyone else out, to protect the weak heart he harbours.

If he told you that, would you understand? Or would you try and claw his name off your skin?

You take his silence as an answer and pry away from him again, holding yourself protectively—guarding yourself from the catastrophe that follows Rin wherever he goes.

“Goodbye, Rin.”

He doesn’t watch you go. 

The nearest bench becomes his temporary home. He could do hundreds of plays in a football game and never tire, but for some reason your disdain has sucked every ounce of energy from his body.

It doesn’t register that he’s still holding the paper you forced into his hands until it crinkles in his hold. He slowly unfolds it revealing ink sloppily smeared across the page.

And then he reads it. Again. And again. And again, until it’s shaking in his hold. Until the dull ache in his heart feels like the pierce of a knife. 

Rin doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s always had one clear goal for his entire life, but now everything is all muddled. Messy, like everything else he touches.

He turns everything into a disaster.

Does he chase after you and risk having his fragile heart broken all over again? Does he risk being left behind or does he close off the gate for that option entirely? He could sit in his cowardice and never change, preserving his heart forever in this moment of time; a polaroid in the slideshow of his mortality.

There’s a familiarity to this all. Perhaps he had lived through this decision a million lives before this. Maybe he would live through it again an infinite amount of times, so long as it was your name etched into his skin.

Was he as messed up in this life as he was in every other?

If he had ruined everything in this life, if he made the wrong choice and drove you away in hatred until you drew your last breath, then maybe he could make it all up to you in the next one.

Or, if that were the case, maybe he was born into this world only to love you—to make up for the millenia where he ran away.

Rin’s legs have never moved so fast. Not in football. Not even from his brother. If you were the light at the end of the tunnel then he would keep chasing you forever, he thinks. Until his wounded heart gave out.

Of all the stupid decisions he’s made in his life, have any of them amounted to anything? He’s going to give it one last try. One more chance to prove to himself that not everything he touches burns to ashes.

“Wait!”

You visibly startle, eyes wide as you turn to see Rin dashing toward you. He doesn’t give you even a moment to ask questions, to wonder why he’s coming back to break your heart again. 

You’re engulfed in a hug faster than you can blink, stumbling back from the force of his body colliding with yours until your sandals get kicked off your feet.

“Rin?” You murmur his name in disbelief, breathless even though you weren’t the one sprinting down the road.

“Just give me one more chance,” he stammers out. You can feel the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as he holds you and fights for air simultaneously. Your hands twitch at your sides but you remain lifeless in his arms.

He tries again: “Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that it wasn’t some freak accident that led me to you. That my name on your skin is meant to be there.”

“Don’t do this,” you tell him quietly, lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “I don’t want to be loved and feared at the same time.”

“But…” Rin squeezes your body against his, almost desperately. Clinging to what he has ruined. “For once in my life, I want something more.”

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

You hesitantly shift, hands slowly trailing up his back until your body is curling against his. He can trace the outline of your body against his, like a puzzle piece that he was missing slotted perfectly in his grasp.

“I thought my soulmate would only slow me down and break me. I was wrong. I know that now.”

He slowly rocks your bodies back and forth. You pull away until your eyes meet his, red with tears. It’s the messiest he has ever seen you, but his heart refuses to be still. It aches.

Beautiful. It’s the only word he can describe you with. It didn’t matter if you were lit up under the wondrous sky, or handing him coffee in a crowded café, or sobbing in his arms. 

You would only ever be his infinitely beautiful soulmate.

It’s the only constant he would have in this life and every other, even if you were to break his heart. It would be the single greatest achievement in his time, above football, above any of his petty competitions—that your name is etched down his pinky.

It scares him. It thrills him.

With the distant roar of fireworks, he kisses you. And you allow him, hiccuping against his lips as you cry.

You stay like that for a long time, listening to the hollow shockwaves of fireworks exploding miles away. He’s the first to draw back, raking in shallow breaths. You chase him, finding solace against his lips once more but not fully indulging him with another kiss.

“Do you fear me?” You whisper into his mouth.

“More than anything,” he tells you.

“Do you love me?”

After a moment of contemplation, he answers,

“More than anything.”

You nod slowly, awkwardly pulling away from him and taking a step back. It’s your first kiss and you don’t know where you’re supposed to look anymore. Rin stops your nervous shifting with his hand swooping under your chin.

“One year. I promise.” You look at him in confusion, so he continues. “Next year, when the season and my contract are over, I’ll meet you there. At the pond.”

You seem skeptical still, with your brows knitted together and a lost haze in your eyes. He raises his pinky, the one with your name forever grafted into the skin, and offers it to you.

“I pinky promise.”

It’s so ridiculous, wearing his heart on his sleeve with something he learned about on playgrounds when he was a child. A pinky promise shouldn’t mean any more than the words he has already spoken. But for some reason, your eyes light up.

He feels nothing but relief when your pinkies lock together.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Rin.” His name leaves you in a breathless laugh that makes his world spin. It sounds so tired yet so sweet. “I’ve been waiting all my life.”

“I’m sorry,” he says once more for good measure. You nod. A wordless acceptance.

Itoshi Rin is your soulmate. It’s not like that fact will ever change no matter the time, no matter the distance.

���── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2023

Fate is a funny thing. Soulmates are a funny thing.

The universe threw Rin curveball after curveball, beating him down until he was nothing but a husk heavenly built for one purpose only: beat Sae. Beat Itoshi Sae.

There were times when he would lay awake at night wondering why he was given this life, why he was thrust into hardship and hurt and betrayal. How could something so perfect, something so all-knowing, be so cruel?

For as long as the name had been grafted into his skin, he resented the idea of a soulmate.

He hated the idea that only one person in the world would be his eternal weakness. That one day, one person would hold every piece of his soul in their hands. Even then, his soulmate was the other half of him—his salvation. His downfall.

They would know every inch of his skin. Every bleeding wound of his heart. Every bruise and scar along his legs from cleats and nails and gravel. Having a soulmate meant having every part of him exposed, to be judged and worshiped at the same time.

At your hands, though, he’s certain this is what he was born for—to spend the rest of his days by your side even if you were doing something as mundane as catching frogs together.

“You’re scaring them,” you hiss quietly.

Your fingers sink into the pond and Rin watches your reflections ripple as water fills your palms. Your faces contort and meld into one being. In some ways, it’s a familiar feeling—to have been intertwined with you since his very conception.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“It’s your fault!”

“Right,” he deadpans. “You haven’t caught a single one all night.”

“You were late,” you remind him with a huff, cheeks inflated. “Before you got here I was catching frogs all night. Coincidence?”

Rin makes another noise, something akin to a snort. But he doesn’t acknowledge your statement, instead reaching over to gingerly roll the sleeves of your yukata up to your elbows.

“Are you always so sloppy? Your sleeves are getting all wet.”

You glare at him from the side, delivering a deadly warning. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

“I get it, I get it. I said I was sorry for being late. Nii-chan really wanted to try that new ice cream place downtown.”

Your gaze drifts to him in the shimmering reflection, watching his smile soften at the mention of his big brother. It was wonderful that they were trying to patch things up.

Sae had decided to come home after all, promising Rin that they would play together again once they both took a well deserved break.

You could tell that Rin was trying his best not to make a big deal out of it, but the way he cried into your shoulder later that night said it all.

“I feel bad having you come all the way out here just to see me. Your brother is back in Japan isn’t he?”

“Yeah. And he wants to meet you.”

You nearly fall over. “What?”

“Please don’t look so starstruck about that. I feel sick.”

Laughing, you recentre yourself, sitting back on your heels with your hands on your knees. “Sorry, sorry! It’s not that…”

Rin raises a brow. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just—” you fumble, cheeks burning hot at the idea of being introduced to Rin’s family after all these years. Formally, as his partner. His soulmate. The name they had all known since he was thirteen. “What would I even say to him?”

He looks at you in bewilderment. Then, he snickers, only laughing harder when you smack his arm.

“Don’t worry about that,” he assures, reaching out to pat the top of your head. “Just be yourself. My family will love you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, studying your reflections in the water with a soft smile. You’re staring right back at yourself, but Rin is only looking at you.

“I haven’t done anything special.”

“You lit up my world,” you laugh, turning back up to look at him properly. You make a mini explosion with your hands. “Boom! Like that. A firework.”

“You’re too corny,” he murmurs in embarrassment, turning his head away to hide his flushed face. “Can’t you explain it like a normal person?”

“No can do,” you tell him, voice gentler this time. After a pause, you shuffle your sandals around in the mud and take a deep breath. “If you want me to be totally serious…”

You lunge over and tackle him into your arms. He nearly loses his balance holding the both of you upright, stumbling back on his heels before he catches your waist. You don’t seem to share the sentiment of staying pristine, knees digging into the dirt as you squeeze him tighter.

Rin feels his heart catch in his throat the same way you’ve made it for the last six years.

“Thank you. For letting me love you. For being my soulmate.”

His hand is automatically in your hair, scratching your scalp as he smiles into your shoulder.

“I’m sure I gave you nothing but a hard time,” he grumbles.

“But I still love you.”

“Even though you had to wait?”

“Even so.”

“And that I’m a pain in the ass?”

“Even then, I do.”

Rin burrows himself into your neck, hiding his face again. It does a poor job at masking the kind of expression he’s making, though, considering how warm his skin is.

“What if I’m not good enough?”

He feels terrible—guilty that he needs to keep having this conversation with you. But you always comfort him the same way. He hopes you always will.

Drawing his head up with your muddy hands, you dirty his cheeks just to get a glimpse of him. You murmur a half-hearted sorry for making a mess.

Then you’re kissing him.

“I’ll be here to remind you how much I cherish you.”

You nip his bottom lip and he opens wider. You whisper into his mouth,

“And how happy I am that Itoshi Rin was born into this world.”

Itoshi Rin, broken. He who thought that he could never be put back together.

Itoshi Rin, vengeful. He who believed the only happiness that existed for him in this world was to surpass his brother.

Itoshi Rin, who did not believe in his soulmate while staring right at them. And Itoshi Rin, who finally allowed himself to love you wholly, completely, as it was written in the stars.

“I love you,” he says, as if just those three words could encapsulate everything he feels for you.

“Always?” You giggle. He rolls his eyes. 

“Wherever you are, and wherever you may be, I will.”

You kiss him one more time for good measure.

“That was corny.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

“No peeking.”

Rin folds up his piece of paper and hangs it from the bamboo tree. You’re tugging him along before he can even properly check to see if it’s been secured.

“Come on, I don’t want to miss the fireworks!”

He wouldn’t miss them for the world. You’ve always looked the most beautiful under the brightened summer sky.

The wish he scribbled down blows softly in the breeze as both of you rush by, back to the festival where it all began.

7 July 2024. I wish I had the words to tell you how much I love you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

extra notes. hi! if you made it this far, i'd like to give you the warmest most grateful thank you ever ( ´ ω `)

so, here it is. i've been working on this since last september-ish... for some people that amount of time is not much, but genuinely, i've never devoted so much attention and time to one single fic and i hope i did this one justice. rin has always been a guilty pleasure of mine to write for. i hope this man stays far far away from me until i can stomach even looking at his name again LOL ‾́ ◡ ‾́

also i finally admitted defeat and took out all my pictures and dividers because tumblr was fighting my posts that had any. so... sorry the formatting looks like this

additional tags: @jenoutof10 @hanrinz @itoshiexx lol hi guys it made it out of the drafts i hope you like it

[descendant-of-truth]

So I beat Re:Coded for the first time the other day after previously knowing its story from the movie and novel versions, so you know what that means. It's time for more Data Sora Thoughts(TM)

Plenty has been said about how he serves as an interesting comparison to the original Sora, which makes sense as that's kind of the point of him existing. You're supposed to take notice of how he's different, despite all their similarities. He's kind of an idealized version of Sora, which makes sense as he's the Sora that Jiminy wrote. Jiminy doesn't know the depths of Sora's insecurities or his flaws, so Data Sora is almost unnaturally good-willed and pleasant.

But what stood out to me while playing it for myself is how much the game is just... not supposed to be about him, and how much it still is despite that.

Nothing exemplifies this more clearly than his journey through Castle Oblivion. The whole reason he's even there is to be tested, to see if "Sora" is ready to take ownership of all the pain that's inside him. But they're not testing Data Sora, the person, they're testing what they think is just a representation of the original Sora.

So, when Data Sora resolves himself to face the pain head-on and not run away from it, even learning that it can help him connect to people, no one thinks this is unique to him. They just go, "great! that means Sora's ready, too!" with absolutely zero awareness of the fact that they can't really treat him like this now that he has his own heart.

Which, is kind of insane?? Data Sora is provided a consistent level of support and guidance that even the original Sora didn't get, he develops a heart of his own because of how effectively he was nurtured by his friends, and yet. None of them have ever seen him as HIS OWN person. Even Data Riku, who introduces himself as "zeroes and ones that look like somebody you know," is incapable of separating himself and Sora from their originals.

Data Sora is surrounded by people affirming his personhood while in the same breath denying his individuality. It's an interesting position to be in, to say the least.

That said, the characters may think the test is all about the original Sora, but narratively? It's absolutely about Data Sora, too.

You know how he was surprisingly at peace with the fact that the journal resetting meant that he'd lose his memories? He seemed pretty content with the knowledge that his friends would be able to remember their journey for him, even if he got a little choked up about saying goodbye. It's easy to think, while seeing it for the first time, that because he's already accepted everything with a smile, that his character arc is over by then.

Yeah, Data Roxas comes into the story swinging with "hey, idiot, you have no idea how much forgetting your friends is going to hurt you in the long run. Why don't you do that a couple more times and then maybe you'll get the idea"

Because it's true, I really don't think Data Sora was prepared for the pain of amnesia in the slightest. He has this habit of going along with whatever anyone says without much thought, so when Data Riku told him that everything had to be reset, I think he was just kinda like. well darn. guess I can't do anything about that

(This is the same guy that went "I'm good with that" when he considered that doing what Mickey says will just blast him off into the unknown repeatedly, so it checks out)

I love that the game refuses to end where you'd expect it to, and instead forces Data Sora to reckon with the pain of what was just unfairly taken from him. It treats him with just as much respect as it does with every other character in the series, and gives his feelings the weight they deserve.

Of course, the way the test is set up is... kind of cruel. It bludgeons him over the head with the pain he just went through repeatedly until he figures out exactly how it works and what he's going to do about it. And it's like this because it wasn't set up with a real person in mind; Data Sora's supposed to be acting like a first draft for something the original Sora's going to do later.

But he can't. Because they're different people.

So when you get down to it, he arguably doesn't really fulfill his purpose? He gets everyone the answers they need, sure, but he proves absolutely nothing about Sora. And not just because he became his own person, but because the premise of the test was flawed from the start. Jiminy's perception of Sora is meaningless in the face of the real thing, so it was never going to have accurate results no matter what they did.

It's a story that's undeniably relevant to both Soras, but I still hope we'll get to see Data Sora again so we can finally address how everyone in-game expects them to be like each other. It's a mindset that affects both of them in different ways; Sora has this impossible ideal to live up to, and Data Sora - despite being that ideal - is forever just "another version" of someone else.

And they haven't even met each other. When is that going to happen

[penultimate-step]

Venti is my favorite character in Genshin Impact, and I think part of the reason I like him so much is that his intended character flaws and Genshin's unintended writing flaws synchronize quite well together.

My biggest issue with the way Genshin writes characters is that they are almost always static characters. With a tiny handful of exceptions, mostly within the main story, Genshin isn't interested in advancing character's arcs or showing them changing. Once we know their circumstances we know generally how they are, and parts of their story which seem to be hooks to further plot and development tend to fizzle out.

Normally this is something that stops me from really liking a lot of the Genshin characters, even if I think they're interesting; it frustrates me when the game seems to set things up and then refuses to follow through. But Venti, to me, is the exception, because a huge part of his central issue, in-universe, is that he is stagnant - that he has refused to move forward for 2600 years.

