#3 year old prodigy

[thekillogiceffect-blog]

What Happens When a 3 Year Old Genius Takes the Stage?

Today we are checking a very young man by the name of Barron Cheng who is a 3 year old child prodigy pianist! In this video Barron Cheng is  with a full orchestra performing Catherin Rollin's "Love Theme". This is an impressive performance at any age but to be 3 years old with this kind of skill is simply mind blowing! Have you heard of Barron Cheng and his incredible piano playing? Let me know what you think! #music #reaction #review 3 Years Old Baby Barron Cheng - Love Theme https://youtu.be/DppSukG0cBE Barron Cheng YT: www.youtube.com/@UCZs4CMQGiLkdXqeYeQED94w My Social Media: patreon.com/thekillogiceffect https://www.twitch.tv/thekillogiceffect https://www.reddit.com/user/TheKillog... https://www.tumblr.com/thekillogiceff.. thekillogiceffect.weebly.com https://www.facebook.com/thekillogiceffect/ twitter.com/KillogicFilth vk.com/thekillogicefect Join this channel to get access to perks: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7KATFYYjZG1Zr8eowKdaMQ/join

[lucrezianoin]

Yenna is like

and this is my family

a devil-celebrity, a warrior from the hells, a vampire, a cultist, an alien woman, the murderous son of a god, a wizard, a guy who is a bear 50% of the time, a bickering non-married couple, a pair of angelic lesbians and a skeleton man

[vvitchering]

This excerpt from the letter Elminster sends to God!Gale post game has had me in a sadness chokehold for DAYS. I knew Gale was young when he was scouted as a new potential Chosen but he was EIGHT??? Eight years old. A child. A baby. And he was accidentally destroying property with fireballs that young? That boy was a sorcerer. The way that one moment changed the trajectory of his entire life.

Elminster watched a little boy cry over ruined flowers and so many years later finally feels regret.

[pikechris]

god nothing can ever be straightforward with these kids can it

[thresholdbb]

[redhotarsenic]

Can feel my body wanting to shut down and take a stress nap sigh

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO but also the tags DUDE

Reverse Robin au but the ages aren't changed. Just adoption order.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice. 

Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later. 

The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache. 

The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags. 

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”

You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm. 

“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says. 

You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.” 

Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it. 

In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light. 

“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks. 

He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.” 

By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head. 

“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.” 

Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.” 

He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates. 

And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.

Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn. 

“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself. 

Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics. 

And Remus has found many flaws. 

“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!” 

Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes. 

He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level. 

“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension. 

“Sirius…” 

“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.” 

Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.” 

“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?” 

“Okay—” 

“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”

“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—” 

“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.” 

You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’. 

Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light. 

“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for. 

“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.” 

Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly. 

It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”

[apotelesmaa]

Raz truly is one of the funniest video game characters of all time. His ability to do platforming parkour is explained by the fact that he was raised in a circus. He’s a psychic prodigy. He thought his dad hated psychics but his dad is a psychic. He broke into a government camp in an attempt to get employed as a secret agent and it worked. He has canonically set squirrels on fire. His grandma is a former mass murderer. He’s addicted to giving people therapy and duking it out with the manifestations of their problems. He saves the day 3 times in the span of a week. He’s friends with a rat. He’s 10 years old.

[sunshine-on-marz]

Lost and found

Spencer Reid x Reader

In which Spencer almost loses the love of his life, literally and figuratively

TW: angst with a happy ending, criminal minds level depiction of violence, mentions of death, it takes a little to get to the actual plot but trust me it’s worth it, (tell me if i missed any)

Word count: 3.3K

To know Spencer Reid was to be absolutely enthralled by him. You were both 16 when you met, granted you were 16 in your junior year of highschool and he was 16 working on his 2nd PHD, but you were both 16 nonetheless.

It had taken some convincing to get a place in his life, not because he didn’t like you or your company, more because he was waiting for your ulterior motive to show itself, or for your patience to wear thin. It never did.

You knew vaguely about his mother, mostly through a news article you found from a few years back, talking about the prodigy like he was more of circus attraction then a 12 year old. It had mentioned that he also took care of his sick mother, and with his hyperfixation on finding a cure to schizophrenia, you’d connected the dots.

But you still didn’t want to assume.

“Hey Spence, why’re you so set on finding a cure?” You ask, gesturing to the 8th book on schizophrenia you’d seen him read in the 3 months you’ve known him.

���My mother” he says, closing the book and placing it infront of him. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m curious about what goes on in the mind of Spencer Reid” you smile “though, I’m sure you could tell me exactly what’s happening up there, down to the chemicals”, he laughs at that

“I could give you an idea” he says, you hover your hands over the book, he nods, you open it to the last page.

“508 pages, how long would that take you to read?” You ask

“A little under 10 minutes, if I had to guess, I don’t know how many words are on each page” he says

“Well I’m not counting so I guess we’re gonna have to stick with an estimate” you joke, he smiles again.

You sit in silence for a minute, just looking at each other, and the book. There’s a light tension, unasked questions float between you.

“Can I be invasive?” You ask, Spencer nods

“You usually don’t ask first” he smiles

“You suck” you reach to hit his arm, you don’t. “I won’t hit you before asking about your sick mother, actually”

“I appreciate that” he laughs “but what do you want to know?”

“What’s her name?” You ask, he seems a little shocked.

“Diana.”

“And you take care of her?” You already know the answer, but he’d never said it explicitly.

“Yea” he nods, he looks at you like he knows what you’ll ask next

“Well, tell me if there’s ever anything I can do to help. Her or you, I can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to do alone, props to you spence” you smile, and if someone saw his face right now, they’d assume you asked him- well not many questions would dumbfound Spencer Reid but that’s not the point.

“You’re not gonna ask if I hate it? Or if I want to put her in a home?” He asks, sounding more confused than you’d ever seen him

“Do you want me to ask that?” You counter.

“No.. not really” he looks at his hands, which are rubbing together. A nervous habit of his you’d picked up on rather quickly.

“Well then I won’t ask it” you smile, so does he.

It’s a week later when he tells you why he’d been so shocked that day.

You were on his front porch, about to meet his mother for the first time. He said she’d been having a good day, and though you weren’t exactly sure what that entailed, he said it with enough excitement that you decided to just ask later.

“When you first asked about my mom, you asked what her name was” he says, you nod.

“Thats usually my starting point, yea” you laugh softly “why, was that the wrong thing to ask?”

“No- no no no. It was the perfect thing to ask! I just- you were the first person to ask what her name was before you asked about what’s wrong with her” he says, and he looks sad, so you offer a hand. You know he’ll say no, but you don’t miss how he smiles everytime you offer.

“Wanna tell me about her? I never know what I’m walking into meeting my friends parents, I would’ve brought her flowers but I didn’t know what kind she liked” you say, and his smile goes from soft to wide and bright.

He is ineffably beautiful.

