#I don't authorize posting my text outside of Tumblr

[nandorelentlessdelacruz]

Don't let Harvey Guillén read this, It's for fandon reflection only.

Three years ago I tried to convince a friend to watch WWDITS, one of the arguments was how badass Guillermo is, she is fat herself and it's refreshing to see a fat protagonist who is also a powerfull vampire slayer, she's a yaoi lover, so I said "there was tension with Nandor and I think they're going to be canon"

She replied to me: "Do you really think they will canonize a short, fat man with a heartthrob dude?"

I continued to try to convince her that WWDITS was different and doing new things on TV.

Cut to 2024. In the last few months I have read many people saying that it doesn't matter do them if Nandor and Guillermo get appropriately together or not, their love is more relevant than a romantic relationship e etc, that they don't need Nandermo to go canon...

Yeah, nobody needs it, it's just a tv show and yes, friendship soulmates is a profound bound as such. But they could have done it. It was a possibility. Have you ever given any thought to why they didn't do it?

I mean, an honest thought about why not?

I don't know if my friend was right or just projecting her own traumas, the fact is it did not happen.

Despite Kayvan and Harvey friendship and their amazyng chemistry, despite that there are many scenes in the show that indicate that at least Guillermo had romantic feelings for Nandor, despite a lot of fans begging asking for it, for some reason, non-platonic Nandermo seems inappropriate for Paul Sims.

We didn't get a proper kiss even in the fanservice hypnosis scenes. Not even a peck on the mouth. The kiss on the cheek itself seemed rushed to me.

So, why? Why WWDITS felt free to all that Nandermo flirting and innuendos, but go canon was a hell no?

Just interested in your opinions as to why.

[vilebird]

BOTH TOO MUCH AND NOT ENOUGH

1) "I have been found wanting, Natalie thought; I have made myself unacceptable and am not worthy." - hangsaman, by shirley jackson

2) text: "meat must be beaten brutal into tenderness, that any body softens with violence, she grinds salt into the carcass, like a wound, a memory". image: a carcass of beef, cleaned, with the ribs on prominent display, painted in oils and rendered in thick strokes of red, orange, tan and white, on a plain dark red background. the text is cutouts on top, dark red text on light tan. - Family Portrait as Unfinished Meal, by Torrin A. Greathouse and Le Bœuf by Chaim Soutine. collage put together by @invisiblemonstrosity

3) a pale hand crushing ripe red strawberries, green leaves still attached, on a plain white background. - apparently by ouiloved on flickr, but they seem to have deleted.

4) bust photo of a tan person with a spotlight on them outside in the dark, head turned down, shoulder length messy wet black hair obscuring their face. their hand is raised to their chest and they are wearing a white tank top. fake blood is splattered and wiped around their chest and mouth. - i can't actually find this one all my attempts lead back to unsourced tumblr posts if you know where its from. help me

5: "You have no one who has any sort of consideration for you. You have had patience and endurance, and what have they done for you? Half-killed you." - carlyle’s house and other sketches, by virginia woolf

6: "try your whole life to be righteous and be good, wind up on your own floor, choking on blood" - sept 15th 1983, by the mountain goats

7: "such a waste of a girl, such rumination. i am obsessive. i contain nothing but the replay. i am blood and blood and replay. i am please don't go." - i put the coffin out to sea, by lisa marie basile

8: an image of a partially bald baby bird begging for food, drawn in the desaturated greens and black of a trailcam, on top, the text reads "i am asking you for something i need", on bottom, the text reads "why is it so hard to give it to me?" - trailcam baby, by @quezify

9: "was i raised without love? / or was i born unloveable?" - @psychwarded

10: "I, in my corner, with my monstrous needs." - As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh, susan sontag

11: "oh, i know that i'm not whole, and sometimes feel the flies swarming, like much of me is rotten." - roadkill ode, chad abushanab

12: a photo of a cut tree where much of the centre is rotted from fungus, accompanied by the text: "heart rot in pine. heart rot is the softening of a pine trees resinous heartwood, caused by an in-dwelling fungus. not all pines have it, but those that do make the excavation of a tree-hole next cavity easier for the red-cockaded woodpecker."

13: "rot made a home inside my body." - i know it's from "bloat" but cant find the authors name again. i think it starts with a c?

14: photo of an abandoned house in shades of brown and beige and orange, the walls are wet and scuffed and the drywall has been torn open in places, exposing the old lath. - abandoned, by @jaggedplains

15: photo of a mouldy strawberry, fading from bright red to grey-green fluff - Strawberry Gray Mold disease stock photo, by MediaProduction on gettyimages

16: "you ever feel like you were born with something rotten inside you and if people get close enough they're gonna find out" - tumblr post by @twoheadedfawnn

17: "we are meat, we are potential carcasses,' he once said. 'if i go into a butcher's shop i always think it is surprising that i wasn't there instead of the animal." - francis bacon

18: "you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth." - speeches for dr frankenstein, by margaret atwood

19: photo of a python hanging off a roof coiled around a black and white bird, poised to eat it - i heard some noise on the roof this morning, by candycane7 on reddit

20: "all that matters is that you want to hurt me. all that matters is that you want me." - when rome falls, by yves olade

21: "god told me i was forgiven and then he split me open" - god is made of hunger and i am made of dreams, by katie maria

22: "but this is not about love. once a pig is hung and cut straight, cut from rectum to neck, step inside her death like it is a room: that is how to touch her now. the lord said, you must not eat their meat or touch their carcasses. then came the end of the rib." - oh let's just be hogs, by gregory emilio

23: photo of a strawberry cut in half with its leaves attached. it is bright red, steel knife wet. the background is bright white and plain. - cut strawberry by liz west on flickr

24: photo of a handmade cloth sculpture of a dead autopsied pigeon, red zipper like an incision opening to its empty red interior, small cloth and thread organs arranged around it. - pandora: city pigeon, by jessica bartram

25: '"u need a therapist" actually i need to be euthanized' - tumblr post by deactivated user @122mg

[catherine-clover]

The longest list of anti-endo sources I've ever seen

While trying to find something else using Tumblr's infamous search engine, I came across this absolute gem:

NINE SOURCES!!! That's a record!! This is incredible!

@radpocalypse, listen. I am about to tear these to shreds, but before I do, I want you to know that you have my respect for not only compiling the longest list of sources I have ever seen an anti-endo provide, and not only doing so seemingly not directly prompted, but typing out every single link by hand, on mobile, without making a single mistake. Incredible work.

And also, to be completely honest, if I had nine sources supporting a belief, I almost certainly wouldn't look into them this closely. But, hey, that's what strangers on the internet with opposing views are for.

One more thing before the debunk: Endogenic systems do not claim to have DID etc. without trauma. They just don't. Whether it could be possible is often debated as an edge case, usually just to win an argument against someone of the opposing side, but really, it's irrelevant for 99% of the community. A good chunk are questioning OSDD based on later trauma, but as far as I am aware, no one on this website is claiming a completely endogenic plural disorder.

However, I don't want to dismiss entire pages based on this alone without further commentary, and it's a fun intellectual exercise regardless. So, whenever I use green text, I'm just playing Devil's Advocate under the premise of "If I was claiming to have DID without trauma (which neither I nor anyone else afaik is), would this source actually debunk that claim?" My syster will also occasionally pop in with purple, since she was cocon while I was writing this.

My dad just walked into my room and literally said "hey how it's going". You know, like. Like that one post. Amazing.

Anyway, civility established. Now come along with me on this long long journey of ten minutes of reading. Maybe put some music on in the background, if that will help you get through it. I had Near's Theme on while writing.

Here we go.

Link 1: McLean Hospital

Ok, main thing that caught my eye was

According to a 2010 Psychiatric Times article, only 5% of people with DID exhibit obvious switching between identity “states.”

Very interesting! Even with all of the "idk who's fronting" memes, 5% is really not that high. Though maybe online spaces like these help train the ability to identify it? The reference trail leads back to a book by Kluft but I don't really feel like going through dozens of pages for this. Definitely making a note of this though; I wonder if there have been any follow-up studies on this.

Not much to say here other than that. No mention of plurality outside DID.

DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood.

Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma.

Dissociative identity disorder—a type of dissociative disorder—most often develops during early childhood in kids who are experiencing long-term trauma. This typically involves emotional, physical, and/or sexual abuse; neglect; and highly unpredictable interactions with caregivers.

Why "associated", not "is caused by"? Why "can", not "is"? Why "most often", etc.?

Why such weak language?

Not that it couldn't be weaker.

I vaguely remember McLean getting into some hot water regarding a video they posted about DID, but didn't find anything concrete. Half-remembered anecdote aside, the author seems well-qualified.

C-tier debunk of this position. It's not nothing but it could be a lot better.

Link 2: Psych Central

It occurs in women 9 times more often than in men.

Very interesting statistic, but no citation provided.

Alters can show striking differences. For instance, one alter may speak with a different accent or have a softer way of speaking. They might have different opinions or a different gender identity, and even physical differences — like left- or right-handedness, or the need for a glasses prescription.

That's quite a stark difference here compared to the McLean article. What happened to "alters aren't that noticeable"?

But whatever, these are just interesting tidbits. None of this has anything to do with endogenic plurality. Nothing like "this is the only way to be multiple", no comment whatsoever.

DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition with strong links to trauma, especially trauma in childhood.

Bruh. This again?

In fact, the American Psychiatric Association reports that 90% of people with DID have a history of childhood abuse and neglect, based on research from the United States, Canada, and Europe.

Bruh. Seriously? 90%? You know what that leaves, right?

According to your own source, 10% of DID systems are endogenic.

But let's break this down. There's a big difference between the system being endogenic, and the DID being endogenic. This statistic is specifically referring to childhood trauma.

The wording's plenty vague though. This can absolutely be read as completely endogenic DID.

One review article from 2017 about the causes of DID noted that there was relatively little research on the condition to date.

The authors said researchers hadn’t yet investigated potential genetic and epigenetic factors. With epigenetic factors, the experiences and behaviors of your parents and ancestors can influence the function of the genes they pass down to you.

The authors of the review said scientists needed to do more research to investigate whether a person with DID might carry genes that can influence if they develop the condition or not.

This is particularly promising because studies have already shown that genes can influence dissociative disorders in general.

So you're telling me DID might be able to be passed down one or two generations? Wow. Again, this still has nothing to do with endogenic plurality, but I'm really glad I decided to play with this second angle, because it's so much more fun. We're certainly not at intentional self-inflicted DID here, but we are at this point a long way from certainly needing childhood trauma in all cases.

And also the reviewer is a military psychiatrist who specializes in ADHD. So uh. Not bringing our best here.

Link 3: Mayo Clinic

Gotta love an article that's nice and short. This is just a brief summary of a bunch of dissociative disorders. Again, nothing about endogenic plurality.

Starting to run out of things to say about this. This whole post could probably be a fifth the length if I didn't feel like playing on hard mode.

Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder involves "switching" to other identities. You may feel as if you have two or more people talking or living inside your head. You may feel like you're possessed by other identities.

Each identity may have a unique name, personal history and features. These identities sometimes include differences in voice, gender, mannerisms and even such physical qualities as the need for eyeglasses.

Hey, that reminds me of someone.

There also are differences in how familiar each identity is with the others. Dissociative identity disorder usually also includes bouts of amnesia and often includes times of confused wandering.

Again, McLean looking really odd with its declaration of DID's covertness against great detail like this. However, its author is so far the best qualified. This one just says "Mayo Clinic Staff". Can't even know which of them worked on this. Some of them are psychs, but if any of them specialize in dissociative disorders, it doesn't say so.

Dissociative disorders usually arise as a reaction to shocking, distressing or painful events and help push away difficult memories.

I won't bother quoting even more wishy-washy language because this post is already at an ungodly length (about 1300 words so far) and we're barely a third done. But yeah, suffice to say, no nail-in-the-coffin 100% link to trauma.

Link 4: Rethink

We are a trusted information creator and accredited by the Patient Information Forum (PIF).

Their bold, for once. That's an alarm-ringing corporate phrase if I've ever seen one. Also, first thing on the PIF's website is "balancing the risks and benefits of AI in the production of health information". So this article might've been written by GPT. Awesome. And yeah, a lot of this whole website looks to me like a bunch of interconnected pages with stupidly long articles written by stitching together LLM generations. Does pass GPT0's test though.

This one is so long. I'll take the ten minutes to read through every word, which I don't think @radpocalypse did, just to make sure there's nothing here, but one thing that does catch my eye scrolling down to near the bottom is that they misspelled their first citation.

A quick look at this Carolyn Spring shows a lot being sold and credentials nowhere in sight. Awesome.

So already I don't need to read this. The information here is not at a high level of trustworthiness. It's maybe better than nothing, but seriously, one can and should do better. But I'll read it anyway, just for bonus points. Thanks to AccelaReader for making this bearable.

Many people will experience dissociation at some point in their lives. Lots of different things can cause you to dissociate. For example, you might dissociate when you are very stressed, or after something traumatic has happened to you.

Some of the symptoms of dissociation include the following:

You may have clear multiple identities.

It‘s important to remember that you could have the symptoms of dissociation without a dissociative disorder.

So according to this, multiple identities can be caused by intense but non-traumatic stress, and might not necessarily be a disorder. So, while I admit this is a little bit of a stretch, we're four links in and this is the first mention of plurality in general, so I'll take it. One point for endogenic plurality. (And again, none of this really matters anyway because this is the worst source so far.)

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is sometimes called ‘Multiple Personality Disorder.

If you have DID you might seem to have 2 or more different identities, called ‘alternate identities.

Two missing closing quotes. Really not a good sign.

They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood.

Aha! Finally, something concrete against endogenic DID! Too bad it's buried in the worst source yet. If we believed we had DID, we would absolutely not reconsider that based on a sketchy webpage with suboptimal syntax and no credentials.

Ugh, finally done with that one. What a slog.

Link 5: DID Research

Aha! The infamous psych student's blog! That's what Sophie said, anyway. Not taking her word for it though. Let's see what we can find here, independently.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is the result of repeated or long-term childhood trauma

Why wasn't this first? First sentence, so crystal clear. No two ways about this, transDID destroyed right out of the gate.

DID cannot form after ages 6-9 because individuals older than these ages have an integrated self identity and history.

Why wasn't this first? It's so plain, so refreshing after four pages of strategic ambiguity. Nothing left here for green. But still no mention of non-disordered plurality.

The author is impressively credentialed but doesn't seem to specialize quite near this area. She's certainly better than most, high above any random Tumblr user talking out of their ass, but the good stuff would be to get a DID specialist to explicitly spell out that endogenic systems are not possible.

Also should make note of this big fat legal disclaimer:

While the author strives to make information on this website as complete, reliable, and accurate as possible, the author makes no claims, promises, guarantees, or warranties about the accuracy, completeness, or adequacy of the contents of this site and expressly disclaims liability for errors and omissions in the contents of this site.

If we did claim to have DID, this would rattle us a little but could ultimately be brushed aside.

Link 6: SANE

As usual, literally nothing about endogenic plurality. I'll just greenmode this.

The majority of people with DID have been through severe trauma in early childhood

And now back to our regularly scheduled nondefinitive language.

Fun fact: highlighting text on this website turns it invisible. Awesome.

A person needs to meet the following criteria to be diagnosed with DID:

- Two or more distinct identities or personality states, each with its own way of thinking and relating. - Amnesia and gaps in the recall of everyday events, personal information or traumatic events. - The experiences are not part of normal cultural or religious practice, or part of childhood imaginary play. For example, a child having an imaginary friend does not mean they have DID. - The symptoms are not because of substance abuse or other medical conditions.

Ah finally, a direct quote from the good ol' DSM. Notice the lack of a trauma requirement.

Funny enough, using only these criteria in isolation, we actually would count as having DID due to our grayout memory gaps when switching. DID is also listed in the dissociative disorders section of the DSM, not the trauma disorders section, so there is no implied criterion there either. However, there still remains the universal criterion of distress, which we do not fulfill. We are quite happy with ourselves.

DID is caused by severe childhood trauma, such as physical, verbal or sexual abuse.

Well, which is it?? Is it a majority association or a direct cause? Why the contradiction? Or is the emphasis on early childhood trauma?

Eh, whatever. Point is, green is once again shut down. But there is still no mention of endogenic plurality anywhere here!!

And no indication of who wrote this article, though the citation for direct cause is a dissociative disorder specialist. Does he actually say that in the cited paper, though?

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is multifactorial in its etiology. Whereas psychosocial etiologies of DID include developmental traumatization and sociocognitive sequelae, biological factors include trauma-generated neurobiological responses. Biologically derived traits and epigenetic mechanisms are also likely to be at play. At this point, no direct examination of genetics has occurred in DID. However, it is likely to exist, given the genetic link to dissociation in general and in relation to childhood adversity in particular.

I hope you have a dictionary on hand. That sure is a lot of big words that aren't in Firefox's built-in spellchecker. Still, after making sure I got everything, it's clearly not so cut and dry here. And we're back on the "it could be genetic" point.

Tangentially related: I do like the dismissal of the iatrogenic model on the basis of the brain scans.

Neurobiological differences have been demonstrated between dissociative identities within patients with DID and between patients with DID and controls. Given the current evidence, DID as a diagnostic entity cannot be explained as a phenomenon created by iatrogenic influences, suggestibility, malingering, or social role-taking. On the contrary, DID is an empirically robust chronic psychiatric disorder based on neurobiological, cognitive, and interpersonal non-integration as a response to unbearable stress.

Anyway, we're not even on the original page anymore, so I'll call it here. No mention of endogenic plurality, and the citation that claims to dismiss endogenic DID doesn't.

Link 7: NAMI Michigan

While the causes [of DID] are unknown

I'm tired. Aren't you tired?

Treatment for DID consists primarily of psychotherapy with hypnosis.

Yeah I'm calling BS on this one

And no citations on this entire page, nor even the author's name.

Statistics show that DID occurs in 0.01 to 1 percent of the general population.

Research has shown that the average age for the initial development of alters is 5.9 years old.

No sources listed. This is definitely the worst link. Literally on the same level as a rambling Tumblr user in terms of credibility.

Doesn't matter that it says

This disorder is believed to be triggered by physical or sexual abuse in childhood

Couldn't even get this dogshit source to be firm.

This one gets an F.

Link 8: The Psychology Practice

Got scared for a moment there that it said ai. No, that's AL, a name. Also this was written in 2022, so we're definitely safe. Can't actually find any other info on this AL character, but at least we can look up the co-author.

Hm, can't find anything on her, either. Well, at least this is a step up from the previous link. Let's see what it has to say.

According to the Dissociative Identity Research Organisation (2018), DID is formed in childhood due to repeated trauma in early childhood (before age 10) before the personality is fully integrated.