Venti's personal quest, "Should You Be Trapped in a Windless Land," is fairly up front about this. It involves the NPC Stanley, whose guilt over his friend's death decades ago has left him unable to move forward, clinging to the past. Venti spends most of the quest prodding and pushing at him, forcing him out of this mindset. But it is fairly clear that he does this in part because he sees himself in Stanley, that their situations are direct parallels, that Venti is in exactly the same place that Stanley was. When Venti says that he wants to see how Stanley will act when being forced to live in the present, it is in part because that is something he has never been able to do.

And so the story ends on a bittersweet note and an open ending. It's implied that Venti is going to be watching Stanley's progress closely; he can almost be seen as something like a test case. But what this will result in is deliberately obscured. If the player tracks down Stanley in the overworld after the fact, we learn that ever since the quest - which he has written off as a drunken dream - he feels happier and more fulfilled; he has resolved to himself that he does not have to choose between remembering his friend and living life, and has resolved himself to do both. So for Stanley's part, at least, things are going well. But as for Venti, things are less clear.

After all, he never actually says that he will change anything about his own situation, no matter how the Stanley situation resolves. Sure, he says he'll be watching, and that he's curious about how things will go. But to be honest, I always read this partly as wistful - that he wishes that he, too, could change, but that he feels that it is impossible for him.

He was the one who set this plan in motion - he knew exactly what Stanley's problems were, and how to go about helping him. Despite his carefree and lackadaisical attitude he is both experienced and self-aware; unlike Stanley, who denies that anything is wrong and cannot see the ways in which he is hurting himself, Venti clearly understands that the way he is grieving has long crossed into the realm of self-harm, and has known for a long time. But his friend died 2600 years ago, and hurting himself in his memory has become almost more familiar to Venti than the bard was. It is a key part of his self-conception, in a way that he cannot bring himself to shake. And he has multiple human lifespans to come to terms with this; to become comfortable as he is.

Which means, uniquely among the characters, that Venti's arc doesn't really have a burning need for a conclusion. There's no ticking time bomb that needs to be addressed. He doesn't have big interpersonal problems that constantly beg to be untangled like Kaeya and Diluc, or big future plot hooks like how Albedo worries that he will become a threat to everybody he cares about. He isn't in a situation where if the game ended today, players would feel like he never got his story told. Because in a way, already have an arc for him. It's a deeply sad one, is all; one where he acknowledges that he's been stuck for a long time, and will remain that way.

Certainly it is possible to continue his arc. It's very easy to imagine a future writer giving him a happy ending with a storyline where he tries to find hope in the future again, or even a tragedy that makes it explicit that he will probably be reliving the past forever. But it isn't strictly necessary. This I think is a big contributor to why I still really like his character, even though the game hasn't really done anything with him for like 4 years - because with him, it doesn't feel like a flaw.

Genshin doesn't like advancing character arcs, with rare exceptions involving pivotal moments in the archon quests. They prefer to leave the characters static as they are, so they can be pulled out and advertised for events whenever needed. With certain characters, when their plot threads remain unaddressed, and the game endeavors to shove their arcs to the side and bury them under the rug, it can be frustrating - I start to feel like what I liked about them was more their potential than anything that was actually executed. But Venti manages to avoid this, because if he refuses to talk about his problems, if he stays the same from year to year, then this tracks, that is exactly his problem. It's doesn't scan as out of character behavior, or the writers not wanting to touch it. His reasons to stay the same are spelled out in the text. I don't think this was an intentional choice by the writers, but it has led to an interesting result where the tendencies of the story feel justified.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hiya I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if we can get a Tim Drake x male reader

The reader is a bigger older guy, like not too older than Tim but reader does have a streak of gray hair due to the stress of taking care of Bruce's dumbass.

Reader is kinda sly and fox like.

Idk why but I can see Tim liking someone older than him

Tim Drake x older male reader

Headcanons

I feel like tumblr has been deleting requests from my inbox, I swear some go missing. This one didn’t though, so here you go.

It’s been a while huh? Who’d have thought getting ready to graduate would be so stressful.

Reader is about Dicks age, so around 26.

You didn’t meet through hero work or anything like that. You were actually the CEO of a larger company called Aces co. It had been in your family for many years, and your father and grandfather had worked with the Waynes.

So, when you took over at 18, you started working with Bruce Wayne, even though you thought him nothing much more than a himbo at the time. Later, when Tim took over, you’d work side by side with the younger man.

One way or another, you learn Bruces secret identity, and soon you end up mixed up in the vibrant and extremely stressful world that is heroes and vigilantes, you’ve lost count how many times you have had to cover for any of the batclan.

You almost burst into tears when you see the first grey hairs appear at your temples. Your father had gone grey much later in life, and here you were, 24 and greying, all because of the bats. Of course, it wasn’t all the bats, running a billion-dollar company was stressful too, but they sure didn’t help.

The media called you the fox prince, because of the sharp look in your eyes and how sly and underhanded you could be, insulting someone straight to their face and they would first realize days later. Or somehow tricking someone into revealing all their secrets to you.

None of the bats can ever seem to reach your level of mingling and information gathering, even Bruce who has been doing it longer than you’ve been alive.

You never become a hero, or a vigilante for that matter, but you do get involved every now and then if needed. You didn’t take over Aces co. for no reason at 18, you have always been a genius, but a sly and cruel one in the eyes of many.

Unlike Bruce, you don’t feel a soul deep duty to save the world and save as many people as possible. You simply do what you can, without putting yourself in too much danger. Which mainly resolves to you gathering too much information, and enough blackmail to have the entire congress of America and the EU buckling under for your whims.

You are an extremely cold and calculated businessman as well, to the point where underhanded companies like Lexcorps won’t work with you because they know you’ll rip them apart and leave them with nothing.

It was your cruel but very effective business methods that drew Tim to you, especially when it turned out you were a lot more friendly behind closed doors. He did get to hear you complain about him and his family a lot, and it gave him a good laugh to see Bruce open a bill for your hair treatments to get rid of your greys.

The alliance between Wayne enterprises and Aces Co. only grows stronger between you two, and you end up closer to Tim than you’ve been any other bat, even Dick, despite the fact that you two are the same age and have been around each other the longest.

It ends with you going out of your way to score the best deals for (Tim) Wayne Enterprises, and Tim finds ways to benefit (you) Aces Co. Its like flirting and foreplay at the same time between very powerful rich businessmen.

For some reason I can imagine most of the batfam is shocked when Tim and you started dating, whilst some of them aren’t surprised at all. Bruce is uncomfortable in the beginning that one of his former business partners is dating his son, until someone (most likely Jason) points out that you aren’t even 30 yet and took over your company the moment you turned 18.

Your relationship is kept a secret for the media, mainly to keep the drama and paparazzi away. You aren’t a very publicly affectionate person, and Tim doesn’t really like mingling with the media if he doesn’t have too, so it’s a win-win.

The two of you don’t go out of your way to be super secretive though, you just aren’t all lovey dovey all over each other. Some people may notice you getting a lot crueler and colder to those trying to cross Wayne Enterprises, and Tim striking down hard on anyone who tries Aces Co.

It’s assumed it’s just cuz you two are both young CEOs who are trying to strengthen the relationship between your companies. All your mutual friends and families knows its cuz you are both protective and a little possessive.

You are most likely the one in the relationship with the most experience since Tim has spent most of his time being a vigilante, so you’ll have to guide him in the beginning. He’s a great and enthusiastic learner though, so Tim probably ends up doing all kinds of research.

He lovingly calls you his old man, or jokingly calls you a cradle-snatcher, since you look older than you actually are cuz of your greys. It probably causes some drama online when your relationship finally gets out, until people are like “He’s literally only 26, he’s just greying early”.

Tim will comfort you when you end up with your face in your hands because of those comments, weeping for your once beautiful and not grey streaked hair. He loves it though, and always tells you.

You tell Tim he likes it cuz of his daddy issues, and he ends up being all “maybe so”. Doesn’t stop him from loving it though, or loving to see that foxlike glint appear in your eyes when you are about to strike on a deal.

[jolidei]

Of Finwë & Carnistir.

Carnistir does not wish to embroider, and yet he cannot refuse.

He sits in front of the loom and begins to infuse the needle into the fabric, creating patterns even when his fingers tremble and his eyes are still red from the tears he had shed less than an hour ago, it is harder to work in the dark, the candles around him only make him more nervous, his hair is now annoying and yet when he ties it off his shoulders he cannot help but freeze before he gives a sigh that soon turns into a sob.

