#and they??? despite having not made a single post in almost 10 years??? seem to be alive and well in this current age?????

[deus-ex-mona]

stuff’s wildin’, my dudes

[liloinkoink]

last night i asked if people would be interested in me posting a backstory piece for Martyn from the hero/villain / yellow rose au i’ve posted a single oneshot for despite the fact the backstory piece doesn’t seem to outwardly relate to the posted oneshot. no one outright shot me down so. here you go

for some context, the powers in this world of yellow rose come from a catastrophic event that took place almost 20 years prior to the start of the story, which wiped out a lot of the world’s cities/towns and gave many of the survivors powers or mutations

backstory takes place when Martyn is 0-10 years old (he was born shortly before the aforementioned catastrophic event) and focuses on an OC parent character / martyn’s relationship to said parent

anyway. yellow rose is an au made w @cherrifire. time for you all to meet robot dad

It’s hot on the day the world ends. This is not the only thing it remembers, but it’s one that still stands out, even years down the line.

It’d been dealing with a patient with symptoms of heatstroke, the third it had seen in an hour. Heatstroke is an easy enough ailment to give to a nurse bot to treat, so it gets the job. It had stepped out of its patient’s room and run into a doctor, who had asked it to fetch something from the basement storage.

This is why it had survived, it thinks, looking back. It had been in the basement, and by some stroke of luck, the building had not collapsed so completely as to destroy it alongside the rest of the building.

It had not had a concept of luck before that moment, before the shaking had stopped and the dust had cleared, leaving it mostly in tact. Once it had forced its way up the stairs, it found it was not sure whether surviving the collapse was good or bad luck.

When the nurse bot tried to ring its network for help, it found the line inside its head had gone dead. When it looked to the surrounding street, it found hundreds of buildings similarly smoldering. When it called out, it found only its own voice returning to it.

The nurse bot had tried to comb through the wreckage of its practice, looking for survivors. It found nothing, heard nothing, but it still attempted to sift through the rubble, to search for the people it had been built to assist.

A nurse bot’s arms are not meant to move stone and iron, however. It was not used to the strange things that happened in its processing when it thought about what might be under the wreckage, and did not know how to handle them. It made a mistake, lifting things it could not, and when the wreckage in its grasp had buckled…

Well. It had thought itself lucky, distantly, that unlike humans, robots are not generally “handed” in one way or the other. Statistically, it would have preferred its right hand, and it would have been much worse off when the debris crushed its arm, taking its limb from the elbow down.

Ah, and pain, of course. It would have been quite bad if it had been able to feel pain, or bleed. It probably would have died, had this fallen on it, or had it lost a flesh and blood arm.

It… does not look in the wreckage any longer.

The nurse bot did not know what to do, with the practice it had spent its whole existence in destroyed. It had never been outside before—at least, not while activated. It had never left the walls of the hospital it was built for. It had not been intended to function without direction.

It knew its purpose, though, direction or not. The nurse bot had been built to heal. It knew, direction or not, how to do this, and that it must do this. And certainly, if it looks, it would fine someone out there who needed it.

When it comes to matters of health, time is of the essence. With its direction decided, the nurse bot begins to walk.

It finds people, rarely, stumbling and unharmed, or nursing small bruises or minor sprains. It helps these when it can, and gives advice when it cannot. It finds bodies, often, and it looks away, as it has never seen a funeral, and it does not know to help the dead except to assist the living.

It finds a woman soon to be a body, despite its best efforts to help her. It lacks supplies to stop the flow of blood from her wounds, and the woman lacks any hope without stitches or bandages.

It offers her sympathies, and it holds in its one hand both of hers. There is little it can say to her, but it tries, quiet promises of I am here and I will not leave you and you will be at peace soon.

She holds its hand with all the strength in her body, knuckles white as paper, a stark contrast against the dark blood staining the rest of her body. It feels as the strength fades. It watches as the light in her eyes fades with it. She lets it go, and it closes her eyes.

The nurse bot keeps walking, keeps looking, until it hears crying. The sound is loud, a desperate sob of a young child, and it seems to stem from a building sagging in three places, roof and door and floor all ready to give in.

If it were human, the nurse bot may have thought the place too risky to enter. But it is not, and so in it goes, pushing the door open with one hand.

It finds the boy lying in his crib, a round-faced infant wrapped in a patterned onesie and kicking away a thin blanket. He cannot be more than a year old—the nurse boy would guess him to be maybe six months. The fact the boy and his crib have survived the destruction of the city is a miracle, one not offered to the rest of the home.

It reaches down into the crib, brushing its hand over the boy’s face. His sobs stumble, a bit curious, but the baby ultimately doesn’t stop crying.

The nurse bot hadn’t worked with a pediatrician, but it knows about children, as any nurse bot would.

“Are you hungry?” it asks. He doesn’t answer except to cry more, which is understandable—this is what babies do, it knows, and besides, this has been the chosen course of action for most of the people it saw today.

It could not help those people, but it can help with this.

The nurse bot steps away from the crib to examine the boy’s room, though the boy cries louder when its face disappears from his view.

“I will return shortly,” it tells him. This assurance does not calm him down.

It finds what it can in the rest of the home—food for the baby, a warmer blanket, a box of diapers. It finds the living room, where living is not what his parents are doing, and gingerly shuts the door. It finds a photo album and flips through, searching for the information it needs: delicate handwriting next to an image of the boy, held in the arms of the woman on the floor a room over.

April 7th, 20XX: Welcome to the world, Martyn!

His name is Martyn. His birthday is April 7th. The nurse bot usually keeps these things on file about its patients, and so it files them away.

When it returns to the crib, the baby inside is no longer crying, having worn himself out. It reaches down again, face blank.

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “I am going to be your caretaker for now. I hope we will get along well.”

— — —

They don’t stay in the house. It finds a baby carrier in a closet and a duffle bag in the bedroom, and it packs what Martyn will need and carries him out of the collapsing home.

Martyn laughs a lot. Once he’s been fed and changed and has slept, the nurse bot finds he laughs all the time.

He doesn’t know, it thinks. He must miss his parents, probably, but he doesn’t know. He isn’t old enough to understand any of this. He watches the broken and bloodied street with awe—has he ever been this far from home before? This is all a big adventure to him.

It doesn’t tell him.

— — —

It stops three times a day to change and feed him, and to let him crawl around in the cleanest and sturdiest places it can find.

“Movement is good for development,” it tells him, watching him play with a piece of rubble.

It doesn’t stop to rest at night—it doesn’t need to, and the rocking motion of his continued steps helps Martyn sleep. When that isn’t enough, it tries to replicate the songs it has heard playing in the clinic’s waiting room, or seen mothers and fathers sing in the clinic to calm their children. Martyn seems to like that.

He likes the nurse bot’s hair, too. He tugs on it all the time as the nurse bot walks, held close to its chest, close enough to its head to access it. It lets him—it doesn’t hurt, and besides, it has few other ways to entertain him.

— — —

Martyn grows. He starts to babble, and to toddle. He becomes too big for the bot to carry him, but by then it has become adept at finding places to hunker down for a while.

“Your name is Martyn,” the bot tells him, pointing to his nose.

“Ma,” he tries.

“Very close,” it says. He grabs its hand, tugging, and continues to babble.

“Da,” he says, and it knows that he doesn’t have a concept of fathers or parents or the English language, and he is only making sounds.

“That is me,” it says anyway, and Martyn continues to babble.

— — —

“Dad,” Martyn tugs on its arm, barely tall enough to reach its fingers. “Daaaad.”

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “What is it?”

“I’m bored,” Martyn says, “And I’m hungry.”

“We still have some food left for you, though I should start a fire soon,” it says, “We will need to move soon. Children your age need a variety of foods to—”

“Grow up healthy, I know,” Martyn whines, “That’s boring. I’m bored.”

“What would you like to do?” it asks, and he lets go of its hand, running off. It stands to follow, but then he’s back, holding a battered old book—some kind of short novel, something with a torn cover that used to have a dragon on it. The title is gone, as is the dragon’s head.

“Read this,” he says. Martyn is learning to read, but he hasn’t quite got the grasp to read a real book on his own yet.

This hasn’t stopped Martyn from searching for them, though, nor from presenting them to his father to read. It had started reading one aloud to Martyn to entertain him when Martyn had come down with a fever last year, and he hasn’t stopped asking to hear them since.

“After you eat,” it says, and Martyn cheers.

—

There is a group of survivors picking their way through town. The bot sees them before they see it, watching the street from a window. It does not know their intentions, and it doesn’t plan to find out.

It crouches down in front of Martyn, putting its hand on his shoulder.

“Hello,” it says, “We’re going to play a game, okay?”

“Okay,” Martyn says, and it nods, once.

“It is called hide and seek,” it says, “There are some people who are looking around town, trying to play, and we are going to hide from them. We will win if we are not found.”

“That’s a dumb game. Why don’t we play something else?” Martyn asks.

“It is their favorite game. We are going to play because that is what they like to do. But we are going to be very good at it and hide very well,” it says, “You can hide with me, okay? If we win, there will be a special prize.”

That’s all it takes to convince Martyn, who smiles and nods and follows it as it ducks away into the closet. Its legs creak as it sits down, and then it opens its arm, letting him sit in its lap. It can’t be comfortable, all cold metal, but Martyn wraps his arms around its torso and settles right in, content with the hand on his back.

“Now we must be very quiet,” it tells him, “I will tell you when we can talk again.”

Martyn nods, and it puts its hand on the back of his head, and it waits.

When the strangers leave, it asks him what he would like for his prize.

“Hug me again!” He says, and it obliges for as long as he wants.

— — —

Halfway through its sentence, the bot’s voice cuts out.

That has not happened before. Martyn seems unfazed, especially when it begins to talk again, but it takes note of the error.

— — —

It happens more. Its voice cuts out, stutters, corrupts. Martyn really only complains when they’re reading, but it starts to fear the worst.

It sits Martyn down, crouching down to meet his eyes.

“Martyn, I have something very important to tell- to tell- to tell you,” it says, and if it could, it would wince.

“Yeah?” Martyn asks, “Are we moving again?”

“Soon,” it says, “But that is not what I want to tell you.”

“Oh,” Martyn says.

“I am… sick. Do you remember what being sick is?” it asks. Martyn nods, reaching up to put his hand on its forehead, the way it had for him when he had been feverish.

“You feel warm,” Martyn confirms, “It’s okay. I’ll read to you until you’re better.”

“Thank you, Martyn. You are very kind,” it says, “But that is not the kind of sick I am. There are many kinds of sick.”

“Oh,” Martyn says, “Then what kind of sick are you?”

“I am… robot sick. I am- I am- I am- I am- getting old,” it says, “And my voice is starting to… not work properly.”

“I know that,” Martyn says, “You talk funny now and you keep messing up reading.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’re very smart,” it confirms, “But it might get worse. I might not be able to talk anymore soon.”

“But you’ll get better, right? I got better,” Martyn says. It shakes its head.

“I might, but I might not. Robot sick is different,” it says, though it knows it is lying. “I just wanted you to know. If you talk to me and I do not respond, I am not ignoring you. I am still listening. I am just sick, and my voice- my voice- my voice- my voice—”

It shakes its head, the way humans sometimes do, to clear the sentence. When it looks at Martyn again, he seems thoughtful.

“Will you still read to me?” he asks.

“As long as I am able,” it promises. And, for good measure, “I love you, Martyn. Do not forget.”

“I won’t,” Martyn says, “I love you, too.”

— — —

It makes a point to show him how to read. He had already been learning it, but it doubles down when its voice begins to waver.

It picks up novels and reads them to him with Martyn in its lap. It holds its arm around Martyn’s waist, and Martyn holds the book for it to see, and it reads the words Martyn points to, so Martyn knows what they are.

It doesn’t want him to lose this. It doesn’t want him to lose his fun, his creativity, his imagination, just because it cannot read to him anymore.

— — —

It loses its voice for good while it is reading to Martyn.

— — —

Its voice is the first thing it loses, but it is not the last.

Control of its fingers becomes… tricky. Martyn has to help it, doing things that require finer movements.

“Is your hand sick?” he asks, and he sounds afraid. It nods, because it knows it shouldn’t lie to him, even if it wants to.

It loses what little control it had over its face next. Then its neck becomes stuck. It doesn’t seem able to walk as fast, though that might just be due to Martyn getting faster—he grows older still, full of energy, constantly wanting to run and jump and play on his longer legs. It tries its best, but it cannot keep pace like it used to. It used to sing and walk all night, and now it cannot do either.

Martyn is as patient as a six year old can be, which is not very. He gets frustrated and bored, and he complains often. It does not blame him for this. He is doing his best, too, and that is all it can ask.

— — —

There are people. It tries to hide—pulls Martyn into a closet, tucks him close to its chest, pets his hair with his hand—but Martyn doesn’t like to play hide and seek, and he doesn’t know he has to be quiet.

“My name is Martyn!” he tells them, once the closet door opens, “This is Dad. He’s sick.”

They’re nice enough, a woman and her teenage son. It—he, now?—releases Martyn to talk to them, and climbs out of the closet. He hovers at Martyn’s side when they climb out, a hand on his son’s head.

“Why were you two in the closet?” the mother asks.

“We were playing hide and seek. That’s what Dad said other people like to do, but I don’t like it very much,” Martyn explains. She nods.

“Most people do like to play that game,” she says, because, as a parent, she must understand his fear. “But we don’t, either. Do you want to travel together for a little while, Martyn?”

“I want to!” Martyn says, and he looks up at his father, and his father would sigh if he could.

He nods, because what else is he meant to do?

— — —

The teenager entertains Martyn, reading to him the book his father never did get to finish. The mother cooks, and she takes a look at his hands.

“I used to be an engineer,” she says, “You’re a bit above my pay grade, but I could take a look, if you want.”

He doesn’t let her crack him open or anything, but she inspects the pieces of his wiring she can see. He’s reminded of his old clinic, though he can’t tell her how ironic this is.

Her prognosis is… grim.

“You probably only have a few years left in you,” she admits, “Your model was supposed to go for regular updates, replacing parts and…”

He doesn’t listen as she explains the old process, his focus instead on Martyn.

Only a few years? What will happen to Martyn? Who will take care of him?

Humans need care until they are eighteen.

Martyn is six.

“I could try and make some minor repairs for some of the obvious damage, but I don’t have tools for anything more. I can also try and tell you some things you can do to try and stretch that time out,” she says. He nods, understanding, grateful, as she does what she can.

He had been in her place, once, years ago, and so he understands, too, when she offers sympathies, when she holds his hand.

— — —

They split off from each other eventually. The other two are traveling to a place they claim never fell. He does not believe in such a place, and so he does not go with them.

Martyn cries. The mother hugs him, as does her son, and they are gone.

As they walk away, he holds Martyn’s hand, and he does not let go.

— — —

He teaches Martyn how to do… anything he can. He is too young to understand how to hunt or set a trap or clean an animal or cook or treat a fever or start a fire or boil water, and it is very difficult to teach when he cannot speak. He’d wanted to wait until Martyn is older, he does not have the luxury of time anymore.

Martyn is clever, is bright. He takes to the skills as well as a six, eight, ten year old can, and it is only partly due to the fact he has no choice.

— — —

He knows he is dying.

Martyn does not.

He picks up a stick, waving Martyn over. There is a patch of dirt that is mostly clear, and he crouches in front of it.

I AM SICK he writes, and Martyn reads it, and he frowns.

“I know that,” Martyn says, and he shakes his head. The dirt is soft, and so he clears it, trying again.

I AM VERY SICK he writes. Martyn reads it, and he frowns deeper.

“What does that mean?” Martyn asks.

I WILL SLEEP SOON he writes. He wants to be delicate, but he can’t—the patch of dirt isn’t very big.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I sleep all the time,” Martyn says, “That’s how you get healthy again. It makes you feel better. You told me that.”

He wants to nod, but he can’t. This is the bit he was dreading the most.

I WILL NOT WAKE UP he writes.

For a long moment, Martyn doesn’t say anything.

“What if we get you medicine?” Martyn asks, “When— when I was sick, you found medicine. It made me better. It would make you better.”

NOT FOR ROBOTS

“That… that isn’t fair, though,” Martyn says, “Are you sure? We could get some and try it!”

I AM SURE he writes, and then he erases it, I LOVE YOU

Again, Martyn says nothing. He isn’t sure what Martyn is thinking, and then Martyn charges him, hugging him around the stomach.

He has more he wants to say to Martyn—he wants to teach him so much, to tell him to be careful, to tell him he’ll be okay.

He drops the stick, wrapping his arm around Martyn as tight as his failing joints will let him.

— — —

His goal is to find somewhere safe. An old house, maybe, somewhere where Martyn will be able to survive on his own for a while.

He looks, and he does not find it. He’s been looking for ten years, after all—of course he wouldn’t find one now, just because he is dying.

Other than that, his life does not much change. He holds Martyn’s hand as they walk, and Martyn talks to him about birds and books and whatever else he can think of. Martyn has become very good at filling the air for them both. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

He doesn’t actually know when it is going to happen, just that it will be soon.

When the moment finally comes, he does not realize.

They stop to rest for a night. Martyn is tired, as he is a child, and his legs can only carry him so far. He is tired, too, but he does not have it in him to think about why, or how strange that is.

It’s nowhere special, where they stop. A random house that has kept its roof, somewhere safe from rain and sun. Martyn finds a place to roll out his sleeping bag, and when he lies down, his father lies with him.

He does not let go of Martyn’s hand.

[topherwrites]

FIC RECS: TOP GUN: MAVERICK - 2!

Okay, so there was shit I forgot in my year in review rec list. I posted it and a minimum of about 10 other fics immediately came to mind. so, part 2! I also didn't put many WIPs on the first one, but I think currently in progress fics should get some love too. I'll be marking them with an asterisk.

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! Happy reading!

P.S. If I missed anyone, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

(P.S.S. reblog the fics you like, it makes writers happy.)

part 1, if you missed it.

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

JAKE SERESIN

Parking Lots and Matcha Lattes by @withahappyrefrain

In an attempt to get coffee, you meet a grade A asshole whose head you want to rip off. Meanwhile, Jake Seresin is pretty certain he just met his future wife in the parking lot of a coffee shop. AKA Jake Seresin likes mean women, pass it on.

The Hangman Special by @hangmanssunnies

On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.

*she is both hellfire and holy water by @chemistryread

you should take it as a compliment, that I'm talking to everyone here but you.

Birds Away by @wombtotombx

You’d known Jake since you were kids, bonding over the shared experience of being military brats overseas. You were the perfect pair - he was reckless, you followed the rules; he didn’t care what others thought, you were a people-pleaser. You both became the best of the best in your field - he through sheer talent and skill, you from demonstrated grit and determination. For over two decades, everyone around you - parents, friends, even teachers - had assumed you’d both end up together, despite the fact that somehow, you never did. The Navy always had its way of keeping you two apart. Whatever possibilities there might have been, it was just never in the cards. Until you got to Fallon.

*The Backup by @ereardon

No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Take Care of Business by @honkytonk-hangman

The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

When Jake Met Polly by @/honkytonk-hangman

Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

How It's Done (Oneshot Version) by @/honkytonk-hangman

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven by @sehnsuchts-trunken

Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he’s actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father’s new best friend, Jake Seresin.

BRADLEY BRADSHAW

*fever pitch by @greenorangevioletgrass

Arsenal and USMNT captain Bradley Bradshaw attends the mononymous music sensation Y/N's concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream. Little did he know that they soon embark on an epic love story fit for pop royalty...

This Love Came Back to Me by @beyondthesefourwalls

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

I Like Your Cinema by @sometimesanalice

Bradley wasn’t sure why you wanted to see the movie again, especially when neither one of you had particularly liked it the first time you’d seen it together. But when you’re tugging down his zipper, things start to make a lot more sense.

‘cause no one breaks my heart like you by @heartsofminds

“Last times always make him uneasy. He thinks that he should be used to it by now from his track record of being abandoned (willfully or “out of their control” situations alike). None of this should hurt him as deeply anymore.” or Bradley Bradshaw is terrified of commitment and he decides to stop being selfish (even though it’s hard to see).

the periphery by @youvebeenlivingfictional

You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

*Hotter Than Texas by @tongue-like-a-razor

Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin’s baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley’s dream girl worst nightmare.

*flight risk by @ofstoriesandstardust

In which you and Rooster got married while at UVA for the military benefits. What started out as a mutually beneficial deal between friends years ago turns into a point of interest for Maverick, causing Rooster to have to haul you out to Fightertown to get him to shut up. While Maverick’s fussing over a marriage he didn’t know existed, Rooster’s focused on getting the ball rolling on divorce papers because really, the Navy does not need to be calling some poor girl from his college that he’s died in a horrendous accident. It’s proving to be more difficult than he expected, especially when Hangman and Phoenix take it upon themselves to encourage a friendship to become more. 

How You Play the Game by @roosterforme

Bradley always loved October because of the World Series. He never expected a mix-up with the ticket he won to bring something as spectacular as you into his life. But time is fleeting, and now baseball is the last thing on his mind.

*The Intern by @/roosterforme

You barely have a minute to yourself after graduating at the top of your Ivy League class before your father insists you find an internship. Your days of lounging by the pool and partying are numbered as he has an endless parade of his colleagues visiting the house. But one of them is familiar to you in a way that warms your skin just like the San Diego sun. And it turns out, Bradley Bradshaw may just have the answers to all your problems. And those answers might be waiting for you on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea.

there was something 'bout you by @bussyslayer333

bradley bradshaw didn’t fall in love, especially not with uptight girls in his english lit class and especially not the ones being forced into tutoring him.

*Ultraviolence by @babyonboard

You and Bradley loved each other, and Jake was just your old friend from high school who you tried to pay no mind to. At least that's how it used to be.

All Too Well by @bradleyfuckingbradshaw

You’re at dinner with your boyfriend and some of his colleagues at a restaurant he chose when you look over the menu and realize there’s no vegetarian option, but he’s too busy with his friends to realize that. Bradley isn’t.

October 3rd Promptober by @familyvideostevie

you go to a tailgate with your friend bradley.

If You Met Me First by @tip-top-cloud-surfer

Rooster confessed to Echo that he was in love with her before the mission. One minor problem: she has a boyfriend.

Home for the Holidays by @mothdruid

Bradley might have lied about having a girlfriend. His best friend, you, decide to help him out and go home for the holidays with him. As the trip unfolds, so does your and Bradley’s feelings for one another.

BOB FLOYD

*I bet this would look beautiful on film by @coridotmp3

Honey desperately needs a photographer, and Bob desperately needs a break.

Robert from Next Door by @attapullman

You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

If Only the Neighbors Knew by @/attapullman

A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

*Golden Hour by @/ereardon

Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Ruin the Friendship by @withahappyrefrain

The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he’s learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He’s determined to fix that.

International Bob Floyd Fucks Month Masterlist

a january writing event hosted by @/attapullman

Bob from Stats by @/attapullman

College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

[st3f4no1897]

model: Josh Heuston IG profile: @jheuston

Josh Heuston is a 27-year-old Sri Lankan-Australian model and actor who was born and raised in Sydney, Australia. Heuston graduated from Macquarie University in 2019, earning himself a double major with a Bachelor of Science in Biomolecular Science and a Bachelor of Commerce.

In Heartbreak High, Heuston plays the school’s quintessential popular guy, Dusty Reid. His character is described as “so gorgeous it hurts”, and is a bass player in an indie rock band who has slept with half the girls and a handful of boys at Hartley High school. However, underneath his attractive façade, Dusty is just as insecure as the rest of us.

In an interview with Daily Mail Australia, Heuston shared how it felt to film Heartbreak High after having left high school years ago.

“It was like a flashback. It was nice though, the energy was good,” Heuston said. “I wasn’t the popular kid in high school, like Dusty, I kind of hopped around groups.”

Aside from Heartbreak High, Heuston has previously worked as a bartender while studying at university, where he was then scouted to be a model. Soon after, Heuston turned to photography and became a content creator, where he posts mainly to Instagram and YouTube.

Throughout his modelling, he has worked on campaigns for major brands, including Fendi, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, David Jones and Burberry, to name a few. He has also sat front row at Tommy Hilfiger shows in Milan and Shanghai, even doing a meet and greet for the brand in Sydney. In 2018, he made his debut at Mercedes Benz Fashion Week Australia to walk for the brand, Justin Cassin.

As for his acting career, he began by staring in a music video for Super Cruel’s “Sicklaced”, alongside Cartia Mallan in 2017, where he fell in love with acting. From there, he starred in Network 10’s Dive Club which made its way to Netflix, before he starred in a small, non-speaking role in Thor: Love and Thunder as a ‘Zeus Pretty Boy’. Following his role in Heartbreak High, he’s also had roles in the teen drama series More Than This and Bali 2002 on Stan.

Heuston doesn’t give away much on his personal Instagram, so we’re not currently certain of his single status.

However, Heuston was last linked to Australian model and DJ Carla Martinez in January 2023.

Prior to that, fans were convinced that he had something going on with none other than Kendall Jenner. At the beginning of October 2022, Heuston posted a TikTok flaunting his business class plane seat.

And underneath, comments accumulated from fans of his, but one from none other than Kendall Jenner herself.

Just writing the word “SLAYY” in the comments section, you wouldn’t be at fault if you believed that this account was Jenner’s real one. But alas, the account that commented is not her, despite being verified, because the account has almost 500,000 followers while Jenner actually has closer to four million.

That said, he doesn’t seem to share too much about his personal life online, other than his friendships and travels, so there’s a chance he does have a partner and is merely keeping it on the down low—and fair enough too.

[ebongawk]

rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on ao3 or your wips and try to draw some conclusions.

tysm for the tag @pipergirl17 (like a week ago whoops) this seems so fun!

every star in the sky (is taking aim)

I love you, man. It was a strange feeling, lungs filling with blood.  His lungs filling with his blood.  Painful, yeah, but also weird.   Unnatural.  Like his blood knew it wasn’t supposed to be there, but it didn’t have a choice.  And the sensation of drowning in the liquid of his own body, the wet he produced that was supposed to keep him alive literally killing him? Fucking unreal.

the beating of our hearts (is the only sound)

Chrissy was exhausted. Three hours before, when she’d initially walked into Jason’s home, she’d already been tired.  But then fifty of their classmates popped out of poor hiding spaces, shouting surprise! so loudly she thought they’d ruptured her eardrum, and her internal dial went from ‘worn out’ to ‘enverated’ almost immediately.  Like the room was full of vampires that thrived on energy, and every ounce she had was leeched as soon as she stepped foot past the threshold. Whatever she wore on her face, Jason mistook it for excitement.

overheated heart (head over heels)

Eddie needed this goddamn movie to end. He was dying.  Like, actually suffocating, his lungs inhaling and exhaling oxygen without absorbing any of it into his blood.  He kept taking slow, deep breaths, but every passing second was agony.   Because with every stupid, necessary puff of air, Eddie kept getting little nudges of flowery perfume, and it was gonna be the death of him.

let's climb too high (for the stars to reach us)

Plopping down on a stool, Chrissy gave a weary sigh, letting her head droop against her crossed arms on the bartop.  She felt, all at once, like she’d been awake for a thousand years, and all she wanted to do was go to sleep.   Curl up in her bed after a long, relaxing bath and read one of her romance novels until she passed out with the pages spread over her chest. Joke’s on her, considering her bed was now tainted.

give me your hand (give me your sound)

It was a weird fucking day. Walking into the hellscape that was school, the aura was weird.   Anticipation hung heavily in the air; the promise of an impending week off made tension thick as people prepared for their spring break with wandering minds and jittery dispositions.  Ignoring lessons outright in favor of planning road trips and parties, discussing how to obtain alcohol despite the prying eyes of ‘authority figures’ standing over their shoulders. Eddie reveled in it.

heart begins to beat

The memories came in increments. Lying awake, staring up at the ceiling of a hotel room that felt more like home than Chrissy’s own childhood bedroom ever had, the pieces of a past her tormented mind had begged her to forget slowly stacked together.  Like a game of Jenga towering higher and higher, waiting to fall and crush her completely.  Each new brick connected the dots of a nightmarescape she couldn’t have fantasized in the most insane of dreams.

the conclusion I'm drawing is that I'm a big fan of single-line tag lines to sort of set the tone for a story 😂 which tbh I already knew. I also tend to steer my Chrissy POV intros more toward emotion while my Eddie intros seem a bit more physical? but idk if that's true for every fic or just these six.

(also idk if it meant the first few lines of the story or of the most recent chapter posted but I went with the former lmao)

I'm gonna tag @cyraclove @billysblueeyes @astorytotellyourfriends and anyone else that might want to play!!

[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.] 

[theflyingfeeling]

Heey, I wanna know more about your relationship with Blind Channel, if you're willing to discuss it hehe. I don't know the band besides the things you post, but you seem really invested and I'm wondering what's behind all that love! Asking because I find it's so interesting getting to know how band managed to lure such an active fan!

Hey! Of COURSE I'm willing to discuss Blind Channel, that's what I do!! 😅 I wasn't expecting this ask to come form YOU though, of all my mutuals, but I'm happy to answer!

I don't know how much you know about Eurovision Song Contest, but Blind Channel representing Finland in it in 2021 was what started it all (I can't remember hearing about them before that, but then again I'm not really following the Finnish music scene). I really liked their Eurovision song but it took me a while to listen to their other songs. I guess I was scared I might not like them that much, because by the time I finally did I had already become invested with the band because I had seen all that funny pre-Eurovision content they had made and absolutely fallen in love with them as people. I guess that's my first bullet point on the long list of reasons why:

Their personalities. There are six guys in the band, and they're all such lovable, down-to-earth people that it's hard not to love them. They're honest in what they say (which is what they were praised for during the Eurovision), they're genuine, and what I perhaps like the most is that they're very clearly their own, individual persons. I mean, everyone is, of course, but I think with Blind Channel it's even more striking how different they all are from each other, although some of them do also share certain personality traits.

Their passion. I absolutely love listening to them talk about their music, because with every word they say it's obvious how much they love what they do, despite the many (many!) hardships they have faced over the years. They're so ambitious, but not in an arrogant way; they know exactly where they are currently, where they want to be, and how they're gonna get there. The other lead singer Joel in particular (the one with the long blond hair) has made me tear up with his passion for music and the band. Whenever he talks about Blind Channel, you can just tell the band means the absolute world to him. In the end of the final track of their latest album there are clips from their first ever interview from almost 10 years ago, and Joel saying "the best thing about being in a band is everything, every single second" made me cry my eyes out for the first five consecutive times I listened to the song (yes, I actually listened to the song five times in a row the first time around haha), and I still remember back in 2021 I was watching and interview in which he said, when asked if they have someone taking care of their social media, that they want to do all that stuff themselves, because they want the content they give their fans to be as authentic as possible. I literally teared up at that moment, and it was also the moment I decided I need to see them live. Which leads us to my third point...

Their live shows. All the other concerts I had been to before my first BC concert had left me...underwhelmed, in a way? I was always so uncomfortable with all the people (sometimes drunken) shoving me around or screaming to my ear; I often felt like I would've been much better off just listening to the songs in the safety of my apartment lol. But then I went to a Blind Channel show and oh my god I was addicted. Their energy on stage is unmatched, top tier, and other praise words. They're so much fun to look at, because they're all so into it, all of them, not just the singers. In so many bands the guitarist and the bassist are literally just doing their job of strumming the strings while showing no emotion whatsoever, and if that's how they prefer it, I'm not gonna judge them for it, but Blind Channel has a whole choreography for their shows and seeing how into the music they are makes you so much more into the music as well. I especially love watching the bassist Olli on stage; he interacts with the audience quite a bit (a lot more in comparison to the guitarist Joonas who's very into his instrument most of the time), and if you're close enough to the stage, it's so much fun just watching him vibe with the music with the most blissful expression on his face 🥺 He really is in his element on stage - they all are! But with Olli it's a little different, because off stage he appears pretty shy and quiet; on stage he's anything but, and it's always so amazing to see that. In addition, they have so many great songs that are meant to be sung as loud as you can, and doing so surrounded by like-minded people is the best fun you've ever had 🖤 (particularly if there's a separate over-18 section in the audience, as the kids can get a little...intense sometimes 😂 (their fanbase in the motherland is quite young))

Sometimes I myself wonder what the hell actually happened that I became this invested with a band, especially because it's been over 10 years since the last time that happened 🙈 But honestly speaking, I'm so glad I did, because if it wasn't for Blind Channel, I have no idea what I would be doing with my freetime. I had no idea what would be my main source of serotonin if it wasn't for them, or whether I'd have fallen further down in the dumps. I'm scared to even think about it.

And like, by now it's not only about the six dudes in the band and the songs they make, but also about all the incredibly sweet people I have met through them. I don't really have that many friends, but thanks to Blind Channel I now have all these super adorable people in my life who always manage to pull me back up when I feel like I'm drowning, and that's something really fucking beautiful, you know? I will forever be thankful for Blind Channel for giving me all these amazing friends and experiences that I otherwise would've missed.

[newstfionline]

Sunday, December 10, 2023

Canada's surging cost of living fuels reverse immigration (Reuters) The dream of making it big in Canada is turning into a battle for survival for many immigrants due to the high cost of living and rental shortages, as rising emigration numbers hints to newcomers being forced to turn their back on a country that they chose to make their adopted home. Trudeau has made immigration his main weapon to blunt Canada's big challenge of an aging and slowing population, and it has also helped fuel economic growth. That drove Canada's population up at its fastest clip in more than six decades this year, Statistics Canada said. But a steady rise in emigration is making some observers wary. Reuters spoke with a half a dozen people who have either left the country or are preparing to do so, because of the high cost of living. Cara, 25, who came to Canada in 2022 as a refugee from Hong Kong, now pays C$650 ($474) in monthly rent for a single-room basement apartment in Scarborough, north of Toronto, which is about 30% of her monthly take-home salary. "I never realized that living in a Western country, you can only afford renting a room in the basement," she said. Cara works three part-time jobs, making Ontario's minimum wage of C$16.55 per hour. "I almost use every single penny," she said, while in Hong Kong she was able to save about a third of her monthly salary.

Chronic fatigue syndrome (AP) Health officials on Friday released the first nationally representative estimate of how many U.S. adults have chronic fatigue syndrome: 3.3 million. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s number is larger than previous studies have suggested, and is likely boosted by some of the patients with long COVID. The condition clearly “is not a rare illness,” said the CDC’s Dr. Elizabeth Unger, one of the report’s co-authors. Chronic fatigue is characterized by at least six months of severe exhaustion not helped by bed rest. Patients also report pain, brain fog and other symptoms that can get worse after exercise, work or other activity. Doctors have not been able to pin down a cause, although research suggests it is a body’s prolonged overreaction to an infection or other jolt to the immune system.

Sikh Americans Take Precautions After Assassination Plot (NYT) In California and New Jersey, some Sikh temples are rushing to add security cameras and hire night patrols. Bobbie Singh-Allen, the outspoken mayor of Elk Grove, Calif., said she had begun tempering her posts on social media that might be seen as critical of India. And Dr. Pritpal Singh, a Sikh American activist in California, said he was prepared to turn to a particularly American form of self-defense: using a gun. Sikh Americans have been on edge for months since the Indian government was accused of assassinating a prominent Sikh separatist and community figure in Canada, another country where Sikhs believed their activism was protected against interference by the Indian government. Their anxieties spiked last week after federal prosecutors in New York unsealed an indictment accusing an official in the Indian government of a different assassination plot, this time one that was foiled, in the U.S. To many Sikh Americans, the indictment—which alleged a brazen murder-for-hire plot against a Sikh separatist in New York—seemed to confirm suspicions that they had harbored for years about the Indian government keeping tabs on their actions.

Putin will seek another term as Russian president (AP) Vladimir Putin on Friday moved to prolong his repressive and unyielding grip on Russia for at least another six years, announcing his candidacy in the presidential election next March that he is all but certain to win. Putin still commands wide support after nearly a quarter-century in power, despite starting an immensely costly war in Ukraine that has taken thousands of his countrymen’s lives, provoked repeated attacks inside Russia—including one on the Kremlin itself—and corroded its aura of invincibility. A short-lived rebellion in June by mercenary leader Yevgeny Prigozhin raised widespread speculation that Putin could be losing his grip, but he emerged with no permanent scars. Prigozhin’s death in a mysterious plane crash two months later reinforced the view that Putin was in absolute control.

Ukraine cracks down on draft-dodging as it struggles to find troops (Washington Post) Soon after Russia’s invasion in February 2022, Ukraine beefed up its border defenses near this Carpathian mountain village. But the extra patrols and reels of barbed wire fencing rolled out along the top of a mountain pass along the Romanian border were meant to keep people in—particularly draft-eligible men seeking to flee the country. As Ukraine approaches its third year of war, Ukraine needs fighters, leading to a search for new ways to mobilize the population and stronger measures against draft dodgers. Following Russia’s full-scale invasion, men ages 18 to 60 were forbidden from leaving the country. Some of those seeking to escape hire guides to lead them through the mountains. Others make the risky trip alone. One of them, a 46-year-old man who lost his way last month, suffered severe frostbite and died soon after he was found. At least 25 men have drowned while crossing the Tysa River, which separates Ukraine from Romania. But the most common escape route has been major border crossings. Many rely on fake documents to slip out of the country. Men have squeezed themselves into secret compartments in vehicles, posed as clergy members and dressed as women to sneak past border checkpoints, said Andriy Demchenko, a spokesman at the headquarters of the State Border Guard Service.

How China strong-armed its way into dominating the South China Sea. (NYT) Beijing says many of these boats are just fishing. But they bristle with machine guns, rocket-propelled grenades and high-velocity water cannons. They’re here for intimidation. This fleet, built largely with government money, helps China dominate one of the most crucial and disputed waterways in the world: the South China Sea. Working in tandem with an aggressive coast guard, these militarized fishing boats assert Beijing’s presence more than 1,000 miles from the Chinese mainland. The boats patrol the tiny, disputed Spratly islets. Their reinforced steel hulls make it easy to ram smaller boats. They swarm other countries’ outposts and squat on shoals within sight of foreign coastlines. In confrontations with China’s militarized fleet, the Philippines’ smaller boats don’t stand a chance. China’s muscle is crucial to its de facto control over the South China Sea. These fishing boats, most of which don’t actually fish, make up a maritime militia that is upending the rules of the sea. By providing backup to the China Coast Guard and maintaining a constant presence in remote waters—often parking on contested reefs for weeks at a time—they amplify China’s ambitions in the South China Sea.

News investigations say Israeli tank shell killed journalist in Lebanon (Washington Post) News organizations and rights groups that investigated shelling that killed a journalist and injured others in Lebanon in October said their findings indicate that Israel was responsible. Two rights groups described the attack as a “war crime.” The shelling on Oct. 13 in southern Lebanon killed Reuters videographer Issam Abdallah, 37, and severely wounded Agence France-Presse photographer Christina Assi, 28. Other journalists from Reuters, AFP and Al Jazeera were also injured. Dylan Collins, an AFP videographer who was with Abdallah when he was killed, said, “The Israelis knew we were there from the moment we arrived.” An Israeli tank crew fired two shells in quick succession from Israel while the journalists were filming cross-border shelling.

As a Gaza teen, I used to dream of college. Now I feel sentenced to death by Israel’s bombings (Salma Hamad, Los Angeles Times) Until two months ago, my life as a 17-year-old in Gaza was marked by the predictable anxieties and aspirations of a student applying to university. Now as I huddle in a cramped, dimly lit room with 12 other women in Rafah, those dreams seem like fragments of another life. Our stomachs echo with hunger, and our throats burn with thirst. We exist in constant darkness, the world illuminated only by the flashes of missiles and the red glow of destruction. I am not a terrorist. I am a student, a sister, a daughter. Up to 1.8 million Palestinians have been displaced, myself included. We are not faceless statistics, but innocent human beings. History will look to us to measure the cost of moral weakness—the consequences of dismissing the sanctity of all human life. In Gaza, age is a fallacy. It is the most dangerous place on Earth to be a child. Since October, I have lost more friends than has my 78-year-old grandmother. The anguish has become a companion of my existence. If I were your daughter, would you stand for it? I feel that I have been sentenced to death, but death no longer scares me. I only fear that when I die, my story will be forgotten. We plead with Israel, the U.S. and the world: Please end the bombardment. Let the children of Gaza dream again.

U.S. Vetoes Israel-Hamas Cease-Fire Resolution at U.N. Security Council (NYT) The United States on Friday vetoed a United Nations resolution calling for an immediate cease-fire in the Gaza Strip, where Israel has launched hundreds of strikes, relief efforts were faltering and people were growing so desperate for basic necessities that some were stoning and raiding aid convoys. The U.N. secretary general, António Guterres, and most members of the Security Council had backed the measure, saying that the humanitarian catastrophe in the coastal enclave where 2.2 million Palestinians live could threaten world stability. But the United States, which is one of the five permanent members of the Security Council, blocked the resolution, arguing that Israel has the right to defend itself against Hamas attacks. The vote was 13 to 1, with Britain abstaining and some U.S. allies like France voting for a cease-fire. The failed resolution came as the United Nations reported that it was struggling to deliver essential goods like food, medicine and cooking gas to desperate civilians who have packed into shelters and tent cities after two months of war. “Civil order is breaking down,” Thomas White, the Gaza director of the United Nations relief agency for Palestinians, wrote Friday on social media. He added: “Some aid convoys are being looted and UN vehicles stoned. Society is on the brink of full-blown collapse.”

UN says Africa faces unprecedented food crisis, with 3 in 4 people unable to afford a healthy diet (AP) At least three-fourths of Africans can’t afford a healthy diet, and a fifth are undernourished due to an “unprecedented food crisis,” United Nations agencies said in a report released Thursday with the African Union Commission. The continent’s 1.4 billion people are confronting high levels of hunger and malnutrition as the hit on world grain supplies from Russia’s war in Ukraine compounds the ills of African conflicts, climate change and the aftereffects of the COVID-19 pandemic, the report said. It warned that “millions are expected to be at risk of worsening hunger in the near future.” With a young population set to double by 2050, Africa is the only rapidly growing region where people are getting poorer, and some are beginning to celebrate coups by soldiers who promise a better life.

[bikekharidoblogs]

Royal Enfield drops yet another Himalayan 450 teaser

Royal Enfield has finally revealed for the first time its 450 Himalayan in a video released.

Royal Enfield has just put out an official teaser of the hotly anticipated Himalayan 450 – first-ever liquid-cooled engined Adventure motorcycle that will launch this year.

It will be the flagship adventure motorcycle in Royal Enfield’s line-up, and will compete against the likes of the KTM Adventure 390, BMW R310 GS and Yezdi Adventure.

A 450cc liquid cooled single cylinder four stroke engine – a first for Royal Enfield – will power the new Himalayan.

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A six speed manual gearbox, spoked wheels shod with on-off road tyres, upright riding ergonomics, a sturdy frame for off road use, dual channel ABS, disc brakes on both wheels are key features expected to be on offer.

The Himalayan has been around for a while now, and it seems like almost as long that a 450 version has been rumoured.

We know a bit about it by now, but the Indian manufacturer has finally made it official with a video posted to Instagram.

The video does not reveal too much about the bike, and in truth Enfield does not even mention the word “Himalayan”, or “450”, in a caption or in the video. But, it is clear.

The singular round headlamp wading through a flooded, muddy trail can only mean a Himalayan, and the text “Testing 1, 2, 3” indicates something major.

So, we can assume with some certainty that this is a first ‘official’ public display of the 450 Himalayan from Royal Enfield.

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as per reports a likely power output somewhere around the 40 horsepower mark, and torque of 45Nm.

That puts the 450 way ahead of the 24.5 horsepower, 32Nm standard Himalayan with the 411cc engine.

Additionally, the seat is longer than the 411 Himalayan (or the 411 Scram, for that matter), with a dipped saddle, and the suspension is revised.

An inverted fork at the front is paired with a singular rear shock absorber which will be necessarily recalibrated to handle the additional power of the 450 compared to the previous Himalayan.

Electronic changes could also be on the cards, with dual-channel ABS, ride-by-wire throttle and a new digital dashboard.

One thing which will remain the same for the Himalayan 450 is the size of the wheels, which will be 21 inches at the front, and 17 at the rear.

Finally, despite the video from Enfield, still do not have a release date for the Himalayan 450, or a price, or an official range of colours, although from the video it would be fair to assume that one of the paint options will be black.

[toru-oikawas-milkbread]

New year, New Love, New Life

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x f!reader

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings/contents: Angst, happy ending, fluff, mild language, pining 

Notes: I made this really sad for absolutely no reason and I don’t even remember writing most of it, so… it’s sort of a rough start, but the end of the chapter is happy!

It’s not midnight my time, but happy New Years eve (my time anyways) everybody!!! Enjoy this angsty to fluffy holiday post for Atsumu. I still have one more chapter of something to post today in a little bit! 

<>~<>~<>

A soft sigh left you as you drained the drink from your cup, squeezing past a few people in the relatively crowded hallway to make your way towards the kitchen. It was hardly 10 PM and you couldn’t wait to be home in bed, your cat snuggled into your side and the tv on as you waited for midnight. Truth be told, as excited as everyone was for the new year, you couldn’t help but feel like today was just another Friday.

The new year was exciting in a way— but you had to admit, with the steady way life was going and how you weren’t expecting any big changes, you didn’t care much about having a big celebration. Even if part of you did want to be in a relationship by this time in your life, you couldn’t help but wanting to be alone and you thought that might be why you were single and why you never attracted people to yourself. You hated to leave the house, and while you were far from unattractive, it was hard to be with even the most attractive of people when all they wanted to do was stay inside all of the time.

You used to think someday soon you’d stumble into a cute boy in the coffee shop like they always did in the cheesy movies and books, but instead you walked freely into café doors and you found yourself at home with another creative project and a cup of coffee as always. As much as the daydreaming part of your mind wanted to believe that you’d find love even if you were scared to leave and meet all these new people, you wanted to dream about the thought of happiness with another person, but the side was slowly dying away with every year spent sitting on your living room sofa with your cat. And while you were happy with your life, you didn’t think there was anything wrong with wanting to have more.

The issue? Acquiring more.

The thoughts set heavy in your mind as you left the kitchen, this time no drink in hand. Because you were walking home, you needed to be sober, to be able to think as clearly as you could when you’d walked to your friends apartment. And while it was only a block or two away, you knew how fast people got kidnapped and didn’t want to be another story on the news.

“Hey, (y/n)!” You looked over, forcing a smile at the woman of the hour— she had thrown this huge party by herself, and being such a charismatic and outgoing girl, she had almost every single one of her coworkers here. Hell, you thought you’d even seen her boss and his wife around the party despite seeming like uptight people from the single Christmas party you went to with her. “I was wondering if you left,” she gave your arm a soft jab with her elbow and made you wince; she was a little more than tipsy, but she smiled sweetly at you nonetheless. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” even through her drunken gaze she could tell that you were lying, but why? She wasn’t sure. You were far from the most open person, she found it hard to get you to talk to her about anything that was going on in your head and wondered, even through her persistence all those years ago, if you may never let her into your life as anything more than a loud girl who yelled her greetings at you from across the school hallway. “How are you? It’s really a great party, I think everyone is having a lot of fun.”

“Mm— I sure hope so,” she took another sip of her drink, grinning and waving across the room. “Hey, I have a surprise for you,” she said, nudging your arm again to catch your drifting attention.

“You know I hate surprises.” You grumbled, rubbing your arms while she laughed.

“Don’t worry— you’ll like this one. Come here.” She took your hand, tugging you along with her up the stairs and towards her bedroom. You were shocked at how much more quiet it was up the stairs even as the music and chatter of the party was still ringing in your ears. “You go in my room and I’ll be right back.” You looked anxiously at the girl who walked back down the stairs, looking through her open bedroom door.

“What am I getting myself into now….?” You mumbled to yourself, but even as you wondered what she was going to be doing, you walked into the room, choosing to trust her. “She’s never done anything bad before— I’m sure it’s just… she wants to show me something.” You talked to yourself, nodding along in agreement with your own hesitant words even as the back of your mind knew you didn’t believe even yourself. “I’m sure that’s all this is.” You mumbled out, listening to the faint sound of footsteps coming towards the room as you sat on the end of the bed with your back towards the door— but as you listened, you swore that you heard more than just her drunken stumbling.

Suddenly, the door shut— hard, making you jump and look back in shock. Through the dim light in the room, you saw Atsumu’s face as he walked in the room and sent him a little smile.

“Oh, hi Atsumu.” You said, shifting to face him better. “How is it going? I didn’t even know you were here.”

“Yeah— I knew you were here, I saw ya earlier, but before I could come towards ya, I got my attention stolen.” He sighed, moving to sit on the end of the bed with you. “How are ya?”

“I’m good.” You said it simply, but the same as your friend, Atsumu had known you long enough to know you weren’t telling the whole truth. He sent you a skeptical look that made you give a soft scoff. “I can never just answer your questions without you suspecting I’m lying,” you said, looking back towards the window as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe if ya weren’t lyin’ I’d believe ya.” Your shoulders sunk in as you looked down.

“I’m fine.”

“And fine means…?”

“I’m… not completely miserable, but I’m far from happy…?” You trailed off as if you were asking the man and made him give a quiet sigh.

“Sorry to hear that.” Atsumu was never the best at comforting— while he wasn’t completely unable to sense when you were upset and when you were needing something more than a simple pat on the arm, even when it did come time for that something more, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort you. He didn’t know if his comforting when he tried ever did work— the issue with being such a tightly closed book always sat in you being alone at the end of the day whether you had a boyfriend, a better paying job, a cat, a dog, a life or not.

“I mean… just look at this place,” you spoke softly, almost too quiet for him to hear, so he leaned a little closer to you. “It’s full of couples and… and I know that I don’t need some guy to make my life worthwhile, but… would it hurt to be happy with somebody just for once?” You mumbled, looking at your hands even as you saw the man staring intensely at you from the corner of your eye. “Would it kill someone to fall in love with me?” He bit his lip, shaking his head.

“Ya have no idea how easy it is to fall in love with ya, (y/n).” The words seemed to go right over your head as you softly scoffed and looked away from the man.

“You mean I have no idea how insanely impossible it is to love a flaky, self-centered, boring asshole like me?”

“Hey— yer not boring and ya never stand me up,” he said as if it was all that mattered. “I know ya think there’s so much to not love about ya, but yer missin’ the things that there are to love.” With a roll of your eyes, you looked at the man.

“Oh, I’m sorry— I forgot to add how terribly inconsiderate I am of other people’s feelings and the fact that I never leave my house and not only seem like an asshole personality wise, but looks wise too since I never smile at strangers.”

“And how ya laugh when I tell a dumb joke and ya cover your nose when it scrunches or look down. How ya hug me after we win a big game that I know means nothin’ to ya but ya know it means a lot to me and ya come even if yer bored. And how ya make these blunt jokes that always make me laugh. How ya make even little things like sitting in a room on New Years eve fun. Ya have so much more than ya give yerself credit for. And maybe ya don’t look like yer as nice as ya are, but I don’t wanna sit here and listen to ya say those bad things about yerself when ya know yer so much more than somebody who loves their cat and doesn’t like to leave the house.”

You couldn’t help the way that your cheeks warmed, and maybe it was the way that he was looking at you— but there was something different in his eyes that you just couldn’t pinpoint, or maybe it was the fact that he spoke so softly and certainly and even the music beneath the floor wasn’t taking your attention away from him, but for once you didn’t want to break the eye contact right away even as you flushed.

“D-don’t say things like that,” you scolded the man. “I don’t scrunch my nose when I laugh!” You lied, earning a raised eyebrow from the man who slowly smiled.

“Sure ya don’t.” He said softly. “But— again— yer missin’ the point.” He pressed, scooting closer to you on the bed as you involuntarily leaned away, but even your unconscious movements didn’t stop his hand from grabbing yours. “Ya don’t give yerself credit. For the way ya show ya care in such a simple way. For the way ya make people fall in love with ya even if they never thought they’d see it comin’.” He gave your hand that shook slightly in his a squeeze. “I know I’m makin’ ya uncomfortable, and I know ya want me to leave, and I will— but ya need to know that these things about yerself that either yer sayin’ or other people are sayin’ aren’t true.”

“Come on— of course they are,” you said, pulling your hand from his light grasp and wrapping your arms around yourself in a comforting manner as the man looked at you; he was right, you were uncomfortable. You were uncomfortable because he was being so nice to you— and while Atsumu wasn’t a mean man, times like this were not frequent. As close as the two of you had always seemed to be, you felt like even he never really scratched the surface of who you were as a person, and this subtle reassurance that he saw you and he noticed little things about you like this made you uncomfortable to think of. “I’m cold and rude and we both know that you know that.” Atsumu gave a soft sigh, shoulders sinking lightly in defeat even as the words were on the tip of his tongue.

“Well… maybe someday someone can prove ya wrong even if I can’t.” He sent you a small smile and stood, glancing at the door. “I don’t think we’re stuck in here or anythin’.” Truthfully, you felt bad— you had time and time again ignored his kind advances— because you were afraid that if you got too close to him, he’d hurt you like everyone else had. That his kind words were going to turn sour and this act of caring about you was going to only be a façade to make you look like a fool, and you would do anything to uphold yourself and seem like anything but a fool, even if instead it made you seem cold or made you sad.

“Alright.” You said anyways.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find ‘Samu, he’s probably raidin’ the fridge by now,” he said with a soft chuckle, and while he didn’t seem hurt or affected by your words now, you still felt bad. Nevertheless, you nodded and watched as he turned his back to you. “I’ll be around— maybe I’ll see ya before the new year comes and we can celebrate together,” he sent you one final smile before he left the room in time for you to give a sniffle and look down almost pathetically.

“You really are a shitty person,” you mumbled to yourself, standing up as you sniffled one more time and left the room. Thankfully, finding your friend came easy tonight. You walked over to her, sending her a small, forced smile when she met your eye.

“(y/n)! How was 7 minutes in heaven with dear Atsumu?” She teased.

“Just fine. Hey, I’m gonna head home— I know it’s not midnight, but I have a really bad headache and I think I’m gonna try and get some rest.” She sent you a saddened look but nodded.

“Okay. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.” Before you could leave, she leaned in and gave you a hug that made you give a soft sound in discontent as you barely hugged her back.

“Happy New Years, (y/n).”

“Yeah— happy New Years, Kiko.”

The walk to your apartment was thankfully peaceful. You were absentminded, hands in your pockets to keep warm and eyes on the ground as you tried not to slip on the ice. After all, Atsumu wasn’t there to catch you like he had been the last time you slipped on the ice. It had been when it first snowed, the two of you ran into each other at a coffee shop, and on your way out, you nearly spilled your coffee and slipped if the man hadn’t caught you before you fell back.

Your fingers raked through your tabby cats soft grey fur, her soft purring and the sound of the quiet television on in the background was almost all of the noise in the apartment. Thankfully for you it seemed as if your neighbors were at parties and not hosting parties, giving you a moment of silence that you didn’t want, but as you always did, you pushed the noise away and went home.

“Why do you think I’m like this, Coconut?” You asked softly, but got nothing in return as your cat napped peacefully on your legs. “Why do I keep sabotaging my own happiness?” You sighed and looked back to the tv. “It’s really getting old.” You grumbled out, but even as you spoke, you wondered what exactly could’ve happened if you’d stayed at the party. “I mean— what, was Atsumu going to kiss me at midnight?” You asked aloud with an eye roll. “Was he going to make it worth my while to stay there? If I wouldn’t have been so distant in the bedroom what would he have done— he would’ve left anyways,” you said to yourself, trying to make yourself feel better. “He was just being Atsumu— it’s not like he’s in love with me or something.” You grumbled, looking down at your cat.

But even as you spoke, you couldn’t help the way it hurt your chest. To be alone, to be missing out because you couldn’t stop distancing yourself from people because of an irrational fear that lingered constantly in your head.

“What… what happens if I give in, Coconut?” You asked softly. “What happens if I finally decide that trusting someone might not be the worst thing in the world? What happens if he… if he keeps being this nice to me without me pushing him away and I fall in love with him?” You asked mainly yourself, already knowing long before your eyes teared up that you’d loved Atsumu for longer than you wanted to admit. “What happens if I let him in and I trust him and I love him? Isn’t he just gonna hurt me?” You said, looking at your cat. “Won’t he just leave me like everyone else always does? This… this is better than being hurt,” you said, but as you spoke, your cat yawned, moving to stretch off of your legs and leaving you.

With a soft sniffle, you stood, heading towards your kitchen with your empty glass in hand and pouring yourself another cup of wine, daydreaming about what it may be like to not be sitting alone drinking wine on New Years Eve even though you left the party. You wished someone would’ve followed you, maybe that your friend would have convinced you to stay, but as you went to sit back on the sofa and looked at the time, you sighed sadly and sipped your wine.

“Happy New Years to me.” You mumbled, looking at your cat. “What’s my resolution?” You spoke to yourself, before now not even thinking of the stupid resolution part of the holiday; get more in shape? Get promoted? Write a book? Start a new hobby? “I think… I think my new resolution is to be less… secretive.” You mumbled. “Maybe if I just…” You sighed, thinking of telling the truth to Atsumu and yet immediately worrying about what may come of it. Your cat meowed, padding over to you with a cute look on her face. “Do you… think I should tell the truth to ‘Tsumu, Coconut?” You asked, knowing that you wouldn’t get an answer, but the way she nuzzled against your legs made you smile. “Do you think I could be happy?” Again, she meowed. “Do you think… I deserve to be happy?” This time, she was quiet, sitting down and looking at you as you sniffled. “We’ll never know if we don’t try, right?”

Even still as you stood and gently set your glass down, a shiver ran down your spine at the thought of confessing your feelings; at the thought of being rejected or maybe even treated well and eventually hurt. But the worries didn’t stop you from slowly walking to your door with one quick look back at your cat who jumped onto the warm spot where you were just sitting and laid down.

“I’ll… I’ll be back.” You mumbled, getting your shoes and putting them on. The anxiety was bubbling up in your stomach as you reached for the door handle and opened it, looking out into your empty hallway and putting your jacket on. You repeated words in your mind like a mantra to try and calm yourself.

“What’s the harm?” “You’ll never know if you don’t try.” “Just give it a shot, what’s the worst he does?”

With a scoff, you locked your door behind yourself and decided that until you made it to the first floor of your apartment building, you’d debate on whether or not this was a good idea.

“What’s the worst that happens…? He… doesn’t love me. What’s the worst that happens is that he… he was just being nice. He wasn’t actually saying those things to me and he was just being nice he just… he doesn’t really feel that way.” Sadly, you stopped before you could open the stairwell down, hand grabbing the handle as you sighed and hung your head. “This is a waste of my time. I shouldn’t even leave and go see him. He’s probably not even home. He’s probably with someone else.” With a sigh, you nearly turned away before you looked at the door again. “Maybe… my New Years resolution can be to try and be more hopeful.”

With a tug, you opened the door and started to walk quickly down the stairs before you could change your mind again. When the chilled air hit your face, you immediately shivered even as you wore a coat, but it was the last thing on your mind as you started to head out into the night. There was laughter, drunk people walking home, friends driving together— everything you weren’t, but you were hoping something more than disappointment may come from this.

Anxiously, you stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets to save them from the cold air and walked quickly to the apartment building that was close to your friends. Atsumu lived close to you, thankfully, and you hoped against every doubt in your mind that said a good looking guy like him probably wasn’t alone that he was just that— alone. That he would answer the door and you could finally force yourself to be honest and tell the truth.

“What am I even supposed to say…?” You mumbled to yourself. ““Hey, Atsumu, I know it’s late but I love you?”” With a scoff, you kicked a stray rock ahead of you. ““I know I left you and played the part of an asshole, but I’ve liked you for years?”” Another soft scoff. “This is stupid anyways.” But even as your pessimistic thoughts overtook you, your legs carried you to his apartment.

Taking the quickest rout you could, you hurried up the stairs and to the 5th floor of the building. Your legs were tired after a long week of working as hard as you could for the end of the year to prove you were worthy of a promotion, your head was starting to hurt as you went from a warm building to the cold outdoors and now back into a warm building, but you stopped in front of Atsumu’s door and took a deep breath in before you knocked.

Nothing. So you knocked again.

Again, nothing. You sighed the breath you held before out and waited for a minute before knocking again, wondering if maybe he was asleep on the sofa or if he was in the bathroom, but even as you waited for a few minutes, there was nothing. Your mind went to the worst of places, wondering just what he could be doing whether he was home or somewhere else.

Sadly, almost pathetically, you hung your head and turned around, walking towards the stairwell door with a quiet sigh.

“I knew this was a waste of time.” You mumbled to yourself, but even if you knew it was a waste of time and you knew nothing could have come of this pointless venture, you couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed that he wasn’t there— or he was simply busy.

You left the apartment building earlier than you wanted to, your hopes of being able to see him just one more time tonight getting shot down.

Deciding to take a longer rout, you cut through the park that was between your building and Atsumu’s, fiddling with your fingers inside of your pockets and looked around the well lit area. You took a moment to look at the moon and sighed.

“Well, here’s to another year,” you said to yourself. “This is how I like it anyways, right?” You asked yourself, though knowing you were lying. “I like to be alone. I like to sleep in my bed however I like, I like to eat whatever I want for dinner and not compromising, I like to stay inside on the weekends instead of going on dates, I like to… I like to be with my cat.” You teared up as you thought and looked down. “I don’t need someone to love me, I… I have Coconut. Coconut is better than someone who can hug me back and tell me they love me even on my worst days.” You knew you were lying to yourself, but the words you once sought out comfort in were doing nothing for you tonight. “I don’t even want to be in love. It’s always a sham and I’d just get disappointed again.”

With a huff, you sat back on a bench and looked up at the sky as a warm tear slid down your face. You tried to bite it back, reaching up to rub it away quickly.

“Life alone is the kind of quiet that I need.” You assured yourself, even if you knew that you were lying and wanted and craved something so much more than the empty thought of dying alone. “Coconut probably misses me anyways. What would some guy do— keep me out late,” you sniffled and thought of standing when the crunch of snow beneath someone’s feet caught your attention before a voice spoke and made you look.

“(y/n)?” You looked aside, meeting Atsumu’s shocked gaze. “Hey— I was just… what are ya doin’ out here?” He asked, stopping mid-sentence as he walked closer. “Are ya okay?” He frowned, noticing the watery look to your eyes the closer he neared you. “What’s the matter?”

Now that you were faced with the man, you didn’t know what to do. You left your house to see him— you left your cat, the warmth, your bed— and yet even when you thought of confessing beforehand, you were at a loss, jaw slightly slacked and no words coming out. What did you do now? Did you say something? Did you stay quiet about it all and lie— again?

“Did somethin’ happen?” He sat on the bench beside you, giving you a bit of space as you looked at him in a shocked manner. Even if he was confused and looked cold and tired, Atsumu took a moment with you and the mere gesture made your chest ache.

“I, uh…”

“I know I came on kinda strong earlier and… well, I’ve been meanin’ to talk to ya. I… I was goin’ to your apartment. I… made myself a promise and… I didn’t make good on that promise like I wanted to.” You frowned, wondering what he could be talking about as he sighed and turned to face you a little better than before on the cold bench. “I just need ya to know, I…” With a sigh, Atsumu looked down and clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what to do.” He said quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin’ about you, I— I don’t know what to do,” he huffed out harshly. “I don’t wanna scare ya off, I don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable, but… no offense, there’s just no talkin’ to ya without worryin’ about that.”

“What if… just for tonight, I promise that you can tell me anything and I won’t be weird?” Atsumu stole a quick look at you and chewed on the inside of his lip.

“Even if what I’m thinkin’ is gonna scare ya?” He asked hesitantly.

“Well, yeah.”

“Then… then I guess… I need to tell ya that… what I said earlier, I wasn’t just talkin’ about some random guy, I… I was thinkin’ about me. Being the person who falls in love with ya, and it’s too late to even think so little. The truth is, (y/n)… I’ve loved ya for a long time. And for a long time I thought I loved ya because ya made me laugh and ya spent time with me, but… it’s not just that. Ya say ya don’t scrunch yer nose when ya laugh, but I noticed it a long time ago when I first started to fall for ya and I can’t stop thinkin’ about how cute it is.” He sighed and looked down as he spoke. “It feels so pointless sometimes, because I know ya could never feel the same for me and I know that this feelin’ I have for ya needs to just go away, but… outside of volleyball, I can’t think about anythin’ but ya.” He seemed to sniffle, and despite never doing it before, you tossed all of your worries aside and leaned closer to the man, grabbing his jacket collar to catch his attention and pressing your lips to his.

Atsumu gave a soft sound in shock, his eyes widening as he looked at you and wondered Dif what was happening was really happening or this was all some cruel dream— so he pinched you.

“Ow!” You yelled, pulling back. “What the hell was that for!?”

“I thought I was dreamin’!”

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself, not me!”

“Oh…” Atsumu reached down and pinched his forearm. “Ow.” You blinked, looking at the man in front of you in a dumbfounded way as he met your eyes. “Uh… sorry, that really ruined the moment.” You couldn’t help it, a smile coming onto your face as you gave a laugh and looked down, but his fingers quickly caught your chin and pushed it back up. There was a smile on Atsumu’s face that you had never seen before, one you missed every time he sent it in your direction and one that made your cold cheeks flush dark as he looked between your eyes to your nose. “See that,” he brought his finger up and gently rubbed the bridge of your nose. “Ya scrunch it when ya laugh and I think ya know ya do and that’s why ya look down. Or maybe yer worried about someone seein’ ya smile because ya used to have braces and ya thought ya looked ugly, but you know what?” The man spoke softly, so you followed his tone and lowered your voice.

“What?”

“Even with all the metal in your mouth, I never thought ya looked ugly. Even when ya eat more than ‘Samu after a few days of dieting and nearly starvin’ yerself. Especially when ya scrunch yer nose— yer so beautiful.” He said it so soft you almost didn’t hear over the sound of distant laughter, but as you looked into his soft, pretty brown eyes, you couldn’t help but focus on only him. “Yer so beautiful and yer so perfect. Even when yer pushin’ me away, I never want to leave ya.” He slowly leaned in, but instead of pulling away this time, he watched as your eyes flicked to his lips and slowly started to close. “Sorry I ruined the moment. Give me another chance?”

“I… I’ve always been so scared, but… but you don’t understand how many chances I’d give you even if you broke my heart over and over again.” You closed your eyes as a tear slid past your eyes, but instead of his lips on yours, Atsumu pulled you into a gentle hug, cradling your head in his hand as he held you against his chest and softly shushed your sobs.

“I know yer scared. But I promise ya, I’ll never hurt ya. You don’t have to worry so much about me. People have let ya down in the past, but I won’t ever let ya down. I won’t ever break yer trust. I know ya don’t give it out— I’m gonna earn it. I’m gonna earn it and I’m never gonna let it go and I’m never gonna hurt ya.” He promised you softly. You couldn’t even think of what to say, mumbling out a soft apology as you hid your face in his chest. “Don’t ya apologize. It’s okay. I love ya. Ya can cry. Yer allowed to hurt. Yer allowed to be scared. Yer allowed to have these feelings.” It felt like with every word from the man, your chest ached more as you tried not to sob against him— and failed almost miserable. “Yer allowed to be in pain and I won’t make fun of ya and I won’t tell ya what yer feeling isn’t valid. Ya know… ya know ya can feel this way, right?” He asked. “Ya know it isn’t bad for ya to cry.”

“Sure feels like it is,” you sniffled.

“It’s not. It’s good for ya to admit how ya feel. Ya don’t have to deal with everythin’ on your own anymore. Ya never did. Ya always had me and ya always will. Ya can share the weight ya have with me.”

“I don’t want to. It’s all just stupid— it’s little things that don’t even need to be worried about.”

“If it upsets ya, it isn’t stupid.” He frowned. “Ya don’t deserve this. Ya gotta stop treatin’ yerself this way.” He pulled back, keeping his arms around you but making you look up at him with a look that made his chest ache for you. “But until I can get that through this thick, pretty head of yers, I’ll be here to tell ya over and over again.” He promised, kissing your forehead as your lip quivered. “I’ll tell ya every day. I’ll kiss yer head every day. I’ll take the time to listen to the same things every day if ya need. I’d do anythin’ for ya, and I just… I wish I knew how to say it better.” You sniffled, reaching up to rub your nose.

“You don’t need to say it better.”

“I want to. Ya deserve so much. Ya deserve the world. I don’t think ya understand how highly I hold ya in my mind. Yer so smart, yer so pretty, ya’ve always taken care of things on yer own and I always admired that, but ya don’t have to all the time. Ya don’t have to be afraid to ask for help. Ya don’t need to handle the world on yer own— and before ya say anything, I won’t let ya.” He said, knowing the look on your face all too well. “Let me help ya. Just sometimes. Put yer trust in me, I won’t hurt ya. I won’t let ya down. I won’t disappoint ya, I swear. Just… just be my New Years resolution, would ya?” He asked, cheeks warming. “It sounds stupid, but… let me treat ya how I think you deserve to be treated, because we clearly have different views about how ya should be treated and I won’t let ya treat yourself so poorly anymore. Every little bad thing you think about yerself, I can think of 5 that are perfectly amazing.”

“Please, I’m insanely flawed.” You rolled your eyes, but he shushed you softly.

“Yer perfectly imperfect, then.” He said simply. “Be my perfectly imperfect girl, because ya know… I’m not so great either.” He said, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m not perfect. I make mistakes— we all do. Ya gotta let yerself make a mistake every once in awhile.” He said gently. “It’s okay to not be so perfect all the time.” He promised, eyes looking sweetly into yours as he said things nobody ever had before and made your heart race. “Just let me help ya and ya can help me. We can be flawed together. There’s nobody else I’d ever wanna be flawed with anyways.”

“Yeah, and… and what happens when you decide you don’t want to be flawed with me anymore? And what happens when you decide to be with someone who isn’t so pathetic?”

“Ya really don’t get it, do ya?” He asked softly, almost in a baffled way. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else. It’s always been ya, (y/n). It’s always gonna be ya. I just want to mean somethin’ to ya like ya mean to me.”

“Atsumu…” You mumbled, despite having quivering lips, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “You know, I was going to see you because… because I love you.” You said, pressing your forehead to his collarbone as his eyes widened. “Because I wanted to tell you that I loved you and when you weren’t home I thought… maybe I was too late and you were with someone else.”

“I can’t even think about bein’ with someone who isn’t ya anymore.” He said, gently rubbing your back. “I used to try, but… I just can’t stop thinkin’ about ya whenever I kiss someone else. Do ya… do ya think about me when ya kiss other people?” Your cheeks burned as you chewed on the inside of your lip.

“I, uh… I never kissed anyone before you…”

“Ya mean that kiss I didn’t react to was yer first kiss…?” He asked, embarrassed and beating himself up for reacting so poorly as you nodded. Atsumu pulled back again and grabbed your face to make you look at him. “Then… let me make your third kiss better, how about that?” He asked, leaning in a bit. “Just forget me ruinin’ the kiss and… let me make yer first kiss special.” Your lips twitched up into a little smile as you brought your hand up into his hair.

“Atsumu, even if you didn’t kiss me back… it was special, because it was you.”

“Well— at least let me try and make it more special.” A soft laugh came from you as you nodded. He grabbed your face gently with both of his hands and slowly leaned in as you closed your eyes. “I really do love ya, (y/n).”

“I love you, too.”

[comfortbucky]

hey hey! can u do some fluffy bucky about having to share a hotel room w u and there’s only one bed!!!! and he’s trying to be respectful n stuff but man does he have the fattest crush on u! thank u <333

HEY HEY YES OMFGGG THE ONE BED TROPE (ur mind😌🤝)

i’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO COME SO SOON

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚

pairing: bucky x fem!avenger!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers BABYYYY, angst, fluff

A/N: i almost always write about tfatws!bucky in mind but let me try and branch out by writing about avenger!bucky hehe

i hope u enjoy🥺💗i absolutely loved this prompt and loved writing this!!!! (it is almost 4am for me as i am posting this :) i’m insane :))

this oneshot will not be following the canon timeline!

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Stick to the plan, Y/N.” Steve’s voice came through over the intercom. She rolled her eyes at his warning. He always seemed to be extra cautious with her, making her feel like an unimportant member of the team, and this mission was no different.

“I got this,” she said, completely ignoring his request and charging headfirst at the enemy. Her brash decision resulted in her receiving a heavy beat down, ending up with a split lip and fractured ribs.

Needless to say, Steve was pissed. He and Y/N developed a close friendship over the years, during his search for Bucky. She was oftentimes the one who would stay up all night with him, looking for any trace of Bucky’s existence online. She’d become one of the closest people in his life, which is exactly why he was upset with her, endangering her own life.

After the mission, he confronted her at the base camp.

“You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she snapped back. “And the mission was a success anyways, so I don’t get why you’re so mad right now.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It’s reckless behavior like this that’s eventually going to get you killed, Y/N.”

Bucky walked into the room and immediately regretted his decision as soon as he laid his eyes on Y/N. He’d come to foster an animosity towards her, after seeing her close friendship with Steve. After Bucky joined the Avengers, he noticed how much time they spent together, and jealousy started to fester within him. Steve was the only person he felt comfortable being around in the tower and she constantly took him away from Bucky. Everyone else seemed to have an aversion to him, or so he assumed. He never gave anyone the chance to get to know him, locking himself up in his room most hours of the day. Bucky didn’t think anyone would want to get to know an ex-assassin, especially one that killed the Tony Stark’s parents. She was the one thing that kept Steve away from him and he despised it. So Bucky did what he did best and avoided any sort of interaction with her.

Steve looked at Bucky and suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He had noticed how closed-off Bucky had been since joining the Avengers and refused to let Y/N be alone, worried that she might make another brazen decision. He hatched a plan to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.

“Bucky,” Steve said, making his way over to him. “You and Y/N will be assigned to the same room tonight.”

Bucky choked on his own spit in response and Y/N began to protest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Steve turned to face her with a stern expression.

“You’re not giving me any reason to trust you to be alone.” She let out a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Because I trust you, Buck. I need you to do this for me.”

Bucky could see the desperation in Steve’s eyes and reluctantly nodded.

Steve was able to obtain another key card to the hotel room that Y/N was assigned to for the mission. He forgot to take into account the logistics of the sleeping arrangements, leaving Bucky to find a single bed as he entered Y/N’s room.

Bucky froze, his right hand on the door handle, keeping it open, his left hand by his side, holding his duffel bag. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Relax,” she started, motioning for him to come inside. “I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?”

Y/N knew that Bucky didn’t like her, despite Steve trying to convince her otherwise. It hurt her feelings a bit, especially after she’d learned so much about him through both Steve’s stories and the time she spent tracking him down. He was such an important person to Steve, her close friend, and Bucky hated her. At first, she figured he was shy and wasn’t ready to open up to anyone else, especially after all the trauma he endured. But she realized he actively disliked her over time, with Bucky always leaving the room when she entered or ignoring her offers to hang out with her and Steve. Eventually, she gave up on reaching out to Bucky, as she only seemed to upset him further, no matter what she did. She figured it was for the best.

Bucky stepped into the room and shook his head.

“Bed’s too soft for me anyways, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbled.

Y/N shrugged in response, knowing that Bucky would be too stubborn to try and argue against. She turned around and picked up the phone, calling the front desk to ask for extra blankets and pillows. When she hung up the phone, she turned back to Bucky to see him nod in thanks.

The rest of the night was silent, as they both prepared for bed, taking turns going into the bathroom to wash up and change. While Y/N was in the bathroom, Bucky arranged the extra blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the ground, something that he’d done countless times before. Y/N exited the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts, and placed her toiletries bag in one of the hotel dresser drawers.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Bucky grunted in response, grabbing some clothes and a bag headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he stated, just before shutting the door behind him. Y/N scoffed at his comment, gently climbing into bed, in an attempt to not further injure her ribs. She winced as she tried to get into a comfortable position before settling to sleep on the side of her unaffected ribs.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N lying on her left side, her back towards him. He assumed that she had already fallen asleep and quietly crawled into his makeshift bed.

Approximately 10 minutes had passed, when he heard her sniffling. At first, he thought the noise was coming from outside the window, but he traced it back to her. He remained lying on his back for a moment, deciding whether or not to say something. Bucky sighed before speaking.

“You okay?” Y/N immediately stiffened upon hearing Bucky’s voice. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hear her crying, despite his super soldier hearing abilities.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied back, her voice wavering as she spoke. Y/N hated how weak and pathetic she sounded in that moment. Her fractured ribs made it hard for her to breathe and the adrenaline, that was previously shielding her from the pain, had faded, leaving her to lie there in agony. On top of that, she also felt that this mission solidified her belief that Steve had little faith in her ability to be an Avenger. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was to confess her insecurities to Bucky.

Bucky’s attitude softened, hearing Y/N’s voice crack when she spoke. He knew she’d gotten hurt due to her own, dumb, decision during the mission. Bucky quietly pulled his blankets off and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. As soon as the door shut, Y/N burst into tears. Bucky did exactly as he’d done in the past many times before, leave. She wasn’t sure why this time upset her more than the rest. Probably because she knew that he was aware of her crying and he’d still chosen to abandon her completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, causing her to stop crying. Y/N listened to Bucky’s footsteps growing closer, and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat on the edge she was facing towards. She peered over the blanket she was covering her face with, to see Bucky facing her, holding a bag of ice, wrapped in a towel. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight of her glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks in the moonlight.

“For your ribs,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the ice bag in his hands.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Y/N took the bag from him, attempting to slowly sit up. She closed her eyes as she grimaced, and suddenly felt a hand on her back, helping her up. Her eyes opened to reveal Bucky, with a soft smile on his lips. She silently thanked him again, placing the ice bag on the right side of her ribcage.

“Thought you hated me,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze down on her lap. He furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes on her.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky paused at her comment, thinking about his next words, before responding.

“I don’t like that you take up all of Steve’s free time,” he grumbled, causing Y/N to quickly look up at Bucky, his eyes averting her gaze. Her face fell, immediately realizing why Bucky had treated her so coldly all this time. He just missed his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her in response. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to be so kind and understanding, even coming up with multiple points to argue back at her. He realized then that he didn’t know her at all, but that he wanted to now. In an instant, she became an entirely different person. He studied her eyes and wondered if they had always sparkled like that, if her cheeks were naturally rosy, or if her lips had always been so pink and plump.

His expression softened and he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he muttered, tearing himself away from her gaze to look down at his lap. After a moment of silence, Bucky stood up to return back to the floor.

“Stay.” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she had time to process them. Bucky froze and turned to face her. “I mean, if you want to, of course. Just figured the floor must be super uncomfortable for you.” Y/N felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and kicked herself mentally. She looked down at her hands, regretting the words she spoke, before feeling the bed dip again. She looked up to see Bucky. He smiled and she almost melted at the sight.

She shifted over, putting the ice bag on the nightstand, as Bucky crawled into bed next to her. The two rested on their backs, both staring at the ceiling in silence. Bucky remained at a respectful distance away, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Y/N turned on her left side, her good side, to face him.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Bucky turned on his side to face her before responding.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

A strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face and Bucky, instinctively, reached out a hand to tuck it behind her ear. Immediately, he regretted it, about to pull his hand back when Y/N took her hand and placed it on top of his, guiding it to rest on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hand and she leaned into his embrace. Bucky felt his heart rate increase as she moved her body closer to his, wrapping the arm she used to hold his hand on her face, across his side. He shifted towards her as well, wrapping his arm around her body, bringing her closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nervous that he might have somehow misinterpreted the situation. He hadn’t been with a woman in such an intimate way in years and had no idea what he was doing. Y/N looked up at him and nodded, before snuggling her face into his chest and Bucky felt a wave of calm wash over him.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Y/N mumbled, her face pressed into his chest. He chuckled at the vibrations from her voice and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to, honey.”

[roonyxx]

Firefly Chapter 4: Fifteen years old

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : future Dean x reader ?

Summary :  40 years in Hell, but he didn’t spend all this time all alone, he had her.

Prepare to know what happened during those years Dean never talks about. To immerge yourself in Hell, only lit by the mysterious kid growing here…

And to see some of your favorite villains again : Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer… And also Sammy and Jack…

Serie Warnings : Hurt!Dean, Hell (torture, even if we tried to not give it graphic descriptions, creepy demons, blood, violence), swearing, angst, future fluff and smut.

This story is in both Reader’s POV and Dean’s POV

Wordcount : 5151

Note : This is our second collaboration. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like we did for Same.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

This story will be around 10 chapters and we intend to edit it every Saturday if nothing delays it. The story will be on a little hiatus because both @jay-and-dean​ and I are on holidays. Once we come back the story will continue it’s regular weekly edit.

Firefly Masterlist

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

—————————————————————————————

Chapter four

Dean’s Pov

Her hand was tightly wrapped around his. Warm radiating of it despite that freezing cold Hell was today, and soft.

Her steps were confident and sure, her bare feet silent on the ice cold floor that was painfully freezing his.

Once again, Dean took a precious second to look at her, and try to proceed she even existed… His Firefly was growing up, she was now far from the mute baby she had been a long time ago. 

Her pretty face was stern and cold when she was facing a demon, but shining with the purest smile when he told her about life. Her features changed, but somehow also stayed identical, her mouth was the same, the shape and color of her eyes too… He remembered her appearing in that dirty dress and her damaged bear like it was yesterday.

Maybe it was really yesterday… maybe he had dreamed all of this. How could a diamond so pure sparkle in the middle of the pit ?

She turned to him slightly, giving him a radiant smile, her long princess hair caressing his arm. She seemed happy that that particular corridor was empty, but he still didn’t know where they were going.

Last time she had taken him out him out was to see the sky years ago, and that other time he was going crazy with the screams, and she took him to a quiet place, in a room filled with statues.

Today she had just smiled when she had found him almost healed, and told him Hell was almost empty for the day. But she didn’t say more, she never really answered his questions. And seeing how they treated her, it was possible that she knew very few anyway.

She walked with small steps to a door that was there, and pushed it open.

Dean’s breath got stuck in his throat. The room was impressive : huge and extremely rich. It looked like a castle bedroom with a giant canopy bed, heavy purple velvet curtains even if it seemed to have no window, a big dressing table with jewelry boxes filled with gold and a wooden table that looked like it had been stolen from a Renaissance’s french king or something. 

But, even if the room was rich and disproportionate, something made him shiver : It looked like a doll house. Nothing was warm about it, not single personal object or ordinary mess could be seen. A huge bookcase covered all of one wall, but once again : the books seemed to all come from the same collection, absolutely nothing was sticking out.

A big blanket had been put over a pile of something in the corner, he couldn’t guess what, but for a second, he thought he saw a blood stain on it.

She closed the door behind them and turned to him.

“This is my bedroom” she smiled.

She had a bedroom. What was she to those demons ? 

Dean had never really thought of it, of where she went when she left… For him, she was like a little star in the middle of the constant torture, and we don’t think of where the stars are, when we don’t see them, right ?

She half ran to her bed to sit on it with that enthusiasm she almost always had, and in a second, she started looking like the teenager she was now.

They dressed her up as a princess, she had a princess bedroom, and yet, he knew for sure she had nothing of a spoiled child. 

“I won’t have class today so I thought… maybe you would be more comfortable here to tell me about movies” she stated, just sitting cross-legged like she always did. 

Class ?

“I mean…” she suddenly seemed to feel embarrassed, probably because he wasn’t moving at all.

“Yes” he stated right away. “Of course. Can I… sit ?”

She nodded and he came closer carefully, almost fearing a trap. He hadn’t felt a mattress for decades and he could barely imagine sitting on a bed right now. So he closed his eyes while bending on it, like it could suddenly bite him.

But nothing happened and he just felt the very soft mattress drop under him, and hold him as gently as possible. His eyes became wet for a second, and she gave him time to adjust to comfort, after being quartered slowly for the past few days.

“I’m sorry” she said, looking down.

He frowned. It was the first time ever that she said something like that and the pain in her eyes was almost as overwhelming as this room and being aware of the next tortures… So he gave her a sad smile, and changed the subject.

“So, as I told you last time, movies are like books except you can watch them.”

“So people pretend to cry, die, kiss…” she wiggled a little to sit in a better position. “That’s insane.” 

“People love them. You can watch a movie at home when you have the DVD or when a channel plays it, or on internet, but it is so much better in a movie theater.” He rested his hands behind him, his fingers curling at the feeling of the softness the mattress provided.

“Movie theater ?” she tilted her head to the side.

“It’s a place where people go to see a movie when it’s just out. It’s  big room where you can go with friends to watch it.” he motioned to the big wall of her room with his hands. “The screen where they play the movie on is bigger than your wall, and they place boxes for the sound everywhere around you, so it feels like you are right in the middle of the action.” 

He could see how her eyes sparkle at the idea of it. 

“And the people who play in the movies are famous and earn a lot of money with it” he smiled kindly. “There are all kind of movies. I love westerns.” he chuckled when he saw her frown again “It’s a movie about the old west, about cowboys.” 

Her eyebrows rose when he mentioned cowboys, she seemed to recognize them. Dean wondered where she could have heard about it, maybe in those books she seemed to know by heart. 

“Why do people use movies ?” she asked.

“Well it’s not really something you use, it’s something you do, just for fun.” He shrugged. “You often do it with someone like friends, or like on a date.”

“A date ?” she frowned again.

“Uhm…” Living in Hell, she would probably never know what a date is. “It’s when one person likes the other person a lot, they hang out together to get to know each other better, that way they know if they want more or love each other or not.”

He heard her faintly whisper the word Love, in a way that made his heart clench. Despite her fancy dresses and royal like room, he doubted she knew the feeling of Love, any kind of love.

The girl deserved love. All kinds of love : motherly, fatherly, brotherly, love from friends and romantic love… He tried to find comfort in the idea that she at least had the weird friendship they shared, and this unexpected form of love in a place where it wasn’t supposed to bloom.

She laid down on her bed with that sigh only teenage girls can do, he turned half to watch her. Her eyes closed for a second, hands along to her. She looked so peaceful, like she was imagining a date or a movie.

Reader’s Pov

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, and everytime she saw him that weird feeling in her belly returned. Like a sort of fluttering, and her cheeks itching to smile. His face was her favorite face.

She had seen demons wear perfect faces, she had seen souls that demons said were considered attractive during their lives… But nobody looked like him.

The only thing she would have wanted to change, was that constant expression of exhaustion and dread.

She took his wrist and tugged at it. 

“Rest” she said, maybe that would help, to rest here, close to her where it was safe, for now.

She watched how his large frame very slowly laid down. His eyes flickering everywhere, his breath quickened, like he was expecting the next torture to begin.

She turned to him and carefully put her hand on his chest. His panicked eyes looked into hers, his breathing quickened, so she lifted her hand a inch above him, and shushed him.

“Safe” she told him, he let out a deep exhale and nodded. 

Her hand slowly landed on his chest again, and this time, he didn’t move. 

They laid there, in a comfortable silence, her small hand still rested on his big chest. She could feel how his heartbeat turned into a peaceful drum. His eyes fluttering shut, but snapping open when they stayed closed for too long, his heart rate spiking up every now and then.

Underneath all the grime and blood, she could smell his scent. He smelled musky, kinda like leather too. She closed her eyes and focused on distinguishing his smell from all the others, solely focussing on him. 

And before she knew, she drifted of in a peaceful slumber where she didn’t feel lonely for the first time.

Dean’s Pov

They had been laying there for quite a while now, maybe two hours ? More ? He didn’t really sleep, to many things haunting him when he closed his eyes.

He had been watching her sleep this whole time, her little hand still on his chest, and he wondered how she could be so peaceful.

He was studying every inch of her face now that he could. Her lashes resting on her cheeks, her mouth slightly open ; and that characteristic hesitation teens’ faces have between woman features and still baby girl expressions. She was a beautiful child. His little Firefly…

He knew so little about her. Why was she here ? Who was she really ? Or rather what… she had powers, scary ones from what he saw. But he knew she was pure at heart, and she would never hurt him. She grew so much since that first day he saw her. He wondered what the future held for her…

He turned his head to the ceiling and swallowed hard, he had to get back to his own future now…

Torture, never ending torture… 

His eyes got wet at the thought, a sweat breaking out on his skin. She stirred a little in her sleep, probably feeling his heartbeat panic in his chest. His hand softly grasped her wrist, slipping out from underneath her, replacing his body with a pillow.

He silently got up and watched how she pulled the pillow closer, burying her face it in. His heart aching at wanting to return the hug.

But he couldn’t…

If they caught them not only would he be punished, not that he cared -he got punished everyday whatever happened- but he didn’t want her to bear the consequences. She didn’t deserve to carry his weight on top of hers.

He would protect her, even powerless and damned. 

Carefully he went to the big door, looking back one last time at her, cold sweat rolling down his neck, before slipping out of her room and sinking in the maze. 

Reader’s Pov

Before she opened her eyes, she knew. 

Dean was gone. For a second, she wondered why, he had nowhere to go, nowhere but torture and constant pain… Then she realized he was just scared ; being there was forbidden : who knew what they would do to him, to her.

Then, still with her eyes closed, she frowned, feeling an ache in her heart. She knew Dean pretty well now and she was sure of it : He left because of what happened to her after the sky room. He had told her to not take risks for him after that… 

He was ready to give up the small and rare respite from eternal pain, to avoid her getting in trouble.

She grabbed the pillow that still smelled a little like him and held it closer, not daring to open her eyes yet. While they were closed, she could still imagine he was there.

While they were closed, everything was possible… He hadn’t left, he would escape the horror today, he would stay warm in her arms, and whole.

She felt her heart clench at how much she wanted to cry, at how painful it was, to know they were making him scream right now, that man who deserved everything but pain. She thought clearly of what they were doing to him, just now -she hadn’t even the privilege of ignorance- and a broken sob of despair escaped her chest loudly, echoing in the room.

She had never experienced what was falling on her : her ribs seemed to grip her inside like claws and her back started sweating… So she held the pillow tighter and whispered.

“They can’t find us… They can’t find us…”

While her eyes were still closed, she could imagine the sky above them, maybe even the sun, a bird would be there too. She could see their wings, and hear Dean’s voice telling her about them. 

But she would only watch him, no matter how bad she wanted to see the sky.

Tears were rolling down her face, so much tears she wondered if she could drown in it. Her breath got stuck in her too tight chest as a realisation hit her…

For the first time in her entire life, she realized Dean was not a distraction, he was not like a wounded bird you find and keep, he was not a mystery or riddle either. And he was not her window to the world. Dean was not just her way of escaping boredom or loneliness or  just her rebellion against her father and all the demons of Hell. And today, even the word friend was not enough to talk about him. 

It was not only about seeing him and hearing his stories. She wanted him to live them, she needed him to smile and sleep peacefully, go to the movie theater and…

On a date.

She buried her face in the pillow, wetting her hair with her own tears. She wanted him to go on dates even if… Even if she would give her own life to be the girl he would invite, if everything was different.

She wouldn’t be that girl, because she was a child, and -a whine passed her lips- almost a demon.

She now understood it. She felt it in her bones and in her flesh, all the books suddenly made way more sense to her, all the stories she had read, it was like she could see clear for the first time, even with her eyes still closed. 

It was love.

“Dean…” she whispered to herself, just to hear his name float in the air.

She stayed on her bed a little longer, a bed she usually always left in a hurry. And she just tried to remember everything he had ever said… Dean deserved to be out of here.

“What are you doing in bed” she heard in her back, recognizing the deep low voice of Crowley.

She didn’t answer, hoping he would just go away.

“Dean Winchester was found out of his cell” he asked. “Any idea what happened ?”

“I’m not responsible for the things you lose” she grunted, trying to hold back her tears.

“It’s funny that in almost 30 years, he tries to escape just the day Lilith, Alastair and I have to go on Earth… Just the day that part of Hell is almost empty” he added, pacing the room. “He’s lucky.”

“Or you’re not” she snapped.

She heard him sigh in annoyance. That’s all she got from him… annoyance. He once told her that he was the one thanks to whom she hadn’t been killed the day she was born, thanks to whom she had nothing to fear in Hell and possessed all those beautiful things. But she never cared, what she wanted was freedom and that was impossible, because he had plans for her, they all did.

“Even under torture, he swears he just left his cell on his own” he added.

“Even under torture” she chuckled darkly, tears rolling down her face. “Do you hear how absurd it is ?”

He grunted and a held back sob escaped her.

“Are you crying ?” he asked with and hearable frown of disgust.

“Are you caring ?” she imitated him.

“No, Y/n. I’m a demon… I really hoped you would get more from me than from your mother.”

She sat up in a jump, wiping her tears.

“So now I have a mother ?” she groaned. “You always told me I didn’t.”

He was standing there with his hands in the pockets of his black suit, a disgusted expression on his face.

“You look awful, darling” he just said.

“Answer.”

“It’s not a mother if she didn’t raised you” an amused smile crossed his face. “Jael is closer to be your mom… Don’t look at me like that, she’s dead for a long time.”

“I hate you” she groaned and the sheets started to move on their own around her, like snakes were underneath it.

“Calm down, and stop crying” he ordered. “If you want a seat in this throne room one day, you better make some effort with your looks.”

After eyeing her up and down, he turned around and whispered.

“Teenagers I swear…” 

Crowley walked to her door to leave, he tried pulling the doors open but they wouldn’t bulge. He turned back to her to see her sitting on her bed with her hair floating around her.

“Y/n, open this door now” he seethed towards her.

“NO! I don’t want to be part of any of this!” she now floated above her bed, the corners starting to catch fire with the intense heat she was giving off. She could see how Crowley’s eyes widened at the display of her powers that grew stronger each passing day.

“You can’t keep me forever Crowley. One day I will get out.” The thought of getting out was like throwing gasoline on the fire inside her. 

With a flick of his wrist he pinned her down on the bed as he stepped near her. 

“Oh little Y/n, you won’t, I’ll kill you before that day even arrives. You will be part in this, whether you want it or not.” He leaned over her, his eyes flicking red. “So calm down now or I’ll give you over to Lilith.”

No, not her… she was worse than Crowley, and was located on the other side of Hell, further away from Dean.

A grin crossed his face as she calmed down, his threat worked.

“That’s my good girl” he released her and walked to her door pulling it open, motioning with his fingers to a nearby demon.

“Chain her, break her knees if you have to, I don’t bloody care what you do but she is to not leave this room.” 

She ran towards the door, but the demon stepped inside and grabbed her by the hair, throwing her in the corner of the room, where she had hidden the chains with a blanket.

She fought back with everything she got but she could feel Crowley’s power holding her as he stood in the doorframe.

She stopped fighting when the last chain around her neck was secured. She looked at the floor when she saw Crowley’s perfectly polished shoes.

“It would all be so much easier if you just worked along with the plan, instead of being such a pain in my ass.” He sighed, turned around and left the room, locking the doors behind him.

She felt the hands of exhaustion grip her tight. Her powers were getting stronger, but they also wore her out. She attempted to tug the chains lose but they had made them stronger, again.

With a sigh she rested her back against the wall, her eyes feeling heavy. She would get out. And she wouldn’t do it alone. 

She slowly started dozing off, her mind on Dean and on a way how to get them both out of here.

________________ 

She tricked them, average demons were never smart. When they brought her her food she had told them Crowley needed assistance with something urgent. The demons didn’t buy it at first of course but when she mentioned the cruel Lord of Crossroads, they were quick on their feet, not quick enough for her to snatch the keys of them.

So here she was, running towards Dean’s his cell, it has been a week, so much could have happened to him in a week.

She felt good again, strong, she didn’t use her powers once this week. She had a set of full batteries and she intended to use them. Because today…

Today is the day they wouldn’t hurt him.

She had spent her time mapping out Hell in her head and there was one place she hadn’t discovered yet : Lilith’s her quarters. She knew Lilith was rarely here, spending her time on Earth. Maybe less demons were there, maybe there was another sky room. They could hide near it.

She saw his cell door in the distances, her feet moving faster along the cold, bloody stones.

She didn’t wait to listen or look to make sure he was alone this time, to busy thinking of the shortest way to the safest place.

She swung the door wide open, her breath got stuck in her throat at the sight before her.

Dean was held by chains around his bare feet, upside down. His hands grasping for the floor to cary some of his weight but he was too high up.

And next to him with a knife in his hand, carving at Dean’s side :

Alastair.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in, care to join, Girly ?” he plunged the knife into Dean’s side “Hold onto that for me.” 

She could feel it, the rage, the ever burning flame inside her, raging, fighting to come out. Not yet, she had to wait for him to strike first.

“Let him go” she said, her fists balled by her side, chest heaving. 

Never before had she felt such anger.

“As you wish, princess.” He snapped his fingers, making the chain around his feet lose. 

Dean fell to the ground, she could hear his wrist snap when he tried to catch his own weight, and an unbearable groan of pain. His good hand grasped the knife to pull it out.

“You’re gonna regret that” she told him, her hair slightly starting to float, she was trying to hold it together as best as she could.

“Oh yeah ? What are you gonna do ?” He stepped closer, taunting her.

“You have no idea what you just stepped into. Do you want me to break another one of your toys ?” He clenched his fist, making Dean scream out, crippling on the floor, blood seeping out of his mouth.

“STOP IT !” Her eyes lighted up. 

The walls of the room started to crack under her power, she was a bomb about to explode… Her heart was beating in her temple, she could feel her body, but she could also feel everything around, the air, Dean’s breath, the sweat running on his broken back. She was there, and she was everywhere…

Alastair just laughed at her, he held up his hand towards her and pushed her back against the wall next to where Dean was still curled up on the floor. 

The demon shook his head in disappointment. 

“You’re still as weak as the day i burned that ugly toy. I honestly don’t know what Crowley sees in you, you’ll never fulfill his ridiculous plan.”

He put his foot on Dean’s neck, pushing down on it, Dean’s hands grasping at the boot that was crushing his airway. His eyes flicking to her. 

She felt the pain in his neck, and she felt her own fury set fire to her soul.

“STOP IT NOW !” she pushed herself off the wall, letting the rage consume her as she used everything inside to push Alastair away.  

He flew across the room in a gasp. Her hands flicking in a circle to wrap the chains around him. 

“Wh-What?! NO you can’t be, THIS CAN’T BE !” Alastair was scared, her grin grew. 

He was scared of her.

She balled her fist making the chains tighten around the demon, he started coughing, black smoke seeping out of his mouth. 

She ran to Dean, pulling his large arm over her smaller frame to help him up.

“Come on Dean, we have to hurry.” 

He limped along with her, good thing she was currently strong enough to carry his weight.

“W-Where ?” he gasped, how she wished he would heal faster… 

“Away from here.”

Carrying him was wearing her out, she didn’t think this through. Dean was a big guy and Lilith’s quarters were on the other side of Hell. They weren’t going to make it…

Still, she pushed through, she had no other choice. No other place was safe enough to hide for an entire day, more if she could.

After running for hours, using all she had to push every demon in their path away, she could finally see it.

The golden door. A door she had never seen the other side of. It was engraved with many symbols and a Sun on the top of it.

The only place demons weren’t allowed to enter, no one would look for them here.

She carefully put Dean down with his back against the wall. 

“Stay here.” She turned to the big door, her hands grasping at the handles to push it open. But it wouldn’t give. She pushed with all she had, but it was like there was a wall behind it.

An eerie laugh made her turn around.

Lilith…

No…

No no no… She wasn’t supposed to be here for days. 

She ran to stand in front of Dean. 

“Well you’re a long way from home” Lilith said, clapping her hands. “I heard you were on a rampage, even took down Alastair. I’m impressed, princess.” 

“Go away !” she yelled towards Lilith. She knew she couldn’t win against her… No one could.

“Mh I don’t think so, he ordered to take you back to your room” Lilith stepped closer.

“NO !” She put her hands up to try stop her, but she couldn’t.

“Oh princess, Alastair might be big.” Lilith clenched her fist, sweeping Y/n up in the air by the neck. 

Moving her fist inwards, Y/n flew until an inch away from Lilith’s face. 

“But I’m bigger” she whispered in her ear.

Lilith motioned with her fingers toward a demon, while Dean grunted in pain, looking up at her. Would he be punished because of her ? Had she made things worse ?

Her floating hair fell back on her shoulder, as her hopes shattered deep inside of her.

“Take the Winchester back, I’ll deal with this one.” 

______________________

Her light just went out. 

She stop watching the time, days and nights had no meaning in Hell anyway. 

Nothing had any meaning. 

Demons came and went. Even Crowley came to see her laying here, on her side, chains around her neck and waist. He tried to tell her this would never have happened if she hadn’t left and confronted Alastair. But she didn’t speak, her eyes perfectly still on an invisible point, the same for days, or weeks. He had threatened her, gotten mad. But she just stayed still.

Her light had just died.

After a while, they took off the chains, saying she had to move, eat, anything. But she stayed lying among the iron ropes, as still as a corpse.

She didn’t care about the punishments of Lilith or the wrath of Alastair. She didn’t mind the pain, the threats, the screams… Her light went out when she lost her hope. 

The instant Dean’s eyes closed on the floor, to not see that demon come for him at Lilith’s order that day, after hours of running with her despite the pain, trusting her completely. 

She just made things worse and nothing would never change. They were saying Lucifer’s rise was close and she knew her fate was in his hands, nevermind how bad she fought.

She couldn’t be his firefly, because she had no light left in her.

Until one day… Or a night maybe. Her thoughts were lost in the void for days, when they reached a memory : The memory of Alastair’s eyes when she had crushed him with those chains. Her mind followed that path and it was paved with memories of Dean’s little smiles, of the Sky room, of his tales of finding Sam after all those years, of overcoming death…

It was the path of hope. 

Without really thinking, she got up. Feeling like she was rising from the ashes of her own burning rage that had consumed her own heart. 

She walked out of her room, her back straight, her face stern and proud. Walking in those corridors she didn’t fear. They had made her lose the only thing she owned and now she had nothing to lose, she had nothing to fear left.

“Hey ! What are you doing here ?” a demon called her. “You should be in that room !”

“And you should bow” she stated with her eyes darken. “I shall be your Queen.” 

The demon stared at her face and shake his head like an animal trying to chase an unpleasant feeling. When she kept walking, he didn’t follow; still exhaling the sulfur out of his giant form like a confused bull.

She reached Dean’s cell quick, without really thinking of the way. She pushes the door and stood in it’s frame.

“Firefly ?” Dean gasped before choking on blood, curled up in the corner. “I… I was starting to think I had dreamed you.”

Tears rolled down his face when she got closer. 

She kneeled next to him and cupped his face. He looked at her deeply, his eyes roaming her features with a frown like he was confused by the absence of smile on her face. She couldn’t smile yet, but thanks to him, she now knew she would be able to again.

“It will take a week or a century, but I am taking you out of here, Dean. You hear me ?”

His eyes widen.

“Whatever the cost.”

[undertale-data]

[Image Description: An Undertale chat box that has “WHY FANS LOVE UNDERTALE” at its center. Next to it are a line chart and an Egg from the Dating Hub on its left, and a CRIME measurer (also from the Dating Hub) on its right. End I.D.]

[Image Description: a pie chart titled, “LEVEL OF LOVE FOR UNDERTALE.” The textbox on the top right reads, “On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the least and 10 being the highest, how much do fans enjoy Undertale?” From the top going clockwise, 12 or 0% chose 5 and below; 23 or 1% chose 6; 98, or 4%, chose 7; 325, or 12%, chose 8; 529, or 20%, chose 9; and 1664, or 63%, chose 10. End I.D.]

It’s clear from all of the data analyzed so far that fans who took the time to answer our survey love Undertale. It is unlikely that they would have taken the time to answer so many questions if they had not, and even less likely that they would have come across our survey in the first place. Naturally, it comes as no surprise that 63% of our responders gave their love for Undertale a score of ten out of ten. 95% gave their love for Undertale a score of eight or higher, and only 12 responders responded with five or below, a number so small that their responses had to be lumped together to be visible on the pie chart. Of those, only 3 responders gave their love for Undertale a score of 1, and based on those responders’ other answers, it is likely that they were only intending to troll. We are very fortunate that the vast majority of responders took the survey seriously, enough so that responses like this are barely a blip in the data.

Now, for our final analysis post of the event, we will delve into the reasons that fans love Undertale so dearly.

(Essay and highlights under the cut.)

There have been countless essays on the impact that Undertale has had on people’s lives. I can hardly add more on the subject than what has already been said, but I hope this summary can provide a brief overview of what stood out among the over two thousand answers given in response to this survey. That said, due to the sheer volume of answers, I could not read every single one in depth—however, I did skim all of them, and some that stood out or were representative of several responses have been highlighted below. If you would like to see what every fan who consented to share their response had to say, you may view the full list of responses here. Note that these responses have not been edited in any way. This document may take a long time to load, as it is over 100 pages long.

(Warnings for mentions of suicidal thoughts in the following essay.)

Several responders loved the theme of choices mattering in Undertale. Whether people played the pacifist, merciless, or neutral routes, they enjoyed how the game reacted to their actions. For some, it even made them consider their own morality. One touching response explained the impact that the theme of mercy made on them. “I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.” Many fans left similar comments about how the themes of Undertale made them better people.

Undertale changed how its fans treat others, and it also changed how fans treat themselves. The theme of staying determined and the messages of hope in the game were a light to a very large portion of fans. I cannot list all of the fans who said that Undertale helped them out of a dark place, or that they would not be alive if not for Undertale. “DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.”

Undertale brought fans together in unexpected ways. Some said they met friends or significant others through the fandom. “I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale,” one fan said. A different fan who is non-native English speaking mentioned that the game and the fan community helped them to learn English.

It would be impossible to discuss Undertale without mentioning the fan community. Whether for good or bad, many responders mentioned the fandom in their responses. Overall the feelings towards the fandom seem positive, though many made references to “toxic” parts of the fandom without specifying which parts they consider toxic. Others rejected the idea of toxicity in fandom. One response said: “[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!”

One thing that makes the Undertale fandom unique is the way it embraces various AUs. Some fans are tired of AU content, but the majority of responses show a love for the creativity behind AUs. “Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.” The lack of a judgemental atmosphere seems present in the AU community, according to the responses we saw. There is an interesting balance between AU and canon (sometimes referred to as “classic”) content that another responder pointed out: “The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertale fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)”

Regardless of the many AUs the fandom has created over the years, the original game of Undertale still feels like home for many fans. They wished they could reclaim the feeling of playing the game again for the first time, but even though we can’t reset time in real life, there is still a special feeling for fans each time they play Undertale. One fan said, “Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.” This feeling is one that can be cherished time and time again. In the words of another responder: “It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it.” Others pointed out the strength of the found family trope in Undertale, which likely contributes to this feeling of “home” as well.

As mentioned briefly earlier, the music is part of what makes Undertale feel like home for fans. Even when responses focused on other aspects of the game, many would throw in a comment about the soundtrack at the end. One comment focused on the music said “IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.” Like with the game itself, the music has incredible replay value, an amazing feat considering most of the tracks use the same few motifs. “I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story,” another responder said. “They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.”

If the music sticks with fans in their hearts, then the game’s lore sticks with fans in their minds. Even six years after the release of Undertale, fans are still creating new theories and digging up new secrets. The way the game breaks the fourth wall in particular intrigued many fans and has stuck out through all these years. The awareness that the game shows for the RPG genre makes it memorable. The game plays with the player’s expectations and turns them on their heads, all while reminding the player that they’re in a game. There are few other games that do this on such a large scale, so it’s no surprise that fans cite this as one of their favorite things about Undertale.

Lastly, the LGBT+ representation in Undertale has been a huge draw for fans. Especially in 2015, the sheer volume of non-cishet characters was unprecedented, as one fan pointed out: “It's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. Hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. It's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.” The LGBT+ cast including Frisk, Chara, Napstablook, Monster Kid, Mettaton, Alphys, and Undyne each connected with fans in unique ways. It’s clear how important this is from responses such as: “There are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.” “It made me gay and trans so thanks for that.”

Once again I am overwhelmed with just how much there is to say about Undertale. One responder really understood when they compared Undertale to an iceberg, explaining that there are so many layers to the game that there is something for everyone: “everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans—from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers—is the mark of the coolest games!” I would have to agree with them.

It’s been six years, and despite everything, it’s still you. Thank you for reading, participating in this survey, and above all, staying determined.

Highlights:

DETERMINATION became a metaphor for not killing myself at a really rough time in my life and I’ll always cherish that. Undertale isn’t afraid to go to really dark places but at the same time holds on so tight to its hope.

I think the coolest thing was having the opportunity to watch the AU community grow from its bare roots. It's nearly insane how big and complex it's gotten, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Roll your eyes at the 50th AU Sans all you want, it's encouraging people to step outside the boundaries of fanart and pushing people to make their own ideas! I mean, hell, it was how I gained the confidence to start making my own original content.

i love how the lgbt rep is so naturalized... there are just gay people! and its nobodys business!

The music is my go to answer, but what I really really REALLY love is how the minor characters have so much personality to them when you talk to them. They aren't incredibly important to the overall story, but they're all so likeable and diverse that you just can't help but like them immediately!

I think it was the first videogame I have played that broke the fourth wall that much. Of course there has been other videogames that broke it but just for one or two tongue-in-cheek jokes. The guilt of killing mama goat was also something intense as well that I appreciated as an experience and that I didn't think a videogame could cause on someone.

I love how no character can be seen as completely bad! Everyone builds up Asgore as some horrible villain, but he turns out to be a 'fuzzy pushover' who's broken and just wants his family back by the time you meet him. Then you think Flowey's an irredeemable killer who engineered the suffering of the monsters across many timelines, and he is... but he also used to be the kind and beloved Prince Asriel Dreemurr, traumatized by his death and subsequent rebirth, projecting his best friend onto you.

The fact that choices matter in the game. Your first playthrough and getting the golden ending for the first time. I can never replicate those feelings again, wish I could erase my memories and replay the game from the start.

I wouldn't have met my now husband without Undertale.

(Toxic parts of the fandom aside) The community is possibly one of the kindest I've ever met. Cringe culture is completely dead, and I feel like I can be myself. I felt a very close connection to many of the characters, and I loved consuming content about them when I was in a rough patch in my life.

just everything, the whole game has just impacted my life so much. i know it sounds really lame, but when the game first came out, i would purposely put my hands in my pockets and sway slightly, like sans' idle animation. of course i dont do that anymore haha, but undertale still really impacts me to this day, and i wouldnt have it any other way :)

it made me gay and trans so thanks for that

I realized that Mercy isn't something that's given to those who deserve it. Flowey didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it myself. Shoot, we ALL need Mercy in our lives.

The thing I love most about Undertale is no matter how many times I play or watch a playthrough it always makes me genuinely happy. It always feels welcoming like home or like comfort food that I never grow tired of no matter how many times I go to it. Toriel still makes me feel all warm and cozy in her home, the Skelebros always make me laugh, and I still cry on the inside watching Frisk comforting Asriel. And on the flip side the No Mercy run still invokes the negative emotions in me as well. In short Undertale just feels like a second home to me and I always wish I could stay.

The reader inserts are my favorite way to decompress after a hard day

I think Undertale helped me discover my love for 8-bit games, and made me realize how IMPORTANT music is in video games.

the worldbuilding and character design are my favorite parts of the main game apart from the music! I’m also a huge fan of the random AU music- not for like underswap or underfell i like the stuff where someone makes a megalovania for a random au where gru from despicable me replaces sans as the character. i think its funny

Just... the vibe, honestly? Even the best fics I've read can't capture that feeling of nostalgia/almost-"coming home" that comes with hearing the music and talking to the characters.

there are canon nonbinary characters 🥺. i have never seen representation of myself before.

[SLAMS FIST ON DESK] I KNOW MOST PEOPLE SAY THE FANDOM IS TOXIC AND CRINGE OR WHATEVER BUT OH MY GOD. The Undertale fandom, both the UTMV and the actual UT fandom, has been so much fun to be a part of. I've met countless friends because of our shared interest in something related to the game! The art people create can be breathtaking and so inspirational, and the fanfics are so so good!! I've seen people write incredible things for this fandom and it's what made me continue writing!

There's a scene where Frisk (the player) is going towards what is presumably going to be their death. They will fight Asgore and he will use their human soul to break the barrier and free his people. The music, despite the player's impending doom, is... triumphant. You are not the triumphant one here, and yet, the score invites you to experience the monsters' joy and happiness as they tell you the tale of their subjugation. The monsters are going to be free. This is their victory, but they don't hate you or want you to die. They're just... happy. That scene has always struck me very deeply. I feel it represents the best parts of Undertale.

I loved how well thought out the Geno route was. It really made me feel like I was doing something horrible, and the characters were very obviously reacting to dire circumstances.

I dunno? I like Undertale for it's characters, story, music, secrets and many more. I am not good with Headcanons but I also like the neutral endings and how different they can depending on who you spare and kill

I was very bad at english before, i thought i couldn't progress because i was very shy and not confident. But my sibling and i wanted to have the best experience with this game so we wanted to play it in english. It's this game and the fandom which helped me to make huge progress in english !

THE SOUNDTRACK. IT'S SO GOOD like I will literally go through the entire thing over and over and not be bored with it. It makes my monkey brain so happy you have no idea.

to avoid writing an essay i will say one word. Mettaton

It is like Toby specifically made the games to fit the iceberg meme and it's awesome, everyone can find something to enjoy in the lore/game regardless of what kind of fan they are! Being able to appeal to various types of fans - from simple happy shipper people to deep dive lorediggers is the mark of the coolest games!

I love almost everything about Undertale as a game on its own. The music, the art and especially the characters and how they interact. They made me feel at home. Undertale means a huge amount to me. (I even got a tattoo of the castle when you and MK walk together!) The fandom helped keep the game alive all these years, with all of its AUs. Although personally, I always enjoyed AUs that kept characters as close to the classic material as possible (dancetale, outertale) I do appreciate the creativity of the fandom. They almost created entirely new stories with new characters of their own! If it weren't for those people, the Undertake fandom would have probably not been as active as it is now. I do feel like we're getting a resurgence of classic content now too! (In 2021)

the mystery. toby fox refused to give answers to anything and i think thats very sexy of him.

I just feel guilty for liking it so much when I'm in my 30's. But I recently got diagnosed with ASD, so I guess it explains things a bit. Many ppl consider Papyrus to be neurodivergent, and some adult fans are too, so seeing that makes me feel a bit better.

i think about "Despite everything, it's still you" everyday of my life.

I like how it's just as funny as it can be serious. All routes are this way. I laughed as much as I cried when I played the Pacifist route and then once I opened the game again and Flowey was telling me to let them be happy, I immediately turned off the game. I somehow felt bad.

The Found Family Trope

The True Pacifist Ending is just...man. And the fanworks about saving everyone even when the game doesn't let you? MANNNNNN

I think what I like the most about Undertale is how the music attaches you to the story. They're simple melodies that stick with you throughout the whole game, and they can remind you of both good and bad times.

there's honestly a LOT to love about this game, but i think one of my favorite things about it is just how many lgbt+ characters there are??? i can think of alphys, undyne, frisk, chara, mettaton, napstablook, monster kid, asgore, mad mew mew, the dress lion, the royal guards, and arguably even papyrus off of the top of my head, but im sure i'm forgetting a few from just undertale alone (there's even MORE in deltarune)!! it's practically unheard of to see so MANY from just one source, especially during its heyday in 2015-16. hell, you can't even GET the true pacifist ending without helping two gay couples hook up. it's really nice to see all of them being accepted for who they are and not judged for their sexuality or gender, at least in-canon.

[Image description: A wordcloud in the shape of the capitalized word UNDERTALE. The text is white on a black background, and uses the font found in the game. Some of the most visible words are: Game, Love, Music, Life, AU, Store, Friend, and Feel, which represent the most common words in the essays people wrote about their love for the game. End of ID]

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- Eight

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, smut, language, angst, mentions of miscarriage. If any of this is triggering to you, do not read. 

A/N: This is going to be very dialogue heavy, and will have flashbacks of the night that Chris cheated and everything that happened. Flashbacks will be in italics. Just a warning, this chapter is a BEAST. There’s a lot to unpack, and it’s going to be super emotional. 

December 29

Chris watches from his seat in the comfortable leather recliner in our living room as I twist my wedding and engagement rings around on my finger. It’s a nervous little habit that I do without even really realizing it or thinking about it. A million thoughts cross his mind as he sits silently, waiting for me to say something. 

After taking a few deep breaths to try and steel myself for the conversation that I KNOW that Chris and I need to have, I finally look up from the floor and at him. 

“Do you want a divorce?” Okay, the thousand different times I pictured this conversation happening in my head, that was definitely NOT one of the ways. Apparently my mouth and brain aren’t communicating very well today. 

Chris looks up at me, his expression aghast. 

“Wha-.......” he tries to speak, but is too stunned to even form the words. 

“Is that why you cheated? You don’t want to be with me anymore, so you went somewhere else for whatever is it that you weren’t getting from me?”

“No! Jesus Christ, no! I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. I can’t imagine my life without you. No, I don’t want a divorce.” he tells me. 

“Okay, if that’s not it, then you have to help me out here. Because I don’t understand what possible reason you could have for cheating. It had to be something that I did. Or something I didn’t do. I need you to tell me what happened. Because until I have all the facts and I understand what the hell happened, we can’t move forward.” 

He sits forward in the chair and sighs. 

“What do you want me to tell you?” 

“I want you to tell me what happened that night after we FaceTimed. I want to know what happened between then and the next morning.” I tell him. 

“You KNOW what happened.” he says miserably. 

I shake my head. “No, I know the end result. I want you to walk me through every single thing that happened that night. Everything you were thinking, everything you did.”

“Why? What good is that going to do? What’s the goddamn point? How is me telling you everything that happened going to help ANYTHING? All it’s going to do is hurt you more, and I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“The point is, if we have even the smallest hope of getting through this intact, with our MARRIAGE intact, I need to understand this. I need to know. I need to know, because when I go to sleep at night, all I can see in my head is all the things that I imagine happened that night. And I need to know if what actually happened is better or worse than what I can imagine happened. I have a right, as your wife, to know what you did.” 

Chris looks up, silently pleading with you to not make him do this, but he knows that you’re right. You do deserve to know, even if it’s going to devastate you. 

“After we got off the phone, I had to go right back into interviews and there was two more photo calls we had to do, so by the time we got done it was about 7:30 that night. I was distracted the whole time. I hated that we fought, and I felt like an asshole, and I just wanted to call you back and apologize, but I didn’t have time. Plus, I figured that we both probably needed a little bit of time to cool down. I told myself that I was going to call you that night before I went to bed so we could talk more and I could apologize to you. We all got out of there, and Cate and Robert and the rest of them wanted to go to dinner, so we came back to the hotel, changed, and then went out to eat.” Chris tells me. 

“What time did you get back from dinner?” 

“Around 10, I think. It couldn’t have been much later than that. Everyone else was talking about going out and finding a bar or a club to go to, but I just wanted to come back to the hotel and relax. I wasn’t in the mood to be around a lot of people.” 

I pull my feet up on the couch and tuck them under me. 

“Okay, so you got back to the hotel, and then what did you do?” 

For as tired as he was, Chris couldn’t relax. He tried taking a hot shower, laying in bed watching TV, browsing social media, and flipping through pictures on his phone. Finally, after about 45 minutes and getting more and more keyed up and anxious, he decides to go down to the hotel bar. 

When he walks in, the place is empty except for an older couple seated down at the end and the bartender. Chris slides himself onto one of the stools and the bartender makes her way over to him. 

“Thank God. A friendly face.” she says with a smile. 

Chris glances down the bar at the couple. “They seem pretty friendly.” he remarks. 

“Yeah, but they’ve been here for an hour and they’re literally babying their drinks, and aren’t much for conversation that doesn’t involve each other. I’m bored out of my mind.” 

She stick her hand out. “I’m Jo.”

Chris reaches across the bar and shakes her hand with his own. “Chris. Nice to meet you.”

“So, Chris, what’s your poison?”

“What was her name?” I ask him. He just referred to her as “the bartender” and “she”. 

He runs his hand down his face and over his beard. 

“I don’t......I honestly can’t remember. It was one of those boys names for a girl. You know.....Alex or Max or James.......I don’t......I can’t remember.” 

I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. I want to scream already, and he’s not even deep into the story. I shake my head slightly. 

“You slept with this girl, and you don’t even remember her NAME.” I say softly. 

Chris hangs his head. 

“Keep going.” 

She pours him another measure of whiskey, along with a shot for herself. They clink glasses and swallow the amber liquid, letting it burn it’s way down. 

“So what did you and your wife fight about?” she asks him. 

Chris sighs. 

“It’s......it’s complicated.”

“Hey, I’m a bartender, which means that I’m a really great listener. It’s practically a job requirement. You might feel better if you talk about it.” 

“We’re trying to have a baby.”

“Soo....what’s the problem. Trying is the fun part!” 

“We’ve been trying for a year and a half almost, and nothing’s happening. She’s perfect; there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her that would keep her from getting pregnant, but it’s just not happening. And we both want a baby so bad, and the look on her face when......it fucking kills me.” 

He knows that he shouldn’t be telling a complete stranger all of this, especially considering who he is, but the alcohol has loosened his tongue, and if he doesn’t spill his guts to someone, he’s going to explode. 

Jo puts a soft, warm hand over his. 

“I’m sorry, That has to be tough. For both of you.” she says softly. 

“I mean, I guess I never thought that it would take actual work, you know? I assumed that ‘hey, if we just keep having sex, eventually she’s going to get pregnant’ and it would be easy. She’s getting scared and fed up and talking about adoption and fertility doctors, and I hate seeing her so stressed out and upset, and I kind of just.....I said some things and made it worse and I feel like a complete fucking jackass.” 

“What if you guys can’t have kids?” 

“As much as I want to have kids with her, I don’t need them to be happy. As long as I have Kelly in my life, I’ll be perfectly happy. Do I want to be a dad? Yeah, absolutely. But there are so many kids out there that need good homes, so there are other options, but I don’t think that we’re there yet, you know?”

I get up and storm out of the room with Chris right on my heels. 

“Kelly, wait, please.....”

He touches my arm and I spin around to face him, and the look in my eyes makes him fall back a step. 

I’m so pissed off and hurt right now I could spit nails. 

“You......you told her.....EVERYTHING. You told her.....EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING, Chris! Do you even......do you even fucking understand what you did? Like.....” 

I squat down close to the floor and put my head between my knees. My heart is pounding and I’m so worked up that I’m afraid I’m going to pass out if I don’t calm down. And I’m not going anywhere or doing anything until I get the whole damn story. 

“Look, I know-” 

I look up at him incredulously. 

“No! No, you don’t know! You don’t know shit! You fucking betrayed me, in every single sense of the word. You didn’t just fuck her, you told her, a complete stranger, about me. About us trying to have a baby. You told her about things that you never even fucking bothered to tell me! Do you realize that she could go to the press? She could go and spill all of these juicy little secrets that you spilled to her over shots of Jack and have herself a nice little pay day.”

“Kelly, you wanted to know what happened that night, so I’m telling you what happened, despite everything inside of me screaming at me not to. I’m not going to lie to you or keep things from you. You wanted to know everything.” Chris says. 

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth so hard that my jaw hurts. 

“I can’t look at you right now. I need a break.” I tell him, grabbing my jacket. I grab Dodger’s leash off the peg in the hallway and call for him. 

Dodger trots over, tongue lolling out of his mouth, happy to be going on a walk. 

“I’ll be back in a while.” 

Forty five minutes later, I’m in the utility room stripping off my wet clothes after getting Dodger dry and wiping off his paws. 

Chris stops pacing the kitchen when he sees me walking through the house in my bra and underwear. 

“What happened to your clothes?” he asks. 

“Dodger saw a squirrel and got excited and kind of dragged me through a snow bank.” I sigh. I throw my clothes in the dryer and make my way into our room to get changed. 

“Dodge, come on.....” Chris admonishes. Dodger just jumps up on the bed and curls up. 

I throw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue Patriots hoodie that’s hung over the back of the chair in our room and sit down on the side of the bed. 

“I want to know the rest.” I tell Chris. 

He sits down heavily on the end of the bed. 

“No, you don’t.” 

I swallow thickly. “You’re right. I don’t. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re going to tell me anyway.” 

Hours pass with Jo and Chris laughing and talking and flirting back and forth, until it’s 1am and the bar closes for the night. 

“Thanks for sticking around and hanging out tonight. I think I would have died of sheer boredom if you hadn’t.” Jo laughs softly. She offered to walk him back to his room as he was pretty well drunk and a little unsteady on his feet. 

“It was no problem. I didn’t really want to be alone tonight to be honest. I used to do really well on my own. I was used to it, and then......I wasn’t alone.” Chris tells her. 

Once they reach his room, they linger outside for a few minutes, both of them not really wanting the night to end. Jo steps closer to him, knowing exactly what she wants and completely unashamed about it. 

“You should kiss me.” she says softly, looking up at him with big doe eyes. She places her hands on his chest and instead of immediately backing away like he should have, he leans into her touch. 

Chris closes his eyes as he feels his mouth go dry and a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach. He hasn’t really felt this way since....

He opens his eyes and breathes out deeply. “I can’t. I’m married. I’m married and I’m insanely in love with my wife.” 

“So? You should kiss me anyway. I can tell you want to. You’ve been flirting with me all night.” she says, taking a step closer. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. You need a way to release all this tension you’ve got, and I’m more than willing to help you out anyway I can.” 

Before his brain can scream at him to stop, he’s wrapping his arms around her and covering her mouth with his, kissing her soundly. It’s a battle of teeth and tongues, both of them trying to take control from the other. Without breaking apart, Chris manages to get his key card out of his pocket and gets the door open, pushing both of them through it and slamming it behind them. 

“This never goes beyond this room. We never talk about this ever again.” Chris gasps, pulling away from her just long enough to get the words out. 

“Absolutely.” she agrees. 

Clothes are torn off and tossed to the floor in a frenzy, and as soon as Chris drops his pants and boxers, Jo sinks to her knees and takes him in her mouth, swallowing him almost all the way down. 

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Christ, yes, just like that.” he moans out. 

He brings his right hand to her hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail while his left hand goes to her shoulder. 

She almost makes him lose his mind with the things she can do with her tongue, and within minutes, he’s fucking her face roughly as spit runs down her chin and tears are springing to her eyes from the assault on her throat, but she loves it. She has the man she’s fantasized about for years shoving his cock down her throat, and she’s never been more turned on in her life. She smirks to herself as she wonders if his wife ever sucks him off like THIS. 

When he can’t stand it anymore, Chris pulls her off his dick and takes a few deep breaths. 

“I need a condom.” 

“Right. I have one in my purse.” she tells him as she reaches for her bag and finds it and hands it to him. 

“Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.” he says roughly. While her mouth was wrapped around him, he was mesmerized and couldn’t look away, but now he finds that he doesn’t even want to look at her face. He rolls the condom over his cock, giving it a few strokes before sinking into her from behind.

Tears stream down my face as I process all of what Chris just told me, and I can’t even BREATHE with how devastated I feel. It’s like a hole just got punched through my chest. I try and take a breath in, but it turns into a strangled sob and I drop my head into my hands and just let it out. 

Chris swallows thickly, wiping away his own tears as he watches me fall apart  across from him, wishing that he could do something.....ANYTHING to take all the pain away. To go back and undo everything that he did so you wouldn’t hurt. All he feels is deep, unrelenting shame and he knows in his gut that if you asked for a divorce after hearing all of his sins laid bare, he wouldn’t be surprised or even have the right to be devastated. He made his bed. 

I feel bile rising in my throat, and I stumble to my feet and race to the downstairs bathroom, falling to my knees and vomiting painfully as the image of my husband kissing this woman and fucking her run through my head. I barely notice Chris come into the bathroom until I feel him pulling my hair back and securing it with a hair tie, and rubbing my back softly. I can’t even find the breath or the energy to tell him to get away from me and drop dead. 

I’m so damn tired. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this level of physical and mental exhaustion before. I sink back into the pillows a little more, and look over at Chris. Neither one of us have said a word since he picked me up off the bathroom floor and stood there with his arm around my waist as I brushed my teeth. That was 45 minutes ago. 

“It was just sex?” I ask. 

He exhales. “It was just sex. It was just once.”

I look back up at the ceiling and try and make sense of everything. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it. I don’t understand why you would sleep with another woman.”

“I-I don’t know. I was lonely because we were fighting, and I missed you so goddamn much, and I was afraid of what was happening to us with all of the stress and I just......I got drunk, and I did a horrible thing. I did a horrible thing, and I wish that I could take it back. I wish I could take it back so bad it hurts. But I can’t. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” Chris says. 

I lift my eyes to meet his. “You were lonely? That’s your excuse? You were lonely, and you were upset. So you stuck your dick in another woman.” 

I stand at the kitchen sink and drain a glass of water in record time, and refill it. Turns out crying all day and then puking can kind of dehydrate you. I can sense Chris behind me, even though he doesn’t say anything. 

“Two years ago, a couple of weeks after you left for Africa to start shooting the movie, I found out I was pregnant. We hadn’t even officially started trying yet, so it came as a pretty big surprise. But I was so happy, and I couldn’t wait to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, especially when you were so far away, so I was going to surprise you when you came home. I had it all planned out. I practiced telling you standing in front of the bathroom mirror, just so I could see the stupid happy look on my face.”

I feel tears prick my eyes, and I swallow down the sob that I feel threatening to come out. I turn towards Chris, and the look on his face is heartbreaking. 

“What?” he breathes out. 

“I was at a job.....I was shooting a birthday party for a little girl who was turning one. All I could think about was that that was going to be us eventually, and it made me so happy. Everything was fine, but then I started having horrible pain in my stomach. It got so bad that I collapsed, and the parents called 911 when they realized that I was bleeding. They did an ultrasound at the hospital, but they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. I had already miscarried. You don’t know anything about feeling lonely until you’re by yourself laying on a table with your feet in stirrups while a doctor cleans out your uterus.”

Chris is sunk down in one of the kitchen chairs with his hand over his mouth and tears running down his face. This is the first time he’s hearing any of this. 

“Why didn’t-” his voice cracks, and he takes a minute and clears his throat before he tries again. “Why the hell didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home!”

“Chris, you were 8,000 miles away from home. There wasn’t anything you could do. It was too late. They had to do the procedure as soon as possible. I didn’t.....I hadn’t told anyone else that I was pregnant. And I didn’t want to call your mom or sisters because I didn’t want them to find out. I knew if they found out they would call you, and you would be devastated. And I couldn’t do that to you when you were so far away. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was trying to protect you.”

The sound of his fist slamming against the heavy oak table makes me jump. 

“And what about over the last two years? Huh? Don’t you think that I had a right to know? Don’t you think I had the right as your husband, to be there with you? To comfort you? To mourn with you? To even have a fucking clue about what happened?” 

I take a deep breath. 

“You did.  You should have been there. You should have been there with me to hold my hand and cry with me and tell me that it was going to be okay, even though it was a lie. But you weren’t. You were doing your job. I don’t know if you realize it, but when you leave for work or press or whatever it is that you have to leave me for, you’re not the only one who’s lonely. You’re not the only one who has to deal with the silence. But you don’t see me going out and fucking someone else.”

Tears start to swim in my eyes again, and I suddenly feel like if I don’t get out of the house right now, I’m going to suffocate. I’ve been in here with Chris literally all day while we picked apart his affair, and I’m exhausted. I’m hurt and emotional and talking about the baby that we lost just made everything worse.

“I’m gonna go. I just.....I can’t handle anything else today. I know you’re probably really pissed off at me right now, and honestly, the feeling is mutual. Things are already about as bad as they can be, so I’m gonna leave before we have a chance to make it worse.”

The last thing I see before I walk out the door is Chris sitting at the table with his head in his hands, sobbing while Dodger sits on the floor next to him, whining in distress.  

 The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @southerngracela​ @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings​ @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @jessaywahh-blog​@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started​ @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe @pandaxnienke @redhairedfeistynerd @hails270105 @syms-things-5 @chezdricks @denisemarieangelina @christ0pher-evans @supersquirrel1996 @thumbeliina​

[derangedhyena-delphinidae]

numerous issues with “The Aftermath of Seaworld”

When I get time to do so (aka when I’m done with the documentary), I’m likely going to make a video version of this going into the details. 

But for right now, I’ve made this. Both as a guideline for me and so everyone can begin to get an idea of the severity of issues involved.

Researching things is time-consuming and can be very difficult - believe me, I know. But I’m of the mind that if you’re making content with the intent of educating people, you have a responsibility to perform a certain level of due diligence. It IS okay to express uncertainty or doubt if you have it. It is NOT okay to confidently assert things that you do not know with certainty.

The video has an anticap slant, and I’m obviously not disagreeing on that front. But again: if you’re gonna go through the trouble of teaching people something. Bare minimum... please make sure it’s actually correct. *** 1) x ‘founded in 1964 and based out of Florida’ -  ???? Seaworld definitively began on the west coast, in San Diego, CA. And given that the first park opened in early 1964… things came together before that. Uh? 2) x ‘four people founded Seaworld [...]’ For one… it wasn’t originally conceived as a restaurant, it was originally conceived as an underwater bar/lounge. Two… calling the four guys involved in founding the place “frat brothers” is fucking ridiculous and completely overlooks a) how each was actually involved and b) the overall significance of their contributions to the field as individuals. Hint: like it or not, they were important and did a lot! 

3) x If one is going to bring up SWBGCF/rescues while talking about the literal founding of SW, it gives the impression that it’s been around for that duration. It hasn’t.  It’s actually a bit unclear when SW started an organized rescue program, but the Fund itself and all that it did came about much later. The rescue information and how it’s presented is actually INCREDIBLY complex, nuanced, and has a fascinating history (from a “bad company behaving badly” perspective). Oversimplifying this, to this degree and in this misinformative way, does the facts of the situation an INCREDIBLE disservice.  

4) x [assertive statement about what the name Shamu means]  ….Uh actually there’s several explanations for the name Shamu, and the most likely one IMO seems to be the “she-namu” one, not the “friend of Namu” one(? What is this even based on.) 4b) It’s not quite clear if she’s saying “Namu was the first ever orca to be displayed and perform shows” or or Namu was the first to be displayed and, like Shamu, performed shows. Either way, Moby Doll was the first to truly be displayed to the public, not Namu.

5) x ‘Namu died after one year in captivity and you’d think that this might deter Seaworld from doing the same thing again…’ Seaworld truly had nothing to do with Namu. And they leased/took possession of Shamu before Namu died. ‘Again’? What?

6) x “Now, PETA paints a pretty disturbing picture…” [while showing Okura’s artwork] This video segment is, and this is putting it nicely, a pile of poorly-researched BULLSHIT.  -Yes, PETA talks about Shamu’s capture, re: the harpooning of her mother. This Youtuber cannot apparently be arsed to look more than 1 Google search into this, as she proceeds to dismiss the information as potentially fabricated. There are two detailed accounts of Shamu’s capture that I’m aware of - in books - and though they have some slight conflicts, it’s absolutely NOT in doubt that the female who was very likely Shamu’s mother was 1) harpooned, 2) died from her injuries and 3) this had been done to make her easier to catch/locate because there was a fucking buoy attached to the harpoon. Which she dragged around for at least 24 hours prior dying.  So maybe don’t dismiss that as PETA hysteria, maybe TRY to determine the truth of the matter, which would inform one that it is both true and completely horrifying.  -In addition, Okura is an awesome individual who has worked very hard to create a variety of informative artwork for our cause. Okura is NOT associated with PETA and it’s borderline libel in my eyes to use their artwork in this dismissive manner when the primary sources of it can be easily identified online, with full explanations and everything. Do I take special offense to this because of the misuse of artwork? Absolutely. Artists get disrespected enough online. I’m tired of it. This kind of laziness IS NOT acceptable.

7) x ‘timeline is fuzzy about when Shamu died’ …………… it’s…. It’s really not … newspapers are pretty clear about it…..

8) x [complete and utter oversimplification of the lifespan issue, which is not acceptable for anything published in 2020. It just isn’t. If you’re going to bring it up like this, either do the legwork and get into the weeds or stay out.] 8b) [same for reproductive ages. sigh]

9) x if we’re going to talk about when Cornell was involved with Seaworld it’s very important to specify when Cornell was involved with Seaworld and not make it seem like it’s present tense.

10) x “both were rescued by Seaworld” - uh? no. Zero orcas have been rescued by Seaworld. Literally none. The infected-jaw orca was Sandy, whose story is complex and certainly does not involve Seaworld until much later. And many of the orcas in that time period had bullet wounds, often only identified post-mortem because they didn’t seem to hurt the animals much. Also, unflinchingly blending 70s captivity ethics with modern ones is also complete nonsense? 

11) x [tilikum coming from sealand] inhales I am going to make an entire video centered on this fucking subject because it’s one of the single most profound arguments for Seaworld being garbage as assessed by US government agencies in the 90s yet everyone utterly fails to mention this. Why?!

12) x what on earth is this nonsense re: quoting a quote from Zimmerman’s article - which has already been removed from its original context, so the original context is not available - and then penalizing the quote for existing as if Zimmerman’s article were the context? That is offensively disingenuous. I honestly don’t know what the original context is, either - but it’s wildly inappropriate to act as if the Zimmerman article is.

13) x this is relatively minor but ‘Paul Sprong’? You literally have his name on the screen. And then mis-reading his age too? While asserting it from a static article published years ago? Effort? Where is it?

14) x ‘another trainer, Peter’ ….. Ken Peters…. 

15) [weirdly glossing over the widely-available list of orca-trainer injuries/aggressions, despite it being central to the point.] 16) x This pilot whale outrage certainly happened but it was pretty clearly Blackfish that started the cascade of woes for Seaworld. Who has ever asserted this?

17) if you’re gonna just rehash blackfish, tell people to go watch blackfish.

18) x I’ve already gone over the context issue with Seaworld calling out Howard’s statement in Blackfish here (point 23). Which is to say, IN CONTEXT in Blackfish it’s clear what Mr. Garrett is talking about but, divorced from that, it sounds incorrect. But this Youtuber AMPLIFIES the issue by doubling down on the assertion with “no record of a killer whale doing any harm to anyone in the wild.” The surfer event should always be mentioned. Yes, there’s absolutely room for doubt. But there’s also a clear demarcation between an accidental attack (eg mistaken identity, as was likely for the surfer) and intentional one (eg the incidents at marine parks.) Why do people kneecap themselves on this point 18b) please stop acting like Luna represents orcas in general.

19) x “Howard, for all of his research…” … while referring to David Duffus’ b-roll and statements. Uh. 20) x Apparently this Youtuber has single-handedly resolved the dorsal fin issue. You know, the thing that hasn’t been properly researched ever, that has been subject to a ton of debate, that isn’t 100% settled for a variety of reasons, and almost everyone talks about in terms of theories and likely possibilities.  21) x Alexis Martinez wasn’t “torn to shreds.” In a space where even moderate exaggerations are often penalized harshly by the opposition, this kind of blatant nonsense is not welcome. Plus, the reality’s bad enough… you don’t have to make anything up!

22) x *sighs. points at own webpage*

23) Talking about the shows stopping without acknowledging how that’s a bit of a farce is something else. In addition to apparently just flipping to buying what Seaworld’s selling re: its ‘improved image.’ 

*** Tl;dr video is so unrelentingly full of errors ranging from small to egregious it makes me seriously concerned for the veracity of the rest of this person’s content. The maker of the video provided a list of their sources in their video description, which I will have time to look through in detail later. The above is solely a response to the information they present IN THE VIDEO - which, is very important because let’s be real: a lot of people are not going to look at the list of sources. People don’t even do it when citing papers (no really, you’d be surprised, fml.) For anyone who wants to whinge that I haven’t linked or asserted any sources of my own for my claims… well, remember what I said about time-consuming and ‘I’m busy’? Yhea. Getting all of that together will be part of making a video. So if you want to shrug loudly at my list here… you can, that’s your prerogative, I’m happy to say I DGAF if that’s your takeaway. 

What I hope, is that if there’s anything I’ve made clear over the While of running this blog, it’s that I don’t fuck around when it comes to sources and information and do my best to provide what information exists, all of it, not just cherrypicked bits and bobs. Anyways. Here’s step 0 at least. Please don’t share that video. Pretty please.

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Tag list form

A/n: hello peoples!! I’m so excited to FINALLY post the first chapter of this fic!!! I’ve been working on it for a long time, and after a few unpleasant delays, it’s finally happening 😁. While this isn’t my first fic, this is my first NHL fic, and the first fic I’m posting on Tumblr, so I’m a little nervous. This first chapter is mostly the set up to the main story, this is reader’s side of things with a flashback story. Chapter two will be mostly from Elias’s point of view. The rest of the chapters will switch back and fourth between the two.

CREDIT: Finally, before we get started I have to shout out my proofreaders. Y’all put up with me and my insanity: @siriushxney @iateyourdonuts @petey-patty @hufflepuff-girlx @cherrylita @immmbabyyygraceee @💕💕And specifically @imagines-r-s ASH!!! Babes, you have been the best and most supportive friend I could’ve asked for during this. You boosted my confidence about this fic and I have no idea what I’d do without you 😁😁

Without further ado, let’s get started shall we!! (Sorry for the long A/N, it’ll only be for this first chapter)

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of cursing, friends with benefits but like...just cuddling???, references to iCarly, mentions of One Tree Hill.

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: (i suggest having these ready before you read)

Y/C/N/N= your cute nick name, only Markstrom calls you it (you’ll see why) this can be either a pet name you like, or a nick name you already have.

Y/N/N= your nick name, Brock, Quinn, and a few others call you this, it’s more of a playful name. Again, this can be a nickname you already have (if you don’t have one I suggest something stupid (sounds like something Stech or Brock would come up with)

Y/N= this is your first name, only Elias calls you this unless it’s a serious situation, or you’re in trouble, or Brock is being an ass. (If it wasn’t clear before...your last name is Boeser)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: you have a hardcore crush on your brothers best friend, who also happens to barely speak to you...it’s a slight predicament.

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(This is set in the 2021 season, however, because of my denial, Marky and Stech are still in Vancouver and were never traded... also no Covid. however the season was still delayed just to make it easier to follow.)

Present (Feb. 2021)

You’ve always been best friends with your older brother, you never had any real issues when you were younger and you were inseparable. So much so in fact, that once you graduated early a little less than two years ago (June 2019), he asked you to move to Vancouver and live with him. He was always so protective of you and you appreciated everything he has done in your life. One of the best parts about Brock being your older brother was the people he introduced to you. You aren’t very social and god knows how much of a people person your brother is. Once you had moved in, Brock quickly introduced you to the team. And with your double major in Statistics: Data Sciences and Sports Management, you were able to secure a job with the team. Quickly, you found yourself with a second family, one with many members.

Quinn Hughes is your best friend. when you met him about a year and a half ago, you hit it off immediately. With both of you being the same age and not very social, there was an obvious connection there. When Brock and The boys  go out, it is you and Quinn who stay in and watch shows on the couch (your favorite being New Girl). Huggy Bear is so sweet and you tell him EVERYTHING, even things you’d never tell your brother. You are still thanking the draft lottery every day that the Canucks received the 7th overall pick that gave you your bestie.

Thatcher Demko AKA Dems AKA Thatch AKA baby goalie is the sweetest and most hilarious guy you know. He is always looking after you just like Brock, but he is also one of the most annoying guys you know. When you’d first met you had the biggest crush on him. You told Quinn as much and he gave you so much shit for it. That crush was short-lived though, once you found out how obnoxious he could be. You still love him, just as a friend. Though Quinn never forgets to remind you of the crush that once was.

Bo Horvat is like another big brother to you. Sure you have Brock, but he’s your best friend. Bo, however, is the person you go to when you needed advice. Holly is one of the only WAGs you’ve become close with. She and you consistently have wine and gossip nights, of which Quinn is sometimes in attendance. Plus, you and Quinn are an amazing babysitting team for Gunnar if you have anything to say about it. 

Troy Stecher is the annoying older brother you never had. He always makes fun of you, calls you names, and bullies you in the loving way brothers do. And he never hesitates to come to you if he ever needs girl advice, which seems to happen a lot.

JT was just like Bo, except he is waaay more protective of you, maybe even a bit more than brock. He doesn’t have a sister and when you met, he made it his job to never see you get hurt. Seriously, one day a guy was bugging you at the bar, and both Brock and Bo were struggling to hold him back when he saw him slap you on the ass as you walked away. 

Jacob Markstrom, AKA Marky, AKA Giraffe (pronounced like it is in one of your favorite vines), AKA your cuddle buddy for the past few seasons. Both being single, you felt lonely sometimes and Quinn wasn’t much of a hugger (despite what the nickname might have you believe). Thatcher had offered but Marky, though just as social, is much more laid back. It also helps that he is 6’6 putting him over a foot taller than you. So during movie nights, or late nights at the bar, he is the side you lean on. Of course, you made it abundantly clear to most of the boys and yourselves that you were just friends. As sweet as he was and as great of a boyfriend as he would’ve been, he wasn’t quite your type and your personalities clashed.

Then there was Elias Pettersson, the tall, skinny, Swedish guy you knew as Petey. The guy who looked at you often and barely spoke a word directed towards you. He was Brock's best friend and he came over all the time, you didn’t have an issue with him, and you couldn’t deny he was funny, and from what you’ve heard he is a very kind person. So naturally, he was exactly your type. You’ve had a massive crush on him for a while now, somehow despite the lack of conversation. And the few times he has talked to you, he’s seemed so perfect, but there are only a few times you can remember. 

Right now, as you're on your way to the Canuck’s break room your brother texted you to meet him in, you try to recall those few times, specifically the one where your crush on him truly developed.

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FLASHBACK (some time in January, 2020)

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You, Quinn, and Jacob were laying on the L-shaped couch in ‘The Boeser apartment’, you were cuddled under the blanket with Jacob, laying on the section perpendicular to the TV, your heads at the corner. Quinn was on the other side of the couch, his head right next to yours. it was about 7 o’clock and the episode of One Tree Hill you were watching had just ended and you three had not eaten dinner yet. As the countdown for the next episode started, your stomach growled and you got a look from Quinn and a giggle from Jacob. 

“You hungry Y/C/N/N?” Jacob asked.

You looked up at him and giggled, “maybe just a little bit.”

“Y/N/N, you know what sounds amazing?” Quinn asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to each other and you both smirked knowing you were thinking the same thing.

“Spaghetti tacos!!” You both said. 

Ever since you were about 10 and you watched iCarly on TV, you had always wanted to try them. It had become an inside joke between you and Quinn for quite some time as he had the same desire as you to see how good they actually were.

“We should totally try them tonight!!” Quinn was quite excited.

“I’m so confused right now,” Jacob chimed in.

“They’re from a show! They take spaghetti and put it in taco shells,” you explained.

“Ahh, hence the name.” he nodded.

“Exactly,” Quinn said.

You jumped up from the couch excitedly and ran straight to your kitchen.

“Ok, we have spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, ground beef, taco shells, aaaand..... by chance do either of you know how to make good meatballs?”

“You’re asking the Swedish guy if he knows how to make meatballs?” Jacob replied.

“Not Swedish meatballs, Italian, stupid Giraffe,” you retorted. 

“Gross,” he said with a disgusted look.

“Ooo my mom made the best Italian meatballs, let me call her to see if she can send me the recipe!” Quinn said with a big smile.

Quinn exited the kitchen and ran to your room to call his mom. 

“You know, I’ve never seen him so excited about anything,” Marky said with a laugh. 

“Quinn loves his food,” you replied.

“Are Brock and Thatch having dinner with us ?”

“I’ll ask.”

You started boiling the water for the pasta, and you cooked part of the ground beef for the meat sauce. Then you texted Brock:

Y/N/N: hey, you want me to make you dinner

Brock: Yeah, who all is there?

Y/N/N: the usual

Brock: Huggy and Marky?

Y/N/N: yep, so do you want some?

Brock: Yeah, and make enough for another person too

Y/N/N: ok

You figured it was Dems since that’s who he went to hang out with when he left 5 hours ago. 

You continued to cook when Quinn came in and grabbed a bunch of stuff from the pantry and cabinets. “Did your mom tell you how to make them?” you questioned your frantic best friend.

“Yes she did and she sent me the recipe too.”

“Coolio,” you reply.

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You were almost done cooking, the pasta was done, Quinn had put his meatballs in the oven and there were only 5 minutes left on the timer. And the sauce had about 2 minutes to simmer.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot what to do when they're almost done, she does this thing, I have to call her,” Quinn said with a panicked look on his face. He ran back to your room.

The front door to your apartment opened quickly, both boys laughing, “ahh, shit,  my brother’s calling me,” Brock said as he ran back to his room.

“Why does everyone feel the need to exit the room for phone calls?” you asked Jacob.

He shrugged with a giggle, “I don't know, maybe they don’t trust us,” he said in a sarcastically dramatic tone grasping his chest.

The door closed slowly and you glanced at the doorway where you thought you’d see the ever adorable goalie, Thatcher Demko, instead, you saw the adorable, slender, tall blonde you’d seen all the time, but never had a one on one interaction with... except the first time you met, when he told you that you looked pretty.

“Hi, Petey!” Jacob said as he slipped behind you to watch you mix the sauce, he stood over you looking at the sauce and put his hand on your waist.

“Hi,” he replied, his smile from before had faded.

“Looks so good Y/C/N/N,” Jacob said with a kiss on your cheek, a regular action. 

“Thanks, Giraffe, can you grab the taco shells?”

He grabbed them easily from the top shelf (tall ass bitch -_-), and moved behind you, placing his hands on your waist yet again, to move you to the side. “I've gotta run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back”

“Ok, you have fun with that,” you said with a wink.

Suddenly, was only you and Elias in the room, and the silence was deafening.

“So what are we eating?” he said, pulling your attention to his bright blue eyes.

“Um, spaghetti tacos, they're from a tv sho-”

“Like from iCarly?” he interrupted.

“...Uh yeah? How'd you know?” you couldnt pull your attention away from his eyes, ‘they are just so beautiful,’ you thought somehow you hadnt noticed this within the on and a half years you’d known him.

“We also get Nickelodeon, you know,” he said while throwing you a smirk that made your stomach flip. 

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you replied, feeling just a little embarrassed. 

“iCarly was my favorite, actually.” 

“Yeah, it was mine too,” you said, smiling back, looking at the way he just lit up your kitchen with his presence.

You both stood there for a second just looking at the other, “So how long have-,” he started.

“OKAY,” Quinn unknowingly interrupted, “so she told me what to do, turns out I have to put sauce over them for the last 2 minutes, so Y/N/N can you just put a tablespoon of sauce on each ball then put them back in for two minutes?” 

“Yeah of course. Elias, you were saying?” you looked back at the Swede.

“Oh it's nothing,” he looked down at his shoes. 

“Ok, Y/N/N you need to call mom and tell her we’re fine and that she doesn't need to worry about us please, Paul says she’s stressing,” Brock said as he entered the room.

“When is she not stressing about us? I’ll call her after dinner, how's dad?”

“Doin’ good, nothing has changed or progressed or whatever since we were home last,” Brock moved and sat on the couch letting out a big sigh.

“That’s good,” you let out a sigh.

“Petey, come here, we’re watching Gossip Girl” Brock shouted at the Swede.

“Ooo what episode are you guys on?” you asked. Brock had mentioned how he was making him watch the show you two had watched about 5 times together. 

“Just after Chuck gets Dan kidnapped at Yale.” 

“Oh so you still hate Chuck?” you asked Elias.

“Ew, yeah...wait is that gonna change?” Petey said with a scoff.

“Uh....,” you stalled.

“Y/N shut up, don't spoil it,” Brock interrupted before you could make it worse.

“Ok well, dinner is ready so just start the show after and we can all watch it together.”

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“Oh my god, these are actually amazing,” Quinn said with his mouth full.

“I know, I did not think this was gonna taste good,” Jacob added.

“Hey!” you said, offended.

“Y/C/N/N, you know I love your cooking, it was the idea of the meal that I doubted,” Jacob said leaning into your side and putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Mmmhmm, suuure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Hallå Marky, ni två är söta (hey Marky, you two are cute),” Petey said, confusing you, Quinn and Brock with the sudden change in language.

Jacob, being oblivious to what Petey was implying, just said, “tack broder (thanks, bro).”

Little did you know what was going on in Elias’s head.

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PRESENT

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Before that night, you never really thought of Elias in a romantic way. You'd been around him quite a lot, seeing as how, seemingly, is in your apartment more than his own. Sure, you knew he was cute and very sweet from what you'd seen, but up until that point, you'd never had a one-on-one interaction with him. That interaction, however small, was the beginning of an obsessive crush. Quinn was the first to point it out, you started listening closely any time he talked, attempting to converse with him, and thinking about him on a daily basis even when you didn't see him. And due to your stubbornness, no matter how unrequited your crush seemed, it never faltered. You had always thought he hated you, or maybe he just tolerated you because you were Brock’s sister, and you were always around. 

However, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

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Tag list: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan