#i have massive ideas for all the songs except one yet

[cannibal-nightmares]

shame on you all for concluding on such a sexy album /j /j /j

[leclsrc]

could i get a carlos imagine where you have commitment issues and he calms you down? as a girlie with commitment/trust issues i just wanna b repped in one of ur fics/drabbles :/// it's tuff out here brotha

bring you home — cs55

Moving in together gets difficult. Carlos is there to ease you along. title from this

genre: fluff

auds here... i hope you enjoy this!!! i too am a commitment-afflicted girl ..... it truly is tough lol. but i hope u find the right person who helps u put ur anxieties to rest <3 insp by a scene from satc i saw on tiktok

It started with a duck. But the duck started with the box. And the box started with a toothbrush joke. And the toothbrush joke started with your old lady neighbor moving out. So really, it started with Mrs. McDonnell and her massive moving van rolling down the street and leaving the flat next door empty. Somehow that old hag had managed to irritate you long after she left, albeit through means not her own.

In terms of time, it started a month ago. In terms of people (sans the old bitch), it started with Carlos, as so many of your stories do. “Mrs. McDonald finally moved out today,” he’d said, hip against your stove, watching bits of garlic turn from pale to brown. From the living room you hummed affirmation and then laughed: “McDonnell.”

“Donald, Donnell, Dinero,” he rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s moving in and out. Charles bought a new place in Monaco.”

“Well,” you shrugged, fixing the ridden-up hem of your tank top, “you could have an extra toothbrush in here, if that gets y’there.”

He laughed, pointing at you with the oil-hot rubber tip of the spatula. You two had been dating for over a year at that point, yet any suggestions of moving in together remained vague, cloudish ideas in both of your heads. For him it was impractical; for you it was a little scary.

But a toothbrush, which he always had at your flat and you at his, wasn’t moving in together. Neither was a drawer of clothes and knick-knacks. It was a symbol of your busy lives and the intermittent intersections far and few between.

Except they’d been becoming less intermittent and a lot more constant. He was almost always at your flat, the wide two-bedroom you’d decided was a good place to live with your income and the area. You had two parking spaces, a good rep with the board, and a coffee shop across the street—a place all your own.

A little plus was you had Carlos on some free days, like that day—that fateful day he turned back to the pan and said, with a smile: “I should move in.”

You froze. “You’re asking—you’re telling me or the garlic?” In fits of nerves, you could only blurt out bad jokes.

He laughed but it was a small exhale of breath. “I’m serious.” He turned to you, brown eyes big.

Your heart swelled with something between apprehension and absolute excitement, that finally you were going to take a step you felt like you’d been waiting to take forever. “You are?” You asked, so giddily you could hear your own smile.

The truth was, you had moved in with a boyfriend before, offered him a key and suggested the entire affair, bought fresh flowers and cooked eggs and made coffee and lived the bliss you only read about in romance novels. Months later you caught him fucking somebody else in your bedroom, and years later the memory fails to purge itself from your mind or your habits, plaguing every inner thought you have.

But this, you assure yourself, is Carlos.

“Dead seriou—uuooof!” Carlos barely got to the end of his sentence, with the way you barrelled into him, smiling into the blocky build of his chest and muttering a repetitive yes yes yes into the cotton of his tee. He held you there, pressing a kiss to your hair and promising he’d be in with his boxes as soon as time made way.

—

“Make way,” you yell into the tiny gap between your door and its frame.

“Hey, hi, hello,” your boyfriend sing-songs. “How are you?”

In the month you’d spent watching your boyfriend move into your flat, you’d also been subjected to your complete lack of personal space. Every time you entered, he’d be there talking his head off. Every time you came home at night, he’d be there. You felt suffocated. Scared, even if you couldn’t sleep at night without some part of you touching him. You’re simply a human with needs, and you needed space. You needed silence. Needed it. Absolutely needed it. You knew this because every time you opened your own door, it collided with a—

“Box.” You shove yourself through the gap and wedge the door closed, pointing an accusatory finger at the cardboard. “Another box by the door. Don’t make me burn those,” you mutter, fussing with your hair and toeing off your Blahniks. Across the foyer, Carlos is nailing something into the wall, noisy and incessant and you want to shrink into the floor.

“Sorry, sorry. Lo siento. I have so many stuff.”

“Yeah! You do. My flat’s only nay fucking big,” you respond, raising your pointer finger and thumb to exaggerate the size of your (in actuality, wide) living space. “Carlos, couldn’t you unpack some of these? Just some. It’s—you know, it’s piling up. And you know I hate mess.”

“I know, baby. I will as soon as I finish this up. I promise.”

You nod once, sighing and moving into the study to gather your laptop for work. You’re halfway into the room, eyes scanning your desk’s surface and finding your Mac laying flat atop it, unassuming next to a figurine of a wooden duck. You pause and blink. The wooden duck does not, its eyes painted wide and smooth and you definitely did not purchase this duck.

Somehow, this is the straw that breaks your back.

“What is this duck doing here?!” You yell, voice loud even from the study into the foyer. Carlos pulls off the goggles he’d been wearing to drill shit into your wall and smiles. A gift from me.

“A gif—I, I, I don’t like ducks.” You flail your arms around. “I just… hearing you talk or drill as soon as I come into my own home feels weird. For so long I’ve been alone and… and I’m supposed to hear silence and I—I’m scared that you’re going to figure out how scared I am and you’re going to leave me.”

He just stares, eyebrows knitted. You smother a hand over your face. You pause and breathe for a minute, then two.

“It’s just—I’ve only lived with someone three months, and that was ages ago, and before that it was my parents, so. I’m going to be really frank with you and I’m sorry if this sounds… but I’m gonna close the bedroom door and I don’t want you to talk to me for thirty minutes. I need space. And keep the duck first. I’m sorry. Is that selfish? Is that okay?” When he shakes his head and then nods, you deposit it into his arms and back up into your room.

His face, torn between concerned and endeared, softens into an understanding, patient smile. Okay, he mouths. I love you, you mouth back, and then you’re shutting it softly, leaning your forehead against the white wood and letting a long exhale leave your lips. You half-expected him to fight you back, to raise his voice, but it’s your own worst expectations weighing down on you all over again, born out of memories of your ex.

You stay like that for a while, and slowly with the quiet you realize—you find the duck cute.

You like the boxes because they remind you this is becoming a home. You like hearing him talk because it means you know he’s there. (The drilling will always be irritating, but he makes it better.) You don’t dislike anything he does, but you’re not totally lying either: you are scared. Scared of the commitment it’d take to make this a sure thing. The commitment you’d given before and the commitment that’d been betrayed.

But this is Carlos. This is Carlos, who’s understood every part of you, who’s given you time and patience even when you didn’t know how much you needed it. The Carlos who knows how you like your toast, who eats the yolk off your sunny-side eggs and gives you the white of his hard-boiled ones. The Carlos who said I love you first, surprising you into shock, and then took it back in embarrassment before you cut him off with a kiss. The Carlos who stays.

The air clears and you breathe easier. You open the door after five minutes. “You okay?”

He’s unpacking a box. He turns and smiles wryly, mimicking a zip motion across his lips. He shakes his head. No talking, remember?

You pout, smiling. “Sorry if I’m neurotic.”

You pad softly toward him and it’s easy, too easy for him to pick you up into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist, stay standing and hugging you. He’s quiet still, patient, warm. “I like hearing you talk. I like your boxes. I like that you’re mine and we’re here.” You inhale. “‘M just scared. And I don’t… want to be, but I am, and… it’s just me. I’m crazy.”

“Hey, Crazy. So am I. Take your time.” He hugs you tighter. “I’m not gonna leave you, even if you hated the duck.” I didn’t, you say quietly. It was cute. “I know it’s hard, baby. I know. You have to let me take care of you. You have me, okay? You have me.”

“And when you’re not here?” Fear slithers up and tries to tug at you but his arms are around you, secure and holding you there, so you don’t let it.

The thing with needs, really, is when they’re met—met in the best, most understanding way, especially…

He kisses your neck. “I’ll always be.”

…You find you no longer need them at all.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Tabito Karasu has been in love with you for almost as long as he can remember. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like you have any intentions of reciprocating, considering you’ve only ever seen him as a child — and, more importantly, as your best friend’s little brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Part One | Otoya Version

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Total Word Count: 41.6k

Content Warnings: reader is older than karasu (by like two years so it’s nbd but it exists), no blue lock au, bratty baby karasu, jealous karasu, slow burn, childhood friends, i have no idea how to write kids just deal w it, karasu’s older sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘karasu’s older sister’ the entire time), reader gets drunk at one point, karasu the goat of pining, yukimiya and otoya mentions ⁉️

A/N: yes this is inspired by the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious but has barely anything to do with it. yes this is probably the longest karasu fic you will ever read as of its publishing date (word count is not a typo it fr is that long). yes reader and karasu are fuck ass little kids for half of the fic. i have nothing to say for myself except that i love karasu so much and i cannot be stopped…also tumblr is an opp so i had to split this into two parts EEK i’m sorry!!

Tokyo was exactly as you remembered it. Both of your parents had been raised there, and so you had visited frequently when you were younger. You had fond memories of staying there with both sets of your grandparents before they had all, in turn, decided to move to calmer parts of the country, places which were not as frenetic and vibrant as the capital. After they had left, your family had had little reason to go back, so it had been some years since you had last made the trip, but in a way this move was just another kind of homecoming, for the chaos of the massive city was as familiar to you as the peace of your neighborhood.

“Everyone here talks like your parents,” Yayoi told you, the first day you both were able to meet up after you had moved. Your classes had not yet begun, but you were both finally unpacked and oriented in your new lives, so you had taken advantage of the last bits of free time you might have for a while to see one another. “It’s kind of funny.”

“Right?” you said. You had never fully adopted the accent of your home region, for you had been raised by a family which still spoke as if they were in Tokyo, but regardless it was strange to hear people other than your parents speaking in that way without affectation.

“Sometimes I end up saying the wrong thing and confusing people, but they figure out pretty quickly that it’s just the dialect I speak with, and then they ask for clarification if needed,” she said. “So I haven’t run into any major miscommunication problems yet, thankfully.”

“That’s good,” you said. “Are you excited to start classes?”

“Well, excited isn't exactly the word I’d use for it,” she said wryly. “Even if I’m the one who chose the subject, it’s still going to be a lot of work.”

“A ton of it,” you said, making a face. “You’re lucky, though. Your term doesn’t start for another week.”

“Well, it also ends a week later, so that doesn’t mean anything,” she said, sipping on the last few drops of her coffee — which she always ordered black, not because she liked it that way but because she was trying to keep up appearances and whatnot. “What about you?”

“I think classes and all will be a good distraction. It’ll be nice to have something to keep myself busy,” you said.

“What do you need to be distracted from?” she said.

“Just homesickness and stuff. The typical things you’d expect,” you said. She hummed sympathetically.

“I get it,” she said. “I miss my parents like crazy sometimes, especially when I need help with random stuff. The other day, I had to video call my mother so she could explain how to clean a cast iron pan.”

“You could’ve looked that up,” you said.

“Yeah, but it was nicer to hear it from her,” she said.

“Yeah,” you echoed, because it was the same for you. You often found yourself calling your parents for no reason at all, asking them stupid questions just to listen to them talk. “I’m glad to be on my own, but I do miss my mother and father a lot.”

“Anyone else?” she said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“Just wondering,” she said. “You know, come to think of it, you were kind of late coming to your seat. Freaked your parents out beyond belief. Any reason in particular?”

“I was just talking to Tabito,” you said. “Saying bye and all.”

“Are you going to miss him?” she prodded.

“Obviously. At this point, he’s like my brother, too. Isn’t it natural to miss your siblings?” you said.

“I don’t,” she said, though she immediately burst into laughter, which somewhat contradicted the statement.

“You’re horrible,” you said. “I know you do.”

“I do,” she affirmed. “But I think it’s in a different way than you do. It’s odd, because I’m the one who’s actually related to him, but the truth is that you two have always been closer than he and I ever were.”

“Probably because I’m not a jerk like you are,” you said.

“How can you consider yourself his additional older sister when you’re so nice to him? You need to bully him a bit more to earn that distinction,” she said.

“He hears enough of it out of you,” you said.

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” she said, holding up her paper cup and raising it to her lips, though you knew it was empty by now. You clinked your own against hers and finished the last remnants of your drink in one gulp. “You know, Y/N, I think you’re irreplaceable at this point.”

“You, too,” you said. “I’ll never be friends with anyone the way I am with you.”

“Fuck whoever we meet in college,” she said, nodding in approval. “I’m sure they’ll be cool and all, but the two of us, we hardly even count as friends anymore. It’s like we’re something more.”

“Exactly,” you said. “I can have a million more best friends, and likely I will, but never again will I have another Yayoi Karasu.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she said.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you said. “Not for a moment.”

Your first year of college flew past in the blink of an eye. On the whole, you preferred it to high school, even though there were aspects of the past you still held dear, seeped with nostalgia as they were. You made new friends, as did Yayoi, but just like you both had predicted, none of them measured up to each other. Still, it was fun to meet people from all different regions in the country and to hear about their lives. Some of your classmates weren’t even from Japan at all, and there was another layer of fascination there, learning about the ways of other nations, the cultures and foods they were accustomed to, and teaching them about your own in exchange.

Your mid term breaks were a bit shorter than Yayoi’s, which meant you weren’t ever able to justify visiting home, but in return, you had much longer in between years, so while Yayoi was still stressing over her finals, you were already taking the train back to the station by your house, texting your parents all the while.

In your absence, your childhood room had remained untouched, the stuffed animals arranged on your bed in the exact order you preferred, the books still stacked on the shelves, your artwork and photos of you with your friends hanging on the walls where you had put them. Time felt frozen, and it was as if you had never left, as if your entire year in Tokyo had been a dream and this had always been the reality.

After eating dinner with your parents, you showered and changed into one of your father’s old shirts and a pair of sweatpants, flopping face-first onto your bed and taking a deep breath, already feeling yourself nodding off despite the fact that it wasn’t that late. Traveling always exhausted you, however, and it was all you could do to turn your lights off and crawl under the covers, plugging your phone in to charge as you drifted off.

Right when you were about to fall asleep for good, your phone’s screen blazed to life, startling you awake as it vibrated urgently. Groaning and cursing whoever was calling you, you glared at the device until you realized exactly who it was, and then your unhappiness was promptly replaced with glee as you clicked on the green answer button.

“Tabito!” you said. Although you had texted with him every now and then, you were ashamed to admit that you hadn’t spoken to him as much as you should’ve. You reasoned that he had had equal opportunity to reach out first and hadn’t, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it was a feeble excuse that was only meant to deflect the blame from yourself and nothing more.

“Y/N,” he said. His voice was deeper than you remembered, and more resonant, too, lilting with a husky, full-bodied musicality that hadn’t been there when you had left. “Hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured him. “What’s up?”

“Do you remember — sorry, this is really stupid, so don’t feel bad for saying no,” he said.

“It’s okay. I’ve definitely seen you do way stupider things,” you said. He chuckled.

“You’re probably right. Here goes, then. Um, do you remember when you went to my first soccer game in middle school, and afterwards, we agreed you wouldn’t come to another until I was the captain of a really good high school team?” he said.

“I think so, why?” you said. A second later, it hit you, and you gasped, beaming so widely that your face ached. “No way! For Bambi Osaka? Since when?”

“Yup, for Bambi Osaka. The old captain just graduated, and he named me as his replacement today, so, uh, since today, I guess,” he said.

“I wish you would’ve told me in person so you could see how much I’m smiling right now,” you said. “Congratulations, Tabito! You can’t begin to know how proud I am of you.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Anyways, our first game is this Thursday, so…”

“Huh? Did you want me to come?” you said. “Yayoi won’t be back from Tokyo by then, though. Shouldn’t I wait for her?”

“If you’d prefer that,” he said. “Or, I mean, you don’t have to go at all. I was just offering in case you were interested, but no hard feelings if not.”

Since when had he been so awkward with you? Since when had he stumbled over his words and been so unsure? You frowned at the mere chance that there was more than a physical distance between the two of you, even if it probably was the case, despite how much you had never wanted such an event to occur.

“As long as you want me, I’ll be there. I don’t have much else to do anyways, right? And how could I miss your first game as captain? Let me know where and when, and I’ll definitely come,” you said. He exhaled softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I want you there. I’ll let you know the details, but like I said, no pressure. Don’t force yourself. Come if you can.”

It was springtime, and the world was still remembering how to come alive, peeking out its head from the den of winter and blinking its sleepy eyes against the sun. There were not any flowers in bloom quite yet, but as far as the eye could see were buds on the precipice of rupturing, the pale undersides of their petals mere imitations of the hues they’d soon display proudly. The birds still warmed eggs in nests made of twigs and twine, but already there were cracks in a few of the creamy shells; here and there, even, little yellow beaks could be seen reaching towards the sky and chittering incessant demands at their parents.

You were lazy as you pedaled your bike down the side streets leading towards the field where the match was being held. It was an away game, technically, but this worked out better for you, as the high school they were playing at was closer to your house than the Bambi Osaka stadium, which was far enough that you would’ve needed to take a taxi.

According to Tabito, the game was actually more of a scrimmage, as they were playing a local school’s soccer club instead of another organization’s youth team, as they did in serious matches. Apparently, this was by design, as it gave their coach the opportunity to test Tabito's skills at being a captain in a low-stakes, low-pressure environment. If he proved himself incapable, the coach would override the previous captain’s pick and name another member of the team to the position, but if he played as well as he always did, and managed to coordinate the rest of the players in a satisfactory manner, then he’d be given the position permanently.

You had reminded him that this meant he technically wasn’t the captain yet, but to this he had said that he had the title and the armband, and if anything, since that was the situation, he needed you there more than ever. After all, he had explained, you had been in the audience when he had scored the winning goal in his first game for his middle school’s team. You were good luck for him. If you were in the crowd, then there was no way he could lose.

Parking your bike in the lot alongside the others, you locked it and then made your way towards the entrance to the stadium, the ticket Tabito had sent you in between your index and middle fingers. Even though there wouldn’t be very many people attending this game, it was Bambi Osaka’s policy to require tickets for entry to any of their matches, and the price if you weren’t associated with a player was, you heard, quite hefty.

You sat by yourself in the stands, your purse beside you and your legs crossed at the ankles. You couldn’t explain why, but there was a doubt in the back of your mind about whether you even belonged in the audience at all. Without Yayoi at your side, it felt like there was a neon sign in the air pointing at you and declaring you inept and unwelcome. Everyone else was buzzing with theories and predictions for the upcoming game, tossing out the names of the players and their opinions on them, but you were by yourself, without even a drink to warm your hands.

The gray of that isolation evaporated the moment that the Bambi Osaka boys took to the field, led by none other than Tabito. You were suddenly reminded that you weren’t just allowed to be there — you were wanted, genuinely wanted, and so you had as much if not more of a claim to your seat than anyone else could. Tabito had invited you. He could’ve invited anyone else in the entire city, but still he had invited you, and you would not tarnish that by thinking you were alone when he was there, as he always was.

As was to be expected, there was a complete difference to the way Tabito played when compared to that very first game of his which you had watched. For one, he was at the front of the field instead of in the middle, and there was an impertinence to the way he shook the hand of the opposing captain, an audacious smirk on his face which was visible even from the distance. This was a side of Tabito you weren’t so acquainted with, a side which was brazen and self-assured and stood as if he had already won before the referee even blew the whistle to begin.

The game moved faster than you could keep up with, and without Yayoi there to give you a play-by-play, you found yourself utterly lost about the finer details of the match. Still, even you could tell that Bambi Osaka was in the lead, and by no small margin — largely in part thanks to the combined skills of Tabito and a slender, pale-haired boy whose jersey read Hiori.

When Tabito was younger, there had been a desperate, vicious quality to his soccer, as if he really might die should he lose. It was in direct contrast to now, where he toyed with the opposite team in much the same way a cat would toy with a ball of yarn — with a distinct sense of superiority, like he was looking down on them even as he forced his way past, not giving them any other choice but to watch as he drove his way down the field.

“Is number 10 the new captain?” a boy behind you said. He sounded younger; maybe he had an older brother on one of the teams, or maybe he was just that supportive of Bambi Osaka. You didn’t turn, but you did tune into the conversation, wondering what they’d say about Tabito.

“Karasu? Yes, he is,” a slightly older boy said. “My brother said he’s a real asshole, but he’s a great guy when it counts. They’re all happy he’s the one who was recommended for the spot.”

“He’s so good,” the younger boy said. “And Hiori, as well. They’re both amazing.”

“Hiori’s only a first year, too. I bet he’s going to go far,” the older boy said. “Now shush, quit distracting me. I’m trying to watch the game.”

To no one’s surprise, Bambi Osaka won by a ridiculous amount of goals, and as Tabito shook hands with the school’s captain again, you noticed their coach nodding in approval, annotating something on his clipboard with a satisfied smile on his face. You waited until all of them had vanished into the locker rooms to head to the exit and wait by your bike for Tabito to join you.

About twenty minutes later, he and the rest of the team trickled out, discussing their game and the plans for the next one. At first it seemed like he had not noticed you, absorbed in conversation as he was, but it quickly became evident that he had, for he skillfully guided the others towards where you stood, never faltering in words nor steps until he reached you. Then he paused, schooling his expression into one of shock, his eyebrows raising and his lips parting as if he had happened upon you entirely by accident. It was an amusing bit of theatrics, albeit realistic to anyone who did not know his mannerisms as well as you did.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, all composed and airy and dispassionate, as if it were mere coincidence that the two of you had met at that moment, as if it hardly mattered to him that you were there. It might’ve fooled another person, but not once in his life had he been able to fool you, and he certainly wouldn’t start today.

He must’ve showered in the locker rooms, for his hair fell loose and silky around his face instead of styled back as it typically was, and when you hugged him — which was met a reflexive return of his arms around your body before he could even manage to yelp in surprise — you could smell the faint, pleasant scent of his soap which still clung to his skin.

“Hi,” you said, holding onto him for as long as you deemed publicly appropriate before wriggling free and smiling at him. “I think you did good. Without Yayoi, I couldn’t be sure, but to me you looked great.”

“Eh,” he said. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been better. But thanks.”

“Woah, Karasu,” one of his teammates said. He was a tall and burly player who reminded you vaguely of Aoyama, and he accompanied the exclamation by wrapping one arm around Tabito in a friendly headlock and using his free hand to ruffle the boy’s damp hair, leaving him to resemble a sea urchin. “You didn’t tell us you had such a beautiful girlfriend! Hello, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Get off of me,” Tabito wheezed, slapping his teammate away. “You fuckface, I’m going to kill you. Don’t try to shake her hand!”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you said, accepting his teammate’s proffered hand. “Just best friends with his older sister. You can think of me as a stand-in for her while she’s finishing up her first year in Tokyo. My name’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Ah, you’re that Y/N!” he said.

“I believe I am? What does that mean?” you said.

“Nothing bad,” Tabito cut in. “Yayoi’s come to a few games and mentioned you, so everyone’s been wanting to meet you.”

“It’s true. I mean, a girl who refused to come to a game until and unless Karasu was made captain? We all thought you must be something intense,” his teammate said. “You seem pretty normal, though. And also super hot, if you don’t mind me mentioning.”

“Well, he’s the one who told me not to come, so if anyone’s intense, it’s him,” you said. “And, uh, thanks? I guess?”

“I mind you mentioning, so shut the hell up,” Tabito said, finally breaking free of his teammate’s hold and shoving him away from you. “Sorry about this one, Y/N. He’s incorrigible.”

His teammate laughed raucously. “My fault, my fault. Sorry, Karasu.”

“Say sorry to her,” Tabito said. “She’s the one you were bothering.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “Really, I don’t mind the compliment. Even if it could’ve been phrased better.”

“Anything for you, gorgeous lady,” his teammate said with a wink. “But, ah, considering I value my life and limbs, I think I’m going to head out now, as our new captain seems about a few seconds away from murdering me. See you around!”

He ran away to rejoin the rest of the Bambi Osaka boys as they all headed in their separate directions towards their homes, leaving you and Tabito alone once more. As soon as they were all gone, he sighed, that put-upon countenance he had maintained for the entirety of the conversation falling apart in an instant.

“I didn’t think he’d say all of that,” he said. “Sorry again.”

“You worry so much,” you said. “Come on, you just won another match, didn’t you? That’s cause to celebrate, so don’t look so tired and mopey.”

“I don’t look tired and mopey!” he defended. “This is just how my face is!”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you said, unlocking your bike and beginning to walk it beside you so you could keep talking to him. “I seem to remember your face being quite a bit rounder and sunnier. Now you’re all angles and doom and gloom.”

“That’s not something I can help,” he said, taking your bike from you so he could walk it instead. “Y/N, you’re being mean. I haven’t seen you in so long and now you’re acting like Yayoi.”

“You think I’m acting like Yayoi? I’m hurt,” you said. “Okay, then, you sensitive captain. How about we go get ice cream? My treat, since you got the position and all.”

“Okay,” he said. “But it’ll be my treat, not yours, because you came to my game and stayed the whole time. It was your good luck that helped me in the end.”

“Offering to pay for me? I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, so I’ll allow it this time. Anyways, I would’ve had to, because I just realized I left my wallet at home,” you said.

“Almost like you did that on purpose,” he mused, bumping your shoulder with his. “Was that your plan all along? Suggesting we get ice cream but forgetting to bring any money, so I had to cover for us both?”

“I see why your team members think you’re an asshole,” you said. “It’s a surprise, to be sure, but then again, maybe I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Who’s calling me an asshole?” he said. “How did you know that? I’m not! Whoever it is, they were making things up, because I’m — I’m super nice! Seriously, where did you hear that? Stop giggling and answer me!”

You extended your arm to run your fingers through his mussed up hair, smoothing it down as best as you could. “A magician never tells her secrets. Don’t worry about it and just tell me which flavor you’re getting.”

“The same as always, why?” he said.

“I want to decide whether I should steal some of it or not,” you said.

“You don’t have to steal it. I’ll share if you want some,” he said.

“It’s better if I’m doing something wrong. I think it adds to the flavor, or enhances it, or something,” you said. He considered this before nodding with the utmost of gravity.

“If that’s how it is, then you’re absolutely not allowed to even look at my ice cream. I’ll be, uh, super mad if you do,” he said, his glare so fearsome and dark that it skipped the realms of intimidation and landed squarely in the land of comedy.

“You’re the best,” you said.

“I do what I can,” he said. “Will you let me have some of yours?”

“Hm,” you said. “Fine, but only because I love you so much.”

He fought back a smile at that, staring directly ahead, the tendons of his hands flexing on the handlebars of your bike as you continued to walk along the empty sidewalk, the glowing sun in the distance a reminder of the many days exactly like this which you still had left to spend.

The break flew by so quickly it was almost more of a punishment than anything. About as soon as you had gotten settled back into a rhythm of spending your days with the Karasus and your evenings with your parents, it was time for you and Yayoi to return to Tokyo for your second year of college, as well as for Tabito to enter his final year of high school.

You took for granted that you would be back as soon as the first term ended, so when you boarded the train to Tokyo, you didn’t take the time to properly appreciate the place where you had grown up. The city where you had whiled away your idyllic childhood…you had considered it a guarantee that you’d return soon, so why would you linger? But a couple of weeks into your first term, you got news from your parents: your father’s job had, almost out of the blue, transferred him, and so they would be moving to nearby Kawasaki by the end of the month.

There was definitely a pro to having your parents at that distance — they were close enough that you could visit them whenever you wanted to, but far enough that you could justify not going if you were so inclined, and removed enough that your life still belonged to you and only you. Still, it was a little like having a rug pulled out from under you when you weren’t even aware you were standing on a rug in the first place; especially because you could not so much as help in the moving process, given that you were stuck at school and could make no excuse to go back home for such a long time.

The house they found in Kawasaki was in a good area, and though it was smaller than your old one, it was still airy and bright, with large windows and wooden floors and enough bedrooms that you could still have your own despite not living there full-time anymore. Your parents were actually glad for the reduced size, for it meant less emptiness, less cleaning to be done in places that never even got used or looked at.

When you went to visit during the first term break, it seemed like they really were happy there. Or perhaps they were just trying to convince you that this was for the best, that you should not be sad, but if that was so, then they shouldn’t have bothered. You were the one who had left first, who had gone to Tokyo to study and work. Of course it was more abrupt and final than you had wanted, but hadn’t this day always been looming on the horizon? Eventually, you would’ve stopped visiting so frequently, if at all. There was no reason to mourn the occurrence of an inevitability.

Besides the drama of your parents’ move, your second year was uneventful. You made even more friends than you had in your first year, and you still saw Yayoi as much as you could, although it was more difficult for the time being. Luckily, at this point you two had the kind of friendship wherein you picked up as if you had never been apart whenever you reunited, so you at least had that one constant in what sometimes felt like an ever-shifting life.

Around the time that your finals began, you received a text from Tabito, written in a formal language that was nothing like the messages full of abbreviations and emoticons that he generally sent you.

‘Hi, Y/N. I hope you’re doing well, and that your second year in university didn’t give you too much difficulty. I’m just reaching out to let you know that my graduation is next Friday. The ceremony starts at 6:30 in the evening, and I managed to reserve you a spot. The address and information is on the ticket — if you’re able to come, then I’d really appreciate it, but if not, then that’s totally okay. I just thought I should let you know.’

You stared at your phone, a sinking feeling in your stomach. No matter how much you wanted to go, you couldn’t. There were too many factors against it, and you felt horrible as you typed out your response. Any way you went about it came across as too harsh, but then again, was there even a gentle way to reject someone when they had come to you with something so important?

‘tabito!! i can’t believe you’re graduating already, wow!! i really would like to come, but i have a final that friday in the afternoon :( plus i don’t know if you heard or not but my family moved to kawasaki, so i wouldn’t really have anywhere to stay. thank you so much for inviting me though!! i’ll get yayoi to bring a cardboard cutout of me to put in my seat or something LOL. it’ll be just like the real thing!!!’

He responded almost immediately, and despite the effort he must’ve made to sound unaffected, he was obviously disappointed by the turn of events, his efforts at cheer only further highlighting that fact.

‘It’s okay, really! And thank you. Haha yes a Y/N cutout will have to be good enough then. Good luck on your final!’

The rest of the week, the unopened file from Tabito, which sat in your email inbox, tantalized you, and you found yourself obsessively checking the schedule of trains leaving Tokyo. There was one back to your hometown that would depart an hour after your exam was scheduled to end, and you refreshed it constantly, waiting to see if tickets would sell out. Once they were gone, it would give you an excuse not to buy them, but to your frustration, they never did.

You would have to run, and even then it wasn’t a guarantee you would make it, to the train or the graduation, but it was the best chance you had, and with every passing moment, it began to sound like more and more of a viable option.

On Thursday evening, when you once again checked the ticket site and noticed there were open seats, you bit your tongue to stop yourself from swearing, and then you entered your credit card information into the prompt. A minute later, you got a confirmation email, letting you know that your seat was booked for the next day. Burying your face in your hands, you inhaled deeply, vowing not to tell Tabito in case he got his hopes up for nothing. Breathing in and out through your nose once more, you straightened your back and opened up your textbook, returning to studying with a renewed vigor borne of the adrenaline rush which resulted from the impulsive decision.

If your professor found it odd that you came to the exam hall in formal clothes, with your hair done and an overnight bag over your shoulder, she did not say anything, only motioning for you to put your bag with the others and then handing you your paper.

Thankfully, you had studied through the year, and this exam was for one of your easier subjects, so it was a relative breeze. You finished with time to spare, leaving the hall with your things and walking to the train station without any worries except for what would happen once you reached your end destination.

The train ride was longer than you remembered, and by the time you were disembarking at the station closest to Tabito’s high school, it was already 6:00. You sprinted through the platform, calling out apologies as you ran into people or elbowed them out of the way, trying to get to the taxi area before anyone else could claim all of the available vehicles.

“Stop!” you shouted when the singular remaining taxi prepared to drive off to a different pick-up location. You must’ve looked a sight, chasing after a taxi by the train station, wearing a dress and heels, stumbling over your feet with your arm outstretched. “Hey, sir! Stop!”

By some miracle, he saw you through the rearview mirror and screeched to a halt. You opened the back door and dove in, scribbling down the address on a slip of paper and handing it to him, as was customary. Then, when he input the address into his GPS and accelerated onto the route, you leaned forward.

“Sir, I’ll tip you generously if you can get me there before 6:30,” you said.

“I will do my best, ma’am. Please hold on,” he said. That was all the warning you got before he stepped on the gas pedal, the car taking off at all but twice the speed of the surrounding traffic, leaving you to hold onto your seat as the scenery outside blurred into nothing but a smear of pinks and greens and browns.

He got you there at 6:27, which was too close for comfort but still earlier than should’ve been humanly possible, so you reached into your wallet and pulled out a wad of cash that was certainly more than you owed. Slapping it on the console, you mumbled out a thank you and ran off without waiting for a response, trying your best to remember the directions to the auditorium from the email Tabito had sent you.

“Do you have a ticket, miss?” the security guard waiting at the door to the auditorium said. You reached into your pocket and tried to unlock your phone; your slick fingers typed in the wrong password twice before it finally opened and you could brandish the file. He squinted at it before nodding and opening the door for you. “The ceremony has already begun, so please try not to make too much of a disturbance when you enter.”

Your shins and the balls of your feet ached from how much ground you had covered in your less-than-supportive footwear and the speed at which you had done so. Your shoulder, too, was sore under the strain of your bag, but you ignored these pains, counting down the rows and the seat numbers until you spotted the empty one that belonged to you. Squeezing past the others who had already taken their places, you collapsed in the cushioned chair, a sigh of relief escaping you when you saw that, though the ceremony was already underway, Tabito was still yet to go.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Yayoi said absentmindedly, for your seat was naturally beside hers. Then, like she had realized what she had said, her jaw dropped. “Y/N? I thought you couldn’t come!”

“Shh, he’s about to go,” you said. “I’ll explain later.”

If you had hesitated for even a minute at any point, you would’ve missed it, but by the grace of some universal power, you had made it into your seat right as Tabito stepped up to take his diploma. He scanned the crowd, much in the same way he did when he was playing soccer, but sadly instead of sharply, like he was aware that he was about to be disappointed yet knew he had to experience that disappointment first-hand regardless.

His eyes slid over everyone in the audience dismissively, but when they landed upon you, they paused, and though it was too far for you to see, you fancied they must’ve widened the slightest bit. Not enough for anyone else to make anything of it, but enough for you to know.

For an instant, everyone else disappeared. In that auditorium, there was only Tabito on the stage and you in the audience, his diploma slack in his grasp, your breaths still fast and uneven. And although there was a distance, and no small one at that, between you and him, it was as if you were right by his side, as if you could see every single emotion which flickered across his face. Shock. Disbelief. Wonder. Then, finally, a sheer, childish thing which could only be called joy — unabashed and whole and candid joy. He smiled in the way he only did for you, not for anyone else in the entire world, not smug and haughty but shy and sincere, and you could not help but smile as well, raising your hand and waving at him like he always did at you.

He was taken aback, but obviously delighted, and so, as the principal announced his name and read off his accomplishments while with the school, Tabito ignored the praise and the applause, focusing solely on returning your wave with one of his own.

“What are you doing here?” he said, sweeping you into a hug as soon as you had all left the auditorium and he had reunited with his family. “You said you couldn’t come!”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Yayoi said from where she was waiting at your side. “And Tabito, when you’re done showing your clearfavoritism, give me a high-five or something.”

He held onto you for a moment longer before letting go and high-fiving his sister, who was the only one that hadn’t been there for when Mr. and Mrs. Karasu, as well as Tabito and Yayoi’s grandmother, had taken teary eyed photos with him. She had instead stayed with you, telling you that you owed her an explanation and then jumping to another topic of conversation before you could give her one.

“There was a train from Tokyo which left an hour after my exam window ended,” you said. “I know you don’t like surprises, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it, so I didn’t want to tell you in advance in case things didn’t work out. As it is, I had to bribe the taxi driver to get me here from the station at highly illegal speeds, and with that, I only made it to the front of the building by 6:27. Honestly, I still can’t believe I got there before you went at all, but I’m so glad I did.”

