snaillock

[snaillock]

i did not think i would be coming back here but

WDYMMM alejandro is voicing sae’s eng dub???

the man who has also cyno, jing yuan, smoked cheese cookie. aka a bunch of characters that i really love?

he’s voicing one of my all time favorite babes in blue lock?

and you see, my biggest gripe about it is that… this really doesn’t suit sae… alejandro’s voice is just too grown for a character in his late teens. like no 18 year old boy should have that much bass

[snaillock]

Stand with us in these difficult moments in our lives 🍉🌿🇵🇸

Me and my small family (old mother, wife and little daughter) are trying to survive the blockade and the bombs.

This is not an evacuation fundraiser but rather a fund to pay for basic goods such as water, which has quadrupled in price since October, and food, which is being sold at exhorbitant prices.

Gofund link:

I used to be an accountant at a very successful restaurant in Gaza (Italianoo 🍕)

which has since been bombed and destroyed, and the owners of the restaurant were killed.

It is devastating to see everything you worked so hard for and everyone involved with it vanish in the blink of an eye. It is even harder to struggle to survive after it.

Please do not hesitate to help Hatem and his family !

Greetings from my little daughter

Greetings from Gaza to all Palestinian supporters 🍉🇵🇸🌿

[snaillock]

Ur so cool we love u pls don't die on a random Tuesday afternoon at exactly 4 PM in ur living room <3 kisses kisses

wait hold on hold on PAUSE 😭😭

[snaillock]

you know what’s killing me? it’s how everytime someone recreates the blue lock animation as a joke on tiktok and it’s literally the same as the actually anime.

of course the art itself isn’t the same like i just saw someone do a live action version of it and someone else did theirs on msp but the actual movements? the exact same even down to the special effects they use.

it’s so goddamn hilarious to me. like it’s not hard to redo this shit on like capcut. it’s literally just tweening but devolved. i mean there’s a literal powerpoint transition used in the anime.

[snaillock]

Aiku’s character profile in a nutshell:

[snaillock]

yall i have not watched a SINGLE episode of bllk season 2 but PLEASEEEEEE tell me that page flip clip was fake

PLEASEEEEE BRO

that cannot be real i refuse to believe it

[snaillock]

Hello, my name is Ahmad Al-Louh, and I am from Gaza. Before the war, I worked as a lawyer, dedicating my life to helping others, seeking justice, and defending the oppressed. Today, I am no longer the lawyer who protects others;

I am a father desperately trying to protect his children from the horrors of war.

My two little ones, Orhan and Helana, go to sleep every night to the sounds of bombs and missiles. All I wish for is to give them one more day of life. Just five dollars could be the difference between life and death for my small family. My parents, my siblings, my wife, and my children all depend on me, and all I ask is for you to stand by me in this nightmare we are living.

Please, help spread my voice. Help me save my children and my family. I hope my message reaches your hearts.

IM VETTED HERE

[snaillock]

Help this person receive money to buy medicine for her grandmother!!

she’s very very close to her goal so 5 dollars can go a really long way. if you are unable to donate, then please share!

Hope in shadows:Help me get insulin for grandma.

My family is still staying in half of the church that wasn’t affected by the bombing because there is nowhere else to stay other than tents. They are limited to one small meal a day and one shower a week. They are sleeping on the floors, but no one can sleep since there is bombing everywhere around them. Even when there is no bombing, they can still hear the loud buzzing sound of the military planes above them, which would keep anyone who hears it awake. Along with everything, My grandma has diabetes and osteoporosis, so she can’t walk. She has to take her insulin medication along with many others; however, she has run out of many of her medications.” Am on my knees requesting for donation. Target $450

Thank you so much for agreeing to support me ...... kindly every little dollar matters a lot.

RECEIVED$370/$450

DONATION LINK

[snaillock]

and then people act like this isn’t genocide

[snaillock]

Kaiser.

[snaillock]

ALIEN SKINCARE. v! blue lock/male! reader. originally posted on quotev.

In your eyes, you're a perfectly normal and ordinary hardworking teen with a perfectly healthy and in no way overtuned passion for football. With how pleasant you are, dictionaries should put your picture as the definition of a "model student", ignoring the persistent dullness of your gaze and the itch beneath your skin that simply won't go away. Unfortunately, your team is a circus, and your teammates are the type of clowns that make little kids cry. Fortunately, a certain obsessive basement-dweller offers you an opportunity (that is definitely not a scam) that you've been yearning for!