I do like that these later links are direct with this. They don't seem to have a citation for that DIRO, though. Unless...

No. Oh no.

Ok, so this one was written by a couple of clowns who definitely didn't do their homework. Cool. I'm getting tired of humoring awful sources like this, so moving on to the grand finale.

Link 9: NAMI

Wait, this is the same group behind the zero-citation article from Michigan! But that was just Michigan. Maybe the main site can do better.

Ugh, it's just another list of dissociative disorders instead of DID specifically.

The symptoms of a dissociative disorder usually first develop as a response to a traumatic event,

Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired?

Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices.

Often? Wow. Sure is a far cry from 5%.

Dissociative disorders are managed through various therapies including: - Psychotherapies such as cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) - Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) - Medications such as antidepressants can treat symptoms of related conditions

No mention of hypnosis, allegedly the primary method of treatment?? (/sarc)

and there was no mention of plurality being exclusive to dissociative disorders

Oh, and no listed authors either.

So, after three thousand words of analysis, all we've come up with are nothing burgers, dogshit, and dogshit nothing burgers. Out of nine links, only one briefly and indirectly touched on endogenic plurality, and it was in favor. Even the argument against the traumaless DID strawman is weak at best. These sources are bad, to put it lightly.

@radpocalypse, if you're reading this, firstly, thank you for powering through your ADHD and dyslexia to read thousands of words dunking on your masterpiece. Secondly, if you have any more sources that you think are backing you, feel free to send them my way. Just uh, maybe read them more closely next time?

And that goes for everyone here. If you think you have a better source, or if I made a mistake or missed something here, I am open to correction. I am open to the idea that I'm wrong and I have some unknown trauma to work through, but I certainly won't go digging unless I have good reason to believe it's there, and I haven't seen any good reason. And if you haven't either, maybe it's time to reconsider your position.

One last thing before I go.

Have you ever actually seen a pro-endo carrd, let alone one cited in standalone? I haven't.

Here's a much longer list of much better sources than yours supporting endogenic plurality compiled by the traumagenic Guardians System. I don't expect you to read anywhere near the whole thing; just pick a few links at random. And yes, while many of them are peer-reviewed papers, some of them are Tumblr posts, but those Tumblr posts cite peer-reviewed papers, so it's all good.

Thanks for reading.

[hochsleep]

This'll be the day that I live (series masterlist)

• Plot: The world is in chaos. Humanity's past is forever erased. The future is now like a thin thread that is about to break. Death has triumphed and now the living are in the minority. You wish things were different. Maybe not for yourself, but for your little sister. The reality is that now you both have to survive in this world on each other and chance. But there's a silver lining, right?

• Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

• Reader's pronouns: She/Her (female anatomy)

• Era: Season 1-11

• Rating: 18+

• Warning: profanity, typical TWD violence, obscenity, character deaths, themes involving psychological abuse.

• A/N: I started something...

I don't know what will come of it, but I really wanted to write something for the reader. Something big. All those of you who saw in the introductory post that I wasn't going to write something big for Tumblr, please let's all pretend together that I didn't. I just acted spontaneously when I finished my favorite Daryl Dixon x Reader fanfic. And I felt like I actually had a story to tell too.

This is my first experience writing a Y/N fanfic and I'm going to have to learn as I go, but I'm going to really try. As for this Y/N, that is, you as the reader: I won't use a detailed description of appearance, use first and last name (obviously), so you can imagine absolutely any appearance you want. But there are a few things that suggest things already in place regarding the reader. Here's what you need to know: the reader's age is spelled out, there's a backstory and it's assumed that the reader was born and raised in America, the character and growth as a character is spelled out. Also, the reader will have blood relatives appear, and I'll give them names, but I'll also refrain from sagging on appearance details. I'll leave that to you. We'll try to mold it into something together.

I would encourage you to read the post pinned to my profile to get more information about me as an author and to understand how my writing works. It's optional, but if you have any questions while reading it, you'll probably find them there.

We will move smoothly through the story from season 1 to the end (season 11). I can only see this way of telling a great story in this fandom. That way I can really bring out the plot and characters to their fullest potential. It's also how I like it. And the first seasons are really special. So it's up to you and I to recap the entire plot of the series, but with my plot inserts. But I'm sure it will be exciting!

That's pretty much all I wanted to say. I really want to share this work with the Tumblr world and I hope you enjoy reading it.

P.S. as time goes on, there will be useful links to additional fanfic material here. You know, like a playlist and a board on Pinterest.

Enjoy reading!

DISCLAIMER: The rights to the original plot and characters belong to the creators of The Walking Dead. I only own my fictional plot twists, my characters, and my vision of the original characters. This work is protected by copyright. You may not distribute the text of this work to outside resources without consulting me. If you use any materials from this work, please credit the author. CONTENT IS FOR ADULTS ONLY.

SEASON 1

Chapter 1: Just survive somehow

Chapter 2: First day in the quarry

[malachitegrey]

Do you experience irritation and sensitivity when searching your favorite tags on AO3? You may be one of millions of people affected by low rates of sex pollen in the Good Omens fandom!

Try these simple strategies to keep symptoms under control:

Increase exposure to sex pollen triggers by joining the Spring Is Here! High Pollen Count event on discord, where all fanworks are welcome and the only rule is "sex pollen!"

Monitor tumblr and AO3 when sex pollen counts are high, such as when posting begins on April 22 through the unofficial end of the season on May 22

When these remedies are not enough, contact local health authorities @adverbian, @malachitegrey, @voluptatiscausa, and @vulvnerable or read the fine print below

Please take care of yourself and those you love by treating your sex pollen deficiency today!

FAQ:

1. What are the rules?

Be chill, tag appropriately.

2. How does this work?

Sign up for a posting date, and when that day comes post a sex pollen fanwork and add it the AO3 collection. Yes, that's really it!

3. Does it have to be pollen?

Not at all my dear! Anything that can be classified as "outside substance compels you to do something" is welcome.

4. Does it have to be explicit?

No my darling honeypie! This is an 18+ only event due to the whole. Sex Pollen. Thing. BUT, you want cuddle pollen? A love potion? Wanna write just the aftermath? That's all good! "Foreign substance changes intimacy levels" is the brief.

5. Does it have to be a fic?

No, lambkins. Art is also very welcome here. You can also do collabs at will! Pair up with a writer/artist! Triple up! Quadruple up!

6. I...need a prompt

Well good news me fine jacksauce we have a prompts doc!

7. Is there a minimum or maximum word count?

No! Go to town! Or just to the corner. Whatever. We're not cops.

8. I still have questions

@ a mod babe!

9. Why are you calling me pet names in the FAQ?

Why don't you like it 🥺

10. I mean it's fine it's just not very professional

If you're looking for professional you're in the wrong server/event sugartits!

Here's the discord link again as a reward for reading to the end! Pollen away!

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

hi derin! i’ve been following you for a little while, and also bemoaning the nature of publishing fiction (indie or trad) for a little bit longer than that, and i only just realized today that…of course web serials are a thing i can also do!

i really love the idea of publishing serially (though i’m not totally sure i CAN, i’d like to try), so while i add this to my list of potential paths, do you have any advice for getting started? building an audience? marketing? figuring out if writing/publishing this way will work for you to begin with?

i know that’s a lot of questions, and you don’t have to answer all of them! i’m throwing spaghetti at a wall out here. i hope you have a good day though, and thanks in advance!

Getting started in web serial writing

Web serial writing has the lowest barrier of entry of any major method of publishing your story. You can literally just start. There are two steps:

start writing your story

decide how/where you want to publish it

The writing part, I assume you have handled. The important thing to note here is that you gotta see the project through. Start and don't stop until you're done. For publishing, you have a few options:

1. Publish on a website designed for web serial novels

There are a few of these around, they're usually free to publish on (although most offer a paid account to give you ad space or boost you int he algorithm or whatever), and your best choice generally depends on which one happens to gravitate to a niche that best suits your kind of work. The big names in this industry are Royal Road and Scribblehub, which, last I checked up on them (about a year ago) tended towards isekai and light erotica respectively. (You absolutely can publish outside these niches on these sites, it's just much harder to get traction.) Publishing somewhere like this comes with multiple advantages. Firstly, there's a writing community right there to talk to; there's usually a forum or something where people gather to talk about reading or writing on the site. Second, the site itself is designed specifically to publish web serials, and will come with a good layout and hit trackers and 'where you left off' buttons for the reader and all that; generally all you have to do is copy-paste the text of a chapter into the page and the site will do everything else for you. Third, there's an audience sitting right there, browsing the 'latest arrivals' or 'most popular' page of the site; if you can get high in the algorithm, you have to do little if any marketing.

The downsides of such places usually come down to the same things as the advantages. Such sites are a flooded market. Your story absolutely will drown in a sea of other stories, a great many of them terrible, and most of them with the advantage of catering to the site's niche. Gaining an audience there is often a matter of trying to game an algorithm, and the community can be... variable. Some of these places are nice but most of them are a bunch of authors trying to tear down everyone around them to make their own work look better by comparison int he hopes of poaching audiences for their story instead. If you go this route, I'd recommend shopping around for a site that fits you personality and writing style (or just posting on many sites at once; you can also do that).

These places also tend to get targeted by scrapers who will steal your story and sell it as an ebook, which is very annoying.

2. publish on another site

Plenty of people publish web serials here on Tumblr. I do not know why. This site is TERRIBLY set up for that. It makes tracking stories and updates a pain in the arse (people end up having to *manually tag every reader whenever they post an update*), building and maintaining archives are annoying, community building is surprisingly difficult for a social media site, and it's just generally far more work for both writer and reader than it needs to be. You often do have a ready-made audience, though.

This does tend to work better on other sites. Reddit has multiple communities for reading and writing various types of fiction; publishing on these is a bit more work than somewhere like Royal Road, but not very much, and many of these communities are very active. There aren't as many forums around as there used to be, but you might be able to find fiction hosting forums, if that's what you prefer. And of course, many writers who simply want to write and don't mind not being paid choose to write on AO3.

These sites are a good middle ground compromise for people who want a ready-made community and don't mind putting in a bit of extra work.

3. make your own site

This is what I did. You can make a website for free, giving people a hub to find you and all your work, designed however you like. You can also pay for a website if you want it to be a little bit nicer. This option is the most work, but gives you the most control and leaves you free of having to worry about any algorithm.

The obvious downside of this is that there's no community there. If you host your work on your own website, you need to bring people to it. You need to build an audience on your own. This is not an easy thing to do.

Building an audience (general advice)

Here is some general advice about building an audience:

1. Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

If you want people to read your writing, the best piece of advice I can possibly give you is have an update schedule and update on time, always. If you need to take a break, give people as much warning as possible and tell them exactly when you will be back, and come back then. Do not take unnecessary breaks because you don't feel like writing. (Do take breaks if you get carpal tunnel or need time off for a major life event or something -- your health is more important than the story.) If you're taking a lot of breaks to avoid burnout, you're doing it wrong -- you need to rework your whole schedule from the start and slow down updates to make these breaks unnecessary. Two chapters a month with no breaks is a billion times better than four chapters a month with frequent burnout breaks.

Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

A reliable schedule is the #1 factor in audience retention. If readers need to randomly check in or wait for notifications from you to check if there's an update, guess what? Most of them won't! They'll read something else. You want your audience to be able to anticipate each release and fit it in their own schedule. I cannot overstate the importance of this.

2. If you can, try to make your story good.

We writers would love to live in a world where this is the most important thing, but it actually isn't. Plenty of people out there are perfectly happy to read hot garbage. How do I define 'hot garbage'? It doesn't matter. Think of what you would consider to be just a terrible, no-effort, pointless garbage story that the world would be better off without. Someone is out there writing that right now, making US$2,500/month on Patreon.

It is, however, a real advantage if you can make your story good. At the very least, it should be worth your audience's time. Preferably, it should also be worth their money, and make them enthusiastic enough to try to get their friends into it. Managing this is massively advantageous.

3. Accept that you're not going to get a big audience for a really long time. Write consistently and update on schedule every time anyway.

It took me over a year to get my second patron. For the first year, I updated Curse Words every single week, on schedule, for over a year, and had maybe... four readers. One of them was a regular commenter. One of them was my first patron. There was no one else.

My audience has grown pretty rapidly, for this industry.

You're not gonna start publishing chapters for a big, vibrant community. You're just not. And you have to keep going anyway. These days, I have a pretty good readership, and those couple of loyal readers (who I appreciate beyond words) have grown into a much larger community, who hang out and debate theories with each other and liveblog and drag in new readers and make fanart. My discord has over 550 members, with volunteer moderators and regular fan artists and its own little in-jokes and games and readers who make a point of welcoming newcomers and helping them navigate the discord, all with very little input from me. I start crying when I think about these people, who do the bulk of my social and marketing work for me just because they want to help, and my patrons who, after writing for over 4.5 years, have recently helped me pass an important threshold -- my web serial (via patreon) now pays my mortgage repayments. I can't live off my writing alone, but boy is that a massive fucking step.

You're not gonna have that when you start. You're gonna have a couple of friends. And that's it. Maybe for a year. Maybe less, if you're good at marketing and lucky. Maybe longer.

You have to update on schedule, every time, anyway.

Building an audience (more specific advice)

"Yeah, that's great, Derin, but where can I find my fucking audience?" Well, if you publish on a web serial site, then the audience is there and you jsut need to grab their affention using the tools and social norms offered to you by the site. I utterly failed at this and cannot help you there. You can still use these other tips to bring in readers from off-site.

1. Paid ads

I've never paid for ads so I can't offer advice on how to do it. I've Blazed a couple of posts on Tumblr; they weren't helpful. This is, however, an option for you.

2. Actually tell people that your story exists and where they can find it.

I used to have a lot of trouble with this. I didn't want to bother people on Tumblr and soforth by telling them about my personal project. Unfortunately you kind of have to just get over that. Now I figure that if people don't want TTOU spam, they can just unfollow me. If you're like me and want to just politely keep your story to yourself... don't. You're shooting yourself in the foot doing that.

You need to mention your story. Link your story in your bio on whatever social media sites you use. Put it in your banner on forums. Make posts and memes about it. Eventually, if you're lucky, extremely valuable readers will start to talk about your story and meme and fanart it for you, but first, you need to let them know it exists.

It will always feel weird to do this. Just accept that people can unfollow you if they want, and do it anyway.

3. Leverage existing audiences and communities

Before I started doing this web serial thing, I used to write a lot of fanfic. The original audience that trickled in for Curse Words comes from AO3, where I was doing a full series rationalist rewrite of Animorphs. They knew how I wrote and wanted more of it. Nowadays, I still occasionally pull in readers through this route. Most of my new readers these days come from a different community -- people who follow me on Tumblr. Occasionally I bring in people who don't follow me because we'll be talking about how one of my stories relates to something different, and fans of that thing might decide they want to check my stories out.

Your first readers will come from communities that you're already in and that are already interested in something similar to what you're doing (people reading my fanfic on AO3 were already there for my writing, for instance). Keep these people in mind when you start out.

One additional critical source of existing communities is your readers themselves. A huge number of my readers are people I've never been in any group with -- they were pulled in by their friends, relatives, or community members who were reading my stories and wanted them to read them too. This is an absolutely invaluable source of 'advertising' and it is critically important to look after these people. enthusiastic readers, word-of-mouth advertisers, and fan artists are the people who will bring in those outside your immediate bubble.

4. Your "where to find me" hub

If you're publishing on your own website, you can simply link everything else to your homepage, and put all relevant links there. For example, I can link people to derinstories.com , which links out to all my stories, social media I want people to find me on (you don't have to link all your social media), patreon, discord, et cetera. If you don't have your own website, you're going to have to create a hub like this in the bios of every site where you garner audiences from. This is the main advantage of publishing on your own website.

Monetisation

There are a few different kinds of monetisation for web serials, but most of them boil down to 'use a web serial format to market your ebook', which to be honest I find pretty shady. These authors will start a web serial, put in enough to hook an audience for free, and then stop posting and release an ebook, with the intention of making readers pay for the ending. Now, to be clear, I am absolutely not against publishing and selling your web serial -- I'm doing exactly that, with Curse Words. I am against intentionally and knowingly setting up the start of a web serial as a 'demo' without telling your audience that that is what you are doing, soliciting Patreon money for it, and then later yanking it away unfinished and demanding money for the ending.

Monetisation of these sorts of stories is really just monetisation for normal indie publishing with the web serial acting as an ad, and I have no advice for how to do that successfully.

Your options of monetisation for a web serial as a web serial are a bit more limited. They essentially come down to merchandise (including ebooks or print books) or ongoing support (patreon, ko-fi, etc.) Of these, the only one I have experience with is the patreon model.

This model of monetisation involves setting up an account with a regular-donation site such as patreon, providing the base story for free, and providing bonuses to patrons. You can offer all kinds of bonuses for patrons. Many patrons don't actually care what the bonus is, they're donating to support you so that you can keep writing the story, but they still like to receive something. But some patrons do donate specifically for the bonuses, so it's worth choosing them with care.

The most common and most effective bonus for web serials is advance chapters -- if people are giving you money, give them the chapters early. You can also offer various bonus materials, merchandise, or voting rights on decisions you need to make in the future. 'Get your character put in the story' is a popular high-tier reward. If you're looking for reward ideas, you can see the ones I use on my patreon.

Patreon used to offer the ability to set donation goals, where you could offer something when you were making a certain amount total or had a certain number of subscribers. They recently removed this feature because Patreon hates me personally and doesn't want me to be happy, so you kind of have to advertise it yourself now if you want to use these goals. I release chapters of unrelated stories at donation goals, and I found this to be far more effective than I thought it would be.

The important factor for this kind of monetisation is that it's ongoing. The main advantage of this is that it makes your income far more regular and predictable than normal indie publishing -- your pledges will go up or down over a month, but not by nearly as much as book sales can. The main thing to keep in mind is that it's not a one-time sale, which means that however you organise things, you want to make sure that donating keeps on being worth it, month after month. Offering bonuses that aren't just one-time bonuses, but things that the patron can experience every month, helps here. So does making sure that you have a good community where patrons can hang out with other patrons. (Offering advance chapters does both of these things -- the patron can stay ahead in the story and discuss stuff with other patrons that non-patrons haven't seen. I've found that a lot of my patrons enjoy reading an emotionally devastating chapter ahead of time, discussing it, and then all gathering a week or two later to watch the unsuspecting non-patrons experience it for the first time.)

Whatever method you use for monetisation, rule #1 is (in the words of Moist Von Lipwig): always make it easy for people to give you money. The process of finding out how to give you money should be easy, as should the process of actually doing it. And, most importantly, the spender should feel like it's worth it to give you money. This is a big part of making it easy to give you money. Make your story worth it, make your bonuses worth it, make sure that they're happy to be part of your community and that they enjoy reading and supporting you. And remember that support comes in many forms -- the fan artist, the word-of-mouth enthuser, the person who makes your social hub a great place to be, the patron, all of these people are vital components in the life support system that keeps your story going. And you're going to have to find them, give them a story, and build them a community, word by word and brick by brick.

It's a long process.

Good luck.

.

[surfinminhos]

especially in love with you ♡

hwang hyunjin x female reader (fluff)

requested! ---- Lrei

!! fluff au, kissing, mentions of stress, work. 2ND PERSON POV, cuddling, clingy bf, tiny fake text part, everything fluff! microscopic angst part !!

word count: 1,073

synopsis: You and Hyunjin have been dating for 8 months, The two of you haven't parted ways since. One day you went home exhausted from work. He was clearly worried about you and let you sleep for the rest of the night. The next day you woke up to see your boyfriend out of sight. Little did you know, he was planning a little gift to remove a little bit of your stress from work. It was the best gift you'd ever received from anyone. You both love each other dearly, but this day was really 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭.

-author's note: this is my first time writing something like this, ever so you can spot a lot of mistakes throughout my posts. I would love some tips on writing on Tumblr, overall tysm for reading.-

It was a scorching hot day and you were with your boyfriend that was going to drop you off to work. You two usually walked to your workplace every morning but considering the intense heat outside, you both decided that he'll just drop you off to work in his car. It was a pretty short and quiet ride. You both liked the comfortable silence that comes every once in a while. You two reached the workplace, wiping a little sweat dripping down your forehead from the hot temperature. You said goodbye to your boyfriend and kissed his cheek."Why can't you just take the day off and spend more time with me and Kkami?" he asked, frowning. "You know I can't do that Hyune, I have to work. Speaking of work, I gotta go, I don't want to be late. Bye," you kissed his cheek again and sent him multiple flying kisses on the way to your office's entrance. You walk inside your office as a bunch of your colleagues greet you and you greet them back. "Omg, I love you hyunjinnie baby mwa mwa mwa" your best friend, (y/f/n) stated mockingly. "Oh shut up (y/f/n), you're just jealous I dated someone longer than 2 days." you scoffed, making her blush a little from embarrassment. "Whatever, I still don't trust that guy." she ranted. "Well you should 'cause I don't think I can ever leave him," you stated. You organize your stuff as you mentally prepare yourself for a long day of work.

You went home, exhausted. You plopped down on your couch, not wanting to stand up, maybe it was because of the extreme heat, or you were too tired to do so. "Hyune! I'm home!" you exclaimed as you watched your boyfriend run down the stairs to check on you. "Hey jagi, how was work?" he asked as he sat down beside you, looking like a disaster compared to him, it seemed like he had just got out of the shower an hour before you arrived, you were lying down, limbs everywhere. "It was the most tiring 5 hours of my life," you answered. "Missed me?" you asked with a cheeky smile, trying to cover the fact that you were really tired yet failing miserably the moment you heard your boyfriend's response. "Of course I did," he cupped your cheeks as he kissed you. "I know you're tired, stop trying to cover it up jagi, I've made you food, eat up and change into your pj's and I'll get ready to cuddle you to sleep," he instructed."Alriiight, help me get up first," you blurted, causing both of you to laugh as he pulls you out of the couch. After you did everything he told you, you rushed to your shared bedroom and saw Hyunjin laying down in his pj's. He was shocked seeing you've done everything he asked so swiftly. "Staring is bad y'know," you said jokingly. You ran over to the bed and lay down beside him. He tucks you in the blankets, legs intertwined as he cuddles you tightly, while you smile at his actions. "Go to sleep now, dream of me cutie" he smirked, causing you to smile and blush even more as you drift away to sleep.

*bzzzt, bzzzt* you woke up to your phone buzzing loudly, you picked it up and glanced at the time, it was 7:23 in the morning. You grunted as you stretched your arms and saw the empty space on the other side of the bed, your boyfriend had woken up earlier than you. You wonder where he could've gone as you stand up and walk lazily to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After, you hear a sudden *ting!* from your phone, indicating a message. You check your phone and see it was from your boyfriend.

"Hm, I wonder what his surprise would be" you mumble, running down the stairs. Just as you said that, you saw what he meant in the text. He made a lot of paintings, of you. He made a cake for you with something written on top "I love you jagiya!", He made a whole interactive card origami filled with letters for you and your pictures together which takes hours to make. You swore you were going to cry 'cause of all the efforts he gave making all of this. You truly didn't deserve him. He was beside the cake, he flashed his smile at you and you smiled back. "You made all this? For me? Why?" you asked, feeling flustered. "Because I saw that you were exhausted from work yesterday and I wanted to make you feel relaxed since you've been stressed the whole week," he answered. Feeling butterflies in your stomach. You two spent the whole weekend together. If only you could live in this moment forever. Night came, and you two were on the balcony, enjoying the view. "I have told you this a billion times already, but I'll say it again. I love you. So much." you stated, breaking the silence. He smiles at you and lifts your chin up to face him with his thumb, "I love you too, so, so, so much. You're my favourite person ever. 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲." he says, and kisses you under the moonlight.

-END-

-author's note ~ IT'S FINALLY DONE! I sacrificed my sleep for this. send some requests! sorry if it's kinda cheesy, I tried. Stream 5 Star for 5 days of luck-

[ninja-muse]

2023 Reading Wrap-up

I feel like this year was pretty average in terms of my reading. Some great books, some awful books, a lot of books in the middle. And while I feel as if I kept hitting slumps, I don’t think my stats really reflect that. I kept reading and even though I didn’t hit my goal of 140 books, that’s more because I read more thick and dense books, spent more time writing, and am one year further from the direness of 2020 and 2021.

This also seems to have been the year of T. Kingfisher for me (and also Ursula Vernon). I read several of her horror novels, as well as Digger and a bunch of the ebooks she makes free for patrons, which are really easy go-tos when you want something light and right now. I was kind of surprised when I realized she was my top author because usually that’s Seanan McGuire.

And I read more ebooks in general, because why should I wait for two months for the library to get a physical book in circulation when I can wait two weeks for it to come in on Libby? I’m still trying to reserve Libby use for lighter, faster, less involved books, because I tend to end up skimming a little more and there’s something about physical paper that helps me retain info better when the text is dense.

Now, stats! Yearly total: 128, excluding rereads and picture books Queer books: 44 (34%) Authors of colour: 15 (11.7%) Books by women: 74.5 (58%) Authors outside the binary: 7.5 (5.8%) Canadian authors: 14 (10.9%) Off the TBR shelves: 39 (30.4%) Books hauled: 41 ARCs acquired: 57 ARCs unhauled: 60 DNFs: 9 Rereads: 3 Picture Books: 6

If you look at last year’s stats and the year before’s, I’m pretty much holding steady in terms of my diverse reading—a little more than a third queer, about 60% female and 10% Canadian, around 6% gender-diverse authors. I’m way down on authors of colour though, and I didn’t hit my stretch goal of 20 Canadians, so those are things I’ll have to pay attention to in the year to come. It would be nice if I could manage more queer books too, but that’s not something I’m going to try for quite as much.

Two of my reading goals for the year were to read more books from my TBR than I acquired, and to keep my ARC levels about even. Seems like I pretty much hit them! I expect that 2024 will see fewer book acquisitions because a lot of my 2023 haul was bookstore visits with my dad and we’ve now hit pretty much every store in the city. I was honestly kind of surprised that my ARC problem stands where it does. I was so sure that I was going to have at least 10 more incoming books than outgoing. Go me! My spring ARC purge really, really helped.

I did all right on the rest of my reading goals. All but one book read (The Great Cat Massacre), which was the real point of the list! I only managed to finish one StoryGraph challenge, if you don’t count my pages goal, and as always I failed to read as many classics as I wanted. I’m starting to suspect I’m not a classics person, despite my interest in history and historical fiction. If anyone has classics recs for me, let me know?

To be completely honest, though, I'm not sure I'm going to continue posting to Tumblr. I pretty much stopped updating my feed in the summer and I've felt more relaxed, both in terms of Things To Do Each Day but also in terms of my reading. When I was more active on here, I felt pressured to read diversely at all times and though I try to have a healthy spread of perspectives, I know that I generally don't and am therefore a bad person by Tumblr standards. I am curious what my mutuals have been getting up to this year so please, sound off! And let me know if you do want to see reviews and wrap-ups continue here.

(Friendly reminder that I'm ninjamuse on Storygraph and LibraryThing, if you'd like to follow me there.)

And if anyone’s interested, here are the rest of my year’s highlights:

Top Five Fiction (not ranked)

The Hollow Places - T. Kingfisher

Menewood - Nicola Griffith

Bookshops and Bonedust - Travis Baldree

A Half-Built Garden - Ruthanna Emrys

The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi - Shannon Chakraborty

Top Five Non-Fiction (not ranked)

Magisteria - Nicholas Spencer

Diary of a Misfit - Casey Parks

Evidence of Things Seen - Sarah Weinman, editor

Lay Them to Rest - Laurah Norton

Like Every Form of Love - Padma Viswanathan

Most Impressed By:

Shubeik Lubeik - Deena Mohamed

Diary of a Misfit - Casey Parks

The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard

A Half-Built Garden - Ruthanna Emrys

Most Disappointing:

Tortilla Flat - John Steinbeck

British Columbiana - Josie Teed

A Killing in Costumes - Zac Bissonette

Tauhou - Kōtuku Titihuia Nuttall

Longest Book: The Hands of the Emperor - Victoria Goddard

Best queer book: Diary of a Misfit - Casey Parks

Did I beat 2022? No. Did I beat my Best Year Ever? No. That would be 2021. Did I read more classics? Not even close. Did I read more Canadians? No. I held about steady. Did I whittle my TBR shelves down any? No. Was it a good reading year? Probably about average?

Breakdowns by month:

January February March April May June July August September October November December

[that-norse-pagan]

Hi. I don't know if you still use Tumblr, but I've came across you by coincidence and I really resonated with your posts. I've been back and forth about whether I should start studying paganism, and your posts kinda gave me the kick I needed to finally start researching. I wanted to ask if you have any recommendations on where to study or any materials, since the internet is full of information, but not all is reliable.

(I hope this doesn't come of as if I'm trying to find short cuts, I'm just really lost in where to start. And sorry if my english is bad, it's not my first language.)

Hello! My apologies for the late response and I hope you're still looking!

I have a few favorite books I can recommend, some have free online PDFs as well!

1. Taking up The Runes by Diana L. Paxson.

It's great for learning in depth how to communicate with deities through runes, and a good look at what runes mean!

2. The Way of Fire and Ice: The Living Tradition of Norse Paganism by Ryan Smith

It goes into again, a lot if detail around Norse Paganism as a whole!! It also touches on sensitive topics, like how to steer clear of Paganism symbols that have unfortunately been used by white supremisists and other excluding people.

3. Also by the same author, I recommend Spinning Wyrd!

Its another great book that expands on The Way of Fire and Ice!

4. Of course I must include the Poettic Edda, which us sometimes referred to as the Bible of Norse mythology. It has all of the original translated texts so you can learn everything yourself!

5. Outside of Norse, I recommend Of Blood and Bone by Kate Freuler! It goes deep into rituals for darker and more taboo Magic, but still very informative!

My DMs are also always open for personal questions and more guidance.

[petalsofyouth]

koi no yokan / part 1 | ran haitani x reader

tw: set in early 00s-10s, flawed characters, unreliable narrator, mentions of drug use, mentions of assault (nothing graphic) | i literally hate tagging so much because i feel like i missed something; anyways, if you think i really did tell me and i will include it.

wc: 18.516

author's note: i actually didn't want to post 'kny' on here and wanted my tumblr to be strictly for one-shots and drubbles, but now i haven't posted in so long & i desperately want to, so here we go.

~

part 1. 

The new place promised a new life with new memories and new friends and new basically everything. It was too much. It was suffocating to the point where your breathing wouldn’t even out and every next breath seemed not enough. You tried to calm yourself with your favourite cup of coffee and your read half through [page one hundred and thirty five] book. 

You brought a lot of books with you from your home. Them, all along with your other stuff still neatly packed in boxes had a faint smell of flowers. So mawkish it made you nauseous and despite heavy rain outside you wide opened every single window in your apartment. You wondered how you never noticed this (almost, not yet) stench back at home. 

At home everything smelled like this, because your father had a flower shop and your mom loved her enormous garden more than anything else. She spent hours outside. He was at work all day. You and your older sister were at home alone. 

You loved your family even though sometimes you wondered what was lacking. What was it that your heart was longing for. In all your years there you never found an answer to such an obvious question. Now, standing before a window wall, overlooking one of the many side streets of Roppongi in your late grandma’s apartment, you thought how amusing it was that when you escaped your native Obihiro you missed it so dearly. Do psychologists have a name for this feeling? As if knowing a name for something would provide you with shelter.  

A small rather inaudible sigh left your lips. You opened a balcony door smelling wet air. It will rain soon. Hopefully for hours and well into the night. But for now you will drink your homemade iced coffee and read your almost finished book. 

Because you are eighteen and it’s the end of March of 2006 and you will start lawyer school in less than two weeks and everything is so new and bright and sad at the same time. 

Being young is really truly overwhelming.

part 2. 

In the next two months you try to make new friends so you don’t feel that lonely. 

You go out with them a lot. To the cinema, to karaoke, to bowling, to their small apartments and huge mansions. Name it and you’ll be there. Just to feel a bit less lonely. Surrounded by people, with drink in your neatly manicured hands, you are almost a part of that raving crowd. 

Almost. 

It’s never enough and returning back to your own place that finally started indeed looking like your own place in the early morning when sky is pink and cold blue and your legs are so heavy you can barely stand is relieving. To the point you promise yourself it’s your last time going out. You would believe yourself, but then again you said the same thing last week and two weeks before that too. 

When friends don't magically appear after all these months you stop. You start attending all your classes, you read manga and books on your balcony, do homework and extra work to earn more credits. You cook and the smell of homemade food circulates the three storey building. Your neighbors must be mad at you because you usually play chef late at night. They either hate you or love you, you think. No complaints come though so you continue steering pots at three in the night. 

Your mom calls you twice every week. Your dad almost every day. Your sister never. She sends you messages instead. They are stupid and small. 

i am fine  (x_x)                                   (emojis she’s using never correlating with the text) 

it’s empty without you at home  

(/▿＼ ) 

found your stupid manga today & read it & why is this shit so sad. u r so depressing.  

i am fine  

[ ± _ ± ] 

don’t worry i won’t threw it out  

mom’s roses are withering she’s mad  

i am fine 

It’s never anything important so you reply the same nonsense back or sometimes nothing at all. You have a funny feeling you are missing out on something. You don’t catch what it is. 

You'll never do. 

part 3. 

Life in Tokyo is not easy, but it’s not that difficult either. You fall into a perfectly constructed routine quite quick, without any problem . 

You wake up. You make yourself your favourite iced coffee, throwing a little bit too much ice, and with a satisfaction you watch how ice melts, cracking under the warm hug of espresso. You drink your coffee on the balcony and then you go to university where you spend most of your day. 

In the evening you return home. You eat. You read or draw and then you go to bed. 

Somewhere in the middle of all these you find a friend. A true friend. She doesn’t go to parties and prefers to spend her free time in a coffee shop, walking around the park or reading a book. It sounds somewhat boring at first, but she’s a truly good person (and you haven't met a lot of those lately), so you succumb. 

She’s a Tokyo native which is insanely good, because she shows you a part of the city that was hidden from you all this time. Together you go to have the best ramen and yakitori and imagawayaki. You visit art galleries because you both are into the art and you both are lawyers to be, but you’d rather be an artist. You go to libraries and bookshops. You draw in the park together and at your apartment since she lives with parents and it’s more convenient to hang out at your place. 

Your new best friend is the one to warn you about gangs and all the criminal activity that is lurking in Tokyo’s darkest parts. It sounds more like a distant far away world that won’t ever touch you. You don’t feel frightened. After all you left it all at Obihiro with your sister and her stupid ex boyfriend who too was a part of the local gang. 

Didn’t you?

The calm voice of your friend continues naming all the gangs and then she fills you in on what they do and what territories they control and how exactly they do it. It’s crazy to think she knows that much about it. Especially for a future lawyer.  

You tell her just that. 

She smiles and says that her eldest brother is in the gang hence she knows so much. His gang is cool though. They don’t beat women or children. They challenge other gangs and they do try to be fair to everyone and everything. They are good guys. 

The way she talks about them you might think they are Robin hoods of Tokyo. 

You know for a fact it’s (probably, you have your doubts) not true. 

part 4. 

It is early in the morning when you wake up one day in July. It’s scorching hot and gladly you have no school today so you spend half of the morning in bed staring at white ceiling. Thinking about nothing. It’s an easy morning and you appreciate the calm - though very very hot - air that surrounds you. 

Laying around in bed proves nothing. It’s boring and soon your thoughts get too complicated. Too difficult. And if anything you don’t want today to be difficult.

It’s gotta be a nice day.  

That much is decided, when you slowly rise from the bed, fall on it again, lay there for two minutes listening to the clock doing its little, but loud tik-tak-tik-tak dance. Eventually you get up and stretching midway march into the bathroom. 

Bathroom is like a cold oasis in the desert. Your feet touching cool marble tiles, you cross a small room aiming towards a rather spacious but square form bathtub. Why and how your late grandma chose this ridiculous design is now history. You regret you never asked. 

After taking a long bath, you throw a towel around yourself and go to the kitchen. To make yourself a cup of iced coffee, of course. You don’t do breakfasts and now it’s well past the time people eat their gohan, natto and whatever else they have for their first meal of the day. You’ll cook something a little bit later. Or call your friend and go out to that now favourite place to have sushi. 

Summer breeze is gentle on your naked shoulders when you sit down on the balcony. The view is not much. Just another grey living building with luxury cars in the parking lot. Roppongi is surely different from your native Obihiro. Well, it’s even different from Tokyo itself. The contrast is subtle and you can’t tell what it is exactly, but it’s there. Present as ever. 

You love Roppongi.  

The quiet alone time ends suddenly. You hear something tearing and then a caustic smell of vinegar welcomes itself in the air. You groan. Loudly. Trying to guess what it is you stand up from your bamboo chair and look around as if it could reveal the sudden intruder. The unexpected intruder reveals himself. 

“Oi! It’s chips.” The voice comes from your left and you look that way seeing nothing, but a plastic beige partition. You never noticed it being there before. 

“How did…” You start, tilting your head so you could see the owner of the voice - he sounds young and you are quite curious because for all the months you live here you never knew you had someone your age living in your building. To be frank, you only met the old lady upstairs, but that’s because she was your late grandma’s friend and introduced herself first when you just moved in. 

