#anyway I can’t remember my point but like oh yeah sometimes you love people from afar and they’re special to you and like THAT’s OKAY
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
wannabepoeticischiya · 8 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media
all the colors of the sun
pairing: karasu tabito x f! reader genre: romance wc: 17.6k status: one shot
You don't need to wish for love or for someone to love you. Because… sometimes, you just never realize that you've had them all along.
And if he were to put it into words, he'd tell her: “And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”
Because he already does.
Tumblr media
“No way in hell did Karasu get a girlfriend before me!” Otoya protests, voice laced with all the stinging sensations of envy as he, Isagi, and Yukimiya huddled together like the Avengers if the superhero group was the type to peek at people from around a corner.
The object of their interest? None other than the assassin, Karasu Tabito—talking animatedly to a girl all the while looking like he just won the World Cup, saved the universe, and had gotten married all in the same day. His smile was very annoyingly wide, and his laughter sounded so happy that it scratched the ears of his very envious teammates.
"Maybe he’s just being nice to a fan," Yukimiya offered, though the model himself couldn’t stop the bitterness from tagging along with his words. He swears he could almost taste it.
“Karasu?” Otoya questions incredulously.
“Nice?” Isagi follows.
“Ha! The only way Karasu and nice belong in the same sentence is if the word isn’t is in between,” Chigiri remarks, arms crossed as he leaned against the opposite wall, silently judging his teammates—who were very keenly drawing nearer and nearer to the borders of looking like electric posts if they could pull the We Bare bears pose—from their spot in the corner.
“Why’re you guys talking about him anyway?” Chigiri asks, sipping casually on his energy drink.
“Look at him, Chigirin!” Bachira’s head popped up from behind the trio like a Whac-A-Mole, pointing dramatically at the crow in the crowd. “Karasu’s talking to a girl!”
Chigiri chokes mid-sip, spilling his drink all over his hands and on the floor from absolute mortification. “He’s what?!”
"Whatcha guys yellin' for? Yer gonna get us in trouble if ya don't keep it down—"
“Hiori! Look at your childhood friend!” Isagi whispers in alarm, as if the scene he’s been watching unfold before his eyes for the last five minutes is nothing but fever-induced hallucinations.
"He ain't my childhood friend,” Hiori mutters, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance that he had to clear this up, again. “If anythin’ he’s—”
Tired of Hiori’s stalling, Isagi shoved the Ice Man’s face in the direction of their crime-committing teammate.
“[Name]-san?” Hiori mumbles in surprise, blinking repeatedly as if the scene before him was something out of this world. Well, he should’ve expected this considering… well, considering them.
“You know her, Hiorin?” Bachira pokes his head from Yukimiya's side, curiosity all over his honey-colored eyes.
“Yeah,” he breathes, still struggling to process the image, “She’s…” his words faded to a dull echo. It’s only been a few months since he last saw them together. There wasn’t anything unusual, same old Karasu, same old [Name], still laughing and talking like they were the only two people in the world. They’ve always looked like that. Always looked at each other like that. So how come seeing them now… how did they look so different? Almost as if they were…
“In love.” He whispers.
“What?!” The peepers—minus Yukimiya—screamed in unison, garnering a few odd stares from the people walking by.
“What I meant,” Hiori clears his throat, “is that she’s Karasu-kun’s childhood friend.” Hiori smiles, “She’s also ridiculously strong.”
“Can’t be stronger than Karasu, right?” Otoya asks, his eyes giving way to the bubbles of whatever evil plan it was that he was concocting in his head.
“Oh, I ain’t sure.” Hiori shrugs, “But from all the fights they had that I can remember, she never lost a single one."
Hiori caught sight of the smirk on Otoya’s face growing wider, and if he were to push it, Hiori was certain that Otoya would was going to tear his jaw open from it.
Amused by the ninja’s shamelessness, Hiori imparts a very much needed word of wisdom.
"If she and Karasu-kun were to fight for real right now, she would still win.” He laughs, not quite liking the sudden image of Karasu’s bruised face from long ago showing up in his head, “and that's with Karasu-kun burnin' all the candles at every end."
Otoya’s suggestive expression wilted like a rose at the new information, stepping behind Yukimiya all of a sudden.
Wanting to see how far he could go, Hiori hummed and pretended to think deeper, “I think she does kickboxing—or was it karate? Well, doesn’t matter. Yer screwed either way, Otoya-kun.” Hiori pats Otoya’s shoulder as he walks past the group of terrified teenagers, “Best not to try!” He calls, waving his hand in farewell.
As he walks away, snickering softly to himself as he noted the look from his teammate’s faces. He remembers the day those two met, a moment in time so engraved in his head it felt kind of strange to see how much had changed.
Or maybe… just maybe, nothing’s changed at all.
---
"Didja lose your partner?"
A younger [Name] stood in front of a boy crouched by the bike rack near the curve, popsicle in hand as the other scratched the back of her neck—craning her head to see if anyone was around the corner.
[Name] tried to catch his eye, shamelessly offering the half-eaten treat to him when he ignored her question.
Met by his silence, she steps closer to him, setting her bag next to his yellow hat as she crouches down to try and get a glimpse of his face.
"Oi," she calls again, waving a sticky hand in front of his face. "Can ya hear me?"
The boy hides his face further in the comforts of his arms, swatting away her hand without a word.
[Name] furrowed her brows at his dismissal, pouting at him even if he couldn’t see.
What’s this kid’s deal? She thought.
Just as she was about to get back up and walk away, she heard him—albeit very soft that could be mistaken for the wind—whimper.
He wasn’t upset at her or anything, but he just didn’t know what else to do at the moment, so he couldn’t help but try to push her away. This was the last thing he wanted… for someone to see just how weak he was. He didn’t get partnered up with the girl he wanted, so what? It wasn’t like it was the end of the world. He thought it was the stupidest reason in the world. It shouldn’t be something to be so upset over.
But he was.
To him… getting partnered up with Marisa really, really mattered.
Pained by the sudden reminder, he felt the back of his eyes tingle, silver brimming his downcast gaze.
"H-Hey, c'mon now, don't cry..." [Name] panics, dropping down to eye level with him once more at sight of the tears streaming down his very sad face. Mindlessly, she thrusts the melting, half-eaten popsicle to him like an offering, like the spirit of summer could magically solve all his problems.   
She pats his back awkwardly, "I lost my partner, too." She blurted, her voice colored in cheer and laughter, as though the matter of losing a buddy on a school field trip was a funny story they can share for life.   
The reason for Karasu's sadness was a very different matter altogether, still, he appreciated his classmate's efforts. Her kind, and frantic energy pulling at the corners of his lips even by the smallest centimeter.   
"Hio-kun prolly made it back to the teacher, maybe your partner is there!" She smiles at him, like there was no surer thing in the whole wide world aside from her optimism. She extended a hand for him to take. "Let's go back, Nakimushi-san!"
"I'm not a crybaby!" He snaps, finally looking—more like glaring—at her through watery eyes, "And the name's Karasu. Karasu Tabito!" (believe it!)
"Okay, Tabito-chan!" She beams, one so bright it made him squint.
Before he could reprimand her for her actions, she plopped the matching yellow hat back onto his head, the brim settling crookedly as her sticky fingers lingered for a second too long. She adjusted the straps of her red backpack and looked to him in anticipation.
"Don't go calling me by my first name like we're close or somethin’!" He yells, flustered at the thought of a girl being all chummy with him.
"Sure thing, Tabito-chan!" She replies, completely ignoring his protests as she drags him by his hand and led him back to rest of the group.
---
That was how they became friends.
According to the testimony of Hiori Yo—who was originally [Name]’s assigned partner—she was seen ditching him half-way when caught sight of an ice cream store, and somewhere along the way got wired with a crying kid on the sidewalk.
From that day onward, they just sort of… stuck together
---
At eight years old, [Name] discovered Karasu’s secret, as much as a secret it could be but… what she unveiled was his crush on Marisa—the resident cutest kid in class, according to him.
It wasn’t intentional. [Name] blamed it on Karasu. It was completely by accident.
She went to his house one Saturday morning to return the ball he had left by mistake last night when he came over her house to play.
His older sister, Tsubame-nee-chan, who looked just like Tabito but with longer hair and a kinder attitude, had told [Name] that her best friend was upstairs. She was so used to having the girl come over that it started to become weird when there wasn’t any laughter and banter in the house.
“Tabito’s upstairs,” Tsubame waves from the living room, laughing at something her friends said. “Ya can just grab him yerself!”
Muttering a faint, ‘Pardon the intrusion’, taking off her slippers, and a ‘Thanks, Tsubame-nee-chan!’, [Name] climbed the steps, no limit to her usual buzzing energy.
But the second her foot closed the last step of the stairs, she halted.
[Name] caught sight of Karasu at the far end of the corridor, standing in front of the full-length mirror he probably used more than his sister—or anyone in his house for that matter. The boy hadn’t taken note of her presence just yet, seemingly immersed at whatever it was that he was doing that merited his undivided attention and spatial awareness.
She tilted her head in curiosity and breathed to call out to him.
And with little to no warning at all, his voice broke through like thunderstorms.
"Marisa, I like you," he tells his reflection, flushing red from the weight of his own words.
[Name] gasped, her jaw dropping to the center of the earth—the surprise simmering in her soul that it had frozen her over where she stood, causing her grip on the soccer ball to loosen. The ball slipped from her hands, descending step by step down the stairs, sounding like a drumroll for impending doom.
The sound had Karasu whipping his head in her direction looking like roadkill. Blushing, in the nicest word; lovesick in the worst.
"YOU LIKE MARI—!"
Karasu, in sheer mortification, bolted toward her, yanking her away from the stairs and slapped a sweaty palm over her mouth before she could blacken his name in his own household. His heart racing faster than when he stayed past curfew and had to go home knowing his mom was waiting for him by the door with a slipper.
“Shaddap!” He hisses, voice barely above a whisper as he glances around like a criminal.
Meanwhile, downstairs, in the living room, Tsubame glanced at the direction of the stairs—noting the series of thuds and muffled and restrained yelling—raising a questioning brow as it had her pausing mid-laugh. A minute of silence ensued after that, so she immediately concludes that it was probably nothing… hopefully.
Those two were always loud and rough and chaotic, there existed no day where she could describe them with just two of those adjectives, and frankly, it would never work anyway. Where there was loudness there was chaos, and all the other matches.
Besides, her brother was a soccer player, and [Name] was a karate practitioner.
Totally normal.
Back upstairs, Karasu dragged [Name] into his room like she was a dead body he was desperately trying to hide.
When he was sure that the door was slammed shut and that no other human on earth could possibly lo and behold his newly discovered secret, only then did he let her go. He knew full well that as he stands there all red-faced, heart pumping, colored in all the shades of horror for his impending fate, shoulders heaving as he struggles to regain his composure… Karasu Tabito was never gonna hear the end of her teasing.
And it began the moment [Name] stood up, dusted the dust from her clothes, and looked at him with the most skin-crawling smile to ever graze humanity. “Sooo… Marisa, ey?” She jabs his side with her elbow, her smile growing impossibly wider.
Karasu groans, sliding dramatically against the door like a telenovela star as he hides his face behind his hands. “Yer absolutely not allowed to tell anyone!” he commands, glaring at her from where he was, trying to act all big and scary but failing in [Name]’s eyes since he was far too red-faced like a stoplight to be considered a threat. “’Specially not my sister! She’d tease me and I’d be forced to hit the grave early.”
"Don'tcha worry, Tabito-likes-Marisa, yer secret’s safe with me!" [Name] salutes dramatically, a certain twinkle in her eyes as if his wishes were a heaven-sent mission to their strongest soldier.
Karasu let out an exasperated sigh, ruffling his hair in frustration—already beginning to count the days that remained of his secret.
"So...” She started, leaning closer to him with a mischievous smile, “Whatcha like about her, Tabi-chan?" [Name] teases, wiggling her eyebrows while she was at it, poking his reddening cheeks at the reminder of the pretty girl from class.
His face erupted in all the shades of red—if it was even possible. [Name]’s prodding wasn’t helping his racing heart one bit, in fact, it only made him feel like his own organ was trying to break down his rib cage and run as far away as possible.
He wasn’t getting away from this—not unscathed—so might as well fess up.
"Well, she's really cute." Karasu admits, a tiny, soft smile painting his expression.
[Name] nodded enthusiastically, leaning closer in anticipation. But Karasu remained silent, he was just smiling there like an idiot staring off into yonder.
"What?" he asks as he took note of the unimpressed expression on his friend's face.
"Ya mean that's it?" she deadpans, all the happiness draining from her face at the sight of Karasu's lenient expression speaking volumes far more than when he spoke the words—"Should there be more?"
"Oi! I always thought ya weren't the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn't know yer stupidity was this high—OW!" [Name] yelps as Karasu karate-chopped the top of her head, effectively drawing the curtains to her insults to a close.
[Name] glared at him, eyes reflecting the thought: you dare use my own spells against me?
"You don't get a say!” He protests, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Ya never liked anyone but the neighborhood cat!"
Because for the life of him, no matter how many kanji he learned to read or write, he was certain he couldn't convey a hundredth of Marisa's beautiful qualities.
"Liking someone is dumb!" she shot back, wincing as she rubs the top of her head to ease the ache. She was certain she'd develop all the necessary dodging maneuvers from her friend alone.
"Of course, ya'd think that you gorilla." Karasu laughs as he leaned over to pull at [Name]'s cheeks just to annoy her further.
The small conversation was something only the two of them shared. Lost under the stars of all their laughter and the echoes of their smiles… forever just theirs to keep.
Karasu never confessed his feelings for Marisa in the entirety of elementary school, or ever for that matter. And [Name], surprisingly true to her word, kept his secret well, a secret.
That’s why it came as a surprise.
It was the day of their elementary school graduation.
Tabito and [Name] stood next to each other as his sister took their photo, saying that they were one step closer to ‘reaching the age of maturity’ as she had so cryptically put it. Because what on earth could she mean by that? They were plenty mature. It didn’t help that she was smiling weirdly at the two of them while she was at it.
But the biggest shock of the day wasn’t Tsubame-nee-chan’s sudden teasing, no. It was something entirely different.
Marisa called to Tabito just as their class had finished capturing a photo together. [Name] hardly had any time to see everything unravel before she was whisked away by the Karate Club to take a picture of their own.
As she caught the last of their shadows from the corner of her eye—Marisa, all smiles and laughing, Karasu, standing looking like he could snap like a taco shell at any moment but hid his situation very well.
For some reason unknown, the sight of them talking rang an unpleasant melody in the caves of [Name]’s chest, rattling the once peaceful solitude.
She blamed it on the pollen. She blamed it on the heat or the cold, whichever was more prominent. She blamed it on… quite literally everything else. Not willing to admit to anything—not when she didn’t even know what the heck this was.
Later that afternoon, when the two found themselves at the beach loitering on the wave breakers by the roadside to watch the sunset, Karasu told [Name] that Marisa—his life-long crush at the time—had confessed to him.
He told it like it was nothing. As if it was no more than an ordinary occasion, like a weather report!
But [Name]’s reaction was a stark contrast to his nonchalance.
The revelation crashed against her like a tidal wave that nearly had her toppling over the concrete barrier, in danger of falling to the sandy shore—a generous twenty-foot drop at least.
Karasu grabbed her by the scruff of her clothes, heart pounding at the sight of her almost falling— “Idiot, be more careful!” He scolds, carding a hand through his ever-growing violet hair.
“MARISA CONFESSED TO YOU?!” [Name] screams, standing up in absolute shock with zero regards that she almost had a close date with the grim reaper a few minutes ago.
"Hey! I already told ya to watch yerself! You'll fall!" Karasu reminds, reaching out to steady her. His brows remained furrowed as he stayed seated on the concrete barrier, only this time, one hand caged her own as his other found anchor on her ankle.
"Whatcha say? Ya better not have told her somethin' stupid! Gosh this is excitin'—"
“I rejected her.”
The world came to a standstill at the resounding echo of his words. But the tides continued to crash against the shores, drawing away not a moment later. The birds’ orchestra flowed like the spring zephyrs as they flew over the vast finiteness of the horizons. Still… [Name] could not feel herself move from her frozen state.
Wasn’t it too sudden? It felt like only yesterday that she discovered his crush for their classmate. Why… why?
Karasu looks to the ocean with a completely calm face, a stark contrast to the slowly rising tides. The sunset painted him golden, like all the stars melted just to color him in this moment.
When he was colored in that light, saturating him in every shade of soothing silence, softening his features… for the first time in forever, Karasu felt unreachable. Like he belonged to a world she had no right to step into. As though he would continue to travel past the borders of the milky way to some unknown universe far beyond what [Name] could comprehend.
When he was painted in all the colors of the sun, it was hard to deny.
It was difficult to fight the fluttering sensation thrumming in her heart—surging in all the forms of power—of happiness.
[Name] tugged on his arm that held her own, urging him to look at her as she asks, "Why?"
Indeed, why?
For as long as [Name] had known him, Karasu's always liked Marisa. He even went as far as to make her swear not to tell a single soul about his infatuation with the girl, not because he was embarrassed, but because he thought far too lowly of himself—believed that he was too ordinary—for someone like Marisa to ever like him back.
"I... well, we're gonna go to different middle schools,” he shrugs, sweeping it under the carpet like it was no big deal. “It would be a long-distance thing ya get me? So I rejected her." He talks about it so easily, always acting that it isn’t eating him up inside.
He was always like this.
Using the hand that held the hand of the girl standing before him, Karasu pulled himself up from his sitting position. He towered over her easily, already breaking past a hundred and seventy centimeters—a reminder that they were growing up—and he was sure to grow taller in the near future.
"Nothin' weird about it,” he comments apathetically. “Completely normal—ow! Hey! What're ya doin'—[Name]!" He hurriedly shielded his arm from [Name]’s aggravated assault.
“Yer an idiot!” she fires at him, her frustration dropping on him like a bomb.
"Ow! [Name]—stop! You hit like a gorilla—ow!" Karasu finally held her thrashing arms, caging her in his hold so she couldn't hit him anymore.
He wasn't sure why [Name] was acting this way, or why she was so upset over this. What he was certainly most certain of is that her punches hurt. They hurt a whole lot.
"You're an idiot..." she echoes.
Karasu tried to look her way, but it proved to be an arduous task as she kept her head down. A few stands of her hair prevented Karasu from discerning what sort of expression was on her face. He hesitantly let her arms go, watching them fall to her side softly.
Karasu poked [Name]'s forehead, pushing her head slightly to get her to look up.
"Hey..." he calls gently, closing the remaining distance between them with a single stride, "Why're ya cryin'?"
[Name] looks to the ocean, aggressively wiping away the traitorous tears that slipped from the shackles of her eyes. She wasn't gonna cry over this. It was stupid.
"You liked Marisa a lot, Tabito."
It took Karasu by surprise that [Name] called him by his first name, free from her usual teasing jeers and awful nicknames—still, he didn't understand why is it that she was so upset by his situation.
"I just..." she begins, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes before sighing and turning to face him, "It was yer chance to be with the one you loved—"
"Oi, oi... love is a strong word for that—" Karasu wanted to complain, to say that it really wasn’t like that, but looking at the saddened expression of his friend, he thought otherwise.
"—and you let the chance go just like that." She admits, her voice threatening to crumble from the heaviness that she felt—and before long, her tears had broken free from their holding cells.
"I know I can't say anythin' to ya cuz I'm a gorilla and I don't like anyone else but Miiko but don'tcha think it's a waste—" Karasu cut her off by wrapping his arm around her form, tangled her in gentleness that stood in great contrast to his usual rough and jagged demeanor.
Because he didn’t like seeing her cry.
He doesn’t like it when other kids make fun of her, even if he knew that she was better equipped to handle them far more than him. He doesn’t like it when she’s sad. And he doesn't like it when she wasn’t around.
[Name] was an irreplaceable figure in his life… and it hurt him just as much that she—that she was sad… and he felt even worse this time because he knew that he was the one who caused it.
"Gettin' a love life ain't everythin' in this world ya know?" he tells her, threading a hand through her hair in a soothing gesture.
[Name] buries her face in his chest, nodding despite knowing that he wouldn't see.
She felt like the world's biggest scumbag. Her best friend in the whole wide world just turned down the girl he liked for so long.  She should've been sad—angry at the world for forcing this fate unto Karasu, to her best friend who was the kindest person on earth. And she was!
Desperately, she tried to convince herself that she was.
But here she was… taking advantage of his kindness. Trying to take more than what she was given.
Because what else could this be? That there was this thrumming sensation in her chest that rejoiced in knowing that Karasu turned Marisa down.
"Hold on, why are you the one cryin'? Shouldn't it be me?" He teased, ruffling the threads of [h/c] that covered her head.
"Idiot!"
---
As the seasons changed and the moon waxed and waned, a good chunk of their time in middle school was spent with Karasu breathing into his soccer career slash club slash obsession, playing alongside Hiori Yo—[Name]’s initial elementary school partner whom she ditched to get ice cream and was later forced to apologize to by her mother—all the while [Name] dedicated hers to Karate.
The two remained as close knit as ever, choosing to wait for whomever had practice the longest so they could walk home together. Spending all breaks and lunches lounging around and glaring at people who looked at them funny. [Name] complaining about chemistry because who the hell would find joy in dragging numbers up and down, sideways and backwards, all over roll over. It was a pain. All she knew was that Protactinium + Nitrogen + Calcium + Potassium + Einsteinium = PaNcaKEs. And that was just about how far her Chemistry braincells could peak.
It didn’t help that Karasu was a wizard when it came to that godawful subject so when it came to helping her with it, tutoring sessions are 5% learning, 3% complaining, with all the rest occupied by his relentless teasing.
A horrible experience.
But for them who had known each other since once upon a time, it was nothing unusual.
Everything the same as ever. Same old science woes. Same old swimming classes despair. Same old faces. Same old Karasu. Same old [Name].
for the majority of middle school, karasu dedicated all his time and effort to soccer—playing along side hiori yo, yn's initial elementary school partner whom she ditched to get ice cream and later apologized for leaving him behind—while yn gave hers to karate. the two best friends remained close as ever. choosing to wait for whomever had practice the longest so they could walk home together. Everything was the same as ever. same old clubs. same old faces. same old karasu. same old yn.
That was until one winter night of their second year of middle school...
[Name] was set to compete for the winter Karate tournament and if she did well, it was one step closer to Nationals.
She trained day in, day out near the field where Karasu played soccer when the school field was out for break.
The soccer player was not privy to her unshakable resolve, even going as far as labeling her—and letting her know—that she was “working so hard like a cow” which he received a kick as thanks.
It was fine during spring—her training that is, even more so in summer, and Karasu would even let it slip in autumn but winter? Winter was a different matter altogether.
For the past days (and even last year), he had told her off for it—scolded her far more times that he would like to admit with a tone laced with all the streamers of irritation and illuminated by the lights of his concern. “Ya gotta stop workin’ yerself so hard like a cow, gorilla girl. You’ll get sick!”