MASTERLIST.

CHAPTER I. YOU JUST LOVE BEING NOTHING, RIGHT? CHAPTER II. WHEN THE LOCK IS BLUE AND THE WORLD IS ENDING. CHAPTER III. ARE YOU SEEING MY ABUNDANT VIRTUE? ARE YOU? CHAPTER IV. JUST KICK THE DAMN BALL, PERCHANCE. CHAPTER V. WAYS TO WASTE TIME (AND YOUR WORDCOUNT). CHAPTER VI. ???

[snaillock]

ALIEN SKINCARE. v! blue lock/male! reader. originally posted on quotev. masterlist.

CHAPTER I. YOU JUST LOVE BEING NOTHING, RIGHT?

Your daily routine is a terribly ordinary, if not a rather dull one. 

That’s fine, however. Its normalcy comes from predictability, and with predictability comes a sense of control. Every and each new possible variant is easily molded to fit into what is already established. 

Days come and go, much like clouds in the sky, and you’re content. You love your painfully droll, boring routine.

Which would be a lie by definition, so to deny your restlessness would be the same as trying to deny that humans need air to survive. Or to deny that the Japanese football team will never win the World Cup. 

But alas, you live. 

One of your classmates, Hamada, you think pensively, since you make a passable effort at remembering names of the people you have to spend considerable hours of the day with, is acting rather friendly today.

You think he wants something from you. That’s probably why he’s asking you to go somewhere with him after school. Sadly, it seems he’s unaware of the few universal truths of life.

That is that you’re never free after classes. 

Everyone in your immediate vicinity is aware of this, so you’re led to believe that Hamada is extraordinarily out of the loop. Or maybe he’s being a contrarian just to appear unique in your eyes. 

Which is not working, by the way.

“Sorry, but I’m busy today.” You say, an apologetical smile creasing your face in a familiar way. 

“Oh.” He recoils, losing confidence at your rejection. “Maybe some other day, then?”

Whatever. He should just steal all of your money and fill your shoes with nails at this point. He should spit at you and kick you until you’re a stain on the floor. Unfortunately, you’re [L/n] [Y/n], so you nod. Kindly. With all the positive hidden implications in the world.

Hamada regains some of his previous enthusiasm. Thankfully, the teacher enters the room before he could take your politeness as an invitation to further communication.

Like a good student, you listen and take notes carefully. This teacher in particular talks very slowly and often loses track of his thoughts, which greatly gets on your nerves. 

That’s okay. You’ll live.

School time passes by comfortably. You demonstrate your gracefulness and virtue at every chance. Some students swoon. Plenty of girls, and curiously, a good chunk of boys as well. Some scoff at your supposed imitation of perfection. Talk about how you’re probably a faker, eager for attention and praise and whatnot. Not that you mind. They must think about you a lot, enough to start making theories on the topic of you and the nuances of your character. 

Not that they'll ever get any confirmation. You let the invested have fun. Do the divine throw bricks at the religious? No. 

Your school’s football team is having a game tomorrow. Obviously, you make your way to practice. Though, ultimately, you believe you’d be making a better use of your time by trying to fold a thousand origami cranes with just your feet and then wishing for a better team. Yet, here you are.

You move across the field like a corpse. Metaphorically, of course. To the other’s untrained eye, it looks like you’re giving it your all. However, in your head, you’re trying to to remember at least the first ten digits of pi (you’re failing), so you switch to creating a satirical retelling of some subpar movie you and Bachira watched at the premiere some time ago (you got reasonably angry at the mediocrity of the so-called social commentary that was flaunted around as “never seen before” and “a heart clenching story that dives into the complexities of our society”, and Bachira got bored, so you both ditched it, wasted money be damned). 

All that, and yet nothing of worth is happening before you. For shame, since you do think your teammates are decent people, in the same way drivers who stop their cars before they hit you are decent people. Except the probably forty something father of two who let you safely cross the street this morning probably had more ball expertise than these frankly appalling clowns throwing themselves around do. 

Of course, you pride yourself on your ever persisting decorum, so you keep your mouth shut as you pass the ball to the guy a bit to your left, since you’re a good teammate and teamwork makes the dreamwork and yadda yadda. Even with your absent minded play, he just needs to push the ball with some semblance of force and boom, it’s a simple and clean goal. 

But as if by some otherworldly intervention, the boy trips. Genuinely gets sent sprawling over the central object of the game. 

It takes you every drop of self control to not lunge at him with the intent of questioning just how does this happen a day! A day! Before the match. Now, keep in mind, this strange specimen is known for his blunders. At least to you, but the rest of the team and the coach seem to hold this guy in some type of high regard. Which is crazy, since you don’t think he’d be able to score a goal without you specifically holding his hand, making the whole predicament even more baffling since you’re the actual ace of the team. 

Now, you think this team could go places, if you had the time to score more, but you have to spend it making sure your companions don’t sabotage the game by playing like it’s their first time seeing a football. You surely have grinded quite a bit of your teeth mass down by pretending to be content with this charade, just so the court jester of a coach wouldn’t call you uncooperative or something similarly humiliating again. God forbid he sends you to meet the bench. 

The comically incapable guy turns to you, after all the shock and laughter has faded from the group. “Ah, I’m sorry for ruining your pass, [L/n]-kun. I guess my nerves have been getting to me, haha.” 

You wish it was “the nerves”. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You respond, channeling every bit of kindness you could find remaining within yourself. “I’m sure you’ll do fine tomorrow.”

Well, he doesn’t do fine, that’s for sure.

The morning of the next day came quickly. As usual, you woke up early, got out of bed, and went through your usual routine with the goal of looking the best you possibly could, which did turn out to be a rather lengthy process, although that was nothing new. You still thought it was an insanely long and dumb.

What meets you next is the sight of your legal guardian, sprawled across the couch, still clad in her work clothes. You conclude that last night was a busy one, so you sneak past her quietly. Making things worse for her is the last thing you want, after all. 

Next is making a nutritious breakfast. As a product of meticulous repetition, you’re quickly done with it, making sure to leave a portion for Sayaka as well, along with a note about your plans for today.

It’s a nice, sunny Saturday. So, like you always do, you set out on a morning jog. Chiba has quite a few pleasing sights, especially when there are no hideous eyesores scrambling around in the form of people. You specifically pick a time when the crowd’s minimal, right after the early workers leave for their job. Beautiful. The fresh air stirs up every fiber of your lungs. 

All this joy and wonder, you almost forgot about the match that’s supposed to be held in the afternoon. In fact, the memory of that shitshow of a football practice from yesterday almost entirely left your mind. From your increasing frustration, you don’t notice how your pleasant jog turned into a full blown sprint. After a good hour or so of this, you notice just how sweaty you were. 

Gross. You’d have to shower again.

Right as you’re about to open the gate of your residence, a weight slams against your back at full force. You remain entirely unbothered, however, as you’re already very well versed in such occurrences. 

Bachira Meguru has his arms wrapped around your back, clinging onto you much like an eccentrically colored koala. It seems like the fabric soggy with your sweat doesn’t bother him at all. He’s always been a bit strange like that. 

“Bachira-kun.” You smile. It comes easier to you. “Good morning.”

“Good morning!” He grins, lips pulling back to reveal the full expanse of teeth. “You didn’t invite me to go jogging! Again!”

Having a conversation in this position, with your posture being as straight as a tree and Bachira acting as some type of a humanoid backpack or a large parasite, would be inconvenient to most, but the two of you have long made this a part of your “normalcy”. 

“That’s because you’re never awake that early.” You retort easily, with a light teasing tone. “I’m surprised you’re even up right now.” 

“My monster got restless, so I wanted to play football.” He says, like that’s a totally normal thing to say. Like pointing out how the weather is nice or such. 

Listen, you genuinely do like Bachira (as far as someone like you is capable of liking), and you suppose he shares the same sentiment to some degree, because his whole “Monster” thing isn’t something that you talk about with just anyone, unless you want to be wheeled off to the nearest institution and shunned forever. You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, so you tend to brush this topic off whenever it comes up in a conversation. Mostly because you have no idea what to say that wouldn’t be extremely harsh. You want to honor Bachira’s companionship and trust in you, which means that him getting upset over something you stupidly spat out without thinking is not on your to-do list.

You do think that seeing a professional sometime in the future would do him some good, though.

Putting that aside, you nod in understanding. “I see. But-” You poke at his leg. “-Can you get off, please? I want to take a shower.”

Bachira hums a long tune, but he makes no move to do what you’ve requested of him. After a passage of silence, he asks a question, even if he knows the answer already. 

“Hey, can we play together? Just for a bit?” 

He can’t see your face, but he can clearly visualize the apologetic expression that graces it. It looks the same, every time he asks. “Sorry, but I need to save energy for later. Maybe next time?” 

There it is again. Despite it being a few years since you two met, both lovers of football and everything football related, you’ve rejected his proposal again and again. You always have an excuse, something about being busy, or not feeling well, or this and that. 

Bachira has been resigned to it. Yet, he still repeats the inquiry, like you’ll change your mind someday. Maybe next time? As if that will ever come.

He lets it go, as he always does.

Finally stepping down, he leans onto your side. He’s rather sweaty too, you notice. “Right! You have a match today! Make sure to score lots of goals, ‘kay? I’ll be there to cheer for you!” 

Bachira thinks you’re not aware of the fondness you let slip into your gaze. It’s for the best, though, since if you knew you’d probably try to mask it with some form of artificial politeness. He likes you the most when you’re honest, in these small tidbits of time, after all.

“Sure.” You say, simply, as some things are.

The tensions are high before the match. For what reason, you don’t know. The match is purely for practice, although you’re curious on how a low tier school such as Kagayaku High managed to schedule a match against some bigshot from Kanagawa. You’d think they’d consider it a waste of time, but you guess not. 

A notification lights up the screen of your phone just as you’re finishing putting your jersey on. 

Sayaka

I’m so sorry that I won’t be able to make it to your game!!!! Work is hell today 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹

But I hope your team does well! Do your best ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻)

You snort at the woman’s usage of kaomojis. It was hard to imagine that she was nearly forty years old. Keeping your eye on the clock, you quickly type a response.

You

Please don’t worry about it! 

Take care of yourself!

Sayaka

You’re too nice to me, haha

The breakfast was delicious, by the way! It really made my day Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

I’m gonna make us something to eat later, as a celebration and payback! ᕙ(  •̀ ᗜ •́  )ᕗ

You gnawed at your lip worrieldy. While you truly did appreciate the sentiment, Sayaka’s cooking skills … weren’t something you’d write home about. Her message truly left you worried for the safety of the stove. Before you could try to change her mind (and save the neighborhood from a possible fire), one of your teammates gestures for you to move.

Ah. It’s time.

You

The game is starting, ttyl

The match goes just as well as you thought it would. 

The opponent’s defense tears through the clumsy guy like a knife through butter within the first few minutes of the game. They’re not too shabby, you have to admit. But the more you watch them, the more holes ripe for exploatation you notice.

The rush of excitement still evades you, as you circle an opposing player who is attempting to take the ball from you. Your mind is still in its autopilot mode, where you make boring, yet entirely rational plays that have carried your team to where it is now. Move your leg and lean to the right, and when the guy is still thinking of his next move, kick the ball between his legs. A safe and classic nutmeg. After that-

A movement leaves you startled; someone dashes past you with unforseen speed and snatches the football right from your possession. You’re forced to be wide awake, left feeling like a bucket of icy water was thrown over your head.

Huh?

For what seems to be the first time in years, your heartbeat echoes loudly in your ears and shakes your very core.

You gape at the distancing back of the player who had just turned your world around. In bold letters, the name Itoshi acts as a mockery of you. Helpless in your shock, you can do nothing but watch as your newest adversary scores a clean goal into the net, while Kagayaku High’s goalkeeper does nothing.

For once, you don’t blame him.

The clowns of your circus are talking amongst themselves. You think they’re trying to include you as well, but you’re too busy rebooting your brain to care.

You wanted Itoshi gone. An irritation so strong its frightening festers under your skin as you stare, long and hard, at the intruder who had come to ruin everything for you.

But was he truly ruining anything? 

When a teammate of yours moves with the ball, you abandon all uniform strategy. This stupid team could go to hell. Both yours and the enemy’s. This game should be just between you and him. 

Much to the shock of your team, who had probably gotten too comfortable with your usually passive way of playing, you pick up the pace, with the speed and technique built up through many regular torturous sessions of trying to polish yourself to your extremes.

It’s something you had to do, lest you want to be left in the dust when the real threat appears.

Is Itoshi a real threat?

A wispy smile still hangs from your lips. It looks … out of place, possibly, as it’s no longer a carefully planned tool of deceit.

Astonished shouts of your team as you steal the ball from your own comrade is nothing but background noise.

There he comes. His gaze is glacier cold as he weaves between the humanoid obstacles in his path. Surely, he’s wholy confident in his domination of this match. You wait.

Itoshi moves with clear intent of making you crumble under his might. That won’t do. Who does he think he is? Who does he think you are? Does he think you’re a mere bug, a speck of dust on his road to victory? That doesn’t make sense at all.

“Pass to me!” Someone yells at you, as if you weren’t the damned ace, as if you weren’t the one who gave this shitty team the ability to get off the ground in the first place. 

You’re nowhere near the penalty area. The other team’s defense is scattered around, trying to cut off all your routes. Now aware of the possible danger you represent, Itoshi is right by your side, with his eyelash rimmed eyes watching you like he might tear you apart. At least he’s fast on the uptake, you muse, as you almost carelessly roll the ball across the grass.

The angle is terribly narrow, but it’ll do. 

Avoiding Itoshi’s attempt at ridding you of the ball, you raise your leg and deliver a swift kick to it, sending it flying in a rather flimsy arc (your brows furrow slightly at that), which manages to slam into the net at a spot left open.

1-1.

You stop and take a long look at the goal. That was a five out of ten. Hell, maybe even four. But it seemed like it was enough to make your current “rival” appear like he wants to explode you with his mind.

That makes you … giddy? Edges of your lips wobble as you attempt to keep your expression under control. Even if you just single handedly destroyed the foundation of your team as well as the way its members saw you, you still had appearances to keep. From the corner of your eye, you spot Bachira watching, with a grin so manic it bordered on deranged.

In the end, you lose the game. And yet, to you, it feels like a victory, sweeter than any other. You managed to keep Itoshi from scoring another goal (well, you didn’t score another one either, but that was fine), and you got the front seat to the slow unraveling of his stoic disposition.

His team manages to secure a victory with their goal. But their ace, visibly pissed, makes his way to you. His tone is biting, befitting of an untouchable beauty such as himself.

“Next time, I’ll crush you.”

And then he leaves. One for dramatics, that’s for sure. Mommy’s little edgelord. Deciding to play along, you wave at his retreating back, signature smile set in place. “If you say so, Itoshi.”

Pointedly ignoring the troupe of mongrels, you collect your belongings and make a swift departure. Of course, nothing is that simple for you, because Bachira is waiting for you outside. Predictably, he lunges at you, but is considerate enough to take note of your possible exhaustion and not jump on your back like he usually does, instead opting to sling an arm around your shoulders. 

“That was pretty insane, you know.” He begins, although you note the sharpness of his grin that was unknown to you, up until now. “I never knew you could play like that.”

Then, he goes on to speak more, but you’re already ensnared within your own mind. A familiar thing; anger, ire, all-consuming, starts to ignite your entire being. A combination of many factors give way to its rise, both from Bachira’s subtle and probably unintentional downplaying of your perceived capability, and from … well, everything about the game. Especially Itoshi. What, did they all think you were some insignificant ant? A poser, perhaps? Maybe a-

You pause all thought. Suddenly, your legs feel weak. Not from tiredness, of course not. Embarrassingly, the weight of emotions was always a bigger burden than anything of physical kind. 

That was your weakness. A flaw that you needed to demolish. 

“Bachira,” you gasp out, voice small and uneven. “Bachira-”

The boy in question tilts his head. “Huh? What is it?” 

“Hold me.” You say, just before you collapse.

[snaillock]

Paypal suspended my account im no longer can access to the money i have in account until i solve the problem.

I need your help guys to continue help me and my family especially my brother and my relatives who still there in Khan Yunis so i will share my sister paypal account

[snaillock]

Loved Luka and Yanqing's interactions in the event :]

[snaillock]

[snaillock]

this fandom dry as shitttttt cause why am i barely seeing anyone talk about the new trailer? i know there are people talking about it if you scroll enough through the blue lock tag but for an animanga fan base that just had a season 2 of it’s anime drop? it’s a whole damn desert up in here.

anyways here are my thoughts on the trailer and the upcoming season:

good god blue lock deserved a better studio if i’m being completely honest here.

i really really don’t like the harsh look of the dominant and completely black shadows. i feel like it just does not at all fit with the art style and just clashes weirdly. it just gives off the vibe of them trying something and just going too far with it.

ofc a lot of stuff about the art direction is pretty subjective and everyone can have their own thoughts about it. personally, i don’t enjoy it that much and a lot of the screencaps are pretty unappealing to look at.

also not sure if this is just me but i have always hated is how absurdly lean the characters’ bodies looked in the anime. not completely sure if this is a thing unique to this anime or not. in the manga, they obviously looked fit and athletic but it was still believable that they were teenage athletes that have only really played on a high school/local level. meanwhile the adaptation made it appear like they have 0% body fat and are completely dehydrated. they looked like they were on steroids or some shit. is ego over there sneaking tren into their bloodstreams when they’re sleeping? and it certainly does not look this pet peeve of mine will get any better in season 2.

anyways onto the more positive stuff i’m looking forward to:

one thing i am excited for is isagis final goal in the u-20 match. i love that specific chapter in the series and i do feel like they’ll put a lot of effort into that part since it’s a pretty significant moment. so yeah i do have hopes for that. same with rin’s backstory. based on the little clip of it in the trailer, it does seem promising and i bet they’ll do a good job on that as well since it is a defining moment for his character.

another thing im quite happy about is my pookie sae’s new design. i’m so happy they changed his look to reflect the manga art style improve post-second selection arc. he looks soooo goodddd!

i’m also hella excited for the additional times. i really enjoyed those the first time i watched the anime and definitely was a little sad when i found out they weren’t canon in the actual manga. so i can’t wait to see what they’ll add to the characters this round.

even if the new season does inevitably its noticeable flaws, i bet i still will be extremely hyped when watching just like with season one. this series doesn’t fail to make me feel like a typical sports bro in a bar whenever someone makes a goal. and you bet my ass will be tuning in (🏴‍☠️) each and every week.

[snaillock]

t4t rin x transmasc reader inspired by these headcanons by @certified-boyliker!!

"Hey. Your binder's showing." Rin murmurs softly into your ear as you walk. The first fallen leaves crunch under your feet with every step, the trees beginning their shift from green to warm red and orange. As the seasons change, Rin is a constant in your life, your weekend walks to the local coffee shop a comforting routine.

"Oh, fuck, is it?" You ask, looking down to check your outfit for where your undergarment is showing. Wordlessly, Rin pulls the collar of your shirt inward, sneaking his fingers under to nudge your binder strap out. He's quick and gentle with the gesture, nonchalant even, but the brush of his fingers against your shoulder sends electricity through his nerves. Fingers a bit clumsier than before, he tugs on your shirt to make sure it falls just right. 

"Thanks love," You smile and give him a soft kiss on the cheek. He scowls, as he always does, but his heart is racing and his mind has turned to jelly with adoration. 

Rin takes your hand in his colder one, craving your warmth in the brisk autumn air. "Now we're even."

"Even? For what?" You wrack your brain for something you did that would warrant him needing to repay you.

"This morning." He mutters, cheeks turning a bit red. 

Huh. This morning. We… woke up, then got ready, then-

Suddenly, the realization clicks. "OH! You mean when you almost forgot your packer," You lower your voice, giggling. For a top-notch soccer player, he sure is forgetful sometimes.

"Yeah." 

Rin's cheeks are flushed a soft pink, and he hopes you don’t notice.

Abruptly he says: "It was your fault I forgot it."

You laugh, a warm sound, comforting like a mug of spiced cider on a cold evening. He’d do anything to protect that laugh. "My fault? Why is it my fault?"

"Because. You were being cute and loving and my brain stopped working." Rin mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. 

"I believe that's what they'd call a gay panic."

"Sure. Whatever."

"Hey, Rinrin, did you know that you're my favorite guy in the whole wide world?" You ask, bumping your shoulder against his affectionately.

"Yeah." He mutters weakly, trying to be nonchalant but his voice breaks and betrays him.

It's no secret that Itoshi Rin is a softie for you and you only. It's no secret how his heart flutters when you're around, or how his cheeks turn pink, or how his words come out ever so slightly wrong. It’s no secret that Itoshi Rin loves you, even if he doesn’t say it.

"You're my favorite guy too."  

i love rin a stupid and definitely normal amount :)