“You make a lot of noise.” He stops, mulling something over and you can almost hear thoughts being born in his head. Instead, he snickers and says nothing. 

The barrier between your balcony’s space and his is nonexistent. The only thing dividing you two is that plastic beige partition which you easily look over from, steadying yourself on steel railings with one hand (the other one is holding the towel wrapped around your body) and furiously peer at your neighbour.  

You totally never saw him before because you have a feeling that you would have noticed and remembered him. He is quite a character.

Blond hair with almost neon blue highlights is what you see first. Then his glasses that cover his peculiar coloured eyes. From the distance you can’t quite tell what colour they are, but it’s not brown, hazel or blue. It’s some other colour or maybe it’s the mix of all of them. They catch your attention the most. Until, your gaze travels south, to his chest full of tattoos. He is not wearing any t-shirt; fair enough it’s too hot and he is home. 

Being too busy observing him you don’t notice him squinting his eyes and giving you almost the same identical look. The difference was though that he has seen you before. A lot of times actually. Now, he was just getting a better look. 

“Salt and vinegar? Really?” 

“Wanna some?” He offers you to which you wrinkle your nose and he snorts at you. 

It’s more of a laugh than anything else so you don’t even register it. You don’t reply and get back to your chair in the safety of your own balcony. The whole situation seems ridiculous but the more you think about it - sitting some metres away from him hearing him eating his chips - the more it feels like it was supposed to be like this. 

It’s your first time feeling something like this. 

It’s deviating. 

part 5. 

After this encounter you see him everywhere. 

On the flight of stairs. At the convenience store next to your house. In the parking lot under your building. You even bump into him on Keyakizaka street and once catch a glimpse of him at Roppongi Station. 

It’s not unusual. You are neighbours. It should feel normal, but it doesn’t. It’s almost like he follows you around prying into your daily life. You know it’s not true because he doesn’t have a reason for it. Well, he doesn’t even know your name. Maybe it’s just fate that wants you two together. 

Most of all, you meet on your joined balcony. He’s quietly eating his salt & vinegar chips while you read or paint. Sometimes he listens to his music. He does it wearing huge white Audio-Technica headphones. He blasts music at full volume and after some time you memorise his playlist. You must admit it. He’s got a nice taste in music. 

You say it to him once and when he replies you can hear an easy smile intertwining with his words. “No shit. I wanna be a DJ. I do have a full DJ setup, it’s just that I rarely use it nowadays.” 

“Why?” 

It’s a simple logical question, but he doesn’t answer right away. Silence settles between you two and soon the only sound you can hear is that old lady on the floor above speaking to her husband. She asks him what he wants for dinner. It somehow reminds you of your home in Obihiro and swarms of cicadas rise in front of your eyes. Their сhirping fills your ears. The sound of home and summer. 

The 2B pencil in your hand moves on its own while you wait for him to say something. It’s only after you sketch your yard full of cicadas on the pavement he finally speaks. 

“Just being busy with work and Ran doesn’t like it when it’s too loud and my music is too loud for him”. 

“Ran?” 

He waits again before responding. This time it’s shorter. You don’t manage to draw anything. “My older brother.” 

“He has a pretty name and I agree with him. Your music's too loud. I can hear it through your headphones all the time.” 

“It suits him. His name.” He ignores you siding with his brother and doesn’t give you the satisfaction of being teased by you. “Mine though doesn’t suit me. Do I look like a Rindou to you?” 

You laugh. He laughs too in a i told you so way. He doesn’t see you drawing gentian and orchid in the left corner of your sketch. 

You also think his name suits him well. 

part 6. 

When Rindou meets you outside he always acknowledges you in one way or another. 

It depends if he is alone or has company. 

If he is alone he’d chat you up, asking you meaningless questions about your day. If he is with someone he’d just nod at you. 

You don’t dwell on the subject. You don’t think he might be embarrassed of knowing you or some stupid shit like this. It doesn’t hurt your pride because you don’t know him that well after all. Besides your occasional balcony conversation you have nothing. You are barely even friends. 

He doesn’t know your name. He never asked. At this point you are almost strangers. 

part 7.

Your life carries on. 

You attend classes, go out with your best friend, read books, draw and chat with Rindou. Over time you two become more accustomed to each other. Conversations turn effortless. Personal information shifts to shared. Neither of you mind it. Oversharing and spilling secrets doesn’t exist in your comfortable bubble in the middle of Roppongi. 

Rindou is cosy. 

No matter how close you two grow to each other, you (not him too, but you don’t know it) tell your friends about your little friendship. A grim feeling of inevitable stops you every time you try to tell your best friend about him, his blue locks and round glasses. If you tell her something bad will happen. What you can’t tell. This ominous prediction follows you around. Never leaving. You keep your mouth shut. If anything, you don’t want to ruin your nook. 

He, on the other hand, doesn’t tell anyone because they won’t understand his desire to feel like a normal person for once in his life. He never mentions to you that he is in a gang. What he is doing with his brother and friends at night. He never shows you just how violent he can get and this side of him is hidden from you. Rindou likes it this way. This way you are friends with him because he likes vinegar & salt chips, wants to be a DJ and goes to gym every once in a while. 

You are not afraid of him and you do not pretend. 

He wants to keep it that way. 

So he, just like you, keeps you away from his world. 

By the end of the summer he learns your name. 

part 8.

Despite all your accidental meetings you’ve never bumped into Rindou when he was with his older brother. Despite that, you feel like you know him already. 

Rindou talks a lot about Ran. As it supposed to be, you assume. 

You don’t talk about your older sister that much though. 

You wonder if Rindou wonders why. 

However it may be, he never asks you about that.  

“Ran is a pain in the ass.” Says Rindou looking at the small screen of his Nokia 6230. He shoves white phone - every piece of technology he owns appears to be white and you want to ask if it is consciously done - in the pocket of his wide black sweatpants. “He is staying out today”. 

The intonation and tone he chooses are suggestive to where his brother might be staying and what he plans on doing. You laugh and don’t press too much. It’s not your business and you are not interested in how Ran spends his leisure time. 

“At least he could’ve told me earlier. Kakucho invited me to go to Atami, but he is already on his way and I don’t wanna go on my own all the way there. It’s what…  like two hours? Three?” 

He says all that in front of the convenience store where you both met some minutes ago. It’s well after six in the afternoon and street lamps are barely emitting any power yet. Soon the streets would be draped in these nostalgic azure lights and the whole Roppongi would come alive while other parts of Tokyo would slowly fall to sleep. 

There are no people outside and no cars pass by you two. Your small nook is silent. Even the ventilators of refrigerators at convenience store stopped producing noise. The next thing you know it’s raining. A little drizzle. You sigh. “Wanna come over? I’ll cook.” 

“Real homemade food?” 

“Yeah. What a stupid question.” 

He smiles a bit, thinking to himself that, well, maybe missing out on hot springs in Atami wouldn’t be so bad. He knows for a fact nor Ran nor Kakucho would eat anything smelling so delicious like your food. For a bunch of delinquents without family a plate of soup made specifically for them is a huge deal. 

Of course, he doesn’t say any of these. He shrugs, his shoulders going up and down, and takes a huge paper bag with groceries out of your arms. 

Together you walk towards your apartment building. 

part 9. 

You didn’t make soup that evening. 

In the role of the guest Rindou took it upon himself to decide what you both should have for dinner. As you guessed before he wasn’t a shy type so feel yourself at home words died on the tip of your tongue the second he took his adidas sneakers off and went ahead of you to the kitchen. Strangely enough he went in the right direction. Maybe the layout of your apartments were the same. You were neighbours after all.  

When you showed up in the kitchen, dressed in your for home shorts and your dad’s old t-shirt, he already stuck up everything you bought earlier in their places and was now patiently waiting for you, playing snake on his phone.

“I think you can make us soba with vegetables. And some chicken too, but I like it without skin”. He said, not raising his head in your direction. He appeared strangely familiar in your kitchen. As if he was there every day. 

You nodded, not sure if he was paying any attention to you at all. “I have chicken breasts. Do you prefer enoki or shiitake?”

“Put both. I like both.” 

Cooking is not a quick business. Rindo grew bored of watching you doing the same thing with different products and took it upon himself to tour your apartment alone. You didn’t mind. You had nothing to hide. Your paintings, mangas and books were all there was. Doubtful it would be of any interest to him you didn’t worry. 

To Rindou it was different. He felt like he was intruding your personal life. Probing himself to become a part of it. If not that accidental meeting and Ran’s spontaneous decision to stay god knows where he wouldn’t be here at all. Looking at your canvases with unfinished paintings woke inside of him a dreadful feeling of unbearable closeness to you. 

In all his life he never befriended anyone. All people came and went out as they pleased. Nobody stayed for long. He didn’t give them a reason either and not a single person asked for it. 

Nobody made an effort to stay.  

Looking at your pencil sketch of the valley full of gentians he already knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if you went away too. 

part 10. 

“I was in a juvie with Ran”. The confession comes out of him suddenly. He looks you in the face trying to decipher your reaction. There’s none that he could pinpoint. “We got out recently.” He adds as an attempt to fill the silence that lingers around the corner. 

You put chopsticks aside and pressing your lips into thin line attempt to guess the motive behind his words. 

Why did he say this now? 

What is the reason? 

Why did he decide to open up now that you having a quiet dinner at your apartment?

You find all the answers in his eyes. They are like amethyst. Blue and pink mixed together in a beautiful peculiar shade that suits Rindou just a little too much. They are intent and pleading. He has decided something for himself while you were busy cooking and what it is he doesn’t let you know yet, but you sure it has something to do with your hasty friendship. 

“Why?” 

“We beat up the leader of the gang and his vice to take over Roppongi. The vice didn’t make it out alive. Ran might have gone overboard a bit.” 

“So it was an accident?” Your words are not of justification, but about stating the truth. 

“Pretty much, but I don’t regret him dying.” He waits a moment and then adds. “If I knew the outcome before I would’ve done the same thing”. 

The silence that settles between you two is heavy, but not uncomfortable. It changes the inevitable course of your relationship and you both let it do it. Whatever said is said. There is no turning back. 

You avert your gaze to the steaming food in front of you and take a deep breath before saying what you want to say. Rindou gets ahead of you interrupting what yet to be said. “Do you think differently of me now that you know it?” 

“No.” Your response is immediate. No delays. No hesitation. “Still the same Rindou as before. Some of us have to do fucked up things to survive.” 

“Did you kill someone?” 

Your laugh fills the room and cracks in his heart that were there because of worry. He is ridiculous, he knows it. 

But it’s easy to be ridiculous with you. 

part 11. 

In the month to come you learn more about Rindou Haitani. 

He and his brother are in the gang, but they are by themselves. They rule over Roppongi alone and every single person there is theirs. [This is said in a proud voice and when you ask if you are theirs too since you too now live in Roppongi Rindou goes red. It’s cute.] Their parents are not with them. If they are dead or alive, if they were forced to leave them or abandoned them out of their free will, Rindou doesn’t elaborate. The wound might be still too fresh or maybe it would never heal at all. 

After every bit of information he asks you if you are still seeing him the same way. You always say yes. 

You open up to him too. You tell him more about Obihiro. Your parents that are married and that there’s no love in that marriage anymore. That you believe your dad has a mistress and that your mother knows and that this is a reason she is so attached to her garden full of roses. She tends to flowers and loves them in a way she can’t care and love her husband. 

One evening when Rindou stops by your apartment and sits on the bar stool watching you cook chicken katsu you tell him about your sister. How she got involved with a guy who was in a local gang and that your parents blame him for her drug addiction. It’s a touchy subject and he is the first person you ever discussed this with. 

“You don’t think he is to blame?” He asks in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. 

“No. I think my sister knew better than this. She was her own person before she met him and after she met him. You can’t blame somebody for a decision you solely made.” 

Rindou senses your anger. He thinks [knows] you’ve never been in love. 

part 12. 

It’s November when you are introduced to Ran. 

By this time he’s heard about you [and you yourself albeit muffled by thick glass of balcony door] numerous times. The occasion to meet you never presented itself. Even though it would be a lie from his side if he says he wasn’t dying to meet you. His interest was as high as Fugaku. Not because of you as of you, - he didn’t know you and he’s hardly a curious person - but because of his brother’s soft demeanour and lack of usual disdain he presents around other people. Never you. 

It nags Ran more than he would care to admit. 

The absence of interest in him from your part was a bit suspicious. It depended on what Rindou had told you about him so it might be just his brother's fault and not your mere disregardless of Ran. Who in their right mind would purposely ignore him? 

Their cupboard where they store instant noodles are empty and Ran groans when his palm touches the dusty wood surface. He is tired. And sleep deprived. Too many responsibilities weighed  heavy on his shoulders. Last night he returned home around five in the morning and went immediately to bed. His only meal of the day was tuna onigiri he bought at 7/11. It tasted sloppy and rice was not cooked the way he liked it to be cooked. He complained about it all to Rindou who just clattered. To him, onigiri seemed fine. Not the best he had and certainly not worthy to whine about the whole night. 

Ran was just being Ran. Now he was starving. His empty stomach churning. 

“What did you eat today?” He turned around and suspiciously eyed Rindou who was sitting back to him on their newly bought white sofa watching TV. The show running there was unfamiliar to Ran. 

“Rice, two eggs and plum pickles.” 

The last time Ran had plum pickles happened a long time ago he couldn’t even remember when exactly, less alone the taste. His mouth watered all the same. The non-bothered expression [he could sense even while looking at Rindou’s nape] on his brother's face only added to his starving agony. “You went out?” 

“No. Well… technically yes, but not really.” 

Whatever the meaning of Rindou’s answer, Ran doesn’t catch it. He thinks of asking for an explanation, but senses Rin furrowing. Too focused on the jumping screen of the TV. His whole attention focused on a documentary about wildlife of South America. Ran’s mouth sprawls into an oh-i-know-what-you-are-thinking-of-now sly smile when he goes around and catches Rin bite his lower lip. It makes Ran forget about his minor problems. For the next couple of minutes if so. 

Teasing his little brother about his new female friend is more important. And fun. 

“Why are you being so defensive when it comes to our new neighbour?” 

The question is simple, but the devious tone it's being asked suggests it’s more than this. Rin wants to punch his brother, but instead he sighs. He can’t understand why he is being so protective over you too.

“I am not fucking being defensive. It’s your way of asking about her that makes me angry.” 

“My way of asking?” 

“Yes. It’s like you wanna ask me if we fuck or not?” 

“Do you?” 

“For fuck’s sake, Ran. No. She’s just a friend.” Rindou rises from the sofa and storms off to his room. He doesn’t forget to slam the door so Ran understands the level of the anger he feels towards him now. 

He does. 

So, Ran sprawls on the white sofa. Pillows here are so fluffy he might fall asleep for an hour or so. After he wakes up he’ll knock at Rindou’s door and together they will go to the convenience store. Rindou won’t be angry anymore. He’ll whine and complain and maybe won’t speak with Ran for fifteen minutes or so, but eventually he’ll put the whole conversation about you aside. 

After all they are brothers and Rindou can’t stay mad at Ran for long. 

It goes the same for Ran too. 

part 13. 

When Rindou warned you about the dark alleys of Roppongi you should’ve listened to him. 

But as all people, you too, you believe you are invincible. You believe it won’t happen today or with you. Anybody, but you. 

When you go out that night to meet your best friend at Kagurazaka, there’s not a slightest worry in your bones. You chat freely, drink two cocktails on an almost empty stomach - your impromptu dinner with Rindou happened around four and now it was approaching midnight - and politely decline your friend’s invitation to stay over. She doesn’t live nearby, but her house is relatively closer than yours. It doesn’t matter to you. 

You want to go home. 

You catch the last train. It’s empty. The night is clear and beautiful. The glimmering lights of Tokyo are more than mesmerising. They are surreal. Nothing around you suddenly is real. You have an urge to draw the scenery. You dig into your bag, but there’s no pencil there nor there’s a piece of paper. It's almost like a lost chance, but instead of giving up, you memorise the view. How houses look, their lights, neon banners and small nooks. 

High on Tokyo you arrive at Roppongi station. With a picture before your eyes you don’t notice three young men following you home. If you would, you probably would’ve thought better than cutting your way home and instead would've chose the main road. But you don’t and they feel incredibly lucky.

A beautiful girl and a purse with money. 

Firstly, they yank your bag and when you don’t give it up easily they push you hard to the ground. You fall on the wet pavement utterly confused. Sharp pain goes through your ribs. You try to stand up, not hearing their mocking laughs and your keys falling to the ground. 

It should be humiliating, but you don’t feel humiliated at all. Not even when the hands of one of them goes under your dress. It’s cold and wet and your body starts shaking with anger. You are silent when your first crashes onto his face. The stench of blood is suffocating and the skin on your knuckles brakes with a loud thud. 

You doubt they hear it or care about it because one of them slaps you across your face. Your nose bleeds and blood plops down. It brings a salty taste to your mouth. It covers your collarbones and stains your dress. At this moment you know that there’s nothing you can do and that it is better to give up so you run to the convenience store. It’s two blocks away and there’s always a cashier inside. They won't dare to do anything in somebody’s presence won’t they? 

It’s a fact that those who attacked you are cowards. Nobody else, but a coward would attack a girl in a dress returning home. 

part 14. 

Rindou sees you first. 

He is without glasses - forgot them somewhere between arguing with Ran and forgetting to grab keys from their apartment - but he can clearly see the blood on your face and clothes. He drops the iced peach tea bottle and storms off past confused Ran. 

It’s too late for Halloween parties and he knows you well enough to know that this is not some trickery. It’s the real blood coating very real you. He puts his palms on your shoulders, you are stiff underneath him, but you don’t cry and he takes this as a good sign. “What happened?” 

“They…” You stutter, confused expression on your face, you don’t look at him, but between your bodies, at his nike shoes. They are white. As expected. You don’t want to stigmatise them red. “Somebody just attacked me. Three of them.” 

“Who and where?” The voice is unfamiliar. He sounds similar to Rindou’s, but is more high and persuasive. Rindou never speaks like that. It might be somebody else. 

This somebody else lingers behind his brother. His gaze never leaves your face and despite the situation he finds you very beautiful. There’s something about you that knocks him off immediately and when you raise your eyes at him he knows he is doomed. 

Ran being Ran he shows none of it. Neither do you. 

“Down the street to the left then again to the left and then to the right.” You explain, ignoring the intensifying grip of Rindou’s fingers clawing at your shoulder blades. “There were three of them.” 

Ran flashes you a smile. It’s genuine and you are confused at what exactly is here to smile. “Rin take her home. I’ll be back soon.” 

“Do you have it with you?”   

Ran smirks. He follows the directions you gave him and disappears under the blue lights of lamps. 

Not without showing his baton to worried Rindou. He makes a whole show of it, taking the weapon out of his sweats’ pocket and raising it up so it is visible. He doesn’t turn to look at you to see if you are watching him. He knows you both do. 

part 15. 

It’s your first time being inside their apartment, but no matter how much you want to tour it, Rindou shows you into the bathroom. It’s tiny and you pass a small dressing room to get inside wondering why there’s a sink in it, but you don’t get to ask because Rindo tells you to wait a second. 

He brings you a change of fresh clothes. It’s black sweats and a grey oversized t-shirt. You want to ask to whom they belong, but somehow you understand they are Rindou’s. He wouldn’t just pass his brother’s clothes like this. 

Before getting into the bathtub you examine your body. There are bruises on the left side that mark your skin from where your breasts are and all the way down to your leg. It’s almost like Rindou’s tattoo. You smirk and try not to move much, because once you see the damage it starts to hurt as if your brain only detects what can be seen. Fucking fascinating. 

The door to the bathroom is not locked. You remember it when the first drops of hot water fall onto your aching body. You doubt Rindou or his brother would barge in though so you aren’t worried. Methodically, you wash your face, clean your scraped knee and watch blood mixed with water disappear through the drain. Once again everything feels out of place. Your blood, your black painted toenails, scratches and bruises it feels like they aren’t you. Like they aren’t yours. But the hurt reminds you very vividly that this is simply not true. It’s all you. 

What happened today happened to you. And there’s nothing you can do about it. 

You look around yourself searching for the soap or something else that will scrap this day off you. On the white plastic shelf you notice two soaps, one shower gel and god knows how many hair products. There’s no way to tell what belongs to whom so you take whatever smells better to you. 

Inside your head it’s silent. No replaying of the events. Nothing. It’s not that you do that deliberately. You are not sure you possess that kind of will. It’s extremely hard to choose what you want to think about. Thoughts are not like trains. You don’t get to miss some and then hop on the next, because you like it better. You’ll board every single one and live it thoroughly. 

Want it or not. 

“Did they smack you in the face?” 

It’s the first thing Rindou asks when you emerge from the bathroom. He observes you carefully from the bar stool. Better than anybody else he knows what it’s like to deal with strong emotions and unpleasant situations. He is surprised though when you roll your eyes at him and laugh. Shouldn’t you be crying? Or is it that bad you numbed yourself? The sudden alert in his eyes sells you to him. 

“They did. And they also pushed me to the ground. I have a huge bruise right here.” You show him where, pointing your hand from breasts to your leg. “Nothing to worry about though.” 

He doesn’t understand why you are trying to comfort him when it should be the other way. He sighs. “Get on the sofa I’ll bring you an ice pack and this cream Ran got at the pharmacy the other day. Works like fucking magic. It’ll stop swelling and the colour won’t be so bad.” 

You don’t ask him why they have this cream or so many other medicines. It’s pointless. It's common knowledge to you now what they are doing. You sit on the sofa where earlier today Ran took a short nap before he and Rindou went to the convenience store. Just at the right time to meet you. Coincidence or not you are really grateful you saw them there. You tell it to Rindou. 

He shrugs. A small smile breaks out on his lips and he sits next to you handing you ice wrapped in two towels. “You would’ve come to me anyway. Even if we weren’t there. Right?” 

“Probably yes. I dropped my keys and the trains stopped by now.” You put ice on your face. Gently. It hurts nonetheless. 

“Probably.” He mocks you. And then silence feigns over you as he spreads cream for bruising between his palms. 

It’s an unusual silence full of words and noise. Neither of you disturbs it. Each listening and hearing what they need to. You take this as a chance to observe the living room and small bits of kitchen. It’s behind you so you don’t turn and look at it afraid Rindou might find it noisey. He obviously wouldn’t. 

“Is this your DJ booth?” You ask pointing at a huge table with what looks like a small laptop, DJ’s setups and so many other things you don’t know the proper name of. “I’ve never heard you using it. I bet you can hear it from my apartment”. 

He turns around looking at and you find his gaze amusing. He looks at it like a man in love. Then an annoyed expression where his blonde eyebrows are furrowed and lips shut tight grace his features. “It’s because Ran is not allowing me to bring my friends home. Says we are too loud. He only likes it when Kakucho or Sanzu are here. He is not even letting me bring girls home. Says there are love hotels across Tokyo for a reason.” You laugh and your laugh is contagious because in a couple of minutes Rindou laughs too. It is rare to hear him laugh so wholeheartedly. He is usually most reserved and tries to keep everything to himself. You always wondered if it has to do something with how he was raised and how his older brother affected him? Keeping emotions stocked up inside yourself isn’t a biggie. The problem starts when they are too much and with them you too are getting too much. 

To Rindou a way to loosen up and let go is a fight. You suspect just as much, but he never says it out loud. It’s an awful thing to say, he believes. 

“Do you mind lifting your shirt up a bit? I warmed the cream for you.” 

You do as he asks. 

The situation would’ve been awkward would it be insinuated under different circumstances, but neither of you twists the meaning of what he is doing. He just tends to your wounds. In a very moderate and tame way. This is how you learn that despite his harshness and violent commitments, Rindou is a very kind - soft-hearted for his people even - person. It’s a shame you think of him like this only now when he was being like this all the time. 

When everything is set and done, Rindou brings you a pillow and a patched velvet blanket. The blanket looks out of his style. All bright with knitted flowers it’s like a white spot was placed on Malevich’s “Black Square”. You realise, there are a lot of details and things you don’t know about him. Today’s events, however damaging they are, bring you closer to each other. Another milestone. And you finally met his brother. 

Speaking of whom. 

“Would your brother be okay?” 

Your sudden question takes him by surprise. He goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on the stove. He intends to make a green tea for both of you. It will help him calm his nerves down and hopefully ease your headache and stress. The wave of it still hadn’t hit you. It is always the same for most people going through traumatic events. We all postpone the inevitable, bottle up emotions inside us, and on the second day or third week - it doesn't really matter when - do we accept that whatever we went through was real and valid. It happened and we need to live it through one more time before we let it go. 

For some people, like Rindou, it never goes away. It builds him. It becomes one with him. 

He hopes it won't happen to you. 

He hopes you eventually forget all about it. 

“Yeah. He is Ran Haitani.” You are yet to comprehend the meaning of the weight Haitani surname carries around Tokyo. Gangs, criminals, delinquents and their world is still uncrossed territory. Whatever you know you know from Rindou and your best friend. Both don’t say much. “Those who attacked you, did they want something else from you too? Did they try to do anything?” 

Rindou settles a hot water pot and two cups on the table in front of you. Inside the cups there is dried tea. It smells delicious. Calming and reassuring. 

“No. Even if they wanted to, I ran away before they could.” You lie. The print of the hand of the other man on your thigh is one of the few things you could recall. “By the way, these shower gel and shampoo you have, they smell amazing. I’ll buy the same.” 

Squinting his eyes, he leans towards you and putting his hand on your head brings it closer to him so he can smell it. “I swear… Don’t tell Ran about it. He is already more cocky than he should be.” He sits back, relaxing on a plush sofa. “Mine is good too. It’s like a…” 

“Like a mint.” You tease him. 

He scowls. “Drink your tea and try to get some sleep.” 

You bite another smile to yourself and do as he says. 

Before you fall asleep you see those mesmerising lights of Tokyo. 

You remind yourself to draw them. 

part 16. 

You and Rindou fall asleep before Ran comes home. 

It’s almost dawn. The sky is shrugging off the black of the night and dresses in pretty pink, yellow and baby blue. In the city, one needs to go somewhere high to meet the sunrise or sunset. In Tokyo there are numerous locations for city viewing that usually attracts tourists. Because of that Ran hasn’t been to any of them. He thinks, going out for stargazing or to watch sunset or sunrise is stupid, anyway. He prefers to stay in and sleep. 

He doesn’t like to be up all night either, but now, returning home he looks up at the sky and for the first time in his life, he might agree he was wrong. It’s gor-ge-ous. 

The baton in his right hand is stained with blood. At first when he arrived at the alley where you were supposedly assaulted he got disappointed. No one was there. Drops of blood and your keys along with other stuff like lip balm, spiral hair tie and empty wallet with discount cards and coupons proved to him that he has not been mistaken. It was exactly where everything happened. Just no one was there anymore. 

Carefully he picked everything up, checking twice, just so he didn’t miss something. Then, Ran called Sanzu. If you ever need to find someone, Sanzu is your choice. 

He and Sanzu found them in an hour. They begged for forgiveness, but Ran was so tired and Sanzu was already so high. Nothing they could’ve said would be of any help. By the end of it all, they gave all the money they took from you and even more. Ran made sure they apologised enough. Pity, you were too far away to hear.

Now, the solemn apartment greets him with background noise only TV could make and Rindou’s soft snoring. Ran takes his shoes off, neatly puts them in the shoe box, places your bag on top of it and goes straight to the bathroom. It reeks of blood and his shampoo. On the tile floor lays your bloody dress. It’s pretty and stylish. Not too girly in his opinion and he likes it, but thinks you chose just the worst day to wear a beige short dress. 

He lifts your dress and throws it in the basket where they store their dirty clothes. Doing so has a strange feeling to it. It shouldn’t be that natural. He should be weirded out by your presence in his sanctuary where he is at his most vulnerable and he knows you are here because he feels tiny little needles poking at his body. 

Maybe he is just tired. 

Or maybe - and Ran is sure it is the real reason - there was something so gut wrenching sweet about your face covered in blood under the neon sign of a convenience store, it was all he could think of since. 

The immediate attraction he sensed towards you was now giving him hard times. You were Rindou’s friend. No. You were a very good friend of Rindou and while Ran couldn’t know if his brother liked you - like liked liked you - he could clearly tell that he cared about you so much he didn’t want you to meet Ran. 

He fills the bathtub and slides into hot water. His skin is burning but it is a pleasant feeling. From the bathroom he can’t hear if he woken you or Rindou and he hopes he didn’t. He doesn’t have any energy to talk or look presentable or do anything really. What he desires is to fall asleep right here in the bathroom in warm hugs of water. He wishes someone could hug his tired brain the same way. 

On his way to his room he can see the glimpse of you. He stops. It’s funny how you sleep where he slept not so long ago today and just now he was taking a bath where you had been taking it. Too, not so long ago.

He shakes his head.  

Sometimes he thinks about the weirdest shit. 

It’s crazy. 

part 17.  

Rindou wakes up first. He lets you sleep well past afternoon and when you open your eyes and emerge in his room he gives you back your bag and keys to your apartment. 

He says he can’t find your dress anywhere. 

He asks how you feel. 

“I feel like my body was put through a meat grinder.” You shrug. “Other than that it’s fine. I am gonna go home now and prepare something to eat. You and your brother are welcome to crash at my place later.” 

“Ran would appreciate it.” 

You nod at him. With a bag in your hands you go home. 

part 18. 

It’s peculiar how yesterday evening another you was going out of your apartment and now this different version of you crosses threshold again like it’s nothing. You hang your key by the screw near the door, you take your shoes off, sit your bag on the backless stool right by the entrance and go inside. 

You don’t lock your door. You doubt bad luck would strike you twice. And to be honest after what happened you don’t feel afraid at all. [Not that you were before.]

The image of night Tokyo is still in front of your eyes and it jumps in your heart alive demanding to be painted right this second. It’s very difficult to tame your creative urges, but you do your best and go straight to your bathroom. To shower and see how much bruising has progressed. 

In the pale white light, with purple splotches and scratches your body looks different. It’s you and at the same time it’s not. You observe your reflection closely trying not to miss any detail. You want to remember this version of you. Harmed, but not beaten. But all there is is a strong sense of alienation. You lift your right arm up and the person in front of you does the same. You do the same with your left arm, then you stand on your tiptoes and then you jump and then you turn turn turn until your head feels fuzzy and you fall to the ground. 

Afraid, you sneak a glance at the mirror. What would you do if there’s a person in the reflection? The mirror is clean. There is nothing that shouldn’t be there. 

You let out a breath. 

Everything is good. 

Everything is going to be okay. 

part 19. 

The washing machine is half way through its programme when there's a knock at your door. 

“Oi. Why didn’t you lock your door?” It’s Rindou. You can hear him taking his shoes off and making his way to the kitchen. By now he knows your apartment like the back of his hand. “You should be more careful.”

You shake your head, disapproving. “I doubt someone would break into my apartment.” In your hands you form a ball of rice. Large handful. Your already made onigiri lined up on the kitchen table look perfect to Rindou. You however see every bit of essential rice poking out. You sigh and add. “Besides, what would they find here? My canvases? My pastels? My collection of coloured pencils? I don’t even own a TV.” 

“You.” He deadpans, stealing a mouthful of shredded tuna mixed with mayo. “Just lock your door. That’s all. Two fillings? Is this one salmon teriyaki?” The spoon he found in tuna goes all the way to the - indeed - salmon with teriyaki sauce and spring onions. He doesn't bat an eye that he is doing something wrong when he puts the spoon back. Instead he looks around. Almost anxiously. He raises up from the table and goes all the way to the pots sitting on the stove. WIth one swift motion he lifts lids and checks what’s inside. He gasps. “Did you make rice with eggs and spam? It’s Ran’s comfort food. He would eat anything now though. He hasn’t had a proper meal in days.” 

“He doesn’t seem like a person who would skip a meal.” You mumble, contemplating between taking a new spoon or continue using the one Rindou had so nonchalantly put in his mouth, devouring onigiri fillings. 

“I said a proper meal. He was surviving on ready-to-gos.” 

“Still better than salt and vinegar chips, I guess.” You shoot him a teasing smile which he warmly accepts with a mocking scowl. 

You choose not to change the spoon. 

While you continue to prepare dinner Rindou disappears somewhere inside your apartment. Judging by his heavy loud footsteps he is in your bedroom. 

There is only one thing he could do there and it’s checking your sketchbook. Earlier today after the quick shower and getting laundry set up you sat down on your bed wrapped in a large towel that felt like a cloud and drew for an hour. Creativity, that art provided you, eased your mind. Soon enough the ache in your mind and body started to fade. In that urban drawing you were sketching, events of yesterday never happened. There, you were never assaulted. You were still on the train going from Kagurazaka to Roppongi. Thinking about nothing and feeling everything. 

There, you still haven’t met Ran. 

Why you think of him at that moment is confusing. There is no logic behind it. Something somewhere inside of you just brought his being out. Thinking about it, you didn’t even have a chance to properly introduce yourself to each other. You never planned on meeting him so you never thought about how it would go, but still there’s a hint of disappointment that the first time he saw you, you were covered in blood. 

The painting in your lap is unfinished. It’s half way through. Or even less. Urban sketches demand a lot of time because of all the tiny details they consist of. Pursing your lips, you look at the drawing, not sure if you like it or want to rip it apart. Abrupt throw - which is Ran Haitani - halt the whole process to an end. You won’t draw a single line today. That much you understand. 

Now, sitting on your bed, gazing at your sketchbook, Rindou for whatever reason it may be recognizes not the Tokyo or its lights or its small alleys, but his older brother. Yes, it’s buildings. Yes, it’s street lamps. Yes, it’s hundreds of windows and lanterns of the small alley where in the morning merchants will sell fresh fish, vegetables and street-food. And yet, all he sees is Ran. It’s so evident it knocks him off. He almost has trouble breathing and he so wants to ask you if you did it deliberately. Knowing what you are doing and still doing it on purpose. 

He is afraid you might find it stupid because it’s a landscape. And more than anything Rindou doesn’t like to put himself in a situation where someone would think he is stupid. He hates the feeling. 

Silently, he closes your sketchbook and places it on your nightstand where he notices a manga. It’s the second volume of “Kagen no Tsuki” by Ai Yazawa. He grabs it and brings it with him to the kitchen where he sits across from you. You are still making onigiri. 

“Don’t read it. It’s a really sad story. I cried for days. And every time I reread it, I still cry like the first time.” You warned him noticing the manga in his hands. “I am almost done. Will your brother come soon or do you wanna go fetch him? The food will go cold.” 

The reminder of Ran coming from your mouth unsettles him. There is no reason for him to feel this way, but he still does. He clenches the book so much his knuckles go white. If you notice you don’t say anything. “Why do you keep reading it time after time if it’s sad and makes you cry?” 

“I guess I love sad stories.” You say simply, licking your lips after. You finish the last onigiri, put it on the plate and rise from the chair. Your body aches, but you stretch anyway. “And it’s Ai Yazawa, Rindou. You can’t help, but return to her stories.”  All of a sudden, a thought that you would never find him stupid, flashes through his mind and eventually he relaxes. 

The book slips from his grip. 

part 20. 

Ran is wearing a dark grey loose knitted sweater - it has the same colour as pavement outside your building - and a pair of baggy black sweats. His hair is tied into two neatly done braids. If you thought Rindou has long hair it’s just because you haven’t seen his brother’s yet. Yellow tails of his braids reach just below his thorax. 

They are probably hella long undone. 

Ran looks cosy and sleepy. His downturned eyes scan the room almost curiously, but there’s no lively emotions just yet. Until he stumbles at you and Rindou. The corner of his lips tug upward. Just a bit. Then his lips form a shape of “o” as he sees Rindou helping you set the table. Something he hasn’t seen in… forever? Domesticity was a foreign concept to them both. 

“The door was unlocked.” He says, leaning on the countertop with his elbow. 

Ran looks as if he hasn’t spent a single thought on his looks and came right away as he was. Rolled out of bed and emerged in your apartment. This however couldn’t be true. You’ve seen the enormous variety of shampoo, gel showers and other cosmetic necessities [totally unnecessary for Rindou though] in their bathroom. 

Hearing about the door you shoot Rindou a smug glance which immediately sparked an interest in Ran. He has never been with you two together and now seeing you interact so smoothly, in a familiar way, naturally created a lot of assumptions. Were you and Rindou that close? 

Despite yesterday's question he could now admit that there was not an ounce of romance between you and his younger brother. Ran almost felt sorry for asking. 

“I didn’t lock it because I am here and Ran was coming too.” The tone of his voice is flat like he is explaining the most obvious thing in the world to a two year old. You raise your eyebrows at him and grin, handing Rindou a disk with different kobachis on top of it. It has pickles, onions, and sauces. 

“First of all, he could perfectly open it even with it being locked. Secondly, do you always cook so much or is it just because we are here?” 

He wants to say something else, but Rindou is quick to interrupt him. “Nah. She’s always like this. She just likes cooking.” You nod at this because it’s true. You do like cooking. Very much. “She also likes drawing. And reading. And flowers.” 

These all are true too and you are amazed that Rindou is quick to tell all of your interests. It’s either you are blant or he is very observant and caring. 

Unlike his younger brother, Ran doesn’t wander off around your apartment. He stays at your side at all times quietly observing you. The truth is in the small details and that’s why he doesn’t take his eyes off you, noticing every single little one. Those that stood out and those that were well hidden. His act is impulsive and he is not very well aware of it. Rindou is and he thinks that this is why he wanted to keep you off his world.  To Rindou it’s like his brother is tainting you. 

At the table they sit across from you. By this time it’s mostly you and Ran speaking. He properly introduces himself and you do the same. Even if there’s no need for you too because Ran is not hiding that he heard about you before. Still it’s a polite thing to do. So you tell him your name, your age and that you came from Obihiro to Tokyo to study law. He jokes that he is good at breaking the law and you both laugh while Rindou rolls his eyes. 

“Did you paint it?” Ran asks, showing the picture behind you. It’s an oil painting of Kyoto Temple. There is a lot of green from the trees in front, but even with that the painting looks solemn. Grey stormy skies and dark facade of the temple carry something ominous in it. 

“No. My late grandma painted it. I don’t use oil paints. I actually never got to work with them so I don’t know how to control them. I am more into dry materials. And I’ve never been to Kyoto.” 

“Like pencils?” Ran is on his second portion of rice with spam. It’s delicious and though he is not a big on eating like Rindou, he can’t stop himself. Everything you cooked melts on his tongue. “I wanna see your drawings.” 

“Yeah. Like pencils, pastels, charcoal. Something like that.” 

“Since when do you know anything about art?” Asks Rindou. He puts his chopsticks aside and steals onigiri. You assume he took the tuna one, but you can’t be sure because when you were arranging them, Rindou volunteered to help, then mixed up the plates and put everything together. A total mess. 

Ran shakes his head as if he is laughing. No sound comes out of his mouth though. He turns to his brother, eyeing him. “I don’t know anything. But! I like fashion and contrary to you Rin I have this natural feeling for…” He stops talking and carefully chooses his next words. “For beautiful things.” 

Rindou groans in frustration and covers his face with his hands. Ran laughs. For real this time. His laugh is elegant and light. You can’t decide if it suits him or not. Ran is like a closed book. You can’t read him and you have no idea what is going on inside of his brain. He doesn’t seem like a dangerous person to you and despite knowing that in fact he is pretty much dangerous you have this feeling - call it a premonition - that he won’t ever hurt you. Nonetheless his closeness bothers you. Not to the extent of keeping you on your toes, of course. But still, it’s not the most pleasant thing. 

While they bicker you slip out of the table and go to your bedroom. There you grab your recent sketchbook and some older ones. You also bring out the last canvas you’ve done. On it is a half-way finished forest with a shrine. The only coloured part of this drawing is a forest. Everything else is still a sketch. You think you might return to it today. If you aren’t that tired, that’s all. 

In the living room Ran polishes off what seems to be another portion of fried rice and spam. Rindou didn’t lie when he said his brother was hungry. They both raise their eyes at you when you enter the room. Munching on the food, Ran is quick to stand up and offer you some help. This is a mere polite gesture from him. Few sketchbooks and a canvas aren’t that heavy. You and him both know that. 

And so does Rindou. 

He also knows his brother well enough to understand that this action was spontaneous. Something Ran wasn’t really expecting of himself either. 

It’s already past ten when Ran finishes looking through your works. He doesn’t compliment them or actually say anything at all. His long fingers skip page after page going through months worth of drawings. When something catches his attention he rests his sleepy eyes on it and studies it for some minutes. Besides furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lower lip, Ran's face remains impassive. Once again you can’t even imagine what goes on inside of him. 

Does he like your art or not? Anxiety crawls inside of you. 

“When I am rich enough, like a multimillionaire kinda rich, I’ll buy every single one of your art.” Ran says it without raising his eyes at you so he doesn’t catch how you nervously swallow, your throat doing a bulb motion, fingers locked. Instantly after his word the tension evaporates from your body. Why were you so jittery? Opinions of other people rarely touch you in an important way. Let alone about your art. “What is this drawing about?” 

Between his thumb and an index finger is your latest sketch. The one you started today. You tilt your head so you can see it better. As if trying to see it through his eyes. [You obviously fail at it.] You take a deep breath before explanation pours from your lips - or your heart. Rindou next to Ran stiffens. He is too interested in this particular sketch. For a different reason than Ran. “When I was returning home yesterday I took the train and I saw this view outside. The train was going slow so I could take a mental picture and I just liked it, I guess. You know, all those lights and side streets, stars. Looked quite memorable.” 

He hums presumably agreeing and positions the sketchbook with the drawing on the table, leaning it against your glass full of grape soda. Then, Ran puts his elbows on his knees and props his chin on his intertwined fingers; they look like a bridge. He observes the drawing delicately before he sighs and turns his head to you. “It reminds me of something, but I can’t tell what it is. Can I have it?” 

It’s out of character for him to ask permission when the whole evening he was doing what he wanted and giving dismissive orders. 

“It’s not done yet, but when I finish I’ll give it to you.” 

“Wait a damn second. Why did you never offer me some of your drawings? I want the one with cats.” Rindou is quick to reach out for the old sketchbook of yours. He gives the impression to have memorised their insides by heart as almost immediately he finds what he was looking for. It’s an A4 vertically turned sketch of various cats in the grass. He angles it and pokes at it. “This one.” 

“I never offered because you didn’t ask.” You laugh. “You can have it, Rindou. Do you want me to give you a frame for it? I think I have one just in the right size.” 

The rest of the evening goes steady and slowly. You cut out the ‘cats sketch’ out of the sketchbook and frame it; indeed you have a frame that fits like a glove. Or does the sketch fit the frame? You have no clue. It doesn’t really matter when for the first time you feel so calm and at peace. 

None of you mention yesterday’s event. 

None of the boys eye your peeking through your spaghetti strap tank top bruise. Neither of them addresses your slightly discoloured face and an evident rip of the skin under your nose. 

They go home at two in the morning. 

You give them remaining onigiri for breakfast. 

part 21. 

You sit on your sofa, legs prompt under you, pencil in hands when you hear the doorbell ring. It’s dark outside, even though it’s barely five in the evening. Winter is almost here. And day by day it gets colder and colder.

Apparently, the chill air eats the daylight away. The allegory appears funny to you. 

Today you missed the classes and declined the invitation of your best friend to go on a double date with her brother to Hamarikyu Gardens. You said you might have caught a cold yesterday on your way home. You haven’t told her about the assault and you don’t think you will. 

Nothing really bad happened and she would worry in vain. Right or wrong, it is what you believe in the moment. So you keep your mouth sealed tight. 

The bell rings the second time. Impatiently. You sense that if you won’t open the door immediately the person on the other side of it would break in regardless. Groaning, you stand up from the sofa and pad to the entrance. Pencil and sketchbook forgotten on the floor. 

It’s Ran. When you open the door without asking who it is on the other side you see him, wearing a light coat over a green sweater and black jeans. His outfit looks expensive and well composed. In his hands he holds two paper bags. Those are from the nearest supermarket. He grins when he sees you. 

“Do you know how to cook tonkatsu?” 

“Did you buy eggs?” 

“Yes. Pork, eggs, flour, cabbage, some sauces…” He lowers his eyes down and peeks inside the bags. “Oh! Sangaria Hajikete for you. Mushrooms too. Green onion. I think I forgot noodles.” 

“I have noodles and rice at home. Come on in.” 

He grins again when you invite him inside your apartment and you can’t help it, but smile back. He hangs his coat near your jacket, takes off his sneakers and follows you to the kitchen where he places bags on the countertop. You help him take out groceries noticing midway how relaxed he is. The confidence might run in Haitani’s genes because Rindou is exactly the same.

As if reading your mind - you can’t be sure he doesn’t possess such power - he informs you on Rindou’s whereabouts. “Rin is with Kaku at the gym. You know those guys that would rather live at the gym than at their house? Those are them.” 

“Rindou told me he likes exercising. I mean at least it’s healthy, right?” You take the meat out of the container and rinse it in the sink. From the corner of your eyes you see Ran reaching out for the plate where you could put the meat later. Somehow it didn’t cross your mind. “Thank you. And what do you like to do in your free time?” 

“Sleeping. Napping. Shopping.” He helps you lay the meat by bringing the plate closer to you. “And barging into apartments and making girls cook for me.” 

“Funny.” You do actually find it funny. Not as a poor joke itself, but rather as a lame excuse for flirting. If he even considers it flirting. “Okay, now while I'm doing the meat would you take over chopping vegetables? It's not hard at all.”

“Do I look like a person who can’t cut vegetables?” 

He raises his eyebrows at you and for the first time you notice their colour. Blonde. You almost ask him about why he decided to dye his hair half-half, but hold yourself back. Even if he welcomed himself into your house, even if he is acting as if you know each other for a long time and even if he is Rindou’s brother, you can’t just ask him whatever you want. 

Ran, of course, thinks otherwise.  

He thinks the silence you keep is because of his eye colour. 

“They are amethyst like. Rindou’s are more on the lavender side.” 

“What? 

“Why were you staring at me?” 

“Your eyebrows are blonde. I was thinking you would look good with blonde hair.” 

His eyes go wide and then he grins for the third time this day around you. Ran shakes his head in amusement and fishes out of the drawer long silver knife. He checks it with his finger to see if it’s sharp enough. He takes his time to choose the right knife. One might think he has an opinion on them. You give him the cutting board. He probably knew where they were stored too. You are not worried about it. He might have memorised everything from yesterday. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever go fully blonde again.” He confesses after some time. You turn to him waiting for what he has to say. Ran’s full focus is on cutting green onions - you must admit he does it easily, every chop is neat and of the same size - when he resumes. “When I killed that guy my hair was blonde and long. They shaved everything off at juvy. I hated it. Gladly my hair grows out fast.” 

There’s almost nothing to say without probing further on this unsettling topic. Rindou told you about it just once and then you’ve never returned to it. There was no need and it was evident that Rindou didn’t like to talk about it. Nor did he particularly speak a lot about their days at juvy. Everything was brief. But one thing you remember clearly. Rindou said they killed them when Ran said that he did it. 

Despite your attempt to remain neutral you frown. 

“Rindou told you we did it together, didn’t he? He always presents it like we did it together, but in fact it was me. I knocked out the captain with one blow and then I killed the vice. You couldn’t recognize his face. It was Rin who told me to stop. All he did was just hold him down and maybe dislocate one or two joints. Rin is hella strong.” 

“Yeah he likes to prove it all the time. Opening all jars, bottles. You know.”

In fact, Rindou is a caring person and he does all of this not to validate himself, but to help. Nonetheless, the warmth spreads in his chest everytime you tease him that he likes to appear strong. 

But today it’s not about Rindou. It’s about Ran and so he asks the obvious. “Aren’t you scared of me?” 

“No. Why would I?” You bring out three small bowls and fill them with flour, eggs and breadcrumbs. Thoughtful Ran brought them made so you didn’t need to crumb the bread. “And my point still stands. I think you’d look good with blonde hair.” 

She’s unbelievable, he thinks, and the feeling he had the night before only intensifies. This small premonition of love haunts him, but try all he wants, he can’t shake it off. It’s already made a nest inside of him. Like a little lost bird who neglects his lame excuse of a heart.  

“I have old pictures. I’ll show them to you.” 

“Sounds good. Now grate the cabbage. I’ll deal with the meat.” 

He only hums in response. 

In thirty minutes everything is ready. Ran is more helpful in the kitchen than Rindou, who leaves you alone and spreads on the couch going through your manga or book, is. It might be because Ran is older and he needed to take care of his younger brother all this time. It’s unknown since when they started to live on their own and where their parents are and if they had them in their lives at all. Rindou had never breached the topic so naturally you thought that he avoided it. Those memories got to be the most painful ones. 

You set the table alone. It’s a monotonous task. Bring the cutlery, plates, place all the food and glasses. Nothing too difficult. It bores you a bit. From the living room you can hear Ran speaking on the phone with Rindou. He told you he’d give him a call to tell him everything is ready. His voice is muffled and you have no desire to eavesdrop on them. Privacy is privacy even inside your apartment. 

The steam coming off tonkatsu makes it appear all the more delicious. You contemplate stealing a piece to try if it’s as tasty as it looks, but assume it will ruin the whole composition of nicely laid out meat you spent a good ten minutes arranging. Shredded cabbage seems fresh and savoury too. You wonder if you are just too hungry or it’s been ages since you’ve had tonkatsu and that’s why it looks so delicious.

You are glad Ran stopped by. 

“You know how I wanna name this sketch?” He stands at the entrance of the kitchen - a place where the living room and small dinery are connected; a safe-zone - holding the sketchbook you left on the floor when he rang the doorbell. “Koi no yokan.” 

“A premonition of love?” 

All of a sudden it seems fitting. The best name anyone could think of. Honest and raw. Just like your sketch. Just like you. Just like Ran. In front of each other without embellishments. 

“Yeah.” He nods, coming closer with a sketchbook still in his hands. His eyes widened in surprise as if he wasn’t preparing dinner with you. “It smells too good. Let’s eat. Rin said he will be late. They just started on the second set of whatever the name of that machine was.” 

At the dinner table you sit in front of each other and just like yesterday Ran devours everything he lays his eyes upon. You both chat freely and effortlessly. It’s you who does most of the speaking and he who asks all the questions. Ran learns a lot about you. He discovers he loves it even.  

At last, he asks. “Do you wanna know what happened to those guys?” 

“No, but thank you. You didn’t need to do that, but yet you still did.” 

“Sanzu was with me.” 

“Who?” 

“Nevermind. Maybe I’ll introduce you one day. Do you like burgers? We could make some tomorrow. What time will you be at home?” 

“I am not planning to go anywhere. So anytime. And yes I love burgers.” 

He winks at you. “Noted. I’ll bring everything you don’t need to buy anything.” 

Smile graces your face and you take a sip of grape soda he bought just for you. 

It tastes more delicious than ever. You can’t help, but wonder why. 

part 22. 

Of course, the very next day Ran is at your door again. As promised.

He carries grocery bags and behind his rather broad shoulders, you can see Rindou’s blond hair pulled up in a messy bun peeking at you. Ran grins, pushing forward as he welcomes himself in your apartment. Rindou rolls his eyes, fascinated at both - how cosy and comfortable Ran is with you just after your second meeting and how cosy and comfortable you are with him. 

But then, there’s nothing too unanticipated. Ran’s charisma and charms are well-known all over Tokyo. He is very handsome too which only ever worked in his favour. And, more importantly in Rindou’s opinion, Ran’s is not gloomy. If anything, his usual expression is a beautiful mixture of melancholy and sadness that seems to make every girl fawn over Ran. 

Not that Rindou ever had any problems with girls. He is Haitani after all. They will always remain popular. 

What you don’t know and haven't seen yet is that Ran is an absolutely vicious person. He can be cruel without limits. A lot of times, in fights, it’s Rindou who stops him. He believes - and rightfully so - he is the only one who can. Once raged and challenged Ran doesn’t know the limits. 

Not that Rindou is any better. 

They just maintain control over each other like brothers should. 

After burgers, comes mentaiko pasta and after it ramen and then gyoza - which Ran surprisingly can seal very well and Rindou once again for the thousand-ish times in his life feels lesser than his almighty older brother is - then some other western dish and then it’s just an insanely delicious food carousel neither of you can remember. 

Once Ran brought some old photographs he had. Looking at them Rindou had a vague disorienting ache that transmitted that he was looking at strangers. There were their old friends. Them before juvie. Other people and the same places in Roppongi that now were again theirs. All his life everything Rindou was dreaming was to be like Ran and then own Roppongi, a place they called home. But as Ran passes pictures to you, explaining what is forever imprinted on them and who all those people are [some of them are dead despite being so young; and now they’ll forever remain so] Rindou feels sudden abruption of everything he holds dear to him.  

Was it all really worth it? Does he like what he does? Aren’t all his goals and envisions for the future of those small bulky boy in the picture, but not him as of now? Would he always follow Ran? 

Yes. Yes. No. Yes.  

He chants as a mantra.

One day, late at night, after another delicious dinner at your place, Rindou is sprawling on the sofa when Ran wrapped in a towel shows up from the bathroom. They look at each other and the excruciating thoughts going on inside Rindou’s head are so evident they appear to Ran like neon signs. Bleeding. Ran loves his little brother so he asks first knowing that Rindou would never dare to approach the topic first. At least not today. “What?” 

“What do you mean what?” Fends off Rindou sitting up. His glasses slide down over his nose to his lips and Ran bites down a laugh. 

His little brother. His own flesh and blood. “I know what you want to ask so ask away and stop tormenting yourself.” 

“What is the point of me voicing it if you know what I wanna ask anyway?”

Ran sighs and sits opposite of him, spreading his arms on the sofa’s back and crossing his legs. He rests his head on one of his arms, tilting it at an awkward angle that just looking at him makes you feel uncomfortable. “Because I want to hear it from you.” 

“Can you promise me not to do anything with her?” 

Who is her goes without saying. It’s you. 

Before answering Ran shrugs, licking his insanely perfect white teeth and tilting his head backwards, he closes his eyes, sighing. “Why?” 

“Because we don’t have a lot of trust-worthy nice people around us, Ran. I don’t want to end up choosing between you and her, because the choice is fucking obvious. Let’s keep it friendly coded.” Rindou sounds desperate. His words are crude and raw and honest. He calls out to his brother, already knowing, that whatever plea he invokes it’s lost in the vast void of Ran’s feelings. Rindou is confused, but he wouldn't be who he is today, if not for his ability to stand his ground. So he takes a deep breath and continues. “Listen, Ran, do you think it’s safe to date? Like we are not what we were before when it was just fucking around and punching randoms outside. Tenjuku is serious. Izana is fucking serious. Shion is a mad fucking dog and Kanji is crazy. Sanzu is only behaving when he sniffs a line. Out of them only Kaku and Koko are the only…” 

“Rin.” Ran raises a hand to stop his brother. He sits straight and for a very long time looks at Rindou without saying anything. He searches for the right words and then his mind is going blank because all he knows is that there’s something rotten inside of you. And Ran wants to carve it out. He saw it the first time you two met face to face the night you were assaulted. From that day all he wants is to tug at your insides, clean what hides behind your ribs, reach your soul and make it his. Make you pure and perfect again. He has no idea how to communicate all of this to Rindou so he says the most blatant shit neither of them believes, but they both eat it up anyway. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything. And most definitely I wasn’t planning on dating her or anybody else.” 

“Good.” Rindou purses his lips and his face loses all its colour. His tan is not helping him a bit. “Thank you.” 

They sit not moving or speaking for a little bit, settling in a comfortable usual silence. Ran looks at the table in front of him and Rindou stares at the huge floor to ceiling window. He can’t see shit from his place. Just a bit of neon lights and the building across. Better than nothing. Those simple things keep his mind occupied until he hears Ran standing up. He turns his head in his direction and catches a towel slipping down Ran’s hips. Rindou screams. 

“Why. Is. This. Shit. Always happening to you? Are you doing it on purpose?”

“Why are you always reacting like you’ve never seen it? We go to sento every other week.” 

“Doesn’t mean I wanna see your dick! It was a fucking jumpscare!” 

Ran grins. “Big and scary?” 

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Go put some clothes on.” 

The atmosphere shifts and suddenly everything is back to normal. 

They both love each other very much. 

part 23. 

The desire not to let his world incorporate you fails. The fall is sudden, not expected at all and Rindou thinks it was him who jinxed you all, because once you get obsessed with something - in both ways, negative and positive - it will for sure crawl its way into your life. 

That’s why when Ran points at your back asking Rindou if his eyes are not lying to him and it’s really you, he is not surprised. Perhaps he was even expecting something like this to happen. Just not so soon. 

It’s the middle of December. The weather is so cold and windy you feel it in your bones. At least it’s not snowing and roads are walkable. Not that Rindou or Ran walked. They both arrived in Ran’s new Honda NSX-R he bought second-hand not long ago. Though he never cared for cars, his white slick Honda became his obsession. He doted on it more than he ever had on any other thing. Besides Rindo, that’s it. 

The small, but still spacious club in Roppongi is full with people. Loud music hits every wall and then gets back to the middle of the dance floor, shaking everything that gets in the way. The floor is constantly vibrating and the smell of alcohol is so sharp it intoxicates even those who aren’t drinking, boosting the wild environment. People dance and drink, most of them being underaged, but because they are part of one or the other gang, they are in. 

You are not the one to complain though. You got in only because of your best friend’s brother. 

From where they stand - a VIP zone - Rindou can’t really see if it’s you, but his gut feeling tells him yes. He knows for a fact that you were supposed to go out today and now he regrets he didn’t ask for details. Maybe somehow he would've talked you out of it or not show up himself. Half of the Tenjiku are here and what is the worst of all S-62 generation too. Except for Izana, but he was never big on clubs or parties. 

Would it be too impolite to not greet you? Would you even notice that? Have you noticed them at all?  Neither of them can say. Communicating only with their eyes, Ran urges his brother to follow him. He is both intrigued at what are you doing at famously delinquents only club - not that ordinary normal people are never here - and why are you doing chatting up Toman members. So he pushes forward to you through the crowd. Rindou is closely behind him. 

When they approached your group, the smile from everybody’s faces vanished. Haitani brothers are never good news. It seems everybody knows that, but you, because you grin and a bit tipsy you give your hand out to Ran. He laughs, his laugh is velvety as usual, and shakes your hand for longer than needed.  Now everyone's eyes are on you. 

“I didn’t know you would be here!” You say surprised, clearly happy to see him. Much to his delight and your friends' confusion. “Is Rindou here too?” 

“Yeah, of course he is. I saw you from there.” Ran slightly turns his body and shows you where he and Rindou have been up most of the night. You listen to him attentively, focusing really hard on what he says and lean a bit closer when you can’t hear him. “... decided to say hi. For how long are you gonna stay here?” 

The answer is lost on your tongue because Rindou, clearly pissed, shows up right in front of you. His cheeks are slightly pink. It might be from alcohol or from the heat of enclosed space with so many people in it. That you too can feel. 

Rindou waves at you and glares at Ran. You laugh at their interaction. You’ve never been out with them both before rather than at your convenience store near the house and seeing them behave exactly like you are used to when they are at your place or you are at theirs is pretty relaxing. 

“Those are my friends. My best friend is here and this is her brother.” You introduce your company having no idea that they already know each other. “And this is Ran and Rindou. We are neighbours and really good friends.” 

Neither of them shake hands or smile at each other. The tension that fills the air is tangible. It’s slicky and warm. You want it gone. Puzzled you look from Ran to your best friend’s brother and then to your best friend who shrugs her shoulders. Lastly you look at Rindou whose eyes are not angry anymore, but sorrowful. You frown and step closer to him, wanting to ask what’s going on, but Ran speaks first. 

“It was nice to meet you. You all have fun.” 

With that he waves at you and disappears into the crowd. Rindou, not saying a word, goes after him, throwing a haste look at you. 

He thinks what just happened was fucking embarassing. 

part 24. 

This club is a neutral territory - it’s in Roppongi so informally it’s controlled by the Haitani brothers - but misunderstandings still happen. 

Neither of your friends said much to you after Rindou and Ran left. Two questions asked were how did you know them and if you were close. That’s all. The party continued and the gloomy face your best friend’s brother wore for a short time dissolved under the influence of alcohol. 

You tried to search for either of the brothers scanning with your eyes the dance floor, the bar and the DJ booth. Nothing. The VIP zone was closed off and no matter at what angle you looked you couldn’t see past its dark curtains. 

Sudden encounter left you with a bitter taste. You felt like you did something wrong. Said something that you weren’t supposed to say or acted in an unexpected way that everybody hated. The cruel flavour of iron is strong in your throat. Distress doesn’t depart from you the whole evening. 

The fight that happens that night inside of the club is almost fatal. You didn’t see much of it starting, but music comes to a halt and then lights are on and it’s blinding and the shouts and sound of skin being ripped and crushing bones are speaking for themselves. Some people rush out of the doors which causes a massive panic. Somebody is calling the police and then when this fact is made public the panic intensifies. 

You freeze clutching your best friend’s hand. She hurriedly speaks to her brother, nodding her head when he responds. There’re  shouts from everywhere and people are rushing by you to the exit. Everything and everyone falls to silence when a guy jumps off the stairs to where the fight is happening - in the middle of the dance floor. He is around the same height as Ran and might be the same age or close. What catches your eyes is his tattoo. It goes all the way from his temple to his neck. The V-neck sweater he wears is perhaps on purpose so everyone can see it. Just as the shaved left side of his head. 

“It’s Shion Madarame, one of the Heavenly Kings.” Now that it’s so silent you can hear your best friend’s brother whispering it. “We need to get out. It’s gonna get really violent.” 

That is when you notice that the entrance is blocked. Nobody’s moving or speaking or perhaps even breathing. Everyone’s attention is on Shion. 

“Whatcha you guys think you were fucking doing?” He spits at the floor before pulling out metal brass knuckles. He puts it on his right hand almost teasingly. So lazily, his every move seems to be captured in slow motion. He laughs when he raises his head and sees pure animalistic fear spreading on the faces before him. Adrenaline is kicking high. 

Those two guys that started the fight are no longer opponents. They might even forget what they were fighting about. 

When Shion without any warning lands a fist to the first guy's chest, the poor creature flies to the wall behind him hitting people standing there. This guy is taller and more muscular than Shion, but still he doesn’t fight back even when Shion straddles him and punches his face. Nobody really does anything. They all watch and watch and watch. Violent smell of blood evaporates every other.

Somebody cries. 

The fight - which in all honesty is not a fight at all, but a massacre since no one stops it or intervenes and neither of the boys show any resistance - turns into killing. From where you stand you can’t see the details and now you wonder what those two unlucky boys looked like. You can’t tell and probably none will in two months or so; the damage Shion has done to their face is beyond recognition. 

You spot Rindou sitting on the stairs. Ran stands next to him twirling the baton in his hands. He is talking to some guy you see for the first time. They all are unbothered by what’s going on beneath them. Rindou is the only one who intently observes every move of Shion. But it doesn’t seem like he is regretful or anything like that. He scrutinises every move with a purpose of remembering it so he can use it against someone else later. That much is evident. 

The guy next to Ran has a buzz cut and huge peculiar scar that you think he might have earned in some fight. Receiving it for sure hurt like hell. It doesn’t make him appear ugly though. This guy looks almost gentle. Especially when he smiles at something Ran said. You wonder what in this situation might seem funny to them, but then you have no clue what they are talking about. 

Soon, another guy with long white hair shows up on the stairs. He wears a mask and you can’t see his face, but he seems young. Younger than you. He too is obviously in a gang. Masked as he is, he shoves himself in between Ran and the guy with a scar and says something. Rindou hears it as he turns his head into their direction. 

“Shion! That’s enough. Let them be.” Ran gets down the stairs and stands behind Shion’s back who continues punching the guys as if he is not hearing Ran. Probably he is not. The excitement in his body is too much; it clouds every other feeling. “Shion! Stop! Police are on their way. Come on. It’s enough.” 

Still, nobody moves. Nobody tries to escape. The next thing you know is Ran raising his baton and the sharp sound of air sliced in two fills the club. He strikes a couple of times. That much you counted, but it got to be more, because blinded with rage Shion throws himself at Ran. 

Rindou is quick to assist his brother as well as the guy with the scar. The only one who remains on the stairs is the guy with the mask. You hear the baton working again and then Shion is screaming. Ran laughs. 

“Come to your fucking sences, Madarame.” Spits the guy with the scar and then he turns to the crowd. “What are you all still doing there? Get those two to the ER and… Shit!” 

His last words are lost in the noise of the police siren and people shouting. Whatever that paralysis was, it's now gone. Everyone is pushing and kicking again. You hold your friend’s hand for dear life. It’s easy to lose each other. 

Somebody’s hand is on your shoulder when you are halfway to the exit. You think that someone mistook you or was just grabbing you to remain on their feet. However the person tugs you at them and annoyed you look back to see who it is.

It’s Ran.

He says something and you shake your head indicating that you can’t hear him. Not with what’s going on around you. It’s a mess. He visibly sighs, his chest going up and down. He then steps forward and says something to your best friend’s brother. They exchange some words quickly and then you all are led back from where you came by Ran. 

Hand in hand he takes you through the personnel area to the emergency exit. 

Outside it’s colder now than when you came. You shiver and he looks at you. His eyes inspect every bit of you as if he wants to make sure you are okay. You are. He seems satisfied by it. 

“We all should be going. How did you come here?” He again speaks to the brother of your best friend. 

“By car.” 

“Good. Get your girl and friends and get going.” Ran turns to the left where his own car is parked in the distance. Your hand still lays in his. Without second thought you go after him. 

No one thinks of correcting him that the girl is his sister not his girlfriend. No one cares.

Police sirens are getting closer when your best friend speaks up. “Isn't she coming with us?”

Ran stops, confused, he looks at you and then at your friends as if he doesn’t understand why she is even asking that. “No. We are neighbours. I’ll take her home.” 

“Did you even ask her?” It’s your friend’s brother. There’s irritation in his voice. You’ve never heard him speak like that to anyone. 

“Are you trying to pull this Toman noble cavalry shit on me now?” You see the baton for the second time today. It has red stains on it. He stretches his hand with it pointing at your friends. “Cause I am really tired and not in the mood to…” 

“It’s okay.” You intervene by putting a hand on Ran’s wrist. “It’s okay. I don’t mind going with Ran. I trust him. You have nothing to worry about.” 

There’s another smug expression of satisfaction on Ran’s face. His body relaxes and he drops your hand. Without saying anything he lazily goes to his car, unlocking the door for you first. You get inside.   

As you pass by your friends you give them a wave and they nod at you. 

Everything seems to be okay.

part 25.

After fifteen minutes in Ran’s car you notice that he isn’t in fact taking you home. 

You were busy looking at his car, its leather interior, the busy lights of Tokyo and Ran himself. 

“I am taking us to my favourite ramen place. It’s a bit too far, but they serve the best shoyu ramen and are open 24/7. Me and Rin are regulars there.” It’s Ran who breaks the silence first. His voice is soft and he is back to being Ran you are used to hanging out with. Confident and firm, and almost a little bit gentle. 

“How is Rindou going to get home?” You ask what worries you the most. “Will he be safe?” 

“Totally. He’ll stay with Kaku. You probably saw him today. The guy with a scar?” 

“Oh. Yes.” 

“He got it in an accident when he was a kid. Kakucho is the coolest. He might seem scary, but he is very loyal and even kind.” You stop at the red light and Ran looks over at you, you who is staring at him. “Were you afraid today?” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“Were you afraid when you met those bastards in the alley?” 

“Not really.” 

“Not really?” 

“Yes.” He is clearly waiting for more explanation, because it’s not normal to not being afraid. Everyone would be afraid. You both understand as much. You sigh, crossing your hands around your chest and straighten up in the seat. You look at the road ahead when you start to explain. “My sister’s boyfriend is in the gang. They aren’t just simple motorbike gangs that are fooling around, throwing punches and you know the rest. They are full on criminals. He got my sister on drugs. She overdosed five times. He got her pregnant too. She aborted the kid. And I’ve seen him and his people doing worse than Shion did to those guys today. These all are not new for me. I’ve seen it before.” 

Ran hums. His long fingers caressing the leather of the wheel. He accelerates, rushing forward before traffic lights change. A few cars that are on the streets at this hour irritatedly honk after you. Inside the car the outside world gives the impression of decorations. Nothing seems real. You get this feeling for the second time. 

Once on the train and now again. With Ran in his car. 

“How’d you know Shion’s name?” Ran asks, his attention again on you. Whatever he was thinking shoved aside.  

“Everybody was whispering his name when he jumped on the dance floor. Are you in the same gang?” 

“You can say so.” 

“And the guy with the mask too?” 

“His name is Sanzu and yes he is in Tenjiku too.” 

“He seemed young.”  “He is sixteen. Two years younger than you and Rin so don’t brag.” 

You scoff and Ran smiles. Then he gets serious. You sense it with every pore of your body. His car is a sport type - or so you think - and there isn’t much space. It’s comfortable though. You aren’t feeling confined or trapped. But that must be just Ran. His mood is transmitted well enough. That too, however, must be just Ran.

“I might come off as a hypocrite, but they are toxic to each other. I don���t know how it’s in Obihiro, but here in Tokyo every other guy in a gang I know, treats his woman well if they have one. Those who aren't, they don’t have a girl. Shion for once. He fucks around, but nothing serious. Girls who are with him know they aren’t forever. Are they still together? Your sis and that guy. What position does he hold in the gang?” 

“They are or at least they were when I left. She doesn’t speak about him much, because I hate him and throw my hands at him every time he is in my way.” You stop, suddenly remembering how once you slapped him in the face in front of everyone in your school. He didn’t lay a hand on you, said some stupid shit about how fierce you are, hopped you sister on his Kawasaki and left. You were small and that’s why you believe he didn’t hit you. You weren’t sure he wouldn’t now, but maybe you just never knew him at all. You roll your head on the headrest and look at Ran. “He is some kind of executive or so I heard. I have zero clue about hierarchy and how it goes in the gangs. What position do you and Rindou hold?” 

“I am one of the four Heavenly Kings and Rin is my second-in-command. Kakucho and Shion are the other two and then we have Mochizuku, but you haven’t seen him yet.”  

Yet. 

Ran parks the car outside of the small shop. You have no idea where you both are. You’ve never been to this part of Tokyo. It’s very peaceful here. There are no people outside and the buildings around show no sign of their inhabitants being awake at this late hour. In front of the shop, just a couple of metres away you spot a middle aged man with bright red tenugui tied around his head. The man is smoking sitting on his hunches. When he sees Ran’s car he smiles wide and stands up, waving his cigarette at him. 

The conversation is lost and you are somewhat happy about it. Discussing Tenjiku with Ran, you crossed the line Rindou so carefully built and guarded. It almost feels like a betrayal of some sort. You still were much closer to Rindou than to Ran. Wouldn’t it be more right to discuss all these with him and not Ran? 

Whatever is right or wrong doesn’t matter anymore. You all don’t belong in the world where it does. 

Inside the ramen shop it’s warm and the smell of broth fills your nose helping you realise how hungry you really are. What alcohol you had at the club is out of your system, but the after starvation it always brings is here. You wonder how amazingly our bodies work and how it can sober up and get rid of any influence when a dangerous situation is inflicted upon it. Amusing. 

The man happily chats with Ran and you follow them both to the distant booth in the back of the room. It’s closed off and has a curtain for privacy. Another VIP zone. 

“You sit here. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

With that you are left alone. Not for long. After a couple of minutes Ran returns with a menu, a bottle of sparkling water and a grape soda. He puts soda and a menu with a pencil in front of you and sits on the red and brown leather couch opposite you. The menu is one of those where you need to check what and how you want your food to be done. You take a pencil in your hand and read, your eyes following different variations of ramen they have here. 

“Order tonkotsu ramen. You’ll like it.” Recommends Ran. He opens the bottle of water and takes a very long sip. “Even the water here is god-like.” 

“Isn’t it Suntory?” 

“It is, but it’s more delicious here. Wait until you try their ramen and you'll understand what I am saying.” 

Naturally, when ramen arrives and you make a first sip of the broth, Ran is looking at you expectantly. You try noodles, pork belly, onions and enoki mushrooms - you put those additionally because when you came upon them in the menu you suddenly realised you were craving them - on its own. And then you try everything together. The taste is rich. It is delicious. 

You look at Ran and nod your head, smiling. 

“Told you. The best ramen in Tokyo. It’s sad they do not make Mont Blanc here. The Mont Blanc I like is in another part of Tokyo.” He pouts. 

“We can try to make it at home if you want.” 

“Really? You can make Mont Blanc at home?” 

“Ran, you can make anything at home. Like literally anything.” 

He grins at you thinking he might marry you right here on the spot. 

He doesn’t say it out loud. Instead he closes the curtain and indulges in his shoyu ramen. And your company. 

part 26. 

On the 24th of December you leave for Obihiro. Your parents are excited you are coming and for once they seem like a proper family when you call them beforehand to inform what time you’ll arrive home.

Rindou is the one to take you to the bus station.  “You shouldn’t have made all this food for us.” He tells you when you sit on the bench near your bus. Your small luggage at your feet. “And you went out and made this insane dessert for Ran. He is totally not worth it.” 

You laugh, but your laugh is sad. You don’t wanna leave. “I made twelve of those. Each day I’ll be missing. And I made all this food so it won’t smell like salt and vinegar chips on our balcony. You gotta eat normally, Rindou. And I also left gifts for you two.” 

His eyes widen. He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You are way too kind to us. Do you know when was the last time someone gifted us something? Never. You shouldn’t have.” 

“It’s in the small bag. I wrote your names on top of it. Shoot me a message if you like it.” 

The lady on the speaker announces boarding for your bus. You stand up, take your small bag and together with Rindou you stand near the door not ready to say goodbye just yet. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and whatever he wants to say stays imprisoned inside of him. [Forever].   You hug him and he hugs you back. 

Without saying another word to each other you get inside the bus. 

He doesn’t leave until your bus is out of sight. 

part 27. 

You celebrate New Year with your parents and your sister in the warm family house in Obihiro. You all exchange gifts, watch fireworks and take a lot of pictures. Your absences united your family the way your presence never could. 