Maitamo is not around to help him, he finds himself resolving endless political situations, Fëanáro appointed him as his regent.

Makalaurë is the same or worse than him, since what happened he had not uttered a word, he had only remained silent. Tyelkormo in his anger and frustration only dared to shout at Oromë demanding an answer that did not come because his lord and lover seemed too afraid to face him.

Curufinwë with accompanied by Ambarussa took care of the baby Tyelperinquar who was still too young to fully understand what happened, his younger brother turned out to be at a point where the weight of what happened seemed not to reach him at all.

Not so long ago embroidery was soothing to him, a refuge when the rest of the world caught up with him, and yet doing it caused him nothing but pain, physical or otherwise. He had started a few hours ago, he was against the clock because he had to finish before sunset the next day, he placed ruby after sapphire and then finished with pearls, he placed them together or splashed them, there was order in his actions and at the same time there was no real reasoning. He was not sure how Atar had been able to perform the sutures by joining the torn skin of his Haru, it still made his heart shrink to think that Fëanáro decided to do it himself before sending him who the lords of Finwë had whispered that he would do it.

"He was the favorite grandson."

"Is it not time for the scion of Miriel to perform such a task? Lady Vairë prepared him to embroider whatever it was."

Only it was not just anything, it was his grandfather's skin that had been torn to shreds by Morgoth, thrice cursed Valar and when he stood before the corpse of the Great King of the Noldor, his hands could not even move, he could not treat his grandfather as a mere cloth, he remembers falling on his knees as he had done on the floors of Formenos on the still fresh blood, Fëanáro had embraced him, had comforted him even though he himself was inconsolable, they lasted minutes together before his Atar asked him for the water and the thread, he handed them to him and it was Fëanáro who performed such action.

He remained silent despite his sobs, accompanied his Atar who remained strangely serene even when Uncle Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë were present. For the first time in a long time they did not argue, he only heard them mutter apologies to his Haru who could no longer hear them, as expected, his father and his eldest uncle did not speak, however Fëanáro did embrace Arafinwë who cried in his arms while his father did the same. Ñolofinwë only left after leaving a kiss on Finwë's forehead.

When they left the place he went to his alá of the palace, it had belonged to Miriel before Finwë got it, it was there where he began to embroider the shroud that would be used at the funeral of his grandfather, and how it hurt him to do it.

He detested the gold threads and precious stones, he detested the laments that induced him to lament himself, for a moment he tried to deceive himself by telling himself that it was a cup for his brothers or a blanket for a new baby in the family as had become tradition, but the reality was different.

It was his grandfather's shroud and it had to be worthy of a king.

Based on my thinking that in fact in Valinor there is no one who really knows how to prepare a corpse then Finwë's family had to prepare him for his funeral. :^

[sherlockhomolmes]

hahahaha. So I didn't like the sherlock & daughter finale. sharing my issues below the cut to hopefully find other people who also have thoughts on it because. Whoo boy i need to DISCUSS this

massive massive shoutout to the shco discord because i dont think i would be able to articulate this nearly as well had it not been for them. thank u guys for being insane with me

dan's character assassination

one of my biggest problems with the finale was just how absolutely butchered dan's character became. he's been established as an activist for most of his time on screen, and it's obvious that he cares about women and other marginalized groups and wants to help support causes that would help them. the finale basically throws this out the window by not only making him kind of creepy towards amelia at points but also just seeming to not care at all that going to war would end up repeating the same kind of colonizing attitudes that he's so against. the show's insistence on him being Evil killed his character before it had a chance to survive

the sherlock/amelia blood relation

having sherlock and amelia be blood related is kind of strange in a writing sense but also really removes a lot of the charm from their dynamic. the entirety of the show up to this point has been building on the fact that amelia Is Not biologically related to sherlock (hell, one of the very first scenes they share together is sherlock adamantly stating that they cant possibly be blood related) just to reveal that the big twist of a show called sherlock and daughter is that amelia is sherlock's daughter.

it also kind of messes up their dynamic! a big thing, for me at least, is that despite not being blood related amelia is so similar to holmes in her way of thinking and her personality that she takes on the role of his mentee so well. and over time he grows a fatherly kind of fondness for her. but having them just be blood related removes any kind of charm that the found family aspect had

watson on the backburner

this one is less so something specific to the show and moreso a comment on general holmes media practices. but sherlock and daughter is not immune to this!!!!!

the crux of the show is that sherlock is searching depserately to find watson and mrs hudson. after finally finding them in episode 7 they become basically set dressing for the rest of the show: mrs hudson doesnt even show up again until the end of the finale, and watson does NOTHING in episode 8.

to some extent this is understandable: they were a conflict for one of the show's plots, when that plot resolved they would become less relevant as the rest of the plot threads got wrapped. but doing it to this extent is a little ridiculous ESPECIALLY to watson. after the rescue scene in episode 7 we arent given a ton of time with watson but the writers clearly knew what they were doing, they gave his character a lot of charm and defined the holmes/watson dynamic as clearly as they could with the time given.

in episode 8 though, they dont let him do anything. he shows up once in a flashback, and then once in the present for like two minutes before leaving the room. i could be overthinking this but it felt genuinely a little insulting to treat him like this considering that they already laid the groundwork for him to be able to be an active character.

i dont know, a lot a holmes adaptations have this issue where they never treat their watsons as full formed people. he's very often just there In Addition to holmes, and the narratives treat him as an appetizer to holmes and his work. and this is really upsetting because holmes wouldn't really be who he is without his biographer. john watson is such an interesting character to work with but a lot of people dont really see him as such and it sucks

historical inaccuracies

massive thank you to @el-on-mars for this part of the post because i am hopeless with historical dives LOL

a lot of the setting and costuming choices were accurate for the most part, but a MAJORITY of the laws/legislation/big plot details tended to skew more towards fiction that reality. the british home children act as represented in the show has a bunch of smaller inaccuracies: dan would have been sent to canada rather than australia based on the timeline, and instead of being sent over by the government they were moved by corrupt philanthropic organizations/chairities.

the show is also just kind of weird with the ethics of it all. there's the implication that the BHC are something of the past (shulking off responsibility despite the stuff in question still having a direct effect in the show), and also how the show chooses specifically to vilianize dan. delinquient children were sent off in the first place because the english middle class saw them as evil threats to society and they really often recieved the same treatment in canada. so it is a little strange to have That be your big villian

weirdly enough, misogyny

for a majority of the show the female characters have agency and its really great you love to see it! but the finale, in its rush to wrap things up quickly, kind of pushed that all to the side. the most egregious instance of this imo is with amelia's mom. she's characterized really well until this point, and despite her limited screentime the audience gets the idea that she is an incredibly smart woman with her own passions and desires n all. but when it's revealed that sherlock is amelia's dad theres a scene where her mom leaves to protect sherlock's reputation which. he would be fine lol. but in essence it turns her from a character into a plot device and it just feels Bad

the rushed nature of the finale also leads to amelia's character being simplified, esp during her confrontation with dan. its hard to explain but amelia has more nuance than the show gives her this episode, and they essentially just turned her into girlboss character #205 and it SUCKS

no political backbone

imo the root cause of a lot of the issues i had with the finale is just that the cw doesn't want to take risks with its politics. so many of the story beats ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO DAN surround the idea of revolting against opressive forces but the cw never really goes that deep into it. yeah it's adressed that dan starting a war is Bad and Colonizing but they dont do anything with that. they dont even touch on how sherlock's social standing would make it so his reputation is fine. it really seems as if they want to cover these complex themes and ideas but they dont want to risk losing viewership.

conclusion

i love this show i really do i just. wish they had more time to spread out their story or something. if you have anything to add, if you agree or disagree with me please feel free to repond i am going a little crazy