As he makes a move to hit her head like he always did, [Name] dodged and repaid his words with a very kind kick to his side, sending him staggering a few steps away.
"Ya don't get ta lecture me on that, stupid crow! Yer here too, equally as guilty! And don't call me a cow! Or a gorilla!" She points a numb finger in his direction, because even with her stubborn and brutish attitude, it sadly didn't make her immune to the cold.
"Yeah, yeah..." He waved her off with one hand as the other rubbed the spot she kicked.
"But I'm runnin' around so I ain't as cold, but you've just been standin' there for the past thirty minutes, aren'tcha cold?" He quirks a brow at her as he approached her slowly, like a wild predator cautious to scare away his prey.
"Oh, I'm freezin’." She agrees nonchalantly, a mist of white clouds leaving the borders of her lips.
"Act more like it then, idiot." he deadpans, scratching his head in frustration.
"Here," Karasu breathes into his hands moving closer so he could cup her face.
"Woah. Ya really weren't jokin' when ya said yer freezin'" he says in surprise, laughing at his own discovery like it was the most amusing thing in the world. "Are yer hands cold, too?"
He retreated his hands and made a motion to take off his soccer gloves not a moment later, looking at them for a few moments—trying to figure out which hand was right and left, even if they wouldn't matter in the end—before sliding them onto her trembling fingers.
They hung loosely on her despite the Velcro straps going as far as they could possibly go.
Since when did he grow so much?
When she looks away from her hands to thank him, [Name] felt the world around her freeze into place, frosting over like the trees that bordered the field. Light snow descended from the heavens, the last sunrays dipping behind the horizons of the sky as the stars flickered to life one by one.
And then there it was again, that same fluttering feeling from so long ago. Only this time, it set everything in her to flames: her blood rushed far too fast for her head to keep up, lighting the meadows of her face to a vibrant shade of red, setting every hollow and edge into a raging inferno. She felt cold and warm everywhere—like her body couldn't decide if it wanted to burn to ash or forever freeze with winter.
The colors of the night shone in a vibrant light, flowering in circles from the sheer intensity—brighter than the summer sky yet dimmed in comparison next to him—to Tabito who looked at her like she was the only thing in the world, rubbing his hand against his arm to spark heat so he could thaw the frozen wasteland ravaging her soul.
Since when did she begin to see him like this? When did he become so saturated in all the colors of everyday life that he blended in so well?
When... did I start feeling like this?
Don't look at me like that, [Name] wanted to tell him. Don't laugh at me. Don't hold me like this... just don't.
Because if he did—when he does all of this—how was she supposed to fight off this greedy, hungry feeling festering inside her? This needless longing to keep him close to her, to never let him go, to show him all the wonders of the universe... all the colors of the sun, everything that he turned his back on because he believed that he wasn't enough to have any of them.
When he looks at her like that, when he laughs... when he holds her like this—how was she supposed to deny it?
That she was in love with him.
[Name] was in love with Karasu Tabito.
---
When the wave of High School crashed against the two best friends, it brought with it the cruellest game fate could play on [Name].
Marisa… had returned.
The same Marisa she had teased and jeered at Karasu about when they were kids. The same Marisa… Karasu had loved—again, such a strong word—for so long. And she guessed—no matter how much she didn't want to entertain the thought that Karasu could still like the same Marisa from elementary school—he loves even now.
And it nearly killed her inside when she found that her suspicions were true.
It was a week after their first year had begun when Karasu came running from the pitch to meet her halfway, cleats thudding against the grass as she made her way to the bleachers.
"[Name]!" He yells as he ran towards her in full speed it nearly had [Name] contemplate if she should move aside so Karasu doesn't accidentally trample her over. But he ran to her with the biggest smile she had ever seen on him—yes, even happier than the time they won the local tournament—it broke her heart to even think of sidestepping him, even if he did pose as a road hazard from his speed.
"Why'dya hafta feel like ya need to win a marathon, Tabi-chan?" She punches his arm playfully once he skidded to a stop near where she stood (after nearly running her over).
She sets her bag down as she laughed at the sight of Karasu buzzing in excitement. Must be something really important to him if he's this happy about it. Before [Name] could fully turn to face him, he had already grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her back and forth. "She's here!" He cheers.
"Who's here?"
"Marisa!"
[Name] felt her heart shatter from the happiness decorating every word that left the orbit of his tongue, shining like the stars that could’ve littered her evening. She should have been happy for him. Really, she should have shared even half the joy he felt from his supposed amazing discovery. She should've... she knew full well that she should.
So why does it remind her exactly of elementary graduation?
When he was whisked away from her by the same girl who she cheered Karasu to pursue? Why does it remind her so much that she wasn't a figure like Marisa in his life? She wasn't the object of his desire. Karasu didn't hold an ounce of romantic affection for her like he did for Marisa. She... [Name]... was just his friend. She was his best friend. And god... did that hurt—that she couldn't be more than that—when all she wanted was to be a little greedier, to have a place in his heart like Marisa did. She couldn't quite understand it... even if she knew deep down that Karasu liked Marisa, that he had her image perched atop a pedestal in the center of his heart, [Name] couldn't be contented with just being his friend.
The one friend who loved him so much.
The one friend... that he couldn't love back.
"Ya hafta help me, [Name]!” His voiced anchored her back to reality. “I know I told ya that gettin' a love life ain't everythin' but now that I actually stand a chance... I—I don't wanna lose it agai... [Name]? You still there?"
Karasu waved a hand over her face, taking note of the expression painted on her face, almost as if she just saw a ghost. "Hello? This is ground control to [Name], are ya still in orbit?"
Through the haze, [Name] watches as Karasu walked around her in circles, poking her cheeks to try and get her back to him—huh, what an easily misunderstood thought.
She blinked, taking in the way he eyes her in confusion, his ridiculously gelled hair remaining immovable even as he prods and scratched his scalp like they held all the answers in the world. Really, it wasn't him who was stupid for trying so hard... it was her.