“Me, too. You’re right that I don’t normally like surprises, but this one, I was really happy about, so it’s an exception,” Tabito said. Now that he was no longer under obligation to hang around with Yayoi, he was back at your side, playing with the zipper of your bag in fascination while you spoke.

“Me, three,” Yayoi said. “He was seriously depressed that you weren’t coming. The house was like a toxic wasteland the entire week. It’s going to be much safer and cleaner now.”

“Toxic wasteland?” you said.

“Yup, and the toxic waste himself is right next to you, so be careful,” she said.

“You’re so dramatic. It wasn’t like that,” Tabito said.

“Sure,” she said. “Yup. Totally wasn’t.”

“Why do you always do this?” he whined.

“Do what?” Yayoi said.

“Try to embarrass me whenever you can!” he said.

“Not like it’s possible for me to embarrass you in front of Y/N out of everyone. You do that all on your own, so there’s no way I can make things worse,” she said.

“Yayoi!” he snapped.

“Onto more pressing subjects,” you interjected before things could worsen. “Um. I do have a slight problem.”

“What is it?” Tabito said.

“I kind of came here on a whim, so I don’t really have anywhere to sleep, exactly,” you said. The siblings exchanged looks before Yayoi rolled her eyes and Tabito grabbed your bag from you.

“You’ll stay with us, of course,” Yayoi said.

“For as long as you want,” Tabito added. “Or as long as you can, actually. That’s better. Don’t leave until you absolutely have to.”

“We can put your bags in the car, and then we have to take pictures,” Yayoi said.

“I didn’t know you cared enough to want to commemorate my graduation,” Tabito said. Yayoi snorted.

“Nah, I just want to commemorate Y/N’s wild journey from Tokyo, and the fact that she magically got here on time. I don’t ever want to forget about that,” she said.

“I’d be offended, but actually, I’m in agreement. I can’t believe you bribed a taxi driver for me,” Tabito said.

“Ah, well, you know,” you said. “I just told him I’d tip him if he could get me there on time, and he did it.”

“You’re crazy,” he said affectionately.

“Totally,” Yayoi agreed.

“And aren’t you grateful for it?” you said, curling your fingers around his wrist and throwing the other arm around Yayoi’s shoulders, causing her to shoot you a mock-dirty look before she made herself comfortable against you.

“Yes,” Tabito said, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks when he lowered them bashfully, that same smile lighting up his face at the sensation of your fingers dancing over his veins. “I really am.”

The world was quite determined not to split you and the Karasus apart for very long. You learned that night that, along with getting into a prestigious college, Tabito had also been selected to join the Japanese U-20 soccer team. In order to balance his academics — he could’ve quit school entirely by this point if he so chose, but he was far too paranoid to not have a second option should his soccer career not take off — with the new demands of the team, he would be living in Tokyo with one of his new teammates, a boy he had never met but was supposedly named something along the lines of Eita Otoya.

His new place was somewhat close to your apartment; close was a subjective word, of course, but to you, when the weather was nice and you were in no rush to be anywhere or do anything, it was a perfectly walkable distance, and you told him you’d definitely show him and Otoya around once they were moved in and had a moment to spare for such a frivolous outing.

Between his practices and the increase in his workload, it seemed like you really might never see Tabito at all, however close you might’ve now been to him physically. Yet somehow, on a warm day at the brink of summer, he texted you asking if the offer was still on the table, and if so, could you please show him and Otoya a place to get good coffee, because the stuff they made with their Keurig machine wasn’t cutting it anymore. You laughed, responding that you’d be delighted to, and that you were free all weekend, with no qualms about dedicating a day solely to them.

Your first impression of Eita Otoya was that, next to Tabito, he had a delicate and pointed appeal to his pretty features. He was smaller than Tabito, and although there wasn’t an ounce of menace in the way he stood, all inviting and open and casual, there was a wolflike canniness to his green irises, which glimmered when he noticed you approaching.

Before Otoya could even say anything, Tabito had covered his mouth with a hand, glaring down at him in a manner which did not seem to entirely be in jest.

“No way,” he said. “Flirt with whoever else you want, but she and Yayoi are off limits.”

Otoya held his hands up in the air, his voice muffled by Tabito’s palm when he spoke. “Got it, dude. Plenty of other fish in the sea, right?”

“For you, yeah,” Tabito said. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Tabito,” you said. “And you must be Otoya? It’s nice to meet you. Tabito’s mentioned you a few times.”

“Hopefully he’s only said good things,” Otoya said, shaking your hand, careful to keep a cordial distance between you two.

“On the contrary, I’ve been led to believe you’re the devil incarnate,” you said.

“Really?” Otoya said.

“No, of course not. He’s only ever spoken highly of you. I was just joking,” you said.

“That’s a relief,” Otoya said. “It’d be awkward if you had a bad impression of me before we’d even met.”

“Did you really think I’d complain about you to her? I’m kind of hurt,” Tabito said.

“Look, you never know! Maybe that’s how you get your aggression out,” Otoya said.

“It’s not. If I had any aggression, I’d just yell at you yourself. I definitely wouldn’t burden her with any of your hypothetical nonsense, not in a million years,” Tabito said.

“Woah, didn’t realize we had a gentleman here,” Otoya said with a snicker. “Okay, then. Thanks for not talking shit about me behind my back.”

“Anytime,” Tabito said.

“Are you two done yet?” you said. “I don’t want the place to close before we get a spot.”

“Is it nearby?” Otoya said. “As long as it’s close, it doesn’t even matter if it’s expensive. I just need something better than those shitty convenience store Keurig packets Tabito’s been getting for us.”

“That’s the best I’ve been able to bring home at the random times you text me telling me we’re out! Sorry I don’t stop by a damn café after every morning practice,” Tabito said.

“This guy,” Otoya said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Doesn’t understand the value of a good coffee one bit.”

“Not everyone has that touch,” you whispered back with a wink. “It’s alright. I won’t let you suffer any longer; the shop I’m taking you to is only a block away, and it’s relatively inexpensive — for the city, anyways. If you don’t know that it’s there, though, it’s easy to miss, so I don’t blame you for not seeing it.”

“My hero!” Otoya said. “Lead the way.”

You had discovered the small café entirely by accident during your first year in Tokyo. It was tucked away between a laundromat and a veterinary office, far from where one would expect a shop of its nature to be located, and although there was were always a couple of patrons scattered throughout the booths and tables, it was never bustling or crowded enough to take away from the cozy atmosphere.

Tabito held the door open for you, and consequently for Otoya, who followed after and inhaled deeply, clasping his hands together in awe.

“This is amazing,” he said. “L/N, you’re like an angel sent from heaven or something. I could fall to my knees and praise you with a sonnet right now, I’m that happy.”

“If you fall to your knees or do anything similarly stupid in front of her, I’ll show you why I made the U-20 team,” Tabito said, raising his leg in the air like he was threatening to kick Otoya.

“He was just joking around, Tabito, it’s not a big deal,” you said. Then, to Otoya: “You’re pretty funny, you know.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grin. “I try my best. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Mostly it doesn’t,” Tabito muttered under his breath. “Tell me your order, Y/N, and I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh, thanks!” you said, listing off your favorites from the cafe’s menu for him. He wrote it down on his phone, lines of concentration etched into his brow as he painstakingly typed out the entire order before showing it to you to confirm that it was correct.

“Can you get me their seasonal drink?” Otoya said, sliding into the seat across from you and peering up at Tabito, who was entirely unamused by the act. “That floral-type latte. It sounds sick.”

“Get it yourself,” Tabito said.

“Why? You’re going to be up there, so just order and let me get to know dear Miss L/N here,” Otoya said. Tabito seemed conflicted, but you nodded reassuringly at him.

“Fine, but you — you know the deal,” he said, brandishing his pointer finger at Otoya. “Don’t you dare mess with her.”

“You got it,” Otoya said with a double-thumbs-up.

“I’m sorry. He’s always been like that, but he really does mean well,” you said, gazing after Tabito once he had stomped away to the counter.

“Been like what?” Otoya said. “An asshole? Ah, but I’m only saying it affectionately, so please don’t tell him I called him that, or else you’ll cause problems where there aren’t any.”

“He’s sweet at heart,” you said. “I know how he can seem to other people, especially at first, but I met him when he was four years old, so I guess I never really saw that side of him. He’s never been anything but kind to me. I guess that’s all I’m trying to say.”

“You’ve known Karasu for that long?” Otoya said.

“Yup. Like I said, I’m not denying that he’s abrasive most of the time, but he’s only being so protective because he cares about his sister and I so very much. Please don’t take it personally. He’s just that type of younger sibling,” you said.

“Younger sibling?” Otoya repeated. “That’s how you see him, huh? I get it now. If that’s how things are, then I won’t butt in.”

“That’s how they are,” you said. For some reason, this caused him to laugh at you, but it was pitying and mocking and not a sound you preferred to hear from anyone — most certainly not from a person you had only just met.

“It’s always so complicated in life, huh? That’s why I never really try too hard. Problems get worse the more you think about them,” he said. It hardly counted as an explanation, but for some reason, you were sure that that was all you were going to get out of him. “Oh, shit!”

“What happened?” you said as, abruptly and without warning, he shot to his feet,

“I was supposed to work on a group presentation today,” he said, running a hand through his hair with a groan. “They just texted to confirm that we’re meeting in the library in fifteen minutes.”

“Can you make it on time?” you said. He was already typing the address of his school’s library into his GPS, and the instant it loaded, he nodded at you.

“I’ve got it, but I’m afraid I’ll have to head out right about now, or else this crazy girl in my group will kill me. Tell Karasu I’ll send him the money for my drink, and that he can enjoy it on me,” he said. “Poor guy needs it, I’m pretty sure.”

“It’ll be too sweet for him, but I’ll pass along the message, sure,” you said.

“Now, normally, this would be the part where I’d ask you for your number, but no matter how beautiful you are, I’m not willing to risk my living situation for you,” he said. “Karasu’s pretty cool, as far as roommates go. It could definitely be worse, so I’d really not like to lose him and end up with some weirdo who collects toenail clippings, just for flirting with the one girl that he declared off-limits.”

“His actual sister’s off-limits as well,” you reminded Otoya. “So that’s two.”

“He did say that, didn’t he? But you’re off-limits in a different way, and unless I want to end up like my own older sister, whose first-year roommate built a replica of the Taj Mahal from the hair she collected out of their drain, I’m going to respect that,” he said.

“That’s disgusting,” you said, too busy gagging at the mental image artwork he had just described to even question what else he was talking about. “Well, you should be off to your group project, then. I’m sure I’ll see you around, Otoya, but in case it’s not for a while, I’ll wish you luck with soccer and school now.”

“Thanks. The same to you, and I am eternally in your debt for showing me this place, so if you ever need something, let me know,” he said, scrambling hastily out of the café without bothering to push his chair back under the table.

Tabito returned a few seconds later, setting the tray of your drinks down on the table and taking his spot in the booth at your side. Handing you the cup that belonged to you, he sipped on his own and placed Otoya’s across from himself.

“Where’d Otoya go?” he said.

“He said something about working on a group project and left. Apparently, he’ll send you the money for the drink, and you’re free to do with it as you please,” you said. Tabito wrinkled his nose.

“He always gets such sweet shit. There’s no way I’m going to be able to drink that,” he said.

“That’s what I told him, but what other option is there? We can share so it isn’t wasted,” you said, taking a swig from Otoya’s flowery beverage. It wasn’t bad, and you had a little more before giving it to Tabito.

“Ugh,” he said. “Fine.”

He poked out his tongue, lapping up the tiniest droplet of coffee which lingered on the rim of the cup, and then he made a face, handing it back to you and then gulping down two mouthfuls of his own drink to wash out the taste.

“That bad?” you said.

“Tasted like shit,” he said. “I don’t know how the two of you can drink that kind of stuff regularly without gagging.”

“It’s not my favorite, but it’s not as horrible as you’re making it out to be,” you said.

“I can literally feel my arteries clogging as we speak,” he said.

“Since when did you start speaking like an old man?” you said. “What boy your age talks about his arteries clogging?”

“Firstly, I’m trying to become a professional athlete, so I have to pay careful attention to things like my health, and secondly, we’re not that far apart in age. We have to worry about the same things, like jobs and grades and clogged arteries. Concerns of that nature,” he said.

“I’m glad you feel that way, but why’d you think I was referring to people my own age when I said old man, hm?” you said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. “For your information, I doubt any of my own classmates would care about that shit yet, either. That was a distinctly middle-aged thing of you to say.”

“That makes me older than you,” he said. “If I’m middle-aged and you’re still all youthful and whatnot, that is. How do you feel about that age gap? It’s a little racy, don’t you think?”

You gave him an incredulous look. He couldn’t even maintain his straight face for more than a second, immediately losing composure and snorting at you.

“You’re the worst,” you said.

“And you’re easy to tease,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I had to take the opportunity when it presented itself.”

“I’ll give it to you this once,” you said. “Next time, you’re not getting off so easily.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “You’re all talk. I’m not scared one bit.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so adorable,” you said. “How am I supposed to stay mad when you look like you just watched a puppy die every time Yayoi yells at you?”

He scowled at you. “You’re making that up, aren’t you? Or is that how you actually see me?”

“Hm,” you said. “Let’s finish our drinks. They don’t taste as good if they’ve sat for too long.”

Huffing in exasperation but knowing that you’d not go into more detail once you’d changed the subject, he finished off what was left of his order in one fell swoop, and then he snatched Otoya’s drink from your hands, tossing it into the trashcan before you could so much as blink.

“Aw,” you said. “I feel bad. That’s how we’re responding to Otoya’s act of goodwill?”

“Forget about his goodwill,” Tabito said. “It’s not like he did it because of how magnanimous he is or anything. He’s just a dumbass who forgot that he had prior commitments.”

“Nothing like you, of course,” you said. “You’re always on time, and you only ever order the best of drinks.”

“Exactly,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument — not that you would’ve argued with him, even if there was any cause to. Your father had always told you that generally, it was better to lose an argument than a loved one, and since the notion of losing Tabito was akin to a spear being driven into your heart, you did your best to avoid the chance of that frightful outcome ever occurring at all.

A few days before the end of the winter term, Yayoi called you in a flurrying panic. When you picked up, you were expecting her to be asking about the plans you had made for the road trip you two were taking, but it was nothing of the sort. Indeed, the first words out of her mouth were ones you had never once heard from her, and you almost dropped your phone the moment she said them.

“Y/N, I need your help. There’s this guy—”

“What?” you said. “Since when? What’s his name? Where did you meet him, and how? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Is he handsome?”

“Oh my god, one question at a time!” she said. “Yes, he’s super handsome — actually, he’s a model, so it’s kind of a prerequisite. I’m telling you as it happens, so don’t think I’m keeping things from you! His name is Kenyu Yukimiya; he plays for the U-20 team with Tabito, and I met him when I went to one of their practices because I was bored. We spoke once, but I don’t think he remembers I exist, and even if he does, he probably considers me as nothing more than his teammate’s older sister.”

“Wait, U-20? Is he younger than us?” you said.

“Yes, he’s in Tabito’s year, though a couple of months older than him,” she said. “Do you think it’s weird? Oh, it’s totally weird, isn’t it? I’m a creep! I’m a stupid, ugly creep! Lock me away or turn me into the police or something!”

You cut her wailing off with a snicker. “Yayoi, relax. It’s not that weird, and I mean that honestly. It’s hardly even a two year difference, right? My own parents have a bigger age gap, and besides, you both are in pretty similar spots in life, so it shouldn’t be a problem, especially if he’s mature.”

“He seemed mature,” she said contemplatively. “He was super polite and kind when I spoke to him. Plus, unlike my stupid brother, he actually enjoys talking about the same things I do.”

“There you go, then,” you said. “You’re worrying for nothing. The only reason why anyone might say anything is because you’re older than him, but who cares about that? It’s a tired concept, the whole notion of the woman needing to be younger or smaller than her male partner or whatever. As long as he’s single and into you, I’d say you’re in the clear.”

“That’s what I actually called you to talk about!” Yayoi said. “You’ve had a boyfriend, so you know a little more than I do about this kind of thing. How am I supposed to get him to ask me out?”

“Just so you know, having had one boyfriend back in high school doesn’t exactly qualify me to give you advice,” you said. “Also, you can’t really get someone to ask you out. Why don’t you just go to another one of their practices and talk to him again once they’re done? If the conversation is flowing well, then you can ask him out yourself.”

“Um, that would be a great idea if I was brave enough to ask someone out,” she said. “Unfortunately, I definitely am not.”

“You don’t have to be all official and serious about it,” you said. “Don’t say you want to date or anything — ask him if he wants to hang out to continue the conversation at a later time, and then give him your number. That’s all. If he’s interested, he’ll call or text you to make plans, and if he’s not, then he won’t.”

“It’s that simple?” she said.

“I think it is,” you said. “I wouldn’t know from personal experience. Aoyama just asked me out. I never had to do anything.”

“Not all of us can be that lucky!” she said.

“Yeah, I get it. But I have confidence that you can pull it off! It’ll go great, and then you’ll actually be dating a model in Tokyo like you always said you would,” you said.

“Okay…” she said hesitantly. “Y/N?”

“Yayoi?” you said.

“Canyoucometothepracticewithme?” she said, all in one unintelligible breath. You furrowed your brow.

“Could you repeat that?” you said.

“Can you come to the practice with me?” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do it without you pressuring me a bit.”

“Sure, why not?” you said. “Is it in the morning or evening?”

“They have evening practices on Tuesdays. I was thinking we could go to one of those? That’s what I did last time, so it’s an established thing, and anyways I don’t think I could wake up early enough to go to a morning practice,” she said.

“Okay, good, because I was kind of scared I’d have to be up before the sun. I’d do it for you, and in a heartbeat, but I wouldn’t exactly be happy about it,” you said.

“I wouldn’t, either,” she said. “This Tuesday, then? We can have an early dinner or late snack together before heading over.”

“I won’t miss it,” you promised. “Make sure you wear something nice!”

After your Tuesday classes and errands were completed, you met Yayoi at a restaurant you both liked so that you could quickly eat before leaving for the practice. She was nervous the entire way, twirling the ends of her hair around her finger, straightening her already-perfect clothes, and chewing on her lower lip.

“Hey,” you said as the two of you entered the stadium and sat on the first row of benches. “Don’t stress out. If he’s an asshole, we’ll sic Tabito on him. I bet he could beat your crush in a fight, easily.”