“She likes lilies” he smiles “and she’s really nice, when she’s, yknow” you just nod. And then he holds out his hand, you take it. And that’s the first time you ever touched Spencer Reid.

You met his mother that night, it was uneventful, but it was nice.

That’s a lot of your friendship with Spencer. Uneventful, but nice. More than nice, it’s wonderful. He’s wonderful. You’re there when he gets his first PHD at 17, you’re there when he has to put his mother into assisted living, you’re there when he gets the letter saying he’s been invited to the FBI academy, you even drive him to go meet Agent Gideon.

You see him off at the airport when he goes to Quanico.

And that’s the last time you see your best friend.

After a while weekly phone calls became monthly, and monthly became an occasional text on birthdays and holidays and informing the other of big achievements, but by his 3rd year as an agent, friendships were hard to maintain.

You’d accepted never seeing your friend again.

Spencer hoped he’d never see you again, because he knew he didn’t have the guts to reach out, and he knew that the only time his teammates seemed to see old friends was when they were a part of a case.

But he also knew you.

And he recognized your necklace the second he saw the pictures Penelope had on the screen.

“The second and third victims haven’t been found, but they’re believed dead” JJ says, Spencer barely hears it.

“I need air” is all he manages to say as he rushes out of the room. Derek went after him and caught him as he collapsed.

“Hey man, what’s goin on?” Derek asked him, holding onto Spencer’s shaking shoulders as he tries to stay upright.

“I can’t- she can’t- she can’t be dead” his words were barely audible and even less coherent.

“Do you know one of the victims?” Derek asked, and Spencer nodded.

He more than knew you, he’d held you while you cried, he’d slept in your bed the night his mom went into care, you were the only person there for him at his graduations, he’d helped you decorate your first apartment. You were so much more than someone he knew. And you were so much more than victim number 3.

“Spencer? Hello?” Derek’s hand waved infront of Spencer’s face as he zoned back into reality.

“Sorry” I he muttered as he started to stand up. He and Derek walked back into the briefing room, he doesn’t apologize for his outburst, he just sits and waits for Penelope and JJ to continue. They do.

“Well, 3 girls went missing in New York City within a span of a week. The reason we’re on this case is because they all worked for the same law firm”

Spencer takes a shuttering breath.

“The first victim, whose body was found dumped in a dumpster by a homeless man, was 56 year old Mrs. Shelly Kailee, a lawyer at Shelly and Dylan law firm, she was a co-owner along with her Husband Dylan. The two other victims, who are still currently missing, are Darleen Calvin, and Y/N L/N. Darleen is 28 and a practicing attorney at the same law firm, she’s only been practicing there for a few months after graduation from University of New York in January. Y/N is 25 and is working as a receptionist at the law firm while working on her law degree at Cornell. Both girls are reportedly very sociable and very kind, but from what we’ve been told, Y/N seemed to be more acquainted with everyone while Darleen seemed to just have a large group of friends. That’s the only information we have on them” JJ says. It seems everyone’s eyes drifted to Spencer, but his were dead set on your face on the projector. Smiling. You had the same smile. You were still wearing the same necklace you wore every day since he gave it to you at 18 when you graduated. You were still as beautiful as he remembered.

“She wouldn’t let anyone take her to a second location, not without a fight. We’re probably looking at a fairly athletic man, unless we find out that she sent someone her location. Then it’s probably someone charismatic, charming, played himself as a friend” he says, and everyone nods.

“You think she’d fall for that?” Morgan asks, he gets a few glares. But Spencer nods. “I think I saw her have a conversation with a homeless man once because she thought he might be lonely.” He says “so yes”. Hotch clears his throat “Spencer is there any possibility she’s.. changed since you knew her?”. Spencer shakes his head “we only really fell completely out of touch a few months back, she seemed pretty much the same the last time I called her, which was probably 6 months ago”

You could’ve cut the tension with a knife.

“Spencer I’m sorry-“ Emily says, he cuts her off.

“You can be sorry if we find a body” he says. And they get the message.

“Wheels up in 10” Hotch says.

Spencer works that case like a dog. There’s not a moment where he isn’t doing something to find you. Something to make sure you’re okay.

A few times, Derek had to pull him out of the police precinct, just so he’d get a couple hours of sleep.

He was beside himself.

Then the tapes showed up.

On the front steps of the police station, there was a box, with 4 tapes, each labeled with a date of the days you’d been missing, the most recent being from the day before.

The first started with a voice they later confirmed to be Shelly’s. A final message to her husband and kids. Tearful messages to each one about how much she loved them. And then a gunshot.

The second tape was worse. It was of you and Darleen. Spencer recognized your voice immediately, he could tell you were holding back tears. Darleen on the other hand was sobbing. You were both pleading for you life. You were a bit more composed, and he quickly recognized some of what you were saying as examples he’d said to you when talking about what usually does and doesn’t work on killers.

He never intended you to have to put those lessons to use.

And the selfish part of him wonders if you thought of him when you spoke.

The 3rd tape is the shortest. It’s just a gunshot and a scream. Your scream. He, for the first time in his life, sincerely hopes that you watched someone get killed.

The final tape is just you.

And it breaks him.

There’s a few seconds of silence before your voice starts.

“This is a message for Spencer Reid, and the rest of the FBI. My name is Y/N, and if you’re listening to this. I am dead.”

And his face falls.

“Spence, meeting you in highschool was the greatest thing I’ve ever done. And I love you, I love you so much Spencer. And I hope-“ the tape ends.

Spencer listens to that tape another dozen times.

The cops find Darleen’s body before lunch.

He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He listens to the tape again. And then it hits him.

You had never once said you met Spencer in highschool. You always, always made it a point to say that you were in highschool, but he wasn’t.

And it was currently summer, and the highschool was empty.

“Guys I know where she is-“

Hotch cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Spencer she’s dead” he said, his voice wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle either. Spencer could’ve punched him.

“They’re at the highschool. Trust me” his voice was shaking, not with doubt, but with fear. Fear that both he and Hotch were right, and that in a couple hours he’d see you again under the worst possible circumstances.

But they went anyway.

He was zoned out most of the car ride, ignoring Derek’s questions of if he’s sure he can handle this.

For Spencer, it doesn’t matter if he thinks he can, because he has too.

He’s a few feet past the doorway when it really sinks in that he might leave the building again with your lifeless body in his arms. He pushes the thought aside. It felt like betrayal not to try and have hope, because for Spencer, you were hope incarnate. It would feel disrespectful to take that from you without asking first.

He heard it before anyone else did.

He all but ripped the door open, the local PD turning on their heels at his aggressive movements.

But there you were, in a chair, sobbing into your binds. He was infront of you in seconds, shouting for someone to cut the ropes holding your wrists and ankles as he removed the cloth from your mouth.

“You’re okay, you’re alright now, I’ve got you” his hands gently holding your cheeks as you leaned forward into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso once they were cut free.