[only-omo]

vergil omorashi headcanons

this is what i spend most of my time thinking about, so this is what im gonna talk about 🤷

this guy 😈😈

this guy has extreme incontinence issues i can feel it (or im projecting, but no one has picked up these traits quite like he does)

first of all yknow how easy it is to just be born with incontinence? you wouldnt notice til a little above potty training age but its so simple to just be genetically predisposed to accidents; and then on top of that he went through insane childhood trauma at the age of like 8, effectively stunting him from growing out of it

his bladder isnt small, or even weak, per se, it just has problems. so hes able to exist for a good portion of his day without any worries, only having to use the bathroom like 3-4 times on an average day, but when that urge kicks in, its usually a good hour or more late, and sometimes thats enough that he simply doesnt have the time to find a bathroom, or do much else but try not to wet himself, of course in complete futility.

and you know how he reacts to all this? by pretending it doesnt exist. he acts like hes got completely normal bathroom habits despite not even being able to properly gauge how bad he has to go until hes way desperate.

he spends enough of his life alone and away from society that it takes quite a while for this to pose any real issues, but that doesnt mean all of his life, and it is one of the first things about him that people who spend an extended amount of time (or just the right wrong 5 minutes) around him learn, and usually the last, as well

he doesnt think about any of it at all during 90% of his day, but beats himself up endlessly from the moment he feels the need to go, until hes either able to resolve it, or it resolves itself. hes got a very firm belief that he needs perfect physical strength, and that includes his bladder capacity, he believes he should be able to hold indefinitely, which is extra hard on him when he can barely hold it for any time at all. for the same reason, hes not very squirmy, having the tendency to lock up as opposed to bouncing around, partially not willing to admit he has to go, and partially not willing to admit that its bad enough to take precedent over literally anything else.

god forbid he has an accident (it happens kinda regularly), he actually does not know how to process it, and becomes incredibly hostile toward any privy parties, though not outwardly violent. mostly he snaps about acting like it never happened, threatening painful death upon anyone who acts differently, and then just goes on to actually acting like it never happened.

quick side note, dante does not have incontinence issues. not to say hes never been caught short, or isnt a little irresponsible when it comes to taking personal breaks, but he has a normally functioning bladder, unlike vergil. as kids dante was incredibly supportive and protective of vergils issues, but upon being separated, he kind of assumes theyd be grown out of and doesnt think about it past childhood memories (which tbh he prob doesnt think abt much anyway)

to say hes shocked to see vergil hasnt seemed to grow out of them at all (despite his efforts to hide it) is an understatement. the first incident, theyd probably be engaged in battle with each other, and dante manages unexpectedly to knock vergil off balance. the fight ends there, as it becomes clear to dante that something is very off, and hes too concerned abt his brother for any dmc plot to drive him to continue fighting. after a short moment dante realizes that vergil is, in fact, in the middle of a complete accident, to which he cant help but laugh, with a teasing remark. this whole event cuts vergil pretty deep, but he ignores it as per usual, and dante brushes it off as well, figuring vergil was simply caught short, with unfortunate timing; but he does reminisce on similar events from their childhood, for the first time since then.

when it happens again, in a situation a little less forgiving than being actively engaged in battle, it starts to turn gears in dantes mind, and it only takes a third time for dante to fully understand the extent of the issue at play. hes no longer nearly as supportive as he used to be, but thats only because he quickly learns that bullheaded stubborness plays a decent part in vergils struggles; and he still is some - because he knows its not all his fault, and hes also still incredibly protective when it comes to prying eyes, or even vergil beating himself up, which he does, a lot.

[anyacad0]

A musical analysis on Dan Heng

because I like Dan Heng and would willingly sacrifice my firstborn to Hoyo-Mix.

Let's start at the beginning of the Luofu arc, where the composers begin to set the scene of the Xianzhou ship. The area themes are relaxed, very typical background music. There is of course an abundance (heh) of traditional Chinese instruments. Some areas sound a little more modern, like the Artisanship commision, but the whole Luofu has a general feeling of being pleasant without a whole lot of emotion compared to the will to survive heard in Belobog, or the sheer wonder heard in Penacony.

At first, this seems to apply to Dan Heng as well. The first time we hear his motif is actually not in Samudrartha, but during the cutscene where he transforms for the first time. Although the melody is his, the instrumentation and musical style are still reminiscent of tracks like Evanescent Dreams and Mokshasatya.

now, time to analyse an actual song. Did you know there are actually three versions of Samudrartha? There's the version from before the cutscene, the version from the cutscene itself, and the album version. the last two aren't particularly different, but the pre-cutscene version warrants an analysis of it's own.

it uses a different vocal take, and a softer instrumental than the album version. It's uncertain, just like Dan Heng in that critical moment. And yes, there are still Chinese instruments present. But despite that, it doesn't feel like a Xianzhou track, and I'll explain why.

Then, the album version. It gets rid of the lonely-sounding piano intro. The instrumental starts off as primarily piano, with a Chinese instrument playing occasional notes. At 0:22, the Chinese instruments become more prevalent, but it's still the piano providing the base of the song. at 0:42 we hear this rising and falling melody on some kind of flute, and at 0:46 a short melody played on synth. Both of these are very important.

First, the flute melody is actually a motif of the astral express. We hear it in March 7th's theme (0:49), in one of the pre-release trailers (0:46), in the concert version of Take The Journey (1:48) and in Ichor Of Two Dragons (we'll get to that don't worry). Interestingly, the Express motif isn't present in the pre-cutscene version of Samudrartha, which very much implies that it's because of the Express Crew that Dan Heng finds the resolve to face his past.

Then there's that synth note. It's so significant because it's unlike anything else we've heard on the Luofu. Synth used in Xianzhou tracks is rare usually "blends in" with the Chinese instruments.

Then we get the chorus and at this point, the piano is replaced by a synth which plays a powerful chord followed by a melody with five ascending notes. You can hear these five notes more clearly on the flutes in the next line- this is the high-cloud quintet motif. It's actually played on strings in the cutscene version, probably because the physical tension in the instrument helps portray the tension of the scene. The motif isn't super important for now, but remember it, because Hoyo does something really cool with it later on. There's nothing super notable for the rest of the first chorus, only that the synth continues to provide the song's underlying framework, with strings playing most of the melodies. Again, the Chinese instruments are present but not really significant.

As for the instrumental section, it's two melodies: the first is the regular Xianzhou motif, accompanied by a repetitive flute melody. The second time starts of the same, but then it seems to break free of the original motif and become its own melody.

For the final chorus, the instruments follow the same pattern as the first (although there is this string countermelody in the second half which doesn't have any significance other than the fact that it sounds beautiful) but I do want to talk about the vocals since these were used for the cutscene. Aside from the first line, the entire chorus is pretty conspicuously autotuned, which Yusuf obviously didn't need, so this was almost certainly done to affect the quality of the sound rather than the vocals themselves. The result is that the cutscene version of Samudrartha feels completely different to anything else we've heard on the Xianzhou. There's also the heavy string and piano presence, which makes me think of the title screen and therefore the Astral Express.

Before we get to the really good part (that is, the animated short), I'll briefly talk about the OST for Dan Heng's character trailer. I like that the flute seems to have become Dan Heng's instrument since that means that both he and Blade are wind characters represented by wind instruments. I don't have anything to say about a specific part of the song, but as a whole it starts off very traditional Chinese and leans more heavily into synthetic/modern instruments over the course of the trailer. Building on the past and moving toward the future, one could say. The high-cloud quintet motif is present, but only briefly, compared to, say, Jingliu's trailer where it's present for almost the whole song.

Now, let's talk about Ichor Of Two Dragons. Any timestamp I use will be in reference to the album version unless I say otherwise, since although it's cut down, the voice acting in the actual animated short makes it difficult to focus on the music.

from 00:00 to 0:40, there's this music box melody which is generally very peaceful. It comes back later, so remember it. You'll notice that, aside from the music box, which is generally considered a nostalgic instrument, everything else is strings and piano again. In fact, this song isn't even remotely Chinese. What happens here has nothing to do with the Xianzhou- it's Dan Heng coming to terms with himself, regardless of anything or anyone else.

from 0:40 to 1:16, based on the animation you'd expect the music to become more ominous and threatening, but instead it stays nostalgic and emotional, still holding on to the previous melody and the happy memory it represents. At 1:16, we also hear what I think is the first line of Samudrartha, but it disappears within a few seconds as Dan Heng tries, as always, to push his past away. At 1:38 we get the first time signature change, to a very irregular 5/4, and stays this way for most of the fight. The emotional melody also disappears, and the music becomes more appropriately intense. Remember that express crew motif from before? We hear it at 1:56, but it's rushed and desperate. And, again, played on synth.