After the dinner, you and your sister go to visit the shrine as you do every year when your phone beeps. 

It’s a message from Ran. 

my favourite place to eat mont blanc is now your place. can't wait for it to be open again. 

haha. i’d say you are cute if i didn’t know you. 

i think i am pretty much cute and handsome

btw i like the drawing you did of me 

rin is so jealous 

tell him he should take me out somewhere and if the atmosphere is right i’ll draw him too

can i message you later? me and my sister are visiting the shrine

i won’t tell him that

ofc. be safe. happy new year. 

happy new year ran 

Rindou calls you later. He says you shouldn’t listen to Ran and he liked his sweater all right. He says he bought you something too, but no matter how much you begged him to say what it is he wouldn’t tell you. You promise to message him the time you arrive so he’ll pick you up and then he hangs up. 

You miss them too. 

[Ran messages you exactly fifteen minutes after Rindou’s call. You are still at the shrine and your sister isn’t happy you are on you phone again, but you still reply to him. Every time he messages you do.] 

[bravegrumpy]

Is this anxiety? Is this a Trauma response? Am I being too careful? Or Am I just trying to get re-aquainted to blogging after a decade-long break?

I'm in the middle of writing a much longer introductory article for a different blog I run. (Not on Tumblr). It has no audience.

Throughout the blog post I have the following:

My original writing

images of my original artwork

photographs and diagrams I created

YouTube videos I did not create, but know how to attribute

text I did not create, but know how to attribute.

text I created with information I know how to attribute.

Text I created with information I do not know how to attribute.

Most of my external references are completely rephrased to further the points I'm trying to make in the text. When referencing outside information, I usually include a standard in-text reference, and an embedded link (and maybe a PDF of what I accessed) whenever possible. This is regardless of whether I'm using an exact quote.

When I do pull exact quotes, I do so within the limits of fair use.

When I say I do not know how to attribute information, I don't mean challenging attributions with difficult to find author information. I am talking about information I synthesized from a conglomeration of many different sources, most of which are unknowable to my audhd and dyslexic brain.

How do other writers overcome this?

Is it just my creative-writer brain stressing? Is there truth to this monologue?

Am I old to instinctively want to call it my bibliography?

I also will have some sort of bibliography or footnotes section at the end, with a complete IEEE or MLA style reference.

Does IEEE with footnotes, vs a verbose MLA reference truly matter?

Outside of including links and attribution, I don't include a "call to action" for the reader to subscribe to the outside source. I simply use references that are directly related to the point I'm trying to make.

While this might be an obsessive thought, I also don't really know what to do.

Has anybody else gone through the questions of "How do I appropriately reference synthesized information?"

[theroomfloor]

Today I will speak as both a reader and a beginning writer. Sit down because a big text is coming.

And sorry for any mistakes, my English isn't the best

I want to say some compliments and thanks to @evilwriter37! <333333

I've always loved the HTTYD franchise, I've lost count of how many times I've watched the first movie. But I was never part of the fandom, I was always outside of it. Until one day, when I was watching RTTE again, and I remembered how much I liked the dagcup ship. I searched for fanarts but didn't find much on Instagram, so I ventured into Ao3. And it was like falling into a bottomless hole, a hole that I never want to get out of. Guess whose first fanfic I read was? That's it, one of yours. Well, (un)fortunately I choose a complicated fanfic to be my first, it was Ball, Chain, and Dagur, and wow, it was an… experience.

I can't measure how angry I was reading this fic. How painful it was to see my favorite character doing those atrocities. I think I like seeing myself suffer. Every chapter was me wanting to kill Dagur in several different ways. And when I got to the end and discovered that there was no ending because you gave up on the fic (a little warning at the beginning would be nice), it made me want to throw my cell phone against the wall.

Anyway, I just let it go. So at that time I never paid attention to who wrote the fics, I never left comments or kudos either (but in my defense I didn't know how to use ao3, it was new to me). I read other dagcup fanfics by other authors and yours too, but I didn't pay attention to who wrote them. Until one day I read Ruined Together and All Because of a Kiss and I loved it (even though they are far from being cute fics, I always read them again. I think I really like seeing myself suffer).

That's when I first looked at who wrote it, the name was familiar and then it hit me "wait, is this the same guy who wrote Ball, Chain, and Dagur?". It got me thinking, the same guy wrote a story I love and another one I hate. Then I bit my tongue and cursed myself "stop being an idiot, there are people who wrote that".

So I started paying attention to the authors. I went deeper into your fics and threw in the towel, you're my favorite for sure. And with that I arrived here on Tumblr, and god, the fandom was all here and I didn't know. From then I started trying to interact more. You weren't the first person I commented on in a fic, to be honest I was embarrassed to comment especially on your fics, but today I do as much as I can to show my support. And I started to loosen up more here too, making drawings, posting memes, reblogging a lot of things.

It's been a really fun phase and I'm very grateful for it. You were like a light to me, you opened doors to many new things that I never thought I would like. I hope it takes a long time to end.

The irony of it all is that, today, when I think about Ball, Chain, and Dagur I have a feeling of great affection, because it was the beginning of everything. And it's among my favorite fics now, even with all the hate. Whenever you post a new fic, even if I don't favorite it, I'm sure it will be a read that I won't regret, because everything you do is so good and well written, that just for the experience it's worth it.

You brought me into the fandom. And you encouraged me to create for it, with fanarts and now with my own stories. I'm just starting out but I want to move forward with this. So… Thank you very much!!💗

I hope you always stay motivated to continue because I will definitely be here!

[fruityuncleskeletor]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

seen on and snatched from @bunnakit

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats 

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  I started writing my own stories about cartoon characters because the episodes on TV were too far apart

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

Chan's room episodes

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? a fucking solid 2, because the more I see my own fic, the more disgusted I grow with it and lose the will to post it. The 2 is because I do realise editing is necessary.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? I am calling @hardcandythinking but only to vent, I already know where to rent a woodchipper from

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love @ellieellieoxenfree

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  in my business inbox, 51. In my personal account, 0

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis@sparkly-butthole-on-ao3

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  I used to be really into writing the OG characters

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before I have come to terms that I will always have an eating disorder, the difference now is that I've decided to profit from it.

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? I am fucking exhausted, fam. And the supreme lack of interest in my writing in this new fandom. Feeling unwanted and tired has managed to give me a writer's block that I have successfully dodged for 20+ years.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Here's two-

Geralt and Jaskier are so in love with each other, even platonically. They don't want to admit it, but they have a really warm and cozy love bubble around them and both are afraid that if they speak about it, it'll make them feel less giddy and elated and pull this bubble into reality, making it vulnerable to being popped by evil forces.

Jace's nonchalant attitude re: the people he bangs and his unflinching love for Alec always made me think he is an in denial asexual - he is obviously not sex-repulsed but he wields sex like a weapon or like a quick fix to avoid looking at deeper emotions affecting him. I fucking love Jace to death, he gets so little credit.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

talk to me on tumblr

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

My cat's health is better

I am losing weight and gaining muscle, feeling fitter than in my 20s

I found a hairdresser I absolutely love going to

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? some Korean words for reference. In Korean.

  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character Yennefer is a gigantic selfish asshole, with only moments of emotional clarity and kindness and she treats Geralt like absolute crap most of the time.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? yeah not gonna make the FBI man's job easy. stay wondering, bro!

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

It's always better to assume people are assholes by default and then let yourself be pleasantly surprised when they are decent than the other way around. Saves you a world of disappointment.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I can't pick rn.

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

The only way around it is through it. It helps to do various other creative things, it will recharge your creativity in the realm you feel it's low in. Like if you have writer's block, make some art. Draw some shit, splash some colours, bake and decorate a birthday cake, go outside and photograph some flowers.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh "My butthole! I blew out my butthole!"

  🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? When someone picks their favourite parts of the chapter or fic, and details their thoughts on it for my enjoyment.

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate Alec is a good leader, perseverent and insightful.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? God I used to lie more often than I breathed when I was a kid and a teen. Lately I just lie to get out of having to socialise.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

I find stanning a K-Pop group to be 20% fun and 80% disheartening if you're older because you definitely feel like you can't sit with the cool kids and everything is just a really good, hi-def illusion set up to make you bust your wallet wide open, so every moment of genuine relatability and connection is invalidated by the feeling that these people are part of a marketing strategy. It's kind of like going to see strippers and even if you like one, you know that even if you fell in love with them, you're not allowed to get to know them because for them it's just work and you are only worth the cash you pay in their eyes. The closeness is an illusion that leaves you feeling even lonelier and sadder than you were before.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  There are a lot of them but my core reference is Anne Rice's writing. Now I am writing something that was inspired by the portrayal of Jack Reacher in the "Reacher" series on Amazon.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing It would be nice if I could write stuff that's relatable to others, not just to me. But that would mean biiiiiiiig consciousness shift and I'm extremely pussilanimous when it comes to this.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? I think the delivery matters a lot - a surprise is being told something that you don't know yet, and if the person breaking the news makes it seem like a heart attack from shock is the adequate response, then better don't tell me, just show me.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Hyunjin had made himself comfortable on his bed, with his legs propped up on the headboard, leaving just his shirt and his socks on. He intended to drag it out as much as he could and get the most out of those pics.

Magazine in one hand, dick in the other - that’s how Changbin had found him, walking in to ask a very pressing question. (65 words bc just the 50 didn't make sense alone.)

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? Thinking about my love-hate relationship with writing.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@hardcandythinking is my bestie and my number 1 fan. She's the real MVP.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐀 🌻 STAYTIST (@kerimaix)

This is so surreal - Chan is a human with two sets of ears and the rest of the members are tiny wee animals - and the love, goofiness and fun are so well captured. This artist also depicts Chan as shy and cute, and I prefer this to the hard dom or arrogant inaccessible guy takes I see more often. Like I get it's appealing to others but I like a squeaky, shy guy better than any alpha dude character.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

poor characterization on a macro level

crass and goofy consistent misspelling like "nobbing" instead of "nodding", "viscous" instead of "vicious", "colon" instead of "cologne"

offputting descriptions like "chubby little cock" or "fat mushroom" (used for dick tips). I would lose my erection if someone talked to me like that irl

[blck-drgn]

I'm a little uncomfortable that I did this edit anyway. No more asking me to do something like another author if you are not the author yourself. I often turn down requests like this, but this one caught my eye. Thank you @mooniet for allowing me to do this. After reading, immediately run to her and leave comments on her work. She tried, but got nothing in return. She deserves any good comment guys.

Пайпер — довольно высокая женщина, около 252 см. Во всем ее облике сильно выделяются только голубые полупрозрачные хрустальные конечности. Даже при слабом освещении видно, как ее кожа переливается и блестит, напоминая северный снег. Из одежды женщина предпочитает темные тона синего; ее редко можно увидеть в светлых тканях. Часто одежда сопровождается узорами или драгоценными камнями, которые украшают все ее наряды. Металл в ее одежде почти всегда состоит из светлого и темного серебра, крайне редко можно увидеть золотые украшения. На поясе и волосах она носит не просто украшения, а традиционные украшения и амулеты. На поясе висят два длинных амулета, а в волосах традиционные подарки от мужа в честь определенных событий в их жизни. Также в ее волосах можно увидеть пучок из двух нитей бус - их подарили Лэнс и Валькион. Почти всегда за ее спиной или на плечах сидят два саркана, два младенца пришли с ней из родного мира и сопровождают ее по сей день. Детские сарканы называются Угга и Урри.

For those who can't see the text: Piper A refugee from another world. Her tenacious and hardened character gives her a huge advantage over many rulers of Eldarya, and her strength and influence allow her to help those who need her help. Piper is not a member of the El Guard, but it is not uncommon to find her talking to the villagers or the Heads of the Guard. She is the adoptive mother of Lance and Valkyon, and it is said that everyone should be wary of her wrath. 

Piper is a minefield for many players. It is easy to build a dialogue with her, but in the same way it can be strongly omitted. To prevent this from happening, you should follow a couple of rules.

As I wrote above, Piper is a minefield. Your relationship with her depends not only on the choice in the dialogues with her, but also with a couple of other characters!

Appearance

In Origins, Piper is absent and is on a completely different side of Eldarya. But a couple of times she is referred to by the guards as the "Crystal Lady". Also, Valkyon can mention her a couple of times if you unlock a special dialogue, provided that your relationship is above 50%. During the theft by Lance, on the island, Fafnir will ask Lance about his mother, if he consulted with her when he sailed here. Only in the evening it will be possible to learn a little more about a woman if your relationship has reached 30%. Lance will tell you that after the blue sacrifice, he and Valkyon were raised by a foster family of dragons from another world who took care of them and raised them as their children.

In the New Era, your meeting will take place in the second episode. When you walk with new acquaintances and go outside the walls of El, you will stumble upon a woman near a tree. She sat in the grass and stroked the sarkans that fell asleep on her knees. In the first dialogue, scrap can be increased to 20% or reduced to -10%, depending on the answers. Further, Piper will appear in other episodes, but more in the role of an adviser or listener. Whether she will be your friend depends only on your relationship with her.

I don't know how to edit my tumblr posts at all. Therefore, I strongly apologize for the fact that all the information goes in one gulp, without a beautiful design, as was the case with Mooniet.

[shatar-aethelwynn]

To what "one-sided feud existing only in his mind", to what "hilarious anger", and to what "vitriol-spitting" are you referring, my dear? In our last interaction I was very polite and I tried earnestly (although in vain) to have a serious dialogue with you. But you have not appreciated my efforts for a dialogue in good faith and you attack me now with ridiculous claims. You also misrepresent grossly in your last posts my positions on a certain topic, in a way which is not particularly honest intellectually. I wonder why you act like this. Do you really need so desperately some attention and patting on your head from your friends, the great tumblr scholars? Moreover, permit me to say, my dear, that you are not in position to lecture me about proper critical use of sources and historical methodology. I say this because not only you made almost... 200 posts to defend against an obscure Arab nationalist author the historicity of the Biblical Exodus, but also because you tried to promote some months ago on this site as serious scientific paper a piece of creationist pseudoscience, which claimed that a "cosmic airburst" would have destroyed ancient "Sodom"! If I remember well, the backlash to this move of yours was so strong that even your eminent friends, who had tried to present you as authority in Biblical history, saw you eventually as liability and distanced themselves from you, despite the fact that their scholarly standards are not exactly the highest. Lol.

Reading comprehension really isn't you're strong suite is it my dear. Thank you for confirming you're stalking my blog and hate-reading though! I've also been polite, if amused, but your tone has been increasingly condescending. Expected I suppose if you are our old friend (3! years! this is so stupid!).

Let's see - 200 posts to defend against an author - hun, I was having fun with a book I came across that was still getting positive reviews that year. I didn't even finish because I got bored with how repeptitive it was. You of all people should understand the concept of hate reading. You do it so well. (Incidentally, you may want to take a break and come back in a few months, because your repetativeness is also starting to become boring. A break would solve that.)

As for Sodom, it was a legitimate question that I answered based on the information I had at the time I was tagged. After which someone (was that you too) said I was wrong and gave a source for a contradictory view, that can basically be summarized as "these people are wrong solely because they believe something in the Bible might have been true". And guess what, that was fine. Because, again, I understand the concept of nuance, and I don't claim to agree with the archeologists in question on their personal beliefs. The question was whether Sodom happened. I gave the two sites currently claimed for it. And I agreed that science could potentially prove both wrong in the future. That's how science and archaeology work. And I really don't understand why you would think my friends were distancing themselves from me on it. It was a short topic, not inside their fields, and they have lives outside this site that take their attention. Do you?

This behavior, by the way, is probably why anon asked if there was a feud. Text may be the worst format for conveying intention and tone but anyone can clearly read the condescension in yours.

You know what I find most amusing about this? Of the entire group of friends I'm actually the one most likely to need to reference Herodotus as a source ocassionally. But because I say he's not always right you assume I don't know how to use him, or that I'm not aware that Herodotean scholarship is a whole thing.

[rose-of-the-grave]

Metro Meet-cute

*I am the author (please don't re-post). This is my first time posting my work on tumblr so any advice/encouragement is much appreciated <3

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 611

It had been a long day, she thought, as she stepped into the metro station. Walking down the steps, one at a time, her heels clicking against the stone. It was blisteringly hot outside but the moment she slipped beneath the ground and into the cool shade she felt ten degrees cooler. It had been a long day.

When she reached the platform she made her way to a bench. She sat, dropped her bag, and pulled out a book. It was going to be a while before the train arrived. Rose lost herself in her book, images of lush gardens, sweeping landscapes, and towering mountains filled her mind’s eye.

Though it had seemed like she had only been there waiting for a few minutes, half an hour had passed. The train had arrived and almost everyone was on board. The platform was nearly empty, save for a few stragglers like herself. Quickly picking her bag up, she rushed for the doors, just barely making it. All of the seats were taken so she was forced to stand.

Whoosh!

The doors closed and she was on her way. Looking around, her gaze snagged on a tall, dark-haired guy that she had seen a few times before on her way home. With his earbuds in, listening to music, he seemed unapproachable. His dark hair was long and wavy, covering his eyes a bit. He was tapping his foot rhythmically as he stared out the window.

She wondered what he was thinking. What was he listening to? She dared not approach him, not when he seemed so peaceful. Maybe later. All her life she had been known as the shy girl, the quiet one. The girl who would stand up for others but not herself.

The minutes seemed to slowly tick by as she watched him intently, as she always did. Every movement cataloged and stored in her memory. As the train neared her stop she wished that she could muster the courage to talk to him. He was a cute guy, not some unconquerable monster. 

Every second ticked by slowly, as if the world itself had halted. Deciding that she would for once go up to him, she squared her shoulders and approached him. As she grew closer, he looked up and pulled one earbud out.

“Hi, not to be weird or anything but I see you on the train a lot. Are you, like, on your way back from work or are you, I don’t know, like, visiting your sick grandmother who only has a couple days left?” She asked, nervously.

“On my way back from work.” He replied.

“Oh! Okay, good. I’m glad you don’t have a sick grandmother.” She sighed, relieved.

“No, you're good. My grandmother’s dead actually.” He said, a wave of sadness flashing in his green eyes.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry…” she trailed off at the sound of his laughter. It was the most beautiful thing that she had ever heard.

“I’m joking, my grandmother is alive and well.” He tells her, a smile still gracing his lips.

“That was not at all funny,” she scowls.

He looks over to her with one eyebrow raised and they both fall into a fit of giggles.

“I’m Liam.”

“Rose.”

“This is my stop up ahead.” He tells her, his gaze never leaving her glowing green-blue eyes.

They exchange phone numbers with a promise to text when they get home.

Liam gets off at his stop, leaving her with a wink and a wave, both of which she returns, smiling. She tucks this encounter into memory. This is the moment, she realizes, the moment where it all began.