“I knew you’d come- I knew it. I told him but he said you wouldnt find me so- so in the tape- oh my god did he send you the tapes?” He cut off your manic rambling with soft shushing

“I know you knew, you always know, and yes we got the tapes. You did good, you did everything perfect. I understood.” He assured you, running his hands through your hair.

Emily came up to you and Spencer, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Does she know where he is?” She asks.

He starts to speak, but you do it first. “Maybe the janitors closet? Or the bathroom? He- he made us scrub the floors, he was like- he was psychotic about it” you say, she nods and leaves the room, Spencer just tucks your head back under his chin.

“You’re doing so well” he whispers

“Spencer I want to leave” you cry

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you out of here” he says, slipping his arm under your knees and lifting you. You probably could’ve walked, but no one was shocked that he chose to carry you out.

He asked the EMTs more questions than your frazzled mind could even think of.

“Dr.Reid, she’s going to be fine. It’s cuts and bruises and maybe a few pulled muscles, she will be fine once she gets some fluids and a good meal in her system. “

He still didn’t believe it.

He didn’t believe it when the nurses told him the same thing, he didn’t believe it on the car ride back to the precinct after you were discharged, and he didn’t believe it when you sat next to him during your cognitive interview.

He’d fought Hotch about giving you one, but Hotch said that having a solid story will help make sure the man who did this is kept in prison for as long as possible, and you’d volunteered.

“You really dont have to” he says, you shake your head

“Spence i can handle it” you say

“Im not leaving your side.” He insists, you laugh a bit, which all but calms him down.

“I didnt think you would.” You offer your hand, and for the first time he accepts the invitation.

The interview makes you cry, which could’ve been predicted, but it still breaks Spencer’s heart.

After that he sets a semi-permanent ban on anyone asking you about what happened.

JJ brings you a change of clothes and you thank her profusely as she walks you to the bathroom and helps you wash your face and body as best as you can with wet paper towels.

Spencer anxiously waits outside.

“She’s with JJ, man. You can go outside and take a breather if you need” Derek offers.

“I’ll go outside and take a breather with Y/N when they’re done. Im sure this isnt where she wants to be right now.” Spencer says, Derek sighs.

“Spence, that girl might be one of the most well adjusted victims we’ve ever seen, she’ll be okay if you step away for 5 minutes-“ Spencer cuts him off

“I wont” he says “do you not get that? She’s well adjusted, Im not. I am not well adjusted to almost losing her and im not well adjusted to having her back so Derek would you please stop suggesting that I need space from her because space from her is the last thing I need right now” they stand in silence for a minute until you leave the bathroom.

“Spence? Everything okay?” JJ asks as she walks out of the bathroom after you, you quickly finding your place leaning against Spencer’s side.

“Yea we’re good” Derek answers for him, placing a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder, and leaving with a small nod of understanding.

Spencer guides you outside.

He sits next to you on the bench outside the precinct, your head on his shoulder and his arm around you.

“Im really glad you picked up on that” you say

“Picked up on what?” He asks, his hand moving from next to you on the bench to your lap, resting on top of your own.

“The highschool thing, i honestly didnt know if he’d even send the tapes, kinnda figured he was making them for himself” you say, interlacing your fingers with his “but I figured it was worth a shot”

“It was smart” he says, squeezing your hand “took me awhile to realize”

“Did it?” You ask “and here i was thinking you were a genius. Spencer when have i ever skipped a chance to brag about you?” You smile at him, he shrugs.

“I was under a little stress” he says, pulling you closer.

“I know, im sorry I scared you”

“Dont apologize, this is not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You just nod.

There’s silence for a while, it could’ve been hours, neither of you would’ve noticed, or minded.

“Do you want to move in with me?” He says it before he even realized he thought it, immediately looking just as shocked as you. “I am so sorry- i just- well i figured-“

“Spencer” you grab his hand. “We’ll talk about it” you say, and that seems to be the right answer as he wraps you into a hug.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay” he whispers, you nod.

“It doesn’t require moving in for us to stay in contact” you say

“But you’re so far” you just nod in response. “I dont want to lose you again” he whispers

“Spence you didnt lose me, im alright-” he stops you

“Thats not what i meant. Not entirely” he clarifies, you sigh and pull him into another long hug.

“My lease ends next month” you hum

“See you in Virginia next month?” He asks, you smile

“We’ll talk about it”

There’s never a conversation about if you’ll move in. Spencer just Venmo’s you (he got Garcia to teach him how) 300 bucks along with “plane ticket or take out dinner for a week” which makes you laugh, and it also makes you call him to ask approximately how much of your stuff would fit in his apartment, he says he’ll make as much space as you need.

A month later you show up to one of Rossi’s dinner parties hand in hand with Spencer, JJ hands Derek 20 bucks, and slowly, everything falls back into place.

(PS: Spencer makes sure you have everything you need to finish school online because he’ll be damned if you gave up your dreams for a man, even if he himself is that man.)

Remember to reblog with feedback!! Reblogs make the world go round and feedback helps artists keep creating!

This might be the longest fic ive ever written. This took 2 days and a few tears but finally it’s done. Im tagging the pookies bc Ykw i worked too hard not too @the-phantom-author @thesockbehindthewashingmachine @mariasont @st4rgzer @canonically-a-genloser

[tossawary]

Trying to judge Kakashi for his teaching fuck-ups is hard because everything keeps getting skewed by everything that is wrong with this man and also everything around him. He ends up being graded on the triple wonky curves of: 1) "You know, I'm not sure that you specifically could have done much better." (Child soldier as a preschooler, isolated genius prodigy fast-tracked out of childhood, violently orphaned twice, war veteran, late teenage years and nearly half his life spent in black ops, he's only like 26 years old, etc...)

2) "I'm not sure that the average Konoha ninja could have really done much better in Kakashi's shoes." (Inconsistent prior Academy training for students, little to no apparent teacher training or solid child development resources for genin team teachers, inconsistent oversight from neglectful superiors, promotion exams where it's apparently normal-ish for participants to be either killed or permanently injured, etc...)

3) "I don't think anyone could have handled this situation well, honestly. It was fucked up before Kakashi showed up." (Sasuke.) (Also Naruto if his personality had been slightly different, after 12 years of neglect and shunning. What the fuck.)

[linghxr]

10 movies I watched in Chinese class

This post is the unofficial sequel to 10 iconic Mandopop songs from Chinese class. No one asked for it, but I watched to chronicle what I could remember before more fades from my memory! I saw these movies in Chinese class in high school and college, and I had to do some sleuthing to find some names.

The synopses are from IMDb, revised by me. I put links to watch for free on YouTube when I was able to find one, but they might not work in your country.

1. 《和你在一起》 Together (2002) A violin prodigy and his father travel to Beijing, where the father seeks the means to his son's success while the son struggles to accept the path laid before him.

Watch on YouTube

2. 《谁的青春不迷茫》 Yesterday Once More (2016) Lin Tianjiao, the top student in her class, is struggling to cope under intense academic pressure. After she is nearly caught cheating on a test, she befriends Gao Xiang, a free-spirited slacker.

Watch on YouTube

3. 《活着》 To Live (1994) Based on the novel by Yu Hua, four generations of the once-wealthy Xu family experience the difficult changes of the Chinese Civil War, the Great Leap Forward, and the Cultural Revolution.

Watch on YouTube

4. 《喜宴》 The Wedding Banquet (1993) To satisfy his parents, Gao Wai-Tung, a gay man in a fulfilling relationship with his partner Simon, marries his female tenant Wei-Wei. Things get out of hand when his parents come to visit.

5. 《饮食男女》 Eat Drink Man Woman (1994) A widowed chef lives with his three grown daughters, who each experience ups and downs in their lives and romantic relationships as they leave the family home.

Watch on YouTube

6. 《哑孩儿》 Dumb Child* (2016) After graduating from college, Fang Yan takes a job as a teacher in a rural area of China. There she meets a young girl named Yaya who doesn't attend school due to her hearing impairment.

Watch on YouTube

*Dumb as in mute. It's not a great English name...

7. 《重返20岁》 20 Once Again/Miss Granny (2015) A 70-year old woman living unhappily with her son's family is magically transformed into her 20-year-old self. She befriends her grandson and decides to fulfill the dreams of her youth.

Watch on YouTube

8. 《北京爱情故事》 Beijing Love Story (2014) Different generations look at love, romance, and commitment, all from a uniquely Beijing perspective. All 5 couples and stories are intertwined a la Love Actually.

9. 《蓝风筝》 The Blue Kite (1993) The lives of a Beijing family throughout the 1950s and 1960s, as they experience the impact of the Hundred Flowers Campaign, the Great Leap Forward, and the Cultural Revolution.

Watch on YouTube

10. 《青春派》 Young Style (2013) Struggling with romantic woes after his plan to confess to his crush goes awry, Ju Ran fails the college entrance exam (gaokao) and is forced to repeat his last year of high school.

Watch on YouTube

[raguiras]

TWST Olympics AU #1

Part 1: Heartshackle trio designs!

Reblogs are hella appreciated!! I'm likely shadowbanned 😭

As the Olympic Games are officially starting in a week, I decided to finally sketch some of the designs for my Twisted Wonderland Olympics AU! Next up are Riddle, Trey and Cater.

Everything about the AU below!

AU rules

Feel free to add your own OCs to this AU!

Fan content is obviously allowed! Just tag me in it, please.

AU summary

This is a magicless AU where all of the TWST characters are Olympic athletes in the real world. Some win medals, some barely qualify — but all of them live in the Olympic village. The students are aged up here (usually early to late twenties) while the faculty members have no set age and work as sports reporters.

♤ Character introductions ♤

ACE TRAPPOLA — A 21-year-old Italian prodigy basketball player. He's considered to be his team's ace (pun intended) and is great at tricking his opponents, making tons of baskets for the Italian team, and efficiently assisting his teammates.

DEUCE SPADE — A 21-year-old Japanese track and field athlete competing in various smaller disciplines falling under the "track and field" term. He's extremely average at most things other than sprints, often ends up in the bottom 3, and is secretly incredibly insecure about not being the best at anything.

ALLEN ALAGONA (YUU) — A 21-year-old Japanese-Italian gold-winning figure skater competing for his current home country, Ireland, along with his best friend and sports partner Alcestris. He gave up on his original dream — becoming a musician — and is now working hard to be the best male figure skater in the world, hoping to kickstart a career as a musician later on.

♤ Relationships ♤

ACE & DEUCE — Their friendship originally started when Ace posted a picture of himself watching a sprint competition while Deuce made a grimace in the background, causing the photo to go viral and become a meme. Deuce originally DMed Ace to take the picture down and got teased for it, but this teasing slowly developed into a friendship. While they get along well, Deuce is secretly a bit jealous of Ace for pretty much being a prodigy.

ACE & ALLEN (YUU) — Ace is a fan of Allen and views him as a fellow gold medalist. Being open-minded and "eager" to make new connections, Ace simply DMed Allen one day and the two became unlikely friends. Nowadays, Ace also functions as a matchmaker, being the only person to know just how much Deuce likes Allen...

DEUCE & ALLEN (YUU) — Deuce knows Allen as the most famous figure skater in the world and is absolutely stunned by both his appearance and humbleness. The two accidentally meet at a coffee shop during the games one day, decide to have a drink together, and strike up a conversation. Deuce is fanboying on the inside and trying to hide his surprise that Allen genuinely recognizes such an average athlete as him. Allen, however, already knows Deuce due to closely following all Japanese competitions, and has also noticed how incredibly ambitious Deuce is. Knowing Deuce's pain of carrying other people's hopes and never being the best at anything all too well from his teen years, Allen wants to get to know him better... and what starts off as mutual admiration and a celebrity crush on Deuce's side develops into full-blown love.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

If this post/AU ends up being well-received, I'll introduce Riddle, Trey and Cater next!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

More about the Deuce x Allen ship in the canon lore:

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Friends who participated in the original AU development some months ago 🫶

@althea-and-alcestris @miss-atena @vanrouge13 @spookyavenuestreet @heyhellohihowareyou @nyx-of-night

[disneyprincemuke]

» disneyprincemuke's f1 masterlist

series

vettel reincarnate * female!driver -> after retiring from formula 1 at the end of the 2022 season, f1 legend sebastian vettel realised a while after the announcement that he would miss the paddock way too much. instead of taking back his announcement, he pairs up with an up-and-coming driver and gets her a seat in a race car in formula 1.

in another life * female!driver x logan sargeant -> "if not in this universe, do you think we're at least together in another?" "there has to be at least one where we're happy."

it's nice to have a friend * logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver -> it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

i'm giving up your ghost * multiple drivers -> i’d live in these stories forever if it means being with you

fast times and fast nights * f1 grid as wags -> what do you expect when you put the grid and their partners on a reality show?

i said "i love you" * valentine's day special -> different reactions to the phrase

max verstappen

midnights -> a compilation of lonely midnights shared between you and max following your breakup

5 times -> there are five times max almost caught himself saying he loves you, and then there’s the time that he finally let you know

3 times -> you've had a crush on the racing prodigy for as long as you've known him - you had your own troubles biting back on words too.

glitter -> it’s the morning after a party, and you find yourself tangled up in bed with your boyfriend

the other woman -> everything falls into place in your mind when max fails to show up for you at the one event you desperately wanted him to be at

charles leclerc

i quit drinking -> you were never one to turn down alcohol. when you do, it causes a ruckus among your friends.

to forget you -> you avoided alcohol to forget the likes of charles, but he coped by drowning himself in the very same thing that reminded him of you

you called -> you called, so he came.

dancing with your ghost -> the ghost of your relationship lingers in your old apartment, reminding you of what's lost

george russell

sex -> it was supposed to be just sex

be mine -> your last night together ended on a bad note, and now you’re back after months to explain yourself

alex albon

love like this -> alex may be the reason your parents are separating, but he proves to you that soulmates still exist

get this right -> the thought of proposing to you is one that always comes easy to alex, but what he hadn’t expected is how difficult it is to execute it

first podiums -> it’s her first win in formula one as a female driver and her boyfriend can’t be any happier for her

logan sargeant

take my hand * prince!logan -> the princess, to inherit the throne after marriage, is having the hardest time trying to find a man to wed. until, a certain duke of somewhere comes riding in to ask for her hand

our spot -> a text from you is the last thing logan expects when he's back home for the holidays especially when it's your first text in almost two years

our spot, 2 -> it’s about two weeks since you last saw logan and you find him sitting all alone in the dark

oscar's girl / logan's girl -> logan never thought he would meet the girl that broke oscar’s heart

where the fun begins * frat!logan (college!mick) -> logan sees you wrapped around another’s arms shortly after you ghost him and he decides to wreak some havoc

to the moon and back * dad!logan -> the misadventures of little luna sargeant

carlos sainz

one of your girls -> you’re just another name in black ink in his long list of girls, and you should know better. so why are you at his apartment in the middle of the night after weeks of radio silence?

oscar piastri

logan's girl -> oscar truly never thought he would ever see the girl that was the cause of his first ever heartbreak

mastermind -> oscar did not expect that he had to share a bed with you during his trip to visit you over his break

mick schumacher

no other shade of blue, but you -> you didn't have a favourite colour up until you met him

where the fun begins * college!mick (frat!logan) -> logan sees you wrapped around another’s arms shortly after you ghost him and he decides to wreak some havoc

invisible string -> unbeknownst to you, there was a force that was pulling you and mick together your entire lives

[admiringlove]

growing pains. hello everybody. welcome to the second rendition of @angstober 2024! i hope you enjoy <3

kageyama tobio was a cute kid.

he moved in when you were just three. back then, your days were filled with learning big words, your mother patiently guiding you through children's books, when suddenly, a boy with an oversized, odd-looking ball came into your world. his hair was parted right down the middle, and every day, he’d be out in the yard, chasing after that strange ball with his grandfather, completely obsessed.

you were six when he first said hello. it took him two and a half years to work up the courage, and all because that ridiculous ball of his ended up in your front yard. without asking, he came through the gate, eyes wide with panic, just as you were about to head to the park.

“who are you?” you’d asked, head tilted with curiosity, and he’d stammered out his name like he’d been caught red-handed in a burglary. then, of course, you had to ask about the ball—bigger than his head. what was the deal with that? “it’s a volleyball,” he’d mumbled, and from that moment on, the two of you were intertwined, like a mystery waiting to unfold.

for the next ten years, kageyama tobio became your favorite puzzle. you chased after him like someone chasing a wild animal, half playfully, half determined. at first, it was a game—like you were sherlock and he, your elusive moriarty. your mother had always read you detective stories before bed, so solving the enigma that was kageyama seemed only natural.

when he turned seven, he found you in his front yard, peering through a magnifying glass, completely absorbed in your detective work. for an entire week, the two of you played with that thing, examining ants at the park, squinting at the pen strokes his father made in his books. eventually, he got bored. but you didn’t. no, you kept staring—sometimes at the world, but often at him.

you never tired of anything, especially not of him. you wanted to know more, to know everything. curiosity overflowed within you, spilling out like an unsolvable riddle. and you know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.

because it wasn’t just the world you wanted to uncover, not really. it was kageyama tobio. he was the one who truly fascinated you. when you learned in fifth grade that he had a soft spot for flavored milk, that was it. it became your little tradition. every so often, you’d head to the vending machine, and without fail, you’d grab him a drink—banana or strawberry, depending on the day. in return, he’d hand you the chips his mother packed in his lunch, like an unspoken exchange, as familiar as breathing. if it were up to him, it would always be strawberry.

and that’s how it was, the two of you orbiting each other like planets—his world of volleyball, your world of endless curiosity. playful, magnetic, bound together by rituals only you two understood.

you turned eleven and discovered that liking boys was a real thing. at first, the thought repulsed you; all you wanted was to bury yourself in the pages of sherlock holmes and pretend to play volleyball with kageyama. he was a prodigy, after all, dazzling everyone with his skills. kids from other districts flocked to watch him, enchanted by his talent. thankfully, he hadn’t yet transformed into an absolute twat; his ego was still catching up with him, lingering just out of reach.

“tobio,” you said one day, scrutinizing him as he carelessly set the ball near the riverbank. your gaze was fixed on the tips of his fingers, studying them as if they were an intricate puzzle waiting to be solved. he paused, turning to face you with a look of curiosity. “don’t your fingers hurt?”

“eh?” he replied, shuffling closer. with a flick of his wrist, he held out his hand toward you. “you mean this?”

the eleven-year-old boy displayed a myriad of calluses on his hands, more than you could count. you gasped in dramatic shock, a hand flying to your mouth, and couldn’t resist teasing him about his mother not noticing how rough and unsightly they had become. his eyes narrowed in mock indignation as he yelled at you for talking trash about his mother. you quickly apologized, laughter bubbling up as you declared you would simply have to complain about his “disgusting” hands instead.

that was the essence of your friendship—something sacred, woven from playful banter and shared secrets. the two of you were inseparable, bound by the threads of childhood innocence and mischief.

now, when you think back, it’s often to those moments—him proudly displaying his calluses as you played near the bridge by the river, the sun casting golden hues across the water. you remember walking home alongside him at sunset, a flutter of fear in your stomach about the kidnappers your father had warned you about just the other day. tobio had simply chuckled, telling you that you weren’t an actual genius like sherlock, so you couldn’t possibly be a target for any kidnapper anyway.

life was so simple, so beautifully uncomplicated, until you turned fourteen.

because that’s when you realized you had indeed grown up. you were on the winding road to adulthood, and suddenly, you found yourself hopelessly in love with your next-door neighbor, kageyama tobio—your best friend of eight years. he had sprouted taller, like a young tree reaching for the sky, and his voice had deepened into a rich timbre that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. everything felt like it was shifting beneath your feet, especially as he found new friends who flocked to him like birds of a feather, while you remained nestled in your closely knit circle, distanced from him.

how were you supposed to navigate these newfound feelings? the conditions were far from ideal. how could you possibly have a crush on him while trying to maintain the friendship you cherished so much, especially when your social circles had diverged at school? being a teenager had suddenly morphed into a tangled web of complexities, each strand pulling you in different directions.

you still managed to walk home with him every day after your club activities, a routine that felt like a comforting ritual. you were quickly on your way to becoming the head of your literature club at junior high, while kageyama had been consumed by his passion for volleyball since he was just a kid. being next-door neighbors with the love of your life was undeniably convenient; it meant he had no choice but to stroll alongside you.

thankfully, the dynamic remained blissfully unchanged. the playful teasing, the exchange of strawberry and banana milk, and the shared bags of cheese puffs, or sometimes other chips, were the threads that wove your friendship together. it didn’t matter what snack you had; all you really wanted was to watch him sip through a thin plastic straw, the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm halo around him as you walked the quiet streets together.

you cherished these moments, especially since he never hurried you along. instead, he walked slowly, savoring the time spent together, as if he genuinely enjoyed your company. this new pace allowed you both to appreciate the little things—the laughter of children playing in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze, and the gentle warmth of the sun dipping below the horizon. it felt like a breath of fresh air, invigorating and sweet, a reminder that these small moments were treasures to be cherished.

but then you turned fifteen, and tobio transformed into someone unrecognizable. the boy who had once sparked your curiosity now seemed bitter and hardened, his heart cloaked in ego that swelled within him like a balloon about to burst. his tone had sharpened, cutting through the air like a knife, and he often wore a mask of rudeness that left you reeling. yet, despite it all, your heart still weakly fluttered whenever he was near, an instinctive reaction you couldn’t quite shake.

then it happened. one fateful day, as you walked past the gym to pick up tobio, you overheard a conversation that pierced through you like an arrow.

"aren't they your childhood friend? don't you think they're attractive, even if it's just a little?"

the words lingered in the air, but before you could savor the thought, his response shattered your heart.

"what? no! i could never see them like that. this is grossing me out. stop talking nonsense and focus on volleyball. you didn't spike this set on time!"

his words struck like a hammer, relentless and unforgiving, stomping on your heart a million times without him even realizing the damage he’d done. it was as if the boy you had cherished for so long had vanished, leaving behind only a shadow of the friendship you once held dear.

that day, you walked home alone for the first time ever, the silence of the empty streets echoing the ache in your chest. when the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, you felt a weight pressing down on you. the next day, he didn’t question your absence, didn’t seem to care at all. and in that moment, you understood: you were no longer the person he had once found intriguing. you were just a ghost of a past friendship, lost in the void that had replaced your bond. he was not moriarty anymore, and neither were you sherlock.

you wondered if you ever were.

slowly, you created a chasm between him and you. it was a drift you instigated, unaware of the full weight of your decision. one by one, he lost the people he once held close, and you stood on the sidelines, a silent witness, hoping desperately that he would grasp the hint you were trying to send.

then, one afternoon, while walking home with a small paper bag of eggs cradled in your arms, you collided with him. curses swirled through your mind as you attempted to sidestep him, but his voice cut through the air, halting your escape.

"aren't you cold?"

you raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze, your heart racing with an unexpected mix of hope and apprehension. you hummed softly in response, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. he repeated his question, and you shook your head, summoning a casualness you didn’t truly feel. "just a small walk. i didn't think i'd need a jacket."

"right," he mumbled under his breath, and the silence that followed felt thick with unspoken words. a part of you longed to mention his recent benching during the last match, but the fear of misinterpretation held you back, like a weight pressing on your tongue.

"are you doing okay nowadays?" the question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. you still cared, a part of you reluctant to sever the last thread binding you to him. it felt like that age-old adage—"curiosity killed the cat"—echoing in your mind, a reminder of your unfulfilled longing.

he opened his mouth, perhaps to share something profound, but then hesitated. you knew his expressions as well as the lines of your own heart; he seemed to weigh his words carefully. "i'm okay. i'm going to a high school called karasuno. you?"

the answer came too quickly, and the disappointment surged within you. "i'm going to seijoh, like oikawa and iwa-senpai," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i enrolled there because i thought you'd be going there too. so, you know, we could walk together-"

he cut you off, the sharpness of his words slicing through the fragile moment. "we haven't done that in months, who are you kidding?"

you blinked, surprise washing over you like cold water. he was right. in the span of what felt like an eternity, the simple companionship you had once shared had faded into memory. perhaps your wishful thinking had blinded you to the reality; you were no longer the two kids wandering home together.

"i'm... sorry," you tilt your head, "have i done something to make you mad?"

you thought this was what he wanted—that he didn’t care for your tetra packs of strawberry or banana milk, that he was indifferent to your presence beside him as you walked home from school. the realization stung like a bee’s bite, leaving you with the unsettling notion that your companionship was as easily replaceable as the snacks you offered. but then he clicked his tongue, shaking his head with that familiar exasperation, his voice laced with sarcasm that dripped like spicy honey, sweet yet sharp.

“no. you can never do anything wrong, am i right?”

with that, he turned and walked into his house, leaving you standing there, the air heavy with unsaid words.

months passed without a glimpse of him. it was only when you were returning home from literature club, the sun dipping below the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement, that you spotted him. there he was, in a black uniform, juggling a volleyball under one arm while the other struggled to pry a few papers from between his teeth as he rummaged through his bag.

“do you need any help?” your voice sliced through the crisp evening air, a tentative offering. he blinked, momentarily surprised, before handing you the scattered papers and the ball.

“y-yeah. i’m looking for my keys. ever since miwa went off to college, there’s no one to open the door when i get home.”

“right,” you nodded, trying to maintain the semblance of normalcy. you didn’t need to fill the silence anymore; you were both ghosts of the friendship that once thrived in easy conversation. “i can walk in with these if you want. help you put them wherever, since it’s hard to carry everything together-”

“it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone clipped, a habit you had grown all too familiar with. “i can take care of myself.”

your lips pressed together, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “alright then,” you replied, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

but as you turned toward your front yard, the moment shattered into a sharp breath. “why did you stop walking home with me?” his voice rang out into the twilight, a challenge hanging between you like a fragile thread.

the world around you fell silent, the air thick with unspoken words. the confrontation hung in the space between you, an echo of the past colliding with the reality of the present. you hesitated, heart racing, caught in the tension of a friendship unravelling, desperately wanting to answer but unsure of how to put the fragments of your feelings into words. "you weren't yourself, i guess. that, and i heard you say something about me to someone. but never mind that. it doesn't matter anymore."

“what?” he furrows his brows, confusion etching deep lines on his forehead. “what do you mean you heard me say something about you to someone? what the hell did i even say for this to happen to us?”

“didn’t you want this to happen?” you retort, your words tumbling out like a well-rehearsed line from a play. “i thought you found me gross.”

he blinks, taken aback, his surprise evident in the widening of his eyes. “when did i ever say i found you gross? what is wrong with you?”

“what is wrong with me?” you echo, the fire in your chest igniting into a full blaze. you’re not quite sure where this rage is coming from, but it feels exhilarating and terrifying all at once. “what’s wrong with me is that it was my fault for ever loving you and thinking you could feel the same because you’re a selfish prick! you’re oblivious and dense and you don’t feel the same way about me, so i left because i didn’t want to be in a place where i wasn’t needed-”

realization crashes over you like a tidal wave in mid-sentence, the weight of your words suffocating. a hand flies to cover your mouth, the confession hanging in the air like an uninvited guest. his expression morphs into one of shock, the volleyball slipping from his grasp and hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, the way his world seems to tilt on its axis, so you turn and flee, heart racing as you dart into your house, slamming the door behind you. the echo of your confession reverberates in your mind, each heartbeat reminding you of what you just unleashed—a truth that feels like it could shatter everything.

you avoided him for months after that moment, but still, you found yourself at every game, an invisible presence in the crowd. you watched as karasuno faced off against kamomedai, your heart aching with every spike and serve, each point a reminder of the distance that had grown between you. tobio had transformed into someone new, shedding his egotistical shell like a snake sloughing off its skin, and finding camaraderie with teammates who genuinely cared for him.

it filled you with anger. why couldn’t he have made this change years ago? if only he had, maybe letting go of your feelings would have been easier. instead, you felt trapped on the sidelines of his life, a spectator to a story that once intertwined your paths.

“w-what are you doing here?” a shaky voice pulls you from your thoughts as you exit the gym. you turn, startled, to find kageyama tobio standing before you. his chest heaves with exertion, droplets of sweat glistening on his skin, and he gazes at you as if you were a relic he had lost long ago.

“i... came to watch the game,” you reply, shrugging, trying to sound casual. “you did good. i hope your friend isn’t injured, by the way.”

“yeah... he’s uh- hinata’s fine,” he nods, his words a soft echo in the tense air. “thank you for coming. it means a lot.”

you press your lips into a straight line, nodding, the weight of the moment heavy between you. it feels like the right time to leave, to escape the growing tension, but he continues.

“i felt the same way about you back then,” he says, and your heart drops, your feet seemingly glued to the ground. his melancholic gaze pierces through you, and the heartbreak looms overhead like a storm cloud ready to burst. “i’m sorry if i hurt you.”

“y-you what?” you whisper, tilting your head as disbelief washes over you. “tobio, you-”

“i can’t say i feel that way now. all i can focus on from now on is volleyball,” he sighs, his gaze falling to the floor, the weight of his words suffocating. “but it really was great being friends with you. i hope we can... try that again sometime.”

in that moment, something within you shatters, the pieces scattering like autumn leaves in a gust of wind. you realize how deeply you had clung to him, how he had become the center of your universe; an object of desire you could never grasp. slowly, painfully, he had outgrown you, moving forward as you remained rooted in the past, a decision you made to push him away when he needed you the most.

perhaps this was what you deserved. perhaps this was how it was meant to be—him, chasing his dreams like icarus, and you, watching from the side lines, heart heavy with the weight of unfulfilled wishes and lost chances.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[barleyo]

Better Things.

Older Bro! Megumi X Little Sis! Reader (smut)

A/N: please read the tags and avoid this if anything mentioned in them discomforts you ^_^ i'm not responsible for your media consumption, so do not read this is if you do not like the sound of it. thanks!! :3

Tags: incest (brother-sister), some misogyny, 25-ish years old megumi, fingering, oral (f receiving), no penetration/dry humping

Wordcount: 2.8k

Megumi did not know whether or not to be angry with you or himself. Maybe a mixture of both— no. No, you. Your fault. 

Very rarely did he have time off from missions. Often, it was back to back assignments in far away places. It had been two or three years since he had seen you last. He went back to your apartment as soon as he came back from an especially lengthy mission, only to find it empty. No furniture, no clutter. No little sister in sight. 

He found your landlord. Some old sleaze, Megumi remembered him well from when he helped you with moving in. He was so angry that day, extra eyerolls and teeth gritting. He never wanted you to be anywhere that wasn't attached to his hip. You weren't meant to be on your own, you needed him to protect you, but you insisted on a little independence. 

"She hasn't lived here for a while, son" the landlord answered, leaning on the frame of his front door, arms crossed. "Said she was moving into college dorms."

College? What did you need college for? To get some degree? A worthless slip of paper to show the four years that you wasted? 

Megumi stomped away from the apartment complex with a look of pure betrayal. 

He'd been sending you money and clothes— anything he could use to keep you entertained while he was gone— over the years. Was that not enough? If you were that damn bored, you could have told him. Megumi would have done something, anything, to keep you stuck safely at home, but no. You weren't at home. 

Were you even alive, he wondered? He had heard stories of those college bastards eating freshman girls alive. Sororities hazing sweet things like you to no end, fuck boys slipping mystery pills into drinks of girls stupid enough not to watch them, and God knew you were just that stupid. What if you got knocked up by some awful frat guy while Megumi was gone? What if you were slutting around campus? Or worse:

What if you had gotten a boyfriend?

Classes here were much harder than you had anticipated. You knew college was a big deal. You hadn't done especially well in high school, either, but the social aspect of college spoke to you so loudly. The movies had hyped it up well. You wanted it all— a spot in a fancy sorority, maybe Chi Omega or Kappa Alpha Theta. You wanted a clique of close girlfriends to gossip with. You wanted to sit in the front row of every class and answer every professor's questions with precision and accuracy. You wanted to be a cheerleader, a book worm, a prodigy, and a notorious knock-out all rolled into one.

Well, year one of college and you were severely disappointed.

You went bidless with every sorority you tried to rush. Friends were hard to keep and come by— your roommate never even spared you a side glance. She was too busy bringing boys home to catch your name, you assumed. You sat in the flooded middle rows in your lecture halls, and the only question you had ever answered correctly was when your physics professor aimlessly asked what day of the week it was.

Your essays were consistently given static, mediocre grades. Your exam scores were less than stellar. The cafeteria's food was tasteless and bland. Your feet constantly hurt from walking around campus all day. Your schedule was awkward and poorly spaced out.

You didn't know why you even left home. Not your old apartment, but home. Home with 'Gumi. Sure, you didn't see him a lot, but if your brother was your only shot at a decent human connection, you'd take seeing him once or twice a month.

You were petty to move out in the first place. You wished you could smack your old self right across her stupid, stupid face! You wish you could shake her by the shoulders and say 'stay home! you aren't cut out for this!'

Who were you joking, thinking you could make it on your own? You weren't very smart, and as much as 'Gumi loved you, he made that very clear.

"You're a girl," he often told you when you were both small children. Some neighborhood boys picked on you, calling you creative names like 'stupid' and 'idiot,' articulated as children do. "Girls aren't supposed to be strong or smart. That's why they have brothers to protect them," he would reason, his logic going unchecked by anyone around him.

"You're a girl," he'd say when you both got a little older. Some boy had played with your hearts, stringing you on. "Guys like hurting girl's feelings. That's why you don't need one." He wanted badly to add, 'you just need me,' to that sentence.

"You don't need to work, you know," he told you after you finally finished high school. "Just stay with me. You don't need to do anything else."