Because as it stands, she was the one foolish enough to fall for him.
"Oho~ so yer finally mannin' up to ask her out, eh?" she smirks, her facade tugging at the seams of her resolve, pulling at the pieces of her shattered heart. In the silence of his unspoken rejection, she found herself gluing them together, even if they threatened to come apart later. Just a little longer, she would coerce. Just a little more... so that he doesn't find out—so he wouldn't find out—that his feelings... were slowly killing her.
"Don't even start," Karasu holds a hand to her face, he couldn't stomach that teasing shine in her eyes. How long has it been since he last saw that? Far too long he believes, still... he asked himself why he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would've.
Back then, even if it annoyed him to the point of starting a fist fight with [Name]—which he not-so-surprisingly lost every single time—he would secretly be grateful that she pushed him to go reach for the things that made him happy. In his little love life endeavors. No matter how badly it ended for the two of them—like getting scolded for coming home late or getting accompanied by the neighbor who owned Miiko, the cat, back home.
So why now? He didn't quite understand why it had to be now that it felt so wrong to see her pushing him towards someone else again.
She used to do it all the time, and it never bothered him.
Karasu briefly asked himself if the reason behind it was because they spent three—going four—years having no one else but each other. No, that couldn't have been it. Hiori was there sometimes, and Karasu was sure it never felt like this unpleasant feeling.
This was [Name] for crying out loud! The elementary kid who offered a half-eaten popsicle to him like it was some treasure. [Name] whom he pushed into the mud pond and laughed as she tried to get the dirt off her face. [Name] who could kick him so hard that he would fight to hold back his tears—even now that they were in high school.
[Name] was his best friend...
"I'll help ya get with 'er!" she grins, planting her hands on her hips in that little mannerism of hers that Karasu bets she doesn't even know she does, as though she was about to give him some prophet-level guidance free of charge.
Karasu just stares at her, longer than he would have liked to admit. Has she always been this short? Or did he simply grow taller?
Had they always been like this?
Yeah, she was his best friend.
And there should be nothing more.
…Right?
---
And so, the first semester of their first year in high school was spent planning ways to get Karasu together with Marisa while [Name] pulled all the hair on her scalp trying to hide her ever growing affection for her violet-haired friend.
This also consisted of asking around the campus for Marisa with [Name] doing all the "cow's work" as Karasu had oh-so-gently put it, which merited him a much-deserved kick to his shin.
He had many excuses. One, he didn’t want to seem desperate (which he was). Two, he was too busy (which he is). And three, apparently, he didn’t want any rumors to start going around that he was still pining over his elementary school crush (which he very much was).
Even if [Name] told him not to be ashamed of it, Karasu still couldn't bring himself to do it...
Part of it, though, was because he didn’t miss the way the fire in [Name]’s eyes froze over whenever it was mentioned. He just decided that he didn't like that even if he didn't know the reason why. It bothered him. A lot.
If it were [Name] who asked around, it was different. There would be nothing to worry about since she was also a girl, and girls look for other girls all the time, didn't they? They even accompany each other to the restroom like a pair of FBI Agents.
And if Karasu were to lay his heart bare for everyone to see, the only girl he looked around for, flipped heaven and earth over, out of his own jurisdiction and nearly toppled over in despair when he couldn’t find—aside from his mom and his older sister—was [Name].
But he didn’t know how to tell that to her.
The two best friends (mainly [Name] doing all the hard work) discovered a couple of interesting information about Karasu’s person of affection:
Marisa was in the swim club, an extremely coincidentally convenient twist of fate since the pool was by far the nearest facility near the soccer field (the dojo the farthest having been located on the other side of the school).
She excelled in Japanese Literature and Chemistry.
She worked part-time at a local café on Saturdays around the afternoon, another heaven-sent opportunity since soccer practice ended right before noon.
And finally written at the bottom of the paper in all caps along with a few doodles of hearts.
4. MARISA LIKES MUSHROOMS!!! ❤❤🍄❤❤
"Is that enough, yer highness?" [Name] asks him sarcastically, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she had spent majority of her night stalking Marisa across all social media platforms.
She could pass as a CIA agent by now from all this digging.
She eyes the page ripped from her notebook that Karasu held in one hand as they sat face to face in the classroom—with their desks pushed together to accommodate their lunches.
Written on the slightly wrinkled paper, in messy scrawny handwriting were the fruits of her hard labor.
"I better get compensated for his, you rabies-infected crow." she mumbles, resting her head on the desk, closing her eyes from the tiredness.
"Wow, ya got all of this in one night?" Karasu scans the paper, they weren’t much but it was still far more than what he could’ve gathered on his own. His stare lingered a moment longer on the girl—noting the way her head stayed resting on the desk, exhaustion seeping through the crevices of her skin as he observes the way her entire frame wilted from exhaustion.  
[Name] hummed in confirmation, far too tired to give a worded reply. Now that the less than sufficient hours of sleep were getting to her, she feared that if she spoke another word to Karasu about Marisa, she would end up saying something she'd regret. So, it was best to just... stay silent.
It's getting easier to hear Karasu talk about Marisa. Bearable in the kindest word; numbing in the worst. Still, it didn't mean that she could deny that it hurt any less.
Learning to live through something was very different from accepting it, especially when it was the one you love loving someone else.
[Name] just hopes that she gets over this soon—because the last thing she wanted was to get in the way of Tabito's happiness. Or worse, lose him because of her own selfishness—because she couldn't get over a silly pathetic crush—that she couldn't stop wanting, praying… hoping to have him more than a friend.
"Oh, she likes mushrooms," she hears Karasu mumble, seemingly intrigued.
It was better to pretend that she didn't hear him. It's better this way, she tells herself. He wasn't going to remember anyway, but somehow, her traitorous mouth always worked faster than her brain, a step too late to grab the chance to hold her tongue before she says something she would regret... which is now.
"Ya can give her yer mushrooms now, Tabi-chan."
Silence blanketed the distance between them, seemingly setting them apart from the reverberating chaos ensuing in the classroom.
[Name] was embarrassed beyond belief, feeling her entire face catch fire yet was too exhausted to shield it away from him—not like he could see, but still!
Please let the ground swallow me whole.
Karasu looks to her like she suddenly grew three heads. "I'll always give ya my mushrooms, [Name].” He whispers softly, placing an elbow on the table, propping his face upright with his palm as he unconsciously smiled at the blush that littered the meadows of her face.
“Ya love 'em right? Just ‘bout the only other thing ya like other than Miiko." He snickers at his own jest, remembering a time in their childhood where [Name] would look over the fence and stare at the neighbor's cat for hours or chase it around the little alley way near Miiko's house.
She felt her heart skip a beat. [Name] blamed it on the weather, or perhaps a growing ailment that made her heartbeat irregular. This was practically Arrythmia—dangerous and a health risk!
But she was sure that heart diseases didn’t come with lingering affections for your best friend. It also didn’t come with the pain of knowing that he was never gonna like her back. And she was most certain that it wasn’t attached with happiness after knowing that he remembers…
[Name] didn't like that she felt happy that Karasu knew that little thing, even if everything about her had practically become baseline knowledge for the soccer player. She just didn't like it.
"Uhuh," she agrees mindlessly, her voice squished by gravity as she remained still laying her head on the desk facing the window and looking at the world vertically.
"When ya marry her, can't just go out in the middle of dinner ta hand me some mushrooms, right?" She teases, the rumble of her laughter feeling more like a hurtful jab to her already breaking heart.
"I guess..." Karasu no longer stared at the paper he held in his hand, opting to observe his very sleep deprived [Name].
Maybe the dryness of her eyes was getting to her or perhaps she was tired of him beating around the bush and walking on eggshells every time Marisa was around.
Karasu sighs, folding the paper three times and tucking away in the safety of his bag. The raging inferno in her soul dwindled to a small flame, her usual bladed tongue that cut through his ego had dulled, her silence all too prominent in a world where everyone had something to say.
Ah… I don’t like this.  
"Hey, gorilla woman." he grips her head like a ball, although he took a conscious effort not to hurt her—lest he risk his well-being be a training dummy for the karate practitioner.
[Name] tried to wave away his arm but right now, she was too tired to even lift her hand. She could only mumble a very annoyed, "Don't call me gorilla, you rat-nest haired crow."
"Let's go to a café this weekend." he suggests, taking a strand of her smooth hair and twirling it between his fingers like it was some sort of scientific breakthrough.
Was it weird that he was inviting her to go out all of a sudden?
But this was [Name]! They always went out together whether it's the local fair, watching a soccer match, those late-night convenience store runs... this was nothing special.
Karasu started to chant that phrase like a mantra in his head. He was catching himself doing that too much—trying to convince himself that it was nothing—that spending time with [Name] was like a norm already.
They've done it a thousand times and he reckons, a thousand more after this... so what's the difference?
His heart thudded against the confines of his ribs at the sight of her: tired beyond all rhyme and reason, brows furrowed from the noise buzzing in the small room filled with their classmates and other students, her empty bento box next to his own like yin and yang. Salt and pepper. It wasn’t complete without the other.
Has she always been this present in his life? Since when? When did she start to be so interwoven in everything he did that it became strange when she suddenly disappears even when she’s right there? Really… since when?
Since forever...
And maybe, just maybe, that was the difference.
An idiotic part of [Name] rejoiced at his invitation—
"We can see Marisa there while we're at it," he quickly adds without thought, afraid she might misunderstand.
—yet all too suddenly; cruelly, she is reminded that she shouldn't long to be more than just his friend.
"Sure thing, Tabi-chan..." she whispers softly, forcing the thorns in her throat to pin down the hurt so they wouldn’t tumble out—that he may never see them.
And there, with the afternoon gale flowing past the curtains, she feels her heart breaking a little bit more.
---
When the weekend rolled around, Karasu finished his soccer practice exactly before noon, leaving him with a few spare minutes to change into the extra clothes he brought with him. Initially, he felt like the unluckiest athlete in the world when he dragged his ass here at 5 in the morning yet now that he was preparing to spend the rest of his day earlier than what he originally planned, he began thinking that it wasn't so bad after all. At the very least, it gave him enough time to go and see [Name] look at him in envy that his practice ended earlier than her.
[Name], much to Karasu's expectations, did not look at him in jealousy as he had hoped. Instead, she was second-in-line for kicking practice, looking like all the forces of good and evil conspired together to make her day as terrible and energy-draining as much as it could.
The Karate coach, a middle-aged woman who was also their gym teacher, made everyone stay back to practice some drills, claiming she saw it on her social media feed last night and wanted everyone to try it out... and no one was going to leave until at least one of them got it. It was cruel—very much the kind of savagery she expected to get from this tyrant (coach) in her innate domain (karate)—not that she was any stranger to cruelty, though she would be lying if she claims she didn't feel just a little bit sad when she was at the receiving end of it.
Karasu was allowed to stay in the dojo and watch, so long as he remained a safe distance from any potential kicking pads that might come flying his way—a warning he engraved to his mind and soul after getting smack-dabbed in the face by one, and many, many close calls.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd watch [Name] practice; he'd been making the trip from the soccer field to the dojo ever since the beginning of first year that the coach relented and let him stay no matter how many times she told him to go away.
Karasu didn't mind the extra cardio, more often than not, [Name] was the one who had practice running so far from dismissal time, leaving him with nothing to do but sit and wait for her to finish so they could go home together. And it was rarely the other way around.
But seeing her here, in her element, always tugged at something in his chest. A sort of reminder that this was the girl he was lucky enough to call his best friend.
When it was [Name]'s turn to do the drill, everything faded to silence... until it was just her: bouncing on her feet under a thousand shimmering lights, drawing in a breath in preparation. And like the flow of the spring zephyrs, she sliced through the air like a fairy—an aggressive and very, very strong fairy—striking the lowest pad with her left foot, her right foot forcing the middle pad to fly, and finally—after so many failed attempts and an almost sprained ankle—successfully kicked the last top pad with her left foot.
She landed gracefully, like the first fall of snow, shattering the momentary reverie Karasu found himself raptured into.
What the hell?
[Name] looked to her coach in miserable anticipation, a silent plea to release her from this torture. It was between this room and this witch how many times she and her teammates had to do that godawful trick.
The coach gushed over the exhausted [Name], complimenting her for a few seconds before dismissing training.
[Name]'s tired vision zeroed in on Karasu, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the door, bag next to his side, and looking every bit the part of someone going on the most anticipated date of his life. [Name] blamed it on the light, or the fatigue seeping into the cracks of her heart, but for a small moment, a foreign light shone through the depths of sapphire pools of his irises.
She thought nothing of it, choosing to lazily wave at him from where she stood, completely oblivious to the lingering glimmer in his expression or the way his face shone brighter at her greeting as he waves back; that for the first time ever, the usually cocky soccer player found himself drowning in the oceans of shyness and hesitance at the sight of his best friend.
"Imma change real quick, so wait for me a little longer, 'kay?" she called, brushing past his figure as she sluggishly—bag in hand—made her way to the locker rooms.
Karasu nodded absentmindedly, his eyes tracing the shadows of her figure until she disappeared around the corner.
C’mon, me, this isn’t the time to feel all mushy for [Name]! That’s [Name]! Your best friend! The gorilla girl next door always working hard like a cow, he internally scolds himself.
Karasu let out a low groan, slumping over on the floor, staring at the place where [Name] once stood. He swore he could almost see her figure there, and he would have believed his own illusions if he didn't just see her walk past him to go change.
The soccer player runs a hand over his face in frustration. "Honestly, what's wrong with me..." he mumbles, covering his head with his arm like it can somehow magically put out the wildfire wreaking havoc on the meadows of his face, burning through his resolve like paper.
In the locker room, [Name] was facing a dilemma of her own.
"Hey, [Last Name]-chan, are you and Karasu-kun going out?" one of her teammate asks, a gentle curiosity for Karasu and her long-term friendship, but the words felt like collapsing stars in the once quiet place.
In horrified befuddlement, [Name] screamed an anguished—"Huh?!" like the words her teammate spoke had been a cursed enchantment that will linger through her bloodline for a thousand generations and not the fantasy she wanted to bleed into reality.
"That gel-faced crow who's scared of water? Hell no!" she denies, trying to have it look like the teases and jeers she usually passed around with others.
"But he always waits for you to finish practice" her teammate pointed out.
And it was true—Karasu always made the trip across campus just to wait for [Name] to conclude training no matter how long it dragged on. She recalls the many times the soccer player had fallen asleep by the door, using her gym bag as a pillow because, according to him, her clothes were fluffier and a lot more comfortable that the mess of dirty, sweat-drenched heap in his bag he called clothes.
And as told by another one of his anecdotes, [Name]'s stuff (and even herself) were lot more preferable sleeping buddies than a soccer ball. A soccer ball! Then there was also the day he carried her home after a particularly bad fall from kicking practice, even if Karasu himself was tired beyond belief.
"That mole rat's been around for so long, we prolly look the same in everyone's eyes by now." [Name] jokes as she continues to rummage through her bag, shaking her head from the horrible image of her having Karasu’s hair.
"And besides..." she murmurs, her gaze distant as she stares at the dress she chose—picking apart her closet all night, spending so long trying to carefully place it in her bag—only to betray herself by abandoning it last minute.
He already likes someone else.
---
The walk to the café was relatively silent.
Karasu kept the comments of [Name] being far too quiet for the past week to himself. He thought, maybe she was just tired. The school festival was coming up, but she also still had to train. It was cruel, especially the arduous training he saw her endure earlier that she looked ready to rearrange her coach’s face to roadkill.
Domed by an eternally blue sky, he glances at her from the corner of his eyes.
She looked like hell!
Karasu wasn’t about to lie and tell her that she looked great—that would just be cruel—so he chose not to say anything at all.
He didn’t trust himself with his words, a restraint he put on himself like heaven’s command after he caught himself looking around a store and thinking: Oh, [Name] would like this,or, She’d look good in this, before a hollowing echo of, She always looks good in everything though,would cause him to freeze where he stood and cover his face in shame for having such thoughts.
By far the worst case of this was when he stopped someone because he mistook her for [Name]—it was ridiculous! This was getting outrageous!
Yet one look at her, right here, when all the colors of the sun had painted her in an ethereal light, how could he still think that she was the most beautiful person on the planet?
It must be witchcraft. A curse put upon him for lying. A truth… that he was finding increasingly difficult to deny.
Absolutely… ridiculous…
"You tired?" he asks casually, even if the answer was staring at the road in the form of dark circles heavier than Oganesson.
"Nah.” She smiles through the haze, lazily eyeing him from the sides. “This is the usual ain't it?" she laughs, shifting the weight of her bag that she refused to let Karasu carry despite his many offers and demand for her to just give it to him.
"Don't act so tough, gorilla woman. If yer tired, we can always just go another day." He rubs the back of his neck, finding no other thing to do to ease this shaking sensation in his cardiac muscles.
"Stop callin’ me gorilla woman, you turd-face crow,” she barks, though her tone didn’t hold an ounce of real bite. “'Sides... we're already here. It'd be a shame to leave now."
They stood in front of a glass-front café, cakes and other deserts peering at the passersby from the window. The little signboard by the door offering a warm welcome.
The scent of something faintly sweet weaved with the aroma of coffee waltzed though the warm air of the shop, a low hum of conversation rippling the serene atmosphere.
It thankfully was not the busiest place on the planet. There were a couple of middle school