2:04 is why I told you to remember the quintet motif. That's it, but backwards. It only plays a few times before being drowned out, so to speak, by the other instruments, but the fact that Dan Heng is now being represented by a motif that's so connected with his past, but also unique, is such a great way of portraying him. We also get another time signature change, now to 3/4. The Samudrartha melody from the beginning also returns (2:27), played on a violin rather than what I believe was a cello the first time, so it sounds much more desperate and emotional this time. For this whole segment of the song, there is a synth in the background playing occasional short melodies, but it's barely noticeable.

now, 2:48. That's an electric guitar. Why is that important? Because, throughout the entire Xianzhou OST, this instrument is not present at all. Even during the wardance arc, Hoyo-Mix seems to have gone out of their way to not use any electric guitar, in order to have this one remain unique.

At 2:54, just as Dan Heng opens his eyes, the reversed quintet motif also comes back, this time on the flutes, which as I said before, seem to be associated with Dan Heng. This is also the first time they appear in this song. The violin melody repeats and, as it isn't drowned out this time, it continues and evolves into the melody of what really feels like a completely different song. From 3:06 to the end of the song, we get this hype, upbeat orchestral rock piece which, between the electric guitar and drumming style, is much more modern than the rest of the song. Throughout this whole section, the flutes also keep playing the reversed quintet motif.

Finally (although this part isn't in the album version), when the Express Crew appear, they're represented by the same melody as Dan Heng's memories of the quintet, on piano rather than a music box.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: Just some things about the Ramshackle Prefect and Scarabia's vice-housewarden <3

Pairing: Jamil Viper × Yuu / Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff mostly, a little bit of angst

TW: NA (for now, please let me know if I should add trigger warnings and for what ^^)

Jamil is no stranger to looks of awe and envy. A large part of it is owed to his status as a servant of the Asim family, as well as being Kalim's closest friend and retainer. But when the Prefect looks at him, they look at him in awe of his skills. Of how he expertly manages to tackle every obstacle Kalim unwittingly puts in his way. Of how his hands work quickly and efficiently in the kitchen as he stirs and mixes and makes food for the entirety of Scarabia. Of how he manages to give his best (despite the limitations set upon him by his status) in everything he does. For them, his status as a servant matters little; his hardwork is seen for what it is, and appreciated genuinely.

Jamil takes good care of his looks. As Kalim's retainer, he is required to look after his appearance, lest even the slightest of mistakes bring scrutiny upon the Asim family. The gold trinkets braided into his hair are a symbol of his status and servitude, of pride and resentment, yet he finds that resentment slowly die down as the Prefect plays with the accessories, batting at them with all the curiosity and wonder of a little kitten. His voicing of the fact only gets him a playful pout from them, which leaves him a little weak in the knees and a little short of breath. He thanks his lucky stars that they are both sitting on his bed, for surely his traitorous legs would have given away underneath him had he been standing.

Jamil stays up at night, quite a lot. His responsibilities do not end when the Asim heir finally falls asleep; for some reason, they seem to increase. Between his own studying, making rounds of the dorm so that no unruly dorm members (or housewardens) sneak off in the middle of the night, and countless other tasks, it is a miracle that he even gets time to rest his ever watchful eyes. Yet he smiles each time the Prefect stumbles over to him, half-asleep as they tug at his arms and mumble that he needs to sleep and that they are not taking no for an answer (not that he would say no to such an adorable request) and goes along with what they say.

Jamil is not one to bare his heart to just anybody. It takes time and dedication to peel back all his layers, his self doubt, to truly get him to speak about everything and anything that is bothering him. Yet sometimes, sometimes things are too difficult to talk about, and Jamil is too tired to think about them. So when the Prefect opens their arms, inviting him in their soft and safe embrace, he obliges with a soft murmur that is his thanks to them. They rub his back, and Jamil cannot stop himself from melting under their wordless yet tender care, holding onto his beloved Prefect with all the strength he can muster in that moment.

Jamil is very perceptive; very little misses his keen gaze. He sees how each incident the Prefect invariably gets roped into takes away a little part of them. The light in their eyes is a little dimmer each time they meet his, and their smiles a little more forced as they gently turn down his enquiries about their health. Each matter resolved, each overblot fought saps their energy and shakes their will, and Jamil knows it is only a matter of time before they fall down like a house of cards. He can see them working themself to the bone, running on fumes and sheer determination to save all those who had endeared themselves to the Prefect. So he insists, borderline begging even, to take care of them. Even for just one day, one hour. He just wants to be there for them, the way they always are for him.

Jamil shows his care in subtle ways in public. Carrying an extra lunch for the Prefect, sitting next to them in class, helping them with their studies, all these are ways he shows his favor to them. In private, he whispers declarations of love and devotion to them, reveling in how flustered they get even as his own heart thumps loudly inside his chest. He stumbles over his words when they carefully hold one of his braids up to their lips, leaving a kiss on the dark strands while maintaining eye contact with him; a silent declaration more powerful and potent than any of his teasing words.

[moonlightequin1]

hehehe I'm here again to share my thoughts about the new halloween event and Yuu. >:D

Jamil sort of trying to 'comfort' Skully is SO cute?? The angst is building up and I honestly hope Yuu can somehow play a bigher role in helping Skully, especially since they seem to share similarities.

But now that I think about it, sometimes it throws me off to see how majority of the fandom portrays Yuu as the overworked "therapist" who's tired of everyone and everything. Especially when it's clear to see that the cast helps out eachother a lot, while Yuu shared only a few 'deep' conversations with the boys throughout the game and also gets protected during fights. I feel like it takes away from the boys characters when the moments that show them caring about eachother and helping eachother out are completely being ignored or seemingly being re-written as Yuu doing all the work.

I totally don't mind when someone writes their Yuu to do all the 'therapist'—work, but seeing this under almost every comment section that includes Yuu is rather tiring. Especially since in-game Yuu doesn't seem to hate their stay in twst all that much.

I hope I don't sound rude haha, I guess this kind of ended up being a bit of a ramble? Sorry if I do! TnT

Hey again diggoes!!!

I actually do agree with your statement about the whole fandom's portrayal of Yuu being an unpaid therapist and TBH I thought the joke/meme was very funny at first until slowly, the joke started becoming less funnier to me when that's all people talked about when it came to Yuu's character. While Yuu isn't purposefully involving themselves in overblot incidents, they do help others without really complaining about it.

I think that one of the major reasons Yuu is labelled as an unpaid therapist is also because of how we, mostly a lot of the players for this game, tend to get tired of NRC's BS and may project that kind of feeling to Yuu (who is basically a self-insert character), which leads many of those in the fandom to think that way.

However, as you have stated, Yuu isn't the only one helping everyone out. In fact, a lot of the overblots are resolved from teamwork and cooperation on involved members. It's a group effort done by all sides of the parties despite NRC students having a knack for being selfish and prideful jerks who prioritise their needs/desires above everyone else.

But I believe another reason many tend to feel that way is because being in Twisted Wonderland, specifically in NRC, wasn't a choice that the player OR even Yuu gets to choose voluntarily which is something I would agree on partially. And unlike other characters in the game, Yuu and Grim have been involved in every single dangerous/life threatening events and even get to be involved with certain things that are far too personal for acquaintances such as them to get involved (particularly Diasomnia especially in book 7).

Although Yuu hasn't had any moments where they are shown to hate their stay in Twisted Wonderland, it is important to note that they seem to be homesick depending on the choices you choose in Book 7. Yuu doesn't really get a choice on many things, but it doesn't mean that they help begrudgingly. They help even without receiving anything in return.

With all that being said, if people were regarding this about Yuu, then the same should be said to apply to Grim; who has shown far more disregard and complaints about their involvement compared to Yuu. HELL– we even see Grim complain about the fact that Yuu helps out other characters too much. Sure, Grim starts AND stirs a lot of trouble, but a lot of times, it isn't really done intentionally. He can be naïve and really insensitive.