“I don’t know,” Yayoi groaned. “Yukimiya’s super tall, and he looks pretty built, too. I think my baby brother might be outmatched.”

“No way,” you said loyally. “I’d bet on him over anyone.”

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye. “I wish I could have the same faith in him, but considering what a dumbass he typically is, I can’t say I can muster it up. Look, that’s Yukimiya. Still think Tabito’s got it in the bag?”

Discreetly, she pointed out a boy with wavy chestnut hair and an admittedly powerful build. He stood next to Otoya, which only threw it into further relief just how muscular and tall he was. Yayoi hadn’t been lying about that, and neither had she made up how good-looking he was; you could tell just from that first glance that he was heartbreakingly handsome.

“Well,” you said, realizing that maybe you had been a bit overconfident in Tabito’s abilities. But you were too stubborn to change your answer now, and besides, you believed in him no matter what, so you only shrugged. “Yes. Even if it looked like he’d lose for sure, I’d still pick him. There just isn’t anyone else I’d ever choose.”

“Damn,” Yayoi said. “Fine, then. If Yukimiya ends up being an asshole, we’ll see who wins.”

“Deal,” you said. “Although, hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

“Hopefully,” she agreed.

The practice was long, dragging on past sunset, the field’s lights turning on to ward away the darkness as the moon crept higher into the sky. Yayoi, who had confessed that she hadn’t slept well the previous night, slumped against you and passed out almost immediately, and you busied yourself with a pattern of checking your phone and watching moths fly fruitlessly into the massive lamps.

Finally, the coach blew the whistle to signify the end of the practice, and as the players exited the field, walking past where you were conveniently seated, right by the joint entrance-exit, you shook Yayoi.

“There’s no way you’re in this deep of a sleep,” you hissed at her unmoving form.

“Y/N?” It was not Yayoi but someone else who said your name; namely, Tabito, who had paused in front of you and Yayoi to gaze at you questioningly. “Why are you at my practice?”

“Not now, Tabito,” you said dismissively. Noticing that Otoya and, more importantly, Yukimiya, flanked him, you doubled down on your efforts to wake Yayoi, who remained unresponsive. “You bitch. I bet you’re just pretending to sleep so you don’t have to go through with the plan.”

“Hey, L/N! It’s been a bit,” Otoya said. “I’ve been visiting the place you showed us almost daily. It’s wicked good. You’re the best for bringing us there.”

“Hi, Otoya,” you said. “Sure, anytime. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Yayoi, if you won’t get up, I’ll just do it myself.”

Without waiting for her to respond, you stood up and bowed slightly at Yukimiya, who seemed entirely bemused by your odd actions. He glanced at both Otoya and Tabito for help, but neither of them had any clue what you were doing, either, so they could offer no assistance to him on that front.

“It’s nice to meet you. I hear your name is Kenyu Yukimiya?” you said.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he said. He had a pretty manner of speech, proper and refined, each word spoken with careful control. “Who might you be?”

“Y/N L/N, but that’s unimportant,” you said. “That’s Yayoi Karasu. She’s Tabito’s barely-older sister. You should talk to her.”

“Y/N!” Yayoi screeched, shooting up to a sitting position. “Why would you phrase it like that?”

“What is going on here?” Tabito said. Otoya shrugged, clearly lost as well.

“So you were faking it the entire time! Never in my life have I met a bigger coward,” you said, clicking your tongue in disappointment.

“Yayoi Karasu?” Yukimiya said. “Oh, I know you! You were here last week, right? We talked about Neon Genesis Evangelion.”

“That’s right! You, uh, remembered that?” Yayoi said. He beamed at her.

“How could I not? The movie is one of my favorites, and none of these guys like it, so it was great to meet someone else who’s seen it so many times,” Yukimiya said.

“Y/N,” Tabito whispered, sidling over to you, the tip of his sharp nose brushing against the shell of your ear. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

“Depends,” you whispered back. “If you think this is your sister having a crush on your soccer teammate, then yeah, it is. Otherwise, no.”

“That’s gross,” Tabito said, horror twisting his features. “Yayoi and Yuki? No way. You have to be joking.”

“Why not? Because he’s younger than her? It’s only two years. That’s nothing,” you said. “You should be more supportive.”

“No,” he said, a peculiar edge to his voice. “No, I don’t — I don’t care about that part. I thought you might, but I don’t at all.”

“Huh? Why would I?” you said. “If they’re both interested in each other, and they make each other happy, that’s all that matters. We’re adults, so a few years here and there is meaningless in the grand scheme of things.”

“What about you? Would you ever do it?” he said, breathless and impatient, clenching the hem of your shirt in one fist.

“Date someone younger than me? I’m not sure. I’ve never really considered it; you’re the only one younger than me that I regularly interact with, and, well, you know. There’s a special consideration there. Why? Got a teammate you want to set me up with or something?” you said.

“Absolutely not,” he said, stepping away from you and scowling. “I’d never ever ever let one of those mediocre fucking idiots anywhere near you.”

“Just a hypothetical question, then? I suppose there’s no harm in that kind of thing every now and again. Was my response alright?” you said.

“How am I supposed to answer that?” he said tiredly. “It’s what you think, so obviously it’s fine. I should go now. I don’t want to keep Otoya waiting; he’ll get pissy and annoying if I do.”

“Oh, okay. Bye, Tabito! Let me know if you’re free sometime. I feel like I never see you, even though we’re all but neighbors. We should do something,” you said. The strange tone of the conversation had left you reeling, and you scrambled for something that would make it better, would chase away the anxiety constricting your lungs like a vice.

“I’ll let you know,” he said. It was a dull attempt at sounding excited, and for a brief, striking instant, you wanted to reach out and beg him to wait one second more. You wanted to apologize, though you knew not what you had even done. You wanted him to stay until he smiled at you again, the way he usually did, and then you wanted to — you wanted to — you weren’t sure. You weren’t sure what you would do after that, but you would do something, hold his hand or embrace him or something.

Yet instead, you did nothing, watching as he rejoined Otoya and entered the locker room without a backwards glance, leaving you standing by yourself in the bleachers, your heart hammering in your chest like a crow with clipped wings, thrashing against the bars of its steel cage in a futile attempt to escape.

“Can you believe it?” Yayoi said later. “He asked me out first! I didn’t even have to do anything!”

“Congratulations,” you said, as genuinely as you could. “I’m really happy for you, Yayoi. Fingers crossed that it all works out well. I’m sure it will; he seems like a really great guy, and you both were talking for a while, so you’re clearly compatible.”

“Thanks, I think so too!” she said before narrowing her eyes at you. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing!” you said. She was so happy that you could not bear the thought of burdening her with your problems, especially when they weren’t even problems in the first place. Yayoi was having none of it, though, frowning at you.

“You can tell me,” she said. You shook your head, so she poked you in the forehead. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

She punctuated each utterance of the refrain with another poke, until finally you batted her hand away in exasperation “It really is nothing. I just think I did something to upset Tabito — don’t ask me what, because I don’t know — and it’s making me feel a bit out of sorts.”

“He’ll get over it. Why’re you worried? This isn’t unusual. He’s mad at me half of the time. If I felt out of sorts every time he threw a tantrum about something, I’d never feel in sorts,” she said.

“But he hardly ever gets mad at me,” you said.

“Right,” she said, her eyes glimmering. “I forgot the two of you were like that. Hm. I still think you shouldn’t worry too much. If he’s actually mad, which I honestly doubt, then he’ll get over it quickly enough. He’s not capable of staying angry at you for any length of time.”

“If you say so,” you said. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. We need to celebrate you finally saying yes to a guy that asked you out!”

Yayoi blushed but nodded. “Should we go for drinks?”

“It is a Tuesday,” you reminded her.

“Is that a no?” she said.

“It’s a yes,” you said.

“I knew I loved you for a reason,” she said.

“Just for that, you’re covering the tab,” you said. She winked at you.

“Already planning on it!”

The end of your time at university came almost as soon as the beginning had. It was bizarre, walking out of the familiar exam hall for the final time — you knew you had passed, and you already had a job lined up for you in a month’s time, so there wasn’t any cause to worry, and indeed you did not. You only felt odd and light, as if you were floating through the streets of Tokyo, ephemeral like an aluminum wrapper bouncing down the pavement in the wind.

Neither Yayoi nor Tabito could attend your graduation ceremony which was held that Friday; Yayoi had fallen deathly ill, so you had enlisted Yukimiya in keeping her at home, lest she sneak out and kill herself by trying to support you, and as for Tabito, he happened to have a final exam held at exactly the time of the ceremony, which meant he was automatically excluded from attending.

Your parents, as well as both sets of your grandparents, were in the audience, but it wasn’t the same. You couldn’t help yourself from searching for the Karasus, for Tabito in particular, but no matter how hard you searched, it didn’t matter. They weren’t there. He wasn’t there.

When the president of your college, a portly woman with pin-curled hair and red lipstick, handed you your degree, you were hesitant in taking it. Your smile plastered on, you stared towards the door as your fingers inched towards the fancy paper. Any moment now. He’d burst through the door the way you had, and he’d see you, and he’d smile and then wave — it was like a tradition at this point, wasn’t it? It had to happen. He had to come. You knew he wouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop a foolish anticipation from brewing in you as you waited.

Your hands reached the certificate. You held it in front of you as the cameras went off, finally turning away from the door and grinning wider, resolving not to let it ruin your mood. After all, you had worked so hard to achieve this. Why did it matter who was in the audience? It could be an audience of none, and you’d still be happy. You’d still be proud, for no other reason than because you had done it, because all of your hours of studying and classes and homework had finally paid off.

You ate dinner with your family, and then you were invited to go out to a nearby bar by a few of your college friends. Seeing your parents and grandparents to the train station, you rushed back to your apartment to get ready for the night, entirely ready to let loose after what felt like several years’ worth of burdens had just been knocked from your shoulders.

The bar was packed with students from your school, all of whom had had much the same idea as you and your friends. The bartenders were rushing back and forth, sliding drinks out with as much speed as was humanly possible, and before long you were sipping on something fizzy and fruity that one of your friends had handed you.

At some point, one of your classmates, a boy who you had never known particularly well but recognized for his distinctive voice, which could be heard from all corners of the city when he got to bragging about his father’s salary, announced that the rest of the night’s drinks were on him. If you were his father, you’d be furious at the offer, but as you weren’t his father, you took advantage of it with impudence, downing glass after glass of whatever the bartender gave you.

Soon enough, the music and lighting, which you had found so charming and delightful earlier, began to pound at your head. The world spun, not unpleasantly but still in a disorienting manner, and you stumbled towards the door, pulling out your phone and singing to yourself as you decided who you wanted to call.

The cool air of the night was refreshing against your face, and you leaned against the brick wall of the establishment as you squinted at the blinding light of your phone’s screen. You could barely make out the dark characters which stood out on the white background, and eventually you gave up, switching to the keypad and using muscle memory to type in the number your fingers had long ago memorized.

He didn’t pick up until the last ring, and his voice was groggy when he spoke. In the back of your mind, you felt guilty, for you recognized that he must’ve been sleeping, but for the most part you were far too elated to hear him speaking, so you could not bring yourself to be too sorry.

“Hello? Y/N?”

“Tabito,” you said, your words slurring together, dragging out at the ends and trailing into soft breaths. “Tabito, you didn’t come to my graduation.”

He sounded a lot more alert when he spoke next, but he did not change the volume of his voice from that low murmur any. “I told you I couldn’t. I had an exam, remember?”

You sniffed, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it,” he said. “You know I would’ve been there if I could’ve.”

“Can you come now?” you said, your lower lip trembling.

“Come where?” he said. There was a muffled sound that you assumed was him rolling out of his bed, and then the soft padding noise of his footsteps.

“The bar,” you said. At this point, irrational tears were welling in your eyes. You weren’t even sad, but you couldn’t stop them from rolling down your cheeks, leaving scalding trails in their wake.

“Are you out with your friends? Why do you want me there? Aren’t you celebrating?” he said.

“I don’t know,” you said, and then you were hiccuping as you cried in earnest. “I don’t know, Tabito, I just want you to be here.”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed you. “I just left my apartment. Is it the bar you and Yayoi like to go to? The one by the grocery store?”

“Yes,” you said.

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, and then we can decide what to do from there. Does that sound good?” he said.

“Mhm,” you said. “Are you going really fast? Tabito, you play soccer, right?”

“I do play soccer,” he said, sounding equal parts amused and concerned. “You come to watch my games sometimes. I like when you do that.”

“That means you must be fast,” you said. “Mega fast. Mega extra fast.”

“I’m only a little fast. Most of my teammates are faster,” he said.

“Ah,” you said. “But will you still be here super soon?”

“Yes, I’ll be there super soon,” he promised.

“Can you talk on the phone and walk at the same time?” you asked him.

“Well, I’m doing it at the moment, so yes, I’d assume so. Why do you ask?” he said.

“Isn’t that illegal?” you said.

“No, that’s for when you’re driving,” he said.

“Oh,” you said. “You don’t do that, do you?”

“I take the train or walk most places, so I don’t even have the opportunity to,” he said.

“But if you had to drive, you wouldn’t, right? Right, right?” you said.

“Right,” he said. “I’m just around the corner, so I’m going to hang up. Are you outside?”

“Next to the door,” you said.

“Don’t move,” he instructed you, and then he ended the call.

Before you could begin to wail about the abandonment, he was rounding the corner, looking so haphazard that, had you any more presence of mind, you’d have made fun of him for it. His hair stuck up in every which direction, like it had when he was younger and didn’t know how to style it, and he wore nothing but a random t-shirt thrown over a pair of plaid pajama pants, his feet shoved into the black Crocs that Yayoi had bought him as a gag gift last Christmas.

“Y/N! There you are,” he said, his shoulders slumping in relief as he pulled you into his arms. “Look, I’m with you now. Are you happy?”

You giggled. The world still rotated on an unidentifiable axis, but the firmness of Tabito’s grip had a kind of stabilizing effect, holding you in place and together and in one piece.

“Hi, baby,” you said. “Yes. So happy.”

“Baby?” he repeated, and based on the way his skin warmed, he must’ve been blushing.

“Look,” you said, reaching up so that you could play with the ends of his hair. “It’s like when you were a baby. When you were just little baby Tabito. That’s when I met you, you know.”

“I see,” he said, and there was a distinct yet inexplicable despondency to the way that the corners of his eyes crinkled and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Do you want to go home now?”

“I wanna be with you,” you said.

“That’s fine,” he said, so patiently and tenderly that your head grew fuzzier and fuzzier with every word he spoke. “I’ll stay with you either way, but I think we should probably head back. How much have you had to drink?”

“Um…” you tried to recount what you had ingested, but it was all a blur. “I don’t remember.”

He rubbed the back of his hand against your cheek. “Let’s go home, then. You definitely shouldn’t have any more. Will you be alright if I go inside and tell your friends I’m taking you back?”

“Do you have to?” you said, catching his sleeve and holding it in between your hands. “Why can’t we just leave?”

“They’ll worry about you,” he said, prying your fingers off with the utmost of delicacy. “If you leave without letting them know, they might think something bad happened. I’ll explain what’s going on so they aren’t scared, and then we can head out. Does that make sense?”

“Hmm,” you said. “Only because you say so.”

He chuckled slightly. “That’s good. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You counted the seconds that he was gone, and before you reached the seventy-fifth, he was already back, his face flushed from the heat of the bar, his hair even wilder than earlier from the sweat and the humidity, a dusty footprint on his right shoe where someone must’ve accidentally stepped on him.

“I was expecting to have to convince them to let you go with me, but they were all alright with it,” he said, carefully taking your hand and leading you in the direction of the apartment.

“Sure they were,” you said, tripping over a loose stone, only avoiding face-planting because Tabito caught you with the reflexes of an athlete. “It’s because I talk about you so much.”

“Do you?” he said.

“Totally,” you said with a yawn. “All of my friends know about you and your soccer and your studies. I’m just soooo proud of you, so I mention it whenever you do something cool. Isn’t that what a normal elder-sister-figure would do?”

“Yayoi doesn’t,” he said.

“Yayoi is Yayoi,” you said.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “And it doesn’t change what I said.”

“Can you carry me?” you said when you almost stumbled and fell for the second time. “Tabito, it’s hard to walk, so can I please ride on your back the rest of the way?”

He exhaled but crouched, beckoning you forward. “If you really want.”

“Yay!” you said, leaping onto his broad back and clinging to his neck, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he supported you while continuing to walk. “You’re so big now. When did that happen? Have you always been like this? It’s almost as if you’re nearer to being a man than a child, but that’s impossible. You’re still young, aren’t you?”

“It’s not impossible; in fact, it’s the truth,” he said. “If only you ever looked at me and saw me for who I am, you’d have realized I’ve been like this for quite a while now.”

“What do you mean?” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, closing your eyes, allowing the rhythm of his walk to lull you into a trance.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Forget about it. We’re almost there. Are your keys in your purse?”

“Yup,” you said. “D’you want them now?”

“I’ll get them from you once we’re at the door,” he said. “Good thing you don’t have a roommate; I’m sure they’d be pissed off by you coming back so late, drunk out of your mind and with a random guy in tow.”

“You’re not a random guy,” you said, dropping the key to the complex in his waiting hand once the two of you reached the glass gate to the building. “If I had a roommate, they’d definitely know who you are. How could they not? You’re my Tabito.”

“Since when I have been your Tabito?” he said, unlocking the door and flicking your chin up playfully before returning his hand to holding up your leg. “I don’t think that I am.”

“Since always,” you said.

“Really? And does that mean you’re my Y/N?” he said, bending down so you could press the elevator button to take you to your floor.

“Yes,” you said. “For six years I did not know it, but ever since then I have been yours.”

“Well,” he said. “Is that how it is?”

“It is,” you said. He switched the lights in your apartment on and deposited you on the couch, heading to your kitchen and filling up a glass with water. Handing it to you, he sat at your side, bringing it to your lips so you could drink, not taking it away until you had drained the cup.

“Feeling better?” he said. “I’ll get you some crackers to eat.”

“Much better,” you said, chewing on the crackers while laying your head on his shoulder. “My stomach isn’t so queasy, and my vision is a lot more straight.”

“You’re talking more normally, too,” he noted. “At least, you sound a bit comprehensible. Want more water?”

“No,” you said. “I’m sleepy. Can we go to sleep now?”

“Here?” he said. “How about you change into your pajamas and wash your face first?”

“I’m too tired,” you said, yawning yet again to emphasize the point, nuzzling your face against the curve of his neck, your eyelashes crushing against his throat. “You’re so comfortable.”

“Thank you,” he said, patting you atop the head. “But you’ll feel horrible tomorrow morning if you don’t get in bed properly.”

“I’ll feel horrible either way,” you said. “I can’t do anything. We were partying for so long, and now I’m exhausted.”

“That’s true, but you’ll feel worse if you sleep here instead of in your room,” he said. “How about I help you?”

“You’ll help me?” you said.

“If you change your clothes, I’ll do everything else,” he promised, gently pushing you off of him and then standing so he could help you to your feet. “I just don’t want you to feel sick tomorrow, be all cramped up from sleeping in a weird spot, and get a break out on top of that.”

“I guess that’s fine,” you said with a dramatic exhale. “You’re so…so…what’s the word? You’re so persistent. Stubborn. Something like that.”

“People say that a lot,” he said.

“They call you an asshole a lot, too,” you said. “All of the time.”

“Yes,” he said, walking with you to your room, where your pajamas were folded at the foot of your bed. “I think I am one, at least a little bit. It’s impossible for me to be otherwise around mediocre people. I try to fix it, but it’s hard, you know.”

“I don’t think you are,” you said. “You’re the nicest person in the whole entire world. If you were an asshole, you wouldn’t treat me the way you do, but you do, which means you aren’t.”

“That’s because you’re special,” he said after a pause. “To me. And also in general.”

“What do you mean by that?” you said, but when you turned around, he had shut the door between you two, allowing you to change your clothes and him to avoid the question.

Only the thought of disappointing Tabito was enough to convince you to not collapse onto your inviting bed. Instead, you trudged towards the door, opening it and pouting at him, trying to beg with your eyes for him to allow you to go to sleep.

“Good job,” he said, ignoring your silent pleas and dragging you to the bathroom, where he sat you down on the edge of the bathtub. “Is this your makeup remover?”

He showed you the little tub of cold cream you kept next to your sink. You mumbled something generally affirmative, and he unscrewed it, kneeling beside you and massaging it onto your face, paying extra attention to your eyes, which was where most of your makeup was concentrated.

“Who taught you about all of this stuff?” you said, your eyes screwed shut as he used a clean, wet washcloth to remove the cleanser from your skin. “Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“No girlfriends, secret or otherwise,” he said. “It’s all stuff Yayoi made me learn on pain of death. She refused to have a brother who didn’t know anything about proper skincare. It’s not like I do it all that much, but I’m aware of it thanks to her.”

“You’ve really never had a girlfriend?” you said. You supposed you had always been aware of that, but you had never really comprehended what it meant. How could it be that Tabito Karasu of all people had never even gone on a date?

“Nope,” he said. “Can I use this moisturizer on you? I’m sure you have a better routine normally, but it’ll probably be for the best if we skip steps for the sake of getting this done quickly.”

You cracked your eyes open and then nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. Why?”

“Why what?” he said. The lotion was cold at first, but the circular motions of his fingers on your cheeks warmed it quickly enough that you didn’t even have time to be shocked by the temperature. It was soothing, a tingly sensation washing over you as he worked.

“Why haven’t you had a girlfriend?” you said, his fingertips gliding over your forehead.

“I guess I haven’t found the right person yet,” he said. “Or, no, that’s not it. I have found them. I found them a long time ago, but I don’t — I don’t think they wanted to be found. Not by me.”

“That can’t be true,” you said. “What kind of person wouldn’t want you? Who are you talking about, anyways?”

His thumb swiped over your lips, once and then twice, before coming to rest where they slightly parted. You waited, thinking he might move it, but he did not.

“What will it take?” he said. “For you to stop thinking of me as a child. What more can I do? Name it and I will. If it means you’ll stop thinking of me as your little brother, then I’ll do anything.”

“How else would I think of you?” you said. “You are like my—”

“Please,” he said, and it had been so very many years since you had heard him so distraught that you quieted immediately. “Please stop it. I don’t think of you like that, I don’t love you like that, so please stop it.”

Before you could respond, his mouth replaced his thumb against your own, and he was kissing you, cradling your head in his hands, his ardor winning out over his inexperience as he tried to impress upon you just how much he had wanted you, and for how long.

Unfathomably and without even realizing, you found yourself kissing him back, enjoying every demand he made of you and responding to them each in kind. Your hands wound around his neck and tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on the silky, feathery strands, drawing a small whimper out of him as he wedged himself impossibly closer to you. Yet the sound broke you out of whatever daze you had fallen into, so, with a gasp, you ripped yourself away from him, resting your forehead at the dip of his collarbone as you tried to catch your breath.

“No,” you said. “No, I shouldn’t have — we shouldn’t have — you have to go.”

“Why not?” he said. “You said you shouldn’t have, but you did. Why do you wish you hadn’t?”

“You have to leave,” you said, and then you were crying again, soaking his shirt with your tears as the weight of what you had done began to smother you.

“Let go of me first,” he said. Your fingers, still in his hair, flexed but did not loosen. “Y/N. If you really want me to go, I’ll go, but you have to — you have to let go of me first. You have to be the one to do it.”

You wept harder, because you did not know how to let go of him, because you could not fathom doing it, but neither did you want him to let you go first. It was shameful and wrong, but the truth was that, more than anything, you wished for him to stay, to blot away your tears and lay you in your bed so you could sleep the entire night away.

Somehow, you found the strength in you to yank yourself away from him, all in one go. The moment they left him, it was as if your fingertips themselves mourned, aching to return to their rightful place, but instead of obliging, you used them to cover your eyes. Anything to avoid looking at him. Anything to avoid seeing the anguished expression that most certainly marred his features. Anything to avoid knowing that you were the one who had caused it.

You didn’t look up again until you heard the front door close, and then it was all you could do to turn off the bathroom lights and make it to your bed, crashing into the pillows and somehow managing to fall asleep.

As soon as Yayoi was feeling back to her usual self, you sent her a cryptic text essentially commanding her to meet you at your usual spot for food whenever she could. Thankfully, she recognized when you were having an actual problem versus when you just missed her, and she told you she was free that very evening, so you didn’t have to simmer in your thoughts for any longer than you already had.

“Your brother kissed me,” you said when you sat down across from her.

“Hello to you, too,” she said, closing her menu and setting it to the side. She had only even looked at it as a formality; both of you ordered the same thing every time, so opening the menu was meaningless at this point.

“Hello, Yayoi,” you said. “Tabito kissed me.”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?” she guessed.

“Yes,” you said. “It happened the other night. I would’ve called you earlier, but you were sick, so I didn’t want to.”

“Alright. It’s a little awkward for me, considering he’s my brother and all, but I’ll set aside my biases and do my best. How do you feel right now?”

“I have no idea. How do you feel?” you said, perplexed by the lack of reaction she was displaying.

“Why would I feel anything?” she said.

“Because? Your best friend just told you that your little brother kissed her? Aren’t you mad?” you said.

“Not really,” she said. “I’m surprised it took him this long, honestly. Everyone knows he’s been in love with you for ages.”

“Everyone?” you said.

“Everyone,” she agreed. “Most of our friends, all of my family, both of your parents…he hasn’t really tried too hard to hide it. I’m pretty sure most of them think you like him, too, but I don’t want to make assumptions, which is why I’m asking you how you feel about it all.”

“How did I miss it?” you said. “I didn’t realize right up until — well, you know — that he liked me, let alone for so long.”

“Sometimes people only see what they think they see,” she said. “You thought Tabito would never like you, so that’s what you believed. But he could, and he did. Now what?”

“Now nothing!” you said. “What am I supposed to do, date him? That’s just wrong!”

“Why is it wrong?” she said. “By the way, I’m not all too invested in any particular outcome, just as long as you’re happy, so don’t think I’m trying to steer you towards any specific path. I just want you to be fully honest with yourself before you jump to making decisions about any of this.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Okay, well, first off, he’s your — you, as in my best friend — little brother.”

“Not yours, though,” she said.

“But as good as,” you said.

“I wouldn’t say so. You’ve never treated him like a sibling,” she said. “That’s not to say you don’t care about him, but it’s in a different way than a sister would.”

“He’s also younger than me,” you said.

“Yukimiya’s younger than I am, and we’re perfectly happy. Plus, you were the first to say that there weren’t any issues with that, so why’s it a problem now?” she said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“But that’s — that’s different! You met him only recently. I’ve known Tabito since we were little kids! Doesn’t that make it weird?” you said.

“People get married to their childhood friends all of the time. It’s not that unusual,” Yayoi said. “Is there anything else?”

“No, it’s just strange, that’s all!” you said. “You seriously don’t find it even a little odd?”

“I’ve had a lot longer to adjust to it than you have,” she said with a shrug, sipping on the soda she had ordered with her meal. “Let’s approach this in a different way. What about if you both were the same age, and you met later in life? In a university lecture or something. If that was the case, and he asked you out, would you say yes?”

“Absolutely,” you said without hesitation. “That was a stupid question. Who would say no? He’s smart, he’s good at pretty much everything, he’s sweet and funny and caring; additionally, from an objective standpoint, he’s incredibly attractive. I’d do everything I could to keep him if he happened to glance my way.”

“Even if he ended up being younger than you?” Yayoi said.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, I — oh.”

She gave you a dull look. “Just so you know, that is not a sisterly way to view a guy.”

“I got that,” you said.

“Do you think maybe it’s possible that you’ve loved him too, almost the entire time?” she said. “Maybe even before you understood what it meant to love someone else? Back when sibling was the closest relationship to another kid that you, as an only child, could conceive of?”

“I guess that that — that’s definitely a possibility,” you said.

“It could be,” she said. “And then the notion of him being your ‘brother’ became so set in your mind that you couldn’t possibly think of him as anything else.”

“There’s a chance that that was what happened,” you said slowly. “But I don’t feel what I did for Aoyama when I look at Tabito. It’s something else entirely.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t love Tabito,” Yayoi said, flagging down the waiter so you could pay for your food. “It just means you didn’t love Aoyama, or didn’t love him as much. Considering which one is still in your life and which one you haven’t spoken to in years, it’s not unlikely.”

“What do I do now, then?” you said.

“What do you want to do?” she said as the two of you exited the restaurant. “I’ll be your friend no matter what. In the end, it’s up to you.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” you said, suddenly terrified. “I won’t survive if I do. Yayoi, I don’t…”

“You can’t,” she reassured you. “If you haven’t lost him yet, then I don’t think it’s possible for you to. But you know, then, right? What’s next?”

“I do,” you said, taking out your phone and picking up speed, veering in a different direction, turning over your shoulder to shout back at her. “Thank you, Yayoi!”

“Good luck!” she shouted back as you took off at a run, holding your phone up to your ear.

“Otoya,” you said breathlessly, as soon as he picked up. “Otoya, is Tabito there?”

“Uh, Y/N? Yeah, Karasu’s cooking dinner, why?” he said. “You good?”

“I’m coming over,” you said. “Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere, and buzz me in when I get there. This is me calling in that favor you owe me, so do a good fucking job at it, okay?”

“Sure, I can, but why don’t you just ask him to do it directly?” he said.

“I don’t think he’ll pick up if I call him at the moment,” you said.

“Trouble in paradise? This is why I don’t do the whole ‘commitment’ gig. Too many complications,” Otoya said with a scoff. “Fine, I’ll help you, but only because — like you said — I owe you one, and because I’m going to evacuate the apartment as soon as you get here so I’m not caught in the crossfire.”

“Thank you,” you said. “That’s perfect. You rock.”

“Yup, you got it. See you.”

The elevator took too long, so after waiting for thirty seconds, you gave up and went for the stairs, taking them two at a time until you reached the floor that Tabito and Otoya lived on. Then you knocked on the door, waiting with crossed arms until it swung open and revealed Otoya, dressed in a pair of rubber-ducky boxers and nothing more.

“Well, that’s my cue,” he said when he saw it was you.

“Where are you even going to go, dressed like that?” you said, momentarily distracted by the outfit, which was all but offensive to the eye. Otoya winked at you.

“There’s plenty of people in this complex that would welcome me dressed like this,” he said, walking out with a devilish grin. “I’ll go see one of them.”

“You have fun,” you said, unable to do anything but shake your head at the rakish response.

“I definitely will. You…do your best with Karasu. He’s been kinda down, so it’d be great if you could fix him right up again, because his pasta tastes shitty when he’s in a bad mood,” he said, saluting at you before vanishing into the closing elevator.

“Who was at the door?” Tabito said. He wore the pale green apron with white polka dots you had loaned him and never asked for back, and there was a wooden spoon in his right hand, which he used to stir a pot of sauce. “Hello? Otoya? Was it one of your exes again or something? Dude, you’ve gotta stop giving them our address, this is the third time this month that some girl has come to harass you.”

You were still for a moment, standing in the doorway, watching the muscles of his back tighten and then relax as he finished mixing the sauce, setting the spoon down on its stand and putting the lid back on the pot.

“Damn, silent treatment? Was it that bad? It’s your own fault, you dumbass,” he said. “It’s not like I tell you to bring them over. You do that all on your own, and these are the consequences you face as a result. Don’t blame me for it.”

What would you even tell him? He turned the stove to simmer, and you opened your mouth before closing it. You had no idea what to say. You had no idea what was even going on in your mind — you had left Yayoi with such an urgency that you hadn’t had the time to organize your thoughts as you would’ve liked to before such an important moment.

He turned around while untying his apron, his mouth curved into a sneer as he prepared to taunt who he must’ve thought was Otoya messing with him. Yet when he realized it was you, his face fell, as if just by standing there you had reprimanded him harshly.

“Y/N,” he said. You wondered how he could do it, how he could bear to still say your name with the same affection as always. Why hadn’t he left you? Why hadn’t he given up a long time ago? What had you ever done to be worthy of this kind of loyalty? What had you ever done to deserve a person like him?

A lump swelled in your throat, and the harder you tried to swallow it down, the more your eyesight prickled and blurred, until you could hardly see anything at all. For a second you were frozen, and then vaguely you were aware of him taking a step towards you and your inhibitions were lost entirely.

Crossing the expanse of the small kitchen and casting yourself into his embrace, you clung to his neck, crying in earnest when he held onto you as if by instinct, because the way he clutched your waist felt like coming home. He felt like coming home. He felt like butterflies in the spring and leaves in the fall and ice cream in the summer and storms in the winter and every other little thing from your life which you could only ever associate with him.

“I love you,” you said. “I’m sorry, I love you, I love you so much I didn’t even realize it but I do now, I do, and I can finally see that I love you more than anything or anyone, Tabito, so please still love me back, please—”

“Shh,” he murmured, one of his hands moving up and down your back. “Don’t cry. There’s no reason to cry. Y/N, Y/N, don’t cry, I hate it when you cry.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again. “I was such a fool. I didn’t comprehend it, any of it, because I’ve loved you since before I understood what the word love meant.”

He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, over and over until your tears abated, and only then did he speak.

“I’ve loved you for longer,” he said. “I loved you before I even knew you.”

“And do you still?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “I couldn’t stop so quickly.”

“Don’t ever stop,” you said. “But if you do, if you must, then keep it to yourself. I want to at least imagine that you’ll keep loving me for — for a long time.

“Oh, Y/N,” he said. “You don’t have to imagine that. I’ll love you forever if you want it.”

“I do,” you said. “I do want it.”

His lips ghosted along your temple as he smiled. Then, right before they fit against your own, he murmured: “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

Though you had neither reason nor proof, you found that, wholeheartedly and fully, with all that you were, you believed him.

[tooningin]

2012 Lorax Rewrite

The movie would open up with the scrapped Thneedville song. In the visual department, there would be this subtle yet noticeable sense of sadness and resignation from the citizens, indicating that maybe they regret their plastic dystopia, but are too far gone to change.

As for the song itself, Ted would be given a verse at the end, expressing his dissatisfaction with the lifestyle Thneedville has, and wondering if its really too late.

The song ends, and he then walks home and finds his family gushing over the new oxygen masks they’ve invented. Ted tries to tell them that instead of celebrating these oxygen masks, they should see the fact that they’re needed as a massive red flag, but his points are dismissed as jokes. Ted’s dad then hands him some packages with the oxygen masks to deliver

Ted rides his bike around Thneedville, further hammering in just how messed up the society is. Everyone happily accepts their oxygen mask delivery… Except for the girl that was Ted’s GF (Who I’ll just be referring to as Taylor Swift)

Taylor Swift’s reaction surprises Ted, who was used to the enthusiastic reactions from the customers. He asks her why, and she explains that she feels like a prisoner in the town of Thneedville, and yearns for a world where products aren’t being shoved down her throat (It wouldn’t be this on the nose I swear) Ted relates, and the two bond over this. Taylor Swift is called inside her home, and right before she heads in, she tells Ted that she’s happy that she’s not alone in her beliefs.

With this, Ted decides to leave for the Truffula Tree woods in the middle of the night. He’s not the only one who hates what the world has become, and if he can show proof, everyone will agree, and maybe, just maybe, Thneedville could have a better future

But once he arrives he sees the woods with zero Truffula trees and almost devoid of life, save for a tiny handful of struggling animals. At first Ted tries to tell himself that this state is just in this specific part of the woods, but as he wanders through the woods, this is all proven wrong.

At the end of the trail, Ted finds the Onceler’s house, and he bitterly tells Ted to leave, stating that the world is destroyed, and that he should just go back to Thneedville.

But Ted ain’t havin any of that. He wants to know how exactly the world came to be the way it is.

And with this, the Onceler begrudgingly begins his tale.

We flashback to a young Onceler and his family. They run a failing clothes business, one that’s doing so bad, they’re on the brink of poverty

One day the Onceler decided to go on a walk, and that’s when he found the Truffula forest. He’s awestruck by the beauty of the place and all the life in it, but it’s the truffula trees that really catch his attention.

He grabs on to some of the tree’s leaves/material/whatever and decides that maybe he and his family should try making clothes with its material. He gets ready to chop the tree down, but the Lorax jumps out and stops him. Lorax berates the Onceler for attempting to chop down the tree, to which the Onceler says it’s not a big deal, after all it’s just one little tree. How bad could he possibly be?

The Lorax grabs the Onceler’s hand and takes him around the woods, explaining how one little thing could affect the whole forest, and the importance of preserving the environment through song. However he does have some sympathy for the Onceler’s situation and allows him to take a small amount of the Truffula’s leaves.

The Onceler walks back home, but on the way, trips on a rock. He gets up and is about to pick up the Truffula’s leaves, but notices it coiled up. He places it on his head, and fiddles around some more with it, and gets the idea for the Thneeds. He runs home, and tells his family about his idea, who, having been backed into a corner in terms of financial stability, decide to give it a shot.

And the Thneeds end up being an overnight sensation, so much so that the family is soon pulled out of poverty. Talk of the Thneeds spreads, and soon, everyone wants one.

With the demand for Thneeds being so high, The Onceler begins taking more and more of the Truffula trees. Lorax worries about the effects, but tries to be somewhat lenient, after all, the Onceler and his family are no longer poor, much to the animals’ chagrin. But it isn’t long before the rapid success and profitability of the Thneeds gets to the Onceler’s head. He puts the money towards expensive stuff things that only benefit him, chopping down more Truffulas than necessary, and overall forgets the whole reason he began the whole Thneed thing in the first place: His family, who in his obsession with chasing profits and fame, he has pushed out. At this point the Lorax decides to put his foot down, the Onceler isn’t using Truffulas to provide for him and his family anymore.

With a montage of the amount of trees being chopped, the sky progressively getting foggier, and Thneedville’s growth, we transition into the one and only, “Biggering”

As we know, in this song, the Onceler knows damn well what he’s doing, but justifies it to himself. The song would end with the final Truffula tree being cut down, and the Onceler, seeing everything he’s done, the pain he caused, would have an absolute breakdown, one of both happiness and sadness. Happiness cause, as he would tell him himself, he has everything now, his biggered his business to the point where now he has an empire, and sadness because what all that stands for, and cost the world as a whole. Basically think that one scene with Simon from Infinity Train.

We then flashback to the present, with The Onceler looking to the side in shame, and Ted looking to the Onceler in pure horror. He tries to proclaim the Onceler an absolute monster, but is unable to bring the words out due to how much shock he is in, and instead turns around and is about to run back to Thneedville in tears, but before he does so, The Onceler gives him the last Truffula seed.

By the time Ted returns to Thneedville, the Sun is almost up, and upon seeing Taylor Swift sitting on the front steps, he rushes to her and tells her what he has learnt before revealing the Truffula seed the Onceler gave him. Together they plant it, and sit together watching life in the plastic wasteland of Thneedville go on

[katnisspeetaprim]

J-Hope On The Street

Jung Hoseok/Actress!Reader

Summary: Hobi convinces you to do the J-Hope on the street challenge with him... (can be read as a stand alone or as the WYF couple)

Warnings: Fluff, female reader implied.

Word Count: 779 M.list

Hobi had recently released his newest single, J-Hope On The Street, and you couldn’t be more proud! You weren’t yet around when his Hope World album was in the works, but you were there for J-Hope in the box, and you saw first hand how much of a perfectionist he is. How every little detail had to be perfect, and this was no exception.

Ever since the song and MV had dropped, he’d received a massive amount of love and support from friends and fans alike. You were no different, throwing him a surprise get together to celebrate. It was only a small party, just close friends and family so it would be more special. Since then, Hobi decided that a TikTok series focused round the choreography would be a great idea. Dancing to the song with other HYBE idols was simple yet so effective. The fans loved it and so did you, always looking forward to the new videos. That was until he came to you with one of his bright ideas.

‘Hobi you can’t be serious.’ You gaped up at him from your seated position. You were currently in one of the lounge areas of the HYBE building, after having come to visit Hobi and bring him coffee.

‘I am! ARMY will love it, and I already ok’d it with my manager!’ He was way too excited at the prospect of you potentially making a fool of yourself.

‘I’m not a dancer Hobi, I really don’t feel like becoming a laughing stock for millions of people.’ You sighed as you picked at the edge of your dress.

‘Come on jagi! It’s not like I’m asking you to perform on stage. Besides, ARMY know you aren’t a dancer and I already taught you the choreo so....’ He stuck out his bottom lip and gave you puppy dog eyes. Ugh... How could you resist that face?

‘Fine! But you owe me!’ He let out a happy yelp and threw his arms around you, planting a kiss on your temple.

‘It’s gonna be great I promise!’

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Before you started filming, Hobi went over the choreography with you at least a hundred times, (at your request) before you felt confident enough to just go for it.

You stumbled over your own feet a few times, causing Hobi to cast you an amused glance, but overall you did well and you were proud of yourself! Plus the reaction from the fans was overwhelmingly positive too.

He’d tagged you in the video and captioned it, ‘Please be nice to Y/N and compliment her dancing! She was nervous but did so well!’

Fan1: OMG the smile he gives her!

Fan2: Her little stumble was so cute!

Fan3: Get you a man that looks at you like J-Hope looks at Y/N

Fan4: We sure she isn’t secretly a dancer?

Fan5: THAT HUG AT THE END SAGEUGEDUBWEIYFGUEWG

‘See jagi? I told you there was nothing to worry about!’ Hobi smiled as he read the comments over your shoulder.

‘Yeah, even though I messed it up.’ You chuckled to yourself when he hugged you tightly from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.

‘You’re too hard on yourself! It was great for a first time performance!’ You tried to hide your shy smile. This man was too sweet.

‘Yah! Why are you getting shy all of a sudden?’ He jabbed his fingers into your sides, causing you to gasp out in laughter.

‘OK! OK! Stop!’ You grabbed onto his hands and spinning round to face him. ‘You’re mean to me sometimes.’ You pouted, causing him to crack up.

‘I love you too jagi.’ Hobi leaned down to quickly peck your lips.

‘Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for me to take some dancing lessons. I may need them for a role in the future..’ You thought out loud as he pulled away.

‘Why would you pay for lessons when I can just teach you?’  Hobi raised his eyebrows in question.

‘As if I’d let you teach me!’ You exclaimed as soon as he finished his sentence, causing him to stare wide eyed at you. Ok, that hurt his feelings a little.

‘I’ve seen the death stares you give to the boys when they dare to make a mistake, and I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that!’ His body relaxed when he heard your reasoning. You had a valid point he though. He took his dancing very seriously and he would get upset when a mistake was made. As you knew full well, he was a perfectionist.

‘Ah – Just know that look comes from a place of love!’

‘It’s still a no!’

[alltheselights]

Hi Emma! I really value your opinion, and I was just wondering about your thoughts on everything? I.E. the fandom, Louis… You always seem so levelheaded compared to others so I wanted to ask. Have a good night!

My only real thoughts about it are that it's really tiring to be in this fandom and see what's happening with Louis. On principle, I'm probably an exception to a lot of Larries in that I don't really care if he wants to dunk on Larries, though he chose a really stupid way to do it. A large group of these fans try to make everything he does about Harry and disrespect him regularly. For me, that's not the part that really bothers me.....it's everything that comes along with it.

I wish I understood the contradictory choices that Louis makes regularly but I just don't. He wants success and enjoys success, but he continues to surround himself with incompetent team members who don't promote him properly. He wants a broader audience to enjoy his music, but nobody outside of his existing fanbase ever hears about his music unless it's from fans' efforts. He wants people to take him seriously as a musician and is annoyed by Larries, yet he pushes other aspects of his personal life to the forefront of his public image through interviews, his documentary, and tweets. He's proud of his most recent album and feels that it represents him as an artist, yet he cuts those songs from his setlist on tour and performs covers instead. He cares more about touring than anything, but he frequently skips songs from his setlist, doesn't put effort into his stage outfits (or even hair sometimes now), and has said several times that he's hungover and not feeling his best during his shows. He adores his fans and treats them incredibly well most of the time, but the fan interactions that frequently get traction with a broader audience are things like yesterday's rude tweets or him aggressively flipping off fans who tried to rip his clothes at the barricade (as deserved as that may be, it's not really a good look).

It's just.....so incoherent? Like I truly don't understand why he and the people around him make the choices that they do based on what he himself says he wants and cares about.

He's playing some massive venues on his Latin American tour, which was just announced, and yesterday was the perfect opportunity to talk about that and push how excited he is about it during his Twitter reply spree. Instead, even 24 hours later, all people are talking about is his reply to that Larrie when he could have just fucking ignored that stupid ass tweet. A bunch of things related to that tweet were trending on Twitter - along with "Freddie" because of his two tweets about his supposed child - and now there are articles about another Larry denial. Is Louis on tour? Has he put out any albums? Is he still a musician at all? Nobody in the general public has any idea, but at least they know that he denies Larry on a near yearly basis and that he has a kid that is apparently his twin. Congrats!

And it's annoying because solo Louies are so busy enjoying that a Larrie got publicly dunked on that they can't even see that this kind of shit actually doesn't help Louis at all. Oh, sure, it's driving away fans! And I know that a lot of solo Louies think Louis would be better off without Larries (and trust me, I feel that about some Larries too when they're making everything about a relationship instead of his career) but the reality is that Louis shouldn't drive away fans. There are ways to deal with annoying fans that don't include publicly degrading them and making MORE fucking headlines about rumors that you supposedly want to die out. If he was actually trying to expand his fanbase and then tried to get rid of fans that aren't here to appreciate him as an individual or his solo career, I could respect that.....but that's not what's happening. Instead, he drives away existing fans and does nothing to add new ones.

As someone who has loved him since 2012 and wants nothing more than his success, watching his lost potential over the course of so many years has been one of the worst things ever. I see things like what happened yesterday and see the reactions to it (both people getting angry and leaving AND people rejoicing because they're too short-sighted to realize that this doesn't solve problems and only hurts Louis in the long-run) and I just roll my eyes. I'm not upset, I'm not angry, I'm just tired. It's hard to keep saying that you want better for someone who doesn't seem to want better for themselves.

[charlewiss]

check yes, juliet / mick schumacher

masterlist

summary: mick and you have just started dating during the 2022-2023 break. he has to leave soon to start the season, but couldn't find a way to tell you how little time you two had left. what happens when time runs out for him? how could he fix it now?

word count: 1.775 words

warnings: parts like this are song lyrics. probably crappy ending cause apparently I don't know how to write good endings!!! also, the character is called juliet just to be accurate with the song but her name isn't really used. you can clearly put your own name over it haha

check yes juliet, are you with me?

he knew that avoiding a problem probably wasn't the brightest idea, but it was the only solution that mick found at the time. ever since your relationship began in the middle of the 2022-2023 break, after texting and seeing eachother back and forth during the previous season, he knew that soon enough you two had to stick to long distance due to his job and your career.

but he didn't know how to tell you. so he didn't.

of course you knew that eventually he had to go back to racing, and after all, you wouldn't dare to put yourself in the way of him achieving his dreams, but you didn't knew just how soon it was time for him to leave, again.

when there was one month left, mick thought he still had time. why would he ruin the 30 days that you two still had when you two could be making the most of it? knowing that -sooner rather than later- he would have to go back would make the passing days hurt a lot more. so he stayed quiet. you two would spend every waking moment together, and the nights were spent lost in eachother. and it was good. except for the clock ticking backwards on mick's brain.

and the clock almost run off. in two days time mick had to leave, and he hadn't found the way to tell you yet. corinna said that postponing it would only hurt more, but he didn't listen, and now two weeks had passed and he knew that he had fucked up massively. how could he tell you that he had to leave on friday morning now?

[3:33 pm] mick said: hey, you're busy?

[3:34] juliet said: just baking a lil something<33 what are u thinking about?

[3:35] mick said: want to have a picnic at the lake? angie needs to take a walk and i miss you

[3:36] juliet said: 4 pm it's alright with you?

[3:36] mick said: see you there baby

it was just over 4 pm and they had just arrived at the park, seated just beside the beautiful lake that had almost crystal clear water. it truly felt like a dream to you, even though mick was dreading it. after making a little small talk, chatting about his family, angie, how were you preparing to start the school year, and eating the cookies that you just took out of the oven, mick knew he had to break it off to you. it wasn't fair to keep you in the dark.

'hey, darling, I have to tell you something'

you had never seen mick quite like that. he was drawing shapes on your leg, which you learned he only did when he was too anxious about something. and your assumption was confirmed when he couldn't quite meet your eyes. 'what's wrong?' you asked him, while caressing his left cheek with your right hand. he leaned in your touch and closed his eyes, almost trying to freeze this moment in his memory. not wanting to let this moment go.

'i have to go... on friday' he said softly, and you almost didn't hear him. what? the blood in your face had seemingly run off and a sudden cold ran through your veins. so soon?

'i thought we had a bit more time' you said, still quite shocked. you took off your hand, and instead started petting angie that was by your feet. 'we had. i knew about it for almost a month. I just didn't want to ruin this' you looked at him shocked. a whole month.

mick's reaction time due to his job where extremely quick. and still, he could quite see how fast you got up and started running away. instead, he froze. and he knew, just as his mom had warned him, that he had fucked it up. after picking up your stuff in the quickest time he possibly could and grabbing angie, he started making his way back to your house that was just a couple of blocks away. he knew the road almost by heart now, and arrived in half the time it would normally take him. his fastest lap and he wasn't even in his car.

he was so into his thoughts, and thinking about every way that he could make it up to you, that mick hadn't noticed that the sky had turned almost black, and the clouds threatened to pour. when he reached your house, rain was already falling down on the sidewalk, soaking him wet. 10 missed calls and 20 unread texts later, he was growing impatient -and freezing cold-. after the thousandth time ringing the doorbell, the blue eyed boy started to play out his options. he wanted to make it right before leaving. 'i won't go until you come outside' he said, pounding at the door, knowing that you were inside listening. and still, you didn't answer.

when you peaked through the window and saw that he was still by your doorstep, hours later, all wet and, for sure, freezing cold, you couldn't avoid the sudden urge to send him a quick message, without answering to his previous texts.

[5:57 p.m] juliet said: go home mick

[5:57 p.m] juliet said: you'll freeze to death

[5:57 p.m] juliet said: we'll talk tomorrow

mick had been on the phone with his mother for a few minutes after he read the messages because he didn't know what to do. the blonde boy was seated at your doorstep, clothes tight due to the rain and with tears in his eyes when he realized that he won't get to talk to you today. he didn't know how he could focus on his job if he had to leave before you two could talk. he knew he couldn't afford to lose her, not when he tried to lessen the pain, only to backfire and cause you even more harm that he had intended to avoid in the first place.

after corinna scolded him -not really telling her son 'i told you so', cause she could hear how much mick was hurting from the other side of the phone-, she made him go back home, reminding him that you were a grown woman who could make her own decisions and that, eventually, you would hear him out when you were ready.

and still, that night, mick couldn't sleep. it was the first time in two months that he was sleeping alone, and it seemed like he had lost the ability to sleep without your warmth beside him. so he tossed and turned, until he grew tired of it. the clock told him it was 2 a.m, and he knew that you probably would be wide awake too, just like him, because your reoccurring nightmares were out of control without having the blonde boy by your side to calm you down.

check yes juliet, kill the limbo i'll keep tossing rocks at your window, there's no turning back for us tonight

[2:03 a.m] mick said: hey, you're up?

[2:04 a.m] mick said: can't sleep without you

[2:04 a.m] mick said: I have to leave tomorrow

[2:04 a.m] mick said: please let me fix this before i have to leave

[2:16 a.m] mick said: i'm outside

you lived just a couple of blocks away, so against his mother best judgment he decided to follow his own. when he arrived, he saw your night lamp on and by that he knew you were up. and he was right: even though you tried, you could sleep thinking about the blue eyed boy. you knew it was still too soon to face mick but if you didn't see him and talk it out before he left, you would regret it immensely.

you were taken off your thoughts when you heard the little knocks on your window. at first, you thought that it was on your imagination, until you heard them again a couple of seconds after. when you got close to the glass to see what was happening below, you saw him. 'c'mon, juliet. I know you're there. i'll keep tossing rocks at your window if you don't answer' mick shouted. god, your neighbors would kill you for sure if your boyfriend continued screaming into the quiet of the night.

trying to shut him up quickly, you got off the bed and made your way downstairs, opening the door as fast as you could once you found the keys. 'its 2 am, mick' you said matter-of-factly. the blonde boy sighed, already sensing the wall that you had put between you two, and how different your voice sounded compared to a few days ago when everything was right. 'can we talk, please?'

you knew that you were being maybe too hard on him, so you let him enter the house to go on with what he needed to say. after he sat on the couch, with his head in his hands, he continued, almost in a whisper. 'i know i should have told you earlier. I just didn't know how. we were having such a good time together, I didn't want to ruin it'

'yeah, but you should have told me, love. I knew that you had to leave. I'm not mad about it.' you said, still standing, but getting closer to where he was so you could gently stroke his hair. he leaned into your touch, now depositing his head on your stomach, still with his eyes glued to the floor. 'i know that you think we're not meant to be because of how different our lives look at the moment but I know we can make it work, darling' mick just couldn't hold the tears any longer and you felt it when his voice cracked at the end.

'come with me. you have a few weeks left before the school year starts. please' his blue eyes were now looking directly into yours. the room was dark cause the lights were turned off, but the moonlight that peeked through the blinds let you see the features in his face, staring softly at you. 'I won't leave without you'.

run, baby, run. forever we'll be you and me.

you sighed and rubbed your face with your hands, knowing that there was no possible outcome other than you agreeing to go with him. after a few seconds, you finally answered 'just two weeks'. immediately he was up on his feet and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. 'can we go to sleep now?' you giggled.

[adragonsfriend]

Ryloth Social, Historical, Cultural, Ideas

Writing a story using mythology is really cool because it makes me expand on the available cannon data about the culture of any character whose perspective I write from. Writing a story using mythology is also really hard because it makes me expand on the available cannon data about the culture of any character whose perspective I write from. (Most of this is about Ryloth and requires no knowledge of fialleril's Amavikka stuff, it's just present in the beginning)

The latest was Syndulla, and therefore, Ryloth:

Hikka Redsun/Syndulla's Family

I've said that his family, aside from one of his grandparents, come from Rhovari, a city on Ryloth which canonically exists but which there's hardly any information about. I've placed it on the northern continent (same as Lessu, the capital), but toward the south, bordering the massive forest that rings the equator.

Hikka Redsun is Syndulla's grandmother on his mother's side. She escaped slavery on Tatooine as a teenager and traveled to Ryloth, settling in the city of Rhovari, where she had a rough time at first. She gave birth to the child she was already carrying (one of the reasons she took the risk of escaping), a daughter I haven't named as of yet. She eventually married another Twi'lek she met there, by the name of Jennah Enullah. Syndulla's other grandparents are Rhovari as far back as anyone can remember, idk they weren't important to what I was writing. Redsun is an analogue to Whitesun, eg Beru Whitesun. As Skywalker is to Ekkreth, Redsun is to Dereia, so in Amatakka, Hikka would be Hikka Dereia.

Over the course of her lifetime, Hikka blended Amavikka storytelling traditions with those of her new home, which resulted in the story I wrote for Tales of Ryloth. That story was one of only a few Ekkreth stories she told to any members of her family. She was only a teenager when she left, and in her first few years, she wasn't focused on remembering lots of stories, so by the time she reached a point where she realized she wanted to hang onto them, she was already fuzzy on quite a few details. Her family on Ryloth were all freeborn, and didn't necessarily have a need for Ekkreth stories from her own. Those she did tell them were ones she altered or created to tell her own life story.

The story from Tales is her artistic interpretation of leaving Tatooine and her first few rough years in Rhovari. It uses Ryloth's animals and plants, and the single-day structure of lots of Rhovari stories, but places Ekkreth alongside them. It has a bit of a different structure and feel to most Amavikkan stories I've written, hopefully reflecting the influence it takes from Rhovari tradition.

Now, onto everything else this made me learn/create:

Mythology

Symbolism

Specifically for the Rhovari Twi'lek people:

Reliable, trustworthy things: rock, ground, mountains, betnek trees, the sun

Treacherous, scary things: any animal or plant (except betnek trees), darkness, rain,

Good things/good signs: light and warmth underground

Bad things/bad signs: cold, dark, mud, too much rain, too little rain

Format

Chants, songs, I mention war songs, idk

Many traditional myth-stories from Rhovari have events all told in the course of single day, usually starting in the morning and going into the night.

Homes

Tunnel vs Shallow Homes

Some communities have shallow homes like we see in Nabat in Clone Wars (Nera's home that waxer and boil visit is in Nabat), and other communities live in fully underground tunnel systems (the community I describe Syndulla's family living in is one of these). There's probably some deep prejudices over which way of living is better, especially between warring clans. These prejudices are probably less present in places like Lessu, which combine the two.

Also, by the time of the clone wars, I imagine there's a small but significant group who advocates for abandoning underground homes and living entirely above ground, assimilating to be like more of the rest of the galaxy. Orn Free Ta is one of these, and he probably works to defund programs which help preserve traditional homes in between doing other heinous crap.

Cave-hearths

Cave-hearths are the lowest rooms in tunnel homes, which are also the warmest because they are made closer to underground magma flows. These are community gathering places, just like a campfire would be. There are probably old traditional roles surrounding finding good places to dig for these.

Lessu

Ancient city

Lessu is a very old city, there have been Twi'leks living in the mountain as far back as there's written and archeological history.

Interestingly, the visible buildings in Clone Wars Lessu are a different color from the surrounding stone (white vs light brown). I'm aware that the actual reason for this is probably that it's easier to animate and see if they're different colors, but we're extrapolating right now, shhh. This means the stone for the buildings has to have been mined and brought from somewhere else, and then somehow transported onto a literal island. All that instead of using the naturally available rock all around.

Outer wall

The outer wall surrounding the city is classified as a historical site, and has legal protections surrounding how it can be modified (alas, no turbo lifts can be installed). For Twi'lek's from some communities (not Rhovari), the wall itself is a pilgimage site. The Separatists using it as a military defense (which was its original use, but hasn't been relevant in several centuries) would've been highly unpopular. The walls aren't as old as Lessu itself, but the first versions of it date back to some of the earliest known clan wars.

Landscape

Thought the city has been disconnected from the main landscape as far back as written history goes, there are oral traditions and mythology which have been passed down which indicate that there was once a land connection. The stories talk about the land bridge falling as a result of moral decline of some kind, and for a long time it was considered to be just that that, a story. That is until geological research (which happened quite a long time ago as of star wars present day) showed that there was a land bridge there which lasted long after the surrounding rock eroded away, due to some unique rock deposits there (or something, I'm not a geologist). The confirmation of the land bridge dates these oral traditions to originating much earlier than previously thought. (I stole this idea from real life. The specific occurrence that inspired this was tree species and aboriginal Australian traditions, but considering indigenous stories as one source of information to guide archeology is a developing field.)

Water

Lessu has probably, at various times, been surrounded by water. The canyon behind it is significantly larger and deeper than the rift in front of it, and has probably been wearing down for millions of years (still not a geologist, guess based on the grand canyon in the US). At the points when this canyon was full of water, maybe there were Twi'leks who accessed Lessu by boat. Also, at times when the canyon was only partly full, there could've been tunnels which had entrances down at the water level, but which became flooded when the water rose, or inaccessible when it fell.

Bridges

Various bridges have been built and destroyed in the time since the land bridge eroded.

Religion

I don't have any detailed thoughts on this, but I think there's probably a bigger religion common in Lessu that is much less connected to the land than Rhovari traditions. It's more mainstream, and it's what most people not from Ryloth would think of as "Twi'lek religion."

Slavery

Indigenous slavery

With frequent clan wars, prisoners are war were common, and for many clans, slavery of this form was an accepted part of their culture, especially before Ryloth had contact with the wider galaxy.

Hutt slavery and general capitalistic forces

When Ryloth fell under hutt (or zygerian?) control, a fully chattel slavery system developed, but it would likely have started with clans on Ryloth selling the slaves they already had off planet.

Transport of enslaved Twi'leks off planet is probably a big part of why Twi'leks are so common across the galaxy.

Family Names

Because of Rythoth's complicated history with slavery, there is some controversy about family names. Traditions vary across clans, but most follow a matrilineal tradition. This is controversial for some because it originates from slave owners wanting to keep track of who is an isn't enslaved under Hutt, chattel systems (Before paternity tests, the only parent people could be absolutely sure of was the mother, so tracking lineage by the maternal side makes for more stable societal lines between free/enslaved people. Also other, arguably worse effects I won't get into here).

After joining the Republic and getting some protection from the Hutts, the matrilineal tradition remained, and came to include marriage as well, for many clans.

This origin makes maternal family names controversial for some, who instead choose patralineal or completely alternate naming traditions. This is present in Tales with Hikka's daughter noted as taking her husband's name, Syndulla.

Gender

We see some pretty clear gender roles on Ryloth in the Clone Wars episodes I've watched, and we see there are differences in how men and women dress. Twi'leks are noted as being similar enough to humans to produce fertile offspring together, so I figure that cultural and biological whatever are pretty similar about gender, eg the range of binary, queer, intersex, etc are all present in Twi'leks. Whether queer twi'leks are openly accepted probably varies clan to clan.

Male twi'leks are seen as fighters--all of the rebels who invaded Ryloth were male.

Female twi'leks are very much present in the Rebellion, seeming to take on support roles.

It's pretty boring trad gender role stuff, honestly just human writers projecting their ideas directly. Pretty meh.

I think Hera Syndulla gets a kind of cultural pass to be a fighter based on Cham Syndulla being her father, like the hollywood "my father was the great scientist blah blah and I must be as great as him" woman scientist trope. I also think Hera's pissed off about this being the only reason many people are okay with her fighting.

Language

I think Ryl/Twi'leki is a gendered language with a masculine bias, like the romance languages have.

In conclusion,

I gave myself a sandbox with Tales of Ryloth and really expected myself not to play in it. You'd think I would learn at some point.

[yanderecrazysie]

I was listening to One Direction for some nostalgia and it got me thinking about boy band Twisted Wonderland again.

Heartslabyul has the most members but they're always on the verge of breaking up because of how badly they get along (or so the tabloids say, but who can trust them?) Although Riddle is technically the lead singer, the fans argue that Trey should probably be lead, and not necessarily because of his voice.

Deuce is always bashful around his fans, which earns him a lot of love, but Cater is the one who interacts with him the most. He purposefully goes out without a disguise, causing girls to flock to him, but he just smiles and takes selfies with them all, making him very popular.

Ace 100% plays an electric guitar when singing the rock songs and I think Cater would play a classic guitar with all the love songs. It's very attractive to the fans to have boys that can sing and play an instrument.

Trey acts like a dad to them all, of course, but sometimes he functions as a second manager when their poor official manager can't keep the boys in check.

Riddle is very strict with their schedule, diet, etc. Ace fights this the most, but Riddle has his ways to make him behave, even if it's shoving fruits down his gullet to make him eat healthy.

Octavinelle may be a smaller boyband, but they are very, very popular. How could they not be with handsome Azul and equally handsome twins! You know fans go wild over handsome twins.

They're known for not a lot of fan interaction, except for Floyd, who also does not wear a disguise when he goes out. At least, if he feels like it that day. He's very laid back and the fans like that.

Jade is in charge of merchandising, even though Azul is the lead singer. Jade studies what fans want to buy and is very strategic in what he allows to be made of him.

They definitely go after anyone who makes unofficial merch with lawsuits. They're, unfortunately, mostly about the money when it comes to their boyband lol.

Savanaclaw is known for their vastly different band members. Leona is lazy af and never does encores. He also doesn't interact with fans. Still, they love him, because aloof = hot.

Ruggie still follows Leona around like a puppy, but he's a little more friendly with the fans, although he kind of thinks of some of them as a little pathetic, and will sometimes laugh about that with Leona.

Jack, on the other hand, is an absolute sweetheart. All the fans love him because he's the only one who interacts with them. He loves getting hugs from his fans, makes him tear up a little.

Scarabia is more of a duo I guess, but maybe they have some other residents back them up. Kalim is massively popular for his airheadedness and fan interaction, but Jamil is also very popular for his looks and the way he kind of manipulates his fans to look at him and not Kalim.

Kalim doesn't need the money, but he wastes it on all sorts of crazy stuff. Jamil only joined because Kalim wanted him to, but he feeds off of fans' love for him. He definitely feeds off of the fans that hate Kalim and love him, that's for sure.

I haven't played Chapter 6 and 7 (or whatever) yet so I can't think of the other two dorms' boy bands, but maybe you guys have some ideas lol

[lastcompact]

>> You felt it before you saw it, like suddenly being caught up in a wave. An invisible shimmering something seemed to come out from the ceiling and go through everyone and everything. A phenomenon so large that you could do nothing but accept it. No one else in the room, the Vatican Templars, seemed to notice what happened.

>> But before you could shout a warning, numerous blue screens popped up into your view.

--

[ The current Domain has been overwritten because its Creator has been killed. ] [ You have entered a new Domain. ] [ You do not have Approval of the domain creator. ] [ -20% stat penalty has applied. The status effect Mutation is applied. ] [ You are currently undergoing Mutation. ] [ Duality has provided resistance against Mutation. The nature of your soul is currently protecting your body. Warning: It is advised you leave the area. ] [ You are at the center of a Reality Revision. Warning: It is advised you leave the area. ] [ Fourth Wall has triggered. You have resisted. ] [ Fourth Wall has triggered. You have resisted. ] ...

---

>> It feels like something - like a tendril - is trying to enter your ear and get into your head.

>> It's giving you a massive headache. Unfortunately, you have no time to dwell on it as four of the five guards around you suddenly contort like a mockery of the robot-dancing song, bones inhumanely cracking and snapping as red vine-like appendages come out of the joints.

>> They become thinner and thinner as if their bodies were being used to fuel their inhuman transformation. In less than ten seconds, vaguely-human husks in metal armor hang off from what passes for a tree.

>> Oh, and the spined vines, thicker than a person's thigh, all whip towards you and the untransformed man.

>> You pedal backwards towards the conference room, avoiding the vines. You vaguely perceive a whistling sound behind the door and immediately duck. The door explodes into shrapnel, and you can see a greenish bark-like bullet sail over your head. The screaming and fighting are even louder now, and you could spot Sato moving at superhuman speeds - using Battle Song - to stay ahead of a man with a Funny Hat - except he's not so funny when he's standing a gangly 9 feet tall with vines replacing his torn muscles and shooting bark spires from his ribcage.

[ Observe ]

>> Instead of the nice orderly description you normally get, an uncontrolled flood of information hits your already strained mind. Instead of words, you get blasted by conceptual ideas instead, containing more information than a human mind is meant to process. You're pretty sure your nose is bleeding from the taste of copper on your lips. Ultimately, the gist of the ideas was essentially < mutation, transformation >. In other words, don't get hit."

>> Something that Sato most definitely didn't do given the smoldering blood and bark in her right side. You immediately dash towards Sato and deflect the next batch of bark spires that Funny Hat sends her way. The other men who managed to survive the initial Mutation are all trying to placate Funny Hat and their colleagues who have turned into vine-tree creatures.

>> With that momentary reprieve, your mind addresses the other elephant in the room.

>> A black portal, reeking death, could be seen at the back of the room. The placement of everything in the room is somewhat awkward as if everything inside was rearranged for the purpose of putting the portal up front. Combined with all the Cross imagery and a weird crucified man, you can't help but wonder if these guys caused what's going on. Eerie black portal, cult imagery, crucified person - etc.

>> Yet despite the obvious answer provided to you, you just know that it isn't the right answer.

>> Sato reaches you, holding her wound. She seems confused, her eyes squinting and the first thing she says is:

"I think something just messed with my memory. I don't remember why I'm here."

"Ugh, you too? Damn it."

>> Funny Hat fires another torrent of bark your way while the vinefolk lash out at everyone in general.

"Oh, screw off!"

>> You manifest your Nihil Bat into existence and mold it into the form of a javelin. You immediately throw it forward, augmented by both Battle Song and your Kinesis. It nails tall and angry into a wall, who proceeds to seeth at everyone.

>> The distraction buys you time for both of you to head out another corridor - and as you quickly make your way outside the fancy-looking compound - was this a religious city? - It becomes evident that "Exiting the Area" will be easier said than done.

>> Fuck. Did whatever happened hit the entire city?

---

>> The world is covered in a faintly green hue, but what caught your immediate attention was the humongous red-and-green trees everywhere, taller than most buildings, sundering the earth and blotting out the sky. The trees has both flowers and fruits - the large fruits, shaped like a cross between an apple and a pear, fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

>> There's a dangerous sweetness to the air that's already started to ping Fourth Wall. Sato's visibly wincing and pressing her temples in an headache. You offer some cloth to act as a mask, which she silently obliges.

>> There are more vine-people-trees in the street, whipping their red-green vines towards anything and everything. Creatures similar to Funny Hat wander aimlessly with their gangly limbs, stumbling on occasion as if not used to walking.

>> Fire is everywhere. So many crashed cars in the streets - and roads and pipes have been overturned by the roots of the enormous trees. And from the looks of it, the roots can move too as fire agitated them.

"...What the heck is that?"

>> You turn your head in the direction that Sato is facing.

>> A Green Sun in the middle of the night, glowing ominously.

>> It doesn't take a genius that this was probably the source of everything.

>> Habit makes you want to [ Observe ] it, but you know you can't afford to. Not after nearly getting brained by using it on Funny Hat. You becoming incapacitated now will get both of you killed.

"Not sure, but it's probably the cause of this mess. We have to get away from here. I'm going to see if Crowley, Erna, or Kris are availa-No luck."

>> You can't seem to access a Daydream to access Tunglr, just a vague normal one. The reason could either be the black portal in Fort Cult or the Green Sun in the sky, but you're shit out of luck from that direction.

>> Sato takes out her satellite phone out of a purse and proceeds to dial a number.

>> You worriedly look at the wound in her side and begin opening your mouth. Sato interrupts you though.

"Lev, I'm fine. I'm sturdier than I look. I'm not gonna turn into one of those things. Hmm, damn it, no signal."

>> She then clicks her tongue and shuts off her phone.

"I'm guessing we run through this mess and hopefully stay intact."

"It's better than staying still and turning into those plant-people for certain."

>> She sighs dramatically as she stands up. You can feel her usage of Battle Song, internal energy cycling through her body, as she prepares for the trek.

"I'm supposed to be a rich gal hanging out with my girlfriend, getting high on designer drugs and making other bad life decisions."

>> You roll your eyes.

"Well, coming here counts as a bad life decision, so you have at least two of the three down."

>> Sato sighs.

[miastideclock]

lee felix, "how incredible."

word count: 807 warnings: not edited requested by: no one notes: i have no idea how this thing came to be, but i hope you enjoy it??

♡

how incredible isn't it that scents can trigger detailed memories, or how songs can trigger intense emotions.

the smell of a specific brand of moisturizer that takes you to summer two years ago.

suddenly your skin is hot from laying in the sun all day, and you've just gotten out of the shower. you needed to get the sand and salt water out of your hair, as you and felix had spent almost the entire day at the beach.

you're sitting on the floor in front of the massive hotel-mirror, doing your skincare. the room is filled with noises of the ocean crashing against the shore outside, the traffic on the road and the shower in your bathroom running.

you squeeze the tube of face cream onto the back of your hand, until your desired amount was out. the sound of the shower stop as you dot the moisturizer all over your face before you rub it in.

felix emerges from the washroom, his wet hair dripping onto his t-shirt. he grins widely while he walks over to you and gives your forehead a kiss, a few drops of water falling onto your skin and getting mixed in with the cream.

"the sun made your freckles so vibrant!"

♡

the taste of a specific brand of soup reminds you of early spring last year.

suddenly you're wearing that itchy sweater again, trying to ignore it while you were staring into the microwave. it was the only item of clothing you were willing to wear while painting the kitchen of your new apartment, which was why you were wearing felix's old sweatpants to match your look.

the microwave was in the middle of the living room floor, it being the only thing in the entire room except you and felix. you had just gotten the keys to your new apartment that day, and had yet to get any actual furniture in there. so for now, it was just the two of you and the microwave, heating up your dinner.

"can you believe we're actually here?"

felix asked you after the microwave beeped, signalling that your soup was finished. he took it out and handed it to you, replacing it with a new cup of soup, warming up his own meal.

you place the soup down on the floor in front of you and push back the sleeves of your sweater, grabbing your spoon once you had done so.

there was a charm to eating an instant meal on the floor of your unfurnished apartment as your first meal in your new home.

♡

the first few seconds of your favorite 'throwback' song that takes you back to that one morning a few months ago.

suddenly you were turning over in bed, trying to figure out what the commotion that woke you was. much to your surprise, you found felix standing in the doorway dancing around to the music that came from the living-room speakers. he had obviously been awake for a while, and was bored of being the only one up.

he did this from time to time.

you couldn't help but laugh as he jumped so his back was facing you, bending over slightly and shaking his backside in a vigorous manner. your laugh made him flip back around, it informing him that his mission had been successful.

"come dance with me!"

he bounced over to you and pulled you out of bed, twirling you around before you could as much take in the situation. considering how confused and little prepared you were, it wasn't surprising that you almost fell over, laughing as felix caught you.

♡

and how the feeling of your bare feet touching the cold floor will forever remind you of last night.

you're standing in the hallway of your shared apartment, staring at the front door that slammed shut about twenty-two hours ago. you had tried to go on about your day a few times since then, but you somehow found yourself back in the hallway every single time.

staring at the door wouldn't make it move, yet your eyes didn't budge. they were glued to the gold handle, begging and praying that it would move if you just focused on it enough. if you looked at it long enough, it would open. even if it did open, you weren't sure what you wanted to be on the other side. ideally, it would be the door to the past, so you could change whatever the hell it was that happened last night- but it wasn't. it was just a door. the same door felix slammed behind him after your fight the night prior. after you broke up.

"i never wanna see you again."

the words echoed through your head as you kept your feet grounded in the same place, staring at the same spot on the door, longer than you care to admit.

cheers, bentley♡

[pixiemage]

Weird question but how did you come up with the idea for your There’s Not a Word Yet Team Rancher au? Been wondering that.

-🍄

Well hey there anon! Not a weird question at all!

The short answer is that I happened across this post during the days leading up to the crossover, and my brain wouldn't shut up until I wrote a 2.4k word one-shot about it...and then people asked for more, and inspiration struck.

But LONG answer: when I initially found Ravio's post, I was in the midst of a MASSIVE cosplay project, deep in convention crunch mode. I'd been spending days making feathers by hand so I could finish Grian's wings in time for con and I ended up scrolling through Tumblr on a break...and found that post. At the time, I'd told myself I couldn't write anything for it until after my convention was over despite the replies I left underneath the post in question.

Except my brain is a gremlin that won't take no for an answer when an idea strikes, so I wrote out my little one-shot that same day and left it at that. I left a "Haha I mean if you guys WANT more I might write more, just not until after Halloween! ^^;" in the author's notes...but I told myself I could NOT WRITE ANYTHING ELSE until after I was back from con.

....and then I left my Team Rancher playlist on in the background while I made feathers, the comments came in for the first chapter, and Pixie's Gremlin Brain went "Oh but one more wouldn't hurt...just write a Tango POV. Just write it. The crossover JUST started, take inspiration from that and start where the crossover started. Give Tango his botched reunion moment, give him a moment of weakness, let him defend his soulmate and then scatter them all to the wind."

So I did. Four days and 7k words later, Chapter 2 dropped, and I jumped right back into feather hell with renewed vigor. Since then the story has kind of grown around me on its own, some parts inspired by comments, some by bits from the actual crossover, and some by the songs I started finding and adding to the playlist that I started building for TNaWY as I painted over a hundred feathers made of EVA foam. I have a pretty solid timeline in my head now but every so often I'll come across a new song/fic comment and wonder "Is there room for one more thing?"

....so hey, for something that was only meant to be 2.4k words at its end, I really only have Ravio and the comment section (and maybe CirceSays and Hybbat, thanks for random bits of inspo!) to thank for how much bigger There's Not a Word Yet has become!

[dancing-to-architecture]

24 - Amy Winehouse - Back to Black (2006)

Well, the only song i know going in is Rehab. Never was that big an Amy Winehouse fan...not for any real reason, i just never really was super into what I'd heard on the radio at the time, but in my defense, it was 2006.

I was a dramatically different person back then.

•Rehab-

Yeah, girl... You really should have gone to rehab. It always sucks when someone writes a really catchy song that ironically illuminates their own death, and it sucks even worse when that song is a massive hit that ultimately springboards you directly to said ironic death.

•You Know I'm No Good-

Okay, I've heard this one somewhere, but no idea where. I really dig the loungey/speakeasy vibe, but there's a point where i just have to say damn girl, keep it in your pants. You're the architect of your own pain, here.

•Me & Mr. Jones-

Can't really tell if she loves him or hates him. Probably both.

•Just Friends-

Love that guitar/smooth sax combo and oh shit it went reggae on me. Really subtly mournful lyrics, imo.

•Back to Black-

Sounds like an extension of Just Friends, or yet another similar nebulous quasi-relationship. Noticing a running theme throughout of 'wanting things she can't have', for one reason or another. Or simply wanting things, damn the consequences.

And man, she was a great vocalist.

•Love Is A Losing Game-

Those subtle string stains in the background really elevate this one, imo. (Then again I'm a big fan of Florence, so i might be biased towards strings.)

What a sad song to use as a midpoint.

•Tears Dry On Their Own-

I really like the Ain't No Mountain High Enough remix going on. Very upbeat, especially right after the last song, but still sad within the lyrics.

This is the exact moment you switch from loneliness to solitude. Sure I'm by myself but damnit, right now, I'm fine with that.

•Wake Up Alone-

When the almost manic euphoria from Tears Dry has faded a bit, it's two months later, and you are still doing what you can to be strong.

Damn it, it's hard and you knew it was gonna be hard but you've gotta get through it regardless of how your dreams fuck with you.

•Some Unholy War-

Anthem for those Ride or Die folks. Except it feels a LOT more like "Ride *and* Die" in this particular case.

•He Can Only Hold Her-

Okay i reread the lyrics like 5 times and oi honestly can't tell if she's in another relationship or if she's in a coma.

Could be I'm just not getting this one. Love the instrumentation, though.

•Addicted-

Nothing worse than a guy coming around and smoking all your hard earned weed without even offering to throw in. 100% behind Amy on this one, bring a bag with you or fuck off out of here.

It's a damn shame that she died so young, but she seemed like a woman out of time. She seems born to be playing a smoky club room filled with nervous drinkers 70+ years ago.

That said, a banger opener, a banger closer, and the saddest damn song on the album right smack in the middle...

Favorite Track: Rehab or Addicted, honestly. Both are incredible.

Least Favorite Track: He Can Only Hold Her, only because I'm really not sure what it's even about, and the lyrics on every other song on the album felt so much stronger than this one.

[accounting4taste42]

T.S. ELIOT AND PRESENCE

[TL:DR as I age and I am "Being" differently, more present, different poems of his speak to me differently yet still eloquently]

I was 15 when I discovered the poetry of Thomas Stearns Eliot within the *Norton Anthology of Poetry.* Nearly 50 years later, I'm reading him completely differently. Back then, I was smitten by "The Hollow Men," which can still be read as quintessential teenage angst:

===

Shape without form, shade without colour,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.

===

It ends famously, in italics:

===

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

===

I discovered that I had to memorize Eliot before I could begin to make sense of his writings.

Next came "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." I created a verb, "to Prufrock," which is to take the notion of the most modest of molehills and turn it into something so massive and overwhelming that to take that action would disturb the universe, which could not be dared, because it wouldn't have been worth it and because the would-be protagonist was so insignificant anyway that even if he attempted to do so it would have been completely misunderstood.

But then, glossing over "The Waste Land" until much later, I found "Burnt Norton," the first of his 4 Quartets. I endeavored to memorize the complete works of T.S. Eliot before I graduated high school, but after much of "Burnt Norton," my brain was full.

But it is "Burnt Norton" that still speaks to me today, as it is about presence, and time. It was written after a walk through the garden outside the mansion of the name with Emily Hale, "The Hyacinth Girl" of "The Waste Land," written for her, the woman he did not marry, but was nonetheless in love with whom he had created her to be 15 years earlier. We create the idea of who the other people are in our life. He was in love at the time, he would later write, not with Ms. Hale, but rather with the "ghost" of the Emily he knew decades earlier.

It begins:

===

Time present and time past

Are both perhaps present in time future

And time future contained in time past.

If all time is eternally present

All time is unredeemable.

What might have been is an abstraction

Remaining a perpetual possibility

Only in a world of speculation.

What might have been and what has been

Point to one end, which is always present.

Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we never opened

Into the rose-garden. My words echo

Thus, in your mind.

But to what purpose

Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves

I do not know.

===

A lament, and yet acknowledging how fruitless it is to mourn the road not taken or a future the will not be embraced.

He ends the first section of the poem:

===

Time past and time future

What might have been and what has been

Point to one end, which is always present.

===

*Always* present.

Later in the poem:

===

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;

Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,

But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,

Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,

Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,

There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.

I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.

And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.

===

He can't place it in time because it is always present -- the still point of the turning world, the in-between of past and future.

The second part ends:

===

Time past and time future

Allow but a little consciousness.

To be conscious is not to be in time

But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,

The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,

The moment in the draughty church at smokefall

Be remembered; involved with past and future.

Only through time time is conquered.

===

There is more to the poem. He brings in religion and damnation, evoking Dante. Some might read my perceptions of these poems and paraphrase a line from "Prufrock" and protest:

"That is not what he meant at all

That is not it at all."

But "The Hollow Men", as brilliant as it still is with its memorable haunting lines, nor longer speaks for me. For decades I identified with Mr. Prufrock, and while it is still an amazing poem which I likely will still be able to recite when I can't remember my own name, he no longer resembles me, nor I him.

But now, as I aspire towards Being, and Presence, I am conscious to not be in time, for all emotion is temporal, either as laments or nostalgia for the past, or as apprehension or excitement for the future. To be fully present is to be at the still point of the turning world....

[space-morningstar]

Seeing how horrible the AMAs were yesterday with Ghost really makes me think about how crazy it was, I mean, it was thanks to the FANS that Ghost won the votes and that makes me proud.

Ghost is famous but for some reason the media doesn't like them.

The bands that were nominated were: Coldplay, Imagen Dragon, Machine Gun Kelly and Red Hot Chili Peppers.

All of those are THE bands with THE fame.

RHCP is good, they're known and they have those almost identical sounding songs that burn your brain for a while (in a good way, the same way a beer relaxes you) and makes you have a good time, and people KNOW THEM. I had heard of the band even before Jojos or even getting into listening to rock.

MGK is that guy, he's popular, he looks weird IS weird, the media loves him for how weird he is, even if you haven't heard any of his songs you have a vague idea of who he is because he has an IMAGE.

And lastly there's Dragon Image and Coldplay…. They are SUPER well known bands, their songs have been almost everywhere, Dragon Image is so well known they were even on Arcane! And Coldplay? You can say whatever about that band and that they only have 2 songs or whatever but they are famous and well known, and this year was competing the album that had their collaboration with BTS…. ARMY… Dudes it's not just any fandom it's ARMY and Coldplay, that's massive.

And yet, Ghost won. It beat all those bands and WON against all odds, WE DID IT, WE DID IT

The AMAs didn't expect that, they did the worst job possible, they were awful but that doesn't take away from the fact that Ghost was there, they won even when the AMAs didn't want them to.

They televised all the other award shows in the Rock categories EXCEPT the best album category which was the one Ghost won. The journalists didn't even have the dignity to do a decent investigation or even have people from the rock media themselves, the picture on the back-up chair wasn't of the band and they didn't even allow the acceptance speech to be made.

Ghost won that award and proved that even if the AMAs didn't want it there the band deserved that award, GHOST WAS THERE AND WON.

Their success is undeniable 🔥

[hopelesshawks]

You know me about as well as I know you♡ so just gonna drop this here and match me up doll♡♡♡ :* I have absolutely so much trust in your decision

We love an emotional anthem especially for fic inspiration, hell yea! One listen, already had an idea of where I wanted to take this. Y’all gotta stop enabling me by giving me songs that beg for hurt/comfort and by stop I mean please don’t, I love hurt/comfort with a fiery passion

This turned into a lot of angst/mini exploration of grief with a hopeful ending and I hope that’s ok bc I kind of love it but also kind of feel bad fulfkydykxkt

Warning for mention of past character deaths, this thing starts at a memorial service 💀

Allmight’s skeletal form looks even more frail than usual as he moves behind the podium at the front of the room. His black suit hangs off his figure, only contributing to the almost ghostly image the man makes. As if he’s the one that died all those years ago during Shigaraki’s bloody war against the establishment. The former number one hero clears his throat, shuffling the papers in front of him awkwardly before beginning to make his speech.

At the back of the room Todoroki tunes the words out. Every year they hold this memorial service. Every year Allmight speaks in the vain hope that having the former symbol of peace at the front of the room will somehow lessen the impact of the tragedy. Yet every year the words sound just as hollow and none of Shouto’s friends that fell that day miraculously rise from the dead.

If Midoriya were here he’d probably still be hanging onto Allmight’s every word even though they may as well be the same as last year’s. But he isn’t here. The only piece of him inside this godforsaken room is the massive bronze statue that sits behind where Allmight spews empty words, the new symbol of peace and the new symbol of victory stood beside each other, strong, leaning on each other for support, brothers in arms about to face their own deaths in order to stop the League of Villains.

Bakugo would fucking hate it if he were here to see it.

Shouto doesn’t miss the fact that the statue makes Bakugo and Midoriya look older than they were. There’s a sturdiness to their muscles they never actually had time to build, a sense of height they never got time to reach. They look closer to how old Shouto is now than the children they were when the pro heroes let a couple first years shoulder the weight of the greatest threat Japan has ever and likely will ever face.

Endeavor rises to join Allmight at the front for the next part of the ceremony and Shouto barely refrains from letting his bitter disappointment in the two show on his face. The old symbol of peace and the old symbol of victory stand in front of a statue of the new, who died cleaning up the messes of their predecessors.

Shouto is resolved to stand in the back, stewing in his grief and anger, when a presence suddenly appears at his side. He turns to register the new arrival and his eyes widen in surprise when he finds you leaning casually against the wall beside him. At an event filled with cruel repetition this is new. He hasn’t seen you since graduation except for in glimpses on patrols and in clips on the news. The room is heavy and yet you somehow seem to carry the burden so much better than he’s ever managed to.

“Long time no see,” you tell him in a hushed voice that somehow still drowns out those of Allmight and his father.

Somehow you have changed so much and yet so little. It’s still your same voice. Your same voice that carried teasing words and laughter on the way to the cafeteria after training.

Your same voice that kept him conscious as he was dragged away from the broken bodies of his friends on a battlefield none of them had any business on in the first place.

Your same voice that used to make his stomach flip and his heart race back when his primary concern was just finding new ways to piss off his dad.

“Yea…”

The reply is probably too late, too breathy, and isn’t it ridiculous that he’s at a memorial for fallen heroes, including his best friends, and yet it’s your presence alone that has him struggling for words.

“C’mon,” you finally say, a sympathetic yet conspiratorial smile pulling your lips as you grasp his hand and pull him from the room.

The service isn’t over. He’s never left the service early even if he hates every single second of it. Reporters might notice, someone may say something, but then you turn back to look at him and make sure he’s still following even though his hand hasn’t slipped from yours and Shouto finds he doesn’t care.

He barely notices as you rush him to the parking lot, pausing only to ask which car is his before urging you both that way.

“I can’t drive so I’m counting on you ok?” you ask him with a smile. He can only nod dumbly as he lets you shove him into the driver’s seat of his own car before moving around to the other side to slide into the passenger seat and join him.

“Take us to the nearest highway,” you instruct and he only nods as he turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot just a touch faster than is advisable.

Your fingers fiddle with the radio until you settle on a station you like and when the car starts to pick up speed on the highway you roll your window down so your hair can blow in the breeze. With each meter further you two get away from the memorial service Shouto feels some of the tension ease from his shoulders until his back is resting fully against the seat and he doesn’t have to think so consciously about not gripping the steering wheel hard enough to damage it.

“I hate that memorial service.”

The words are out before he even knows he’s going to say them.

“I know, that’s why I pulled you out,” you say as if the words aren’t enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

He remembers the offer of support you extended to him a decade ago and marvels at the fact you’re still offering it now even though he’d ignored it back then. He doesn’t know what to say but thankfully you seem to have the words.

“It’s always the same isn’t it? Every year they dredge up the pain of the past and ignore the trauma of all of us, the—“

“Lucky ones.”

You both say the moniker at the same time, having heard it over and over in the years since Shigaraki’s defeat. That’s what they call the survivors from 1A. As if there’s anything to feel lucky about when he attends memorial services while most people his age are attending weddings.

“We are though… Lucky I mean. It feels wrong to say but we are. If they’d let us actually move on maybe we’d actually get to feel that way,” you continue and it throws Shouto just slightly off kilter. Funny how it never occurred to him that maybe being called lucky feels wrong because it’s always done in the same breath as grieving the unlucky.

“I…”

Shouto hesitates. He’s never admit this out loud to anyone.

But he looks at you and he sees a bright smile and a fresh UA uniform and the same girl he had a crush on from the first day of class and the same girl that dragged him across a battlefield so he didn’t end up another bronze figure looking older than he ever actually got to be at a memorial service a decade later.

He blinks and he sees you as you are. The smile not as bright but still beautiful, the uniform replaced by a black dress fit for a funeral.

“I don’t think I deserve to feel that way.”

There it is. The guilt finally voiced out loud. His darkest confession: some part of him feels broken beyond repair, like you should’ve left him there to rot with his his best friends.

His eyes are trained on the road, tears he refuses to shed blurring the edges of his vision so much so that he feels one of your hands slip over one of his on the steering wheel before he sees it.

“You do,” you say with total conviction, “and they would kick your ass if they heard you say anything different.”

A wet laugh chokes out his mouth as he pictures it now. Midoriya fretting, mouth moving a mile a minute as he mumbles through a lengthy explanation of precisely why Shouto deserves to move on from the pain and the grief. Bakugo growling, his words sharp and insulting to hide the care and consideration laced through each one.

Shouto releases the hand beneath yours from the steering wheel and flips it over so his palm meets yours. You lace your fingers together with his. He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and brushes a kiss over your knuckles, gentle and sacred.

You smile and Shouto feels lucky.