God, you wish you had listened to him. Instead, you had your nose stuck up so high in the air that you would drown if it rained. You left home because you wanted more for yourself, but was this the universe's way of showing you that you had all you needed? You left because you thought you were big and bad, because you thought you were a woman. Well, life was certainly humbling you, because just like Megumi had always told you, you were just a girl. 

A girl sitting in a tiny, cramped dorm room with a dirty nightstand, awful grades, no friends, no place to belong, and no romance. The high hopes you had in the beginning of the semester had plummeted. All you wanted was your older brother. 

After high school, Megumi's overprotectiveness and thinly veiled old fashioned way of thinking was suffocating. You brushed off his words with pouts and huffs. He was right, though. He was always right. You did need him to protect you, to provide for you. 

You needed Megumi to save you from your own stupid choice, and quick.

Finding you was surprisingly easy. There were only a few local colleges. Megumi was certain you weren't anywhere across the country, or God forbid, international. After a little digging, who found that you were attending a community college only ten or so miles away from his house. High acceptance rates, low reputation, and zero tuition. Made sense. 

He scoffed at the idea. How could you go somewhere so lowbrow? He didn't want you enrolled back in school, point-blank, but if you had to go, he would've paid to get you into somewhere much better. He wanted the best for you. This place was not it. 

Hands crossed over his chest, shoulders slouched, Megumi stared at the brick walls of your dorm building. It was old and dilapidated. He was sure the admin board would refer to it as 'rustic' or 'charming,' but really, it was a dump. No place for his baby. Baby sister, he meant, not... not that way, right?

Megumi shook his head, trying to dispel the thought before it could settle. Of course, not that way. He was just protective. You were his sister, and this place was beneath you. It wasn’t about control, it was about making sure you were safe and comfortable. That’s what older brothers did—looked out for their family. He had every right to check on you.

He didn't want to control you. He just wanted you to do what he told you to and to follow his guidance.

Still, standing there in front of your dorm, something gnawed at him. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t doing this purely out of brotherly concern. He brushed it aside, pushing his hands into his pockets as he glanced up at the windows. One of those was yours, no doubt. He hadn't been able to find the exact dorm number, but the building wasn't very big. A perk, in this case, of the budget college you'd stuck yourself in. 

Megumi sighed, his frustration growing as he scanned the windows. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be in this kind of place. You had him, and took care of everything for you. Sure, maybe he wasn't physically around often. Maybe he couldn't give you his time, but he gave you everything else. Every card in his name was free for your use. Every cent in his account had your name written all over it, had you have wanted it.

Women are ungrateful, he reminded himself, shaking his head in frustration. It's just how they are.

He turned the corner, making his way toward the entrance, rehearsing what he might say. He wasn’t here to pick a fight. This was just a pick-up. A chance to remind you that you didn’t have to settle for something so mediocre. A chance to bring you back home, where you belonged. His chest tightened as he stepped inside the building. 

The hallway was humid and dimly lit, the faint hum of old fluorescent lights filling the silence. As he approached the stairwell, his footfalls echoed—louder than he appreciated in the still quietness. He didn’t know which room was yours, but he had a feeling he’d know it when he saw it.

Reaching the second floor, he paused in front of a row of doors. His hand hovered for a moment before he forced himself to knock on the one closest to him. He had no plan for what he’d say if this was the wrong room or worse, if you didn’t want to see him ever again. The uncertainty didn’t matter. He’d bring you with him no matter what. 

He wasn’t leaving until you understood that this—this place, this whole plan—wasn’t what was best for you. He’d make you see that you still needed him, even if it meant dragging you out by your wrist like a child. Shoving aside whatever was stirring in the pit of his stomach, an unsettling mix of guilt and something else, he watched the door creak open slightly.

Your puffy, flushed face peeked through the door. Damn it, crying already?

"You don't get to be mad at me," you sobbed angrily. 

This is why Megumi still saw you as a something to be protected. A weak, emotional woman. 

"You left me first! You left and I never knew when you would come back, 'Gumi—" you shook your head, burying your face back into the pillow under you as you corrected yourself, "—Megumi."

Perched behind you, pressing his clothed erection against your ass, Megumi huffed. His chest planted against your back to trap you against your thin, uncomfortable mattress. 

"That's different. I have to work."

You sniffled and felt more tears slip from your eyes. Small stains were starting to cover your pillow. Wet splotches giving away your cries of anger, sadness, and pleasure. 

Megumi’s sigh was heavy, his breath brushing against the back of your neck as he leaned in closer. “You know it’s not the same,” he said, his voice calm, almost patronizing. His arms caged you in, keeping you pinned beneath him, as if he could physically restrain your defiance. "I don’t have a choice. You do. You chose this." His words were measured, but there was a subtle edge to them, the weight of his snark pressing down as much as his body was.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to shift your weight, to pull away from the suffocating feeling of his presence. But he didn’t budge. He never did. "You say it like it’s so easy," you said, your voice cracking with every word. "But you don’t understand. You don't know what it's like to feel so lonely. 'S like you don't love me anymore, 'Gumi, like I'm not important."

Megumi's grip tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling against your back. His voice softened, but the meaning in it remained. "I’m making sure you’re taken care of. That you don’t end up in places likethis." He tipped his head back, gesturing to the disorganized dorm room, even though you couldn't see what he was doing. "Do you know what could happen to you out here? Here where anyone could take you? Hurt you?"

You felt his hands snatch you up by your hips. A more freeing position, sure, but more exposing too. Your ass perched in the air and your face was pushed further into your pillow. 

"I’m the one who's always been there for you, you know that. I always take care of you." 

Cool air whooshed over your bottom. Megumi's palms ran over your cheeks. You could've sworn you heard him groan at the sight before him. Your cunt sticky and spread, nearly as wet as your tears. 

"Don't ever say," he spoke between placing firm licks over your clit from behind, "that I don't love you."

He spat on the little nub, slicking you up. From broad strokes to pointed swirls against the tip of your clit, Megumi felt himself growing lost in you. He'd wanted this for so long, he just didn't know it. He didn't know why he wanted to so close to you, why he felt the primal need to protect you, but it all made sense now.

One protects their property, don't they? They get a guard dog to chain up at the edge of it. They keep watch, armed on their porch, ready to shoot anything that moves.

A foreign feeling entered you. A snaking tongue slurped at your hole, wriggling deep inside and toying with your tight walls. 

"'Gumi, no," you couldn't fight it. Embarrassed as you were, you wanted— needed, to cum.

Fingers replaced the intruding tongue. The angle was all too good. Too perfect. You felt drool prick the corner of your mouth and heat rise through your lower body. It was like a wire wrapped around your womb and cinched, tighter, tighter, tighter—

"Awh! No, no more," you cried out. "Can't take anymore!"

"No?" Megumi looked almost amused. "Still sensitive, huh? Guess no guys have broken you in yet."

You shook your head slowly.

"Good. We'll fix that, then. At home."