That's what I have to say about this topic at least! I don't really mind the 'unpaid therapist' concept with Yuu, but it does get overdone in the fandom and it does seem to disregard the efforts of the other characters too. Although, I do think that the unpaid therapist concept joke can work with people's own portrayals of Yuu, in-game Yuu hasn't really shown their complaints so far. Well, except with Crowley.

Thanks for the new message! ❤️

[herearedragons]

How would you recruit them? for any/all you wanna, and What does their Epilogue slide say? for Kyana? :3

Dragon Age Protagonists As Companions

How would you recruit them?

Kyana: encountered during the Lost In Dreams part of Broken Circle.

Zaria: fellow survivor of Ostagar; she'll show up alongside Dog, explaining that she followed him since "he seemed to have a destination in mind".

Secret: a friend of Varric's you'll encounter in Hightown at night, clearly up to something illegal, at which point if Varric is there he'll go "well surely we can spare a moment to help her." and Secret goes "yes! my plans are completely innocent!" and a purple Hawke can probably quip about how you should definitely trust a woman named Secret.

Aqun + Adina: Valo-Kas survivors of the Conclave explosion, recruited through a side quest to retrieve the weapons of their friends who didn't survive.

Neilar: he'll be in a prison cell in Haven. Once you agree to join the Inquisition and become the Herald, Cassandra will remember to tell you that oh, there's also this elf we caught a few hours before the explosion, but we didn't get anything out of him. You should probably decide what to do with him now. If you play as a Lavellan, Neilar will claim to be last-minute backup sent by Deshanna; otherwise he claims to be an independent scout sent to spy on the Conclave. His actual motives are... a little more complicated.

Evelyn: encountered in a cutscene before entering the Hinterlands proper, where you rescue her from being attacked by templars. You have an option to arrest her, but she'll plead with you to let her join you instead, claiming to be a prominent member of the mage rebellion that can help you negotiate. Not having any members of the rebellion in your party to confirm this, you have to take her at her word.

May: she'll show up as a pilgrim in Haven, to either pledge herself to your cause or be judged. She'll confess upfront to being a Carta member and committing many crimes, but also claim that she wants to atone by serving the Herald. You can choose to imprison her instead, in which case you'll have a second option to recruit her if you decide to let her out of her cell and allow her to help during The Wrath Of Heaven; in that case she'll later be seen tending to Roderick together with Cole or Dorian, and in a later conversation the Inquisitor will remark on the fact that she could have escaped in the chaos, but chose not to.

What does their Epilogue slide say? (Kyana)

If her personal quest was not completed:

Circle annulled: Kyana leaves the Warden's side to join a Circle outside of Ferelden, where she's eventually deemed an abomination. She kills every single templar in the Tower and disappears.

Circle not annulled: Kyana leaves the Warden's side to rejoin the Circle. She's welcomed with equal warmth and unease; if Irving is alive, he is remarkably cold towards her. She goes on to become a senior enchanter and a radical voice pushing for the Circle's independence. Her reputation is fearsome, and her opponents have a tendency to suddenly develop wasting illnesses.

Personal quest completed:

Not romanced: Kyana becomes court enchanter for Ferelden's ruling monarch, enjoying independence and freedom from scrutiny as she develops an array of new spells and a unique battlemage tradition, which she teaches to several other mages in the crown's service. She is a terrifying force thriving in the shadow of the throne, on one occasion tearing a would-be assassin to literal shreds with her mind alone in front of a political gathering.

Romanced: Kyana resolves to stay with the Warden and plunges herself into researching the Taint, making it her goal if to not cure him, then to extend his life as much as possible. At the same time, she continues to hone her magic and her unique abilities given to her by the remnants of a hunger demon, writing multiple academic treatises and training Warden mage recruits despite never undergoing the Joining herself.

[electronickingdomfox]

"Enemy Unseen" review

Novel from 1990, by V. E. Mitchell (Victoria Estelle Mitchell).

A low-tier entry. Despite the author's claims that she wanted to write a new type of story for the TOS universe, I feel that the "murder on the Enterprise during a diplomatic mission" plot has been tried quite a few times at this point. This is a "Journey to Babel" retread, but far more boring, and far more sexist. To be fair, some of the novel's problems are due to its complicated publication history. Kirk's claims that he has never heard of a shapeshifting creature make no sense in the post-TMP era where the novel is set (he had already met Garth of Izar, so he should know better). But originally, the story happened before the pilot. Paramount was very nitpicky with the novels at this time, and forced the author to move the setting forward, just because she had included a half-Deltan character and "there were no Deltans on the Enterprise before TMP". Similarly, Spock is absent throughout the whole story, and replaced by a new first officer (Patrick Brady) and a Deltan science officer (who behaves just like Spock). This is an obvious rewrite of the roles for Gary Mitchell and Spock in the original.

However, these are minor things, and the story suffers from problems of its own. Above all, the plot doesn't seem to move forward from its initial stages, until the very end, where everything is resolved in a rush but still leaving some loose threads. There's a quick succession of scenes told from different points of view (too many points of view, for my taste): The alien diplomats cause trouble because of cultural differences - A mysterious intruder does something bad in the ship - Characters speculate about the bad thing without reaching any conclusion - Evil woman makes a pass at Kirk - Daughter of evil woman suffers a lot... Rinse and repeat. Many, many times. It doesn't help that, by the middle of the book, the reader will probably guess already what's the deal with the intruder. It's not good for a murder mystery when the reader is at least two steps ahead of the characters, and these are forced to be dumber than they should.

As for the characters, I found them quite two-dimensional. It's not exactly that Kirk or McCoy are badly written, but they're reduced to the bare minimum and are rather uninteresting (for some reason, Kirk is always drinking coffee and scowling; I lost the count of how many times he did this). Tenaida, the Deltan science officer, is merely a carbon copy of Spock, while Patrick Brady is so underused that I don't see the need to even include him in the story. We're informed that Brady is a practical joker and used to tease Kirk a lot (probably a remnant of his Gary Mitchell origins), but we don't actually see anything of this. The author seems to have tried to show Spock despite everything, in the form of an AI programmed by him (and as useful as you would expect for an AI in the real world). But it all feels very anecdotical, and more like an afterthought. The Federation ambassador's wife is one of Kirk's previous flames (it's a small galaxy out there), and her character can be summarized as "evil slut" and nothing else. In fact, she's so obviously evil that I don't understand why they let her roam freely for so long. Early on, she beats her daughter (a science officer on the Enterprise; did I mention that it's a small, small galaxy?) so badly, that she ends up unconscious in Sickbay. That alone should be enough to send her to the brig for the duration of the trip, in my opinion. The ambassador be damned. Janara, the aforementioned daughter, is half Deltan and has empathetic abilities, as well as a complicated relationship with her mother. So maybe the author was taking inspiration from Deanna and Lwaxana Troi in TNG (but only if Lwaxana was a completely unlikable, abusive character). As for the alien diplomats, the Kaldorni, they're honor-obsessed, and extremely class-conscious and sexist. To the point that the Kaldorni ambassador can only speak through his interpreter, because he considers everyone else (even Kirk) too lowly to be addressed directly. This makes me wonder why the Federation should be helping these assholes, while the Prime Directive forbids them to even save other races from extinction, just because they lack space flight (I mean, is space flight more important than not treating women as mere property? oh well...).

On the upside, the story has some intrigue in the early chapters, before it starts becoming too obvious, and some interesting detective work. There are also a few surprises at the end with the intruder's motives and how Kirk solves the problem. But otherwise, I don't see any reason to choose this novel among the hundred other TOS books out there.

Spirk Meter: 0/10. Spock's not even there. And while McCoy has some of a supportive role, I didn't find anything resembling McKirk either.

[kayforpay]

my first thought was 'accidental eggs Gamzee' when I saw your prompts thing.

Karkat is surprisingly territorial. Granted, Gamzee wasn't surprised when they were younger, before everything that happened in the game, but he was surprised now.

Karkat had, after all, been the one to suggest they start dating from the beginning. And Gamzee had sincerely tried to meet him there, despite how often he found himself wishing he could skip pretending to get to know him again and just lay on his chest. They had managed one human earth "month" of platonic dates, before Karkat had come to his hive in the middle of the night and asked if he could have a kiss.

Far be it from Gamzee to say no.

The next "month", after several more dates that felt like dates used to, Gamzee realized fully that Karkat wasn't actually as comfortable distancing himself as he acted. There were signs, like the fact that he still initiated most of their piles or anything, but this was definitely the clearest indication Gamzee got.

They were sitting outside, enjoying a lukewarm day, and Meulin came up to them. Gamzee liked her well enough, and since he had at least a rudimentary knowledge of Alternian Sign Language, she had been coming to meet him more often than not; seems her group was as yet unwilling to learn.

"Gamzee! Do you wanna get something to eat?"

Since he was at that moment laying his head on Karkat's back, he took a second to respond, speaking the words as he did for Karkat's benefit. "I'm busy right now. Can he join?"

Karkat frowned at the corner of Gamzee's eye, but stayed silent, only putting his hands on Gamzee's thighs where they sat around his own.

"I wanted to take you out. You can ditch him, right?" That same, casual Beforan energy. It was worst about any of the mutants; Sollux or Rufioh, messiahs forbid Tavros even. They had been raised to not just consider Karkat and Kankri as lesser, but to think they were almost non-entities. "You don't have a pale, do you?"

Non-entities in dating, especially. Even the ones who knew Kankri for a while seemed to act that way a lot of the time.

Gamzee's frown matched Karkat's, partially because he had copied it so much to try and get his way on Alternia. "I'm with him right now. Stop talkin' about Karkat like he's not even here. Don't wanna go out with you, anyways, Nep would--"

He didn't have a chance to finish speaking, because Karkat stood, and offered a hand to Gamzee. When he took it, Karkat started leading him off, back towards his hive, stomping every step of the way. Meulin looked upset, but Gamzee didn't really feel much sympathy for her, all things considered, and resolved to send her a text later, maybe.

As soon as the door slammed behind Gamzee and he was closed up in Karkat's hive, Karkat was on him, pressing his face to the side of Gamzee's throat and stuffing his hands under his shirt. He turned his head, pressed a kiss to the base of Karkat's horn, and got pulled into a kiss that was half teeth a moment later.

"Baby, are you made at me?" Gamzee mumbled, stroking his palms over Karkat's cheeks. "You don't gotta be gentle."

Karkat froze, and settled his palms on Gamzee's shoulders. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at her. And all the other fucking Beforans, for acting like that. She asked you out when I was sitting in your lap! On Alternia, I would be expected to gut her!" He shook with bottled-up anger, and Gamzee kissed his forehead.

"Yeah, but the others'd get upset." He purred, rubbing his nose against Karkat's own. "Does it help you're the only troll I ever want in my diamond?"

He opened his eyes to Karkat's own wide, pale red tears threatening to spill over the edges. "The only one?" His face was flushed, and the heat suffused Gamzee's hands.

"Course, sweet. Only one I've ever wanted, only one I'll ever want. You're my perfect pink."

Karkat wasn't rough, kissing him again. He pushed Gamzee's shirt up, and slid his tongue into Gamzee's mouth, but pulled away after only a second. "D'you wanna lay down?"

The pile they'd made at Karkat's hive was plush, constructed mostly of his sweaters and blankets with too many holes to keep using for anything else. Even though it was easy to get new things now, they were both partial to the well-loved feel of old things like this, so they had silently agreed to keep it that way. Besides, it meant Karkat wasn't going to be upset if Gamzee's face smeared onto the blankets.

He fell into it with Karkat on top of him, the concentrated weight and softness of his stomach pinning him down in a way that always made Gamzee melt, this time included. Karkat licked his ear while he moved to straddle Gamzee's waist, his bulge twisting against the front of his jeans already. It had been a long time, after all, since they had really had any reliable outlet for that, too.

Karkat pulled his shirt off, dropping it to be lost in the pile, and ran his hands down Gamzee's chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps from how warm he was. "You're so pretty, Gamzee. You have to look out, trolls are gonna want to be with you because of it." He said it matter-of-factly, and Gamzee felt his neck get hot about it.

"You're teasin' me, Karbaby." Not that he was complaining. "Are you jealous?"

He gasped when Karkat stuffed a hand down his pants, hot fingers pressing against the lips of his sheathe. Karkat slid off of him to push his pants down, rubbing his fingers over his sheathe until Gamzee's bulge slid out a few inches to wrap around them. Then, he was kissing Gamzee's stomach, his hips, and he turned his head to look at Gamzee directly when Gamzee sat up on his elbows.

"Yeah, I am. I'm jealous anyone else looks at you at all, Gamzee." He sounded so miserable, so sincere and honest and pathetic, that Gamzee couldn't help but believe him. "Does that make me a bad palemate?"

Gamzee's hand covered Karkat's horn, half holding on as his bulge finished sliding out. "Nah. I love you, diamonds. Nothin' you did could make you a bad palemate." He smiled, and Karkat dug his teeth into Gamzee's hip bone, growling.

"Lift your legs, Gamzee." His fingers were pressing at the edge of his nook, rubbing insistently, and pressed in as soon as Gamzee spread his legs. "I love you. I love you so much." He thrust his fingers slowly, pressing the pads of them against the ceiling of Gamzee's nook, and followed him when it inevitably made him squirm.

"Fuck, lemme uh, lemme touch you, Karkat." His voice was a whine, hips rolling slightly, but Karkat only sat up to kiss him, firmly, even though it made his reach more shallow. "Baby, please?"

His other hand planted in the middle of Gamzee's chest, pushing him down with just enough force to keep him still. "Let me, Gamzee. I'm.." He bit the inside of Gamzee's thigh, and started thrusting his fingers more quickly. "I just want to. Just wait."

The first time was quick; he ripped some of the blankets in his fists, and Karkat praised him like he had done something special by spilling all over himself. The second time took a while to build to, and Gamzee felt almost so oversensitive he needed to stop several times, whining until Karkat slipped his hand into Gamzee's hair and kissed his face, purring at him, saying we can stop, if you want to and making Gamzee beg for him to continue.

When he came the second time, tears streamed down his cheeks, and his bulge, completely ignored around Karkat's wrist, only gave a weak twitch before clamping itself down against Karkat's skin again. "So good, Gamzee. I don't want anyone else to see you like this. Okay? No one else, you're mine."

His eyes felt sticky with quick-drying tears, but he nodded, looked up. "Okay, yeah. Love you." He sat up as much as he could, and pulled Karkat into a kiss. While he struggled to match Karkat's intensity, Karkat unzipped his pants, and only broke away to push them down.

Gamzee's nook was puffy and a little sore, and it made him flinch when Karkat pulled his fingers out. His bulge was softer, but after the first twist it was a stretch, and Gamzee whined, wrapping his arms and legs around Karkat as tightly as he could without hurting him, which he only really knew from the grunt his palemate let out.

Karkat's hips moved in jerky, quick movements that made Gamzee's bulge rub against his soft belly, and twitched a little faster when Gamzee's grip moved to the soft folds on his ribs, pinching his grubscars slightly. He was getting tense, sharp knees pressing into Karkat's sides and his claws threatening to dig into his beloved's skin, but he couldn't stop himself.

He yelped when Karkat pinned his hands down, leaning over Gamzee completely, and he shuddered as the combination of the deeper thrust and the weight of him on top pushed him over the edge again. Gamzee sobbed as he came, his bulge writhing angrily, and Karkat murmured against his neck.

"So good, so pretty, I love you, Gamzee. I love you." He moved a little faster, grinding the base of his bulge into the sore rim of his nook.

Head tossed back, Gamzee gasped. "Fuck, somethin'-- I can't, I can't stop it, babe, baby, diamond, mothefuck--"

Something moved through his bulge, solid and from the inside, and he couldn't make a single sound as an egg rolled against his stomach, the strange pain-pleasure mix making his eyes roll and his nook clench around Karkat. He spilled, white-hot material flooding Gamzee and pushing a second and third egg out of his bulge, followed by watery spurts of material.

"Fuck." Karkat was out of breath, grinding still, and released Gamzee's hands to cup his face. "That's so... Can you do that again?"

Gamzee blinked slowly. "Dunno. Didn't know I could at all. Felt fuckin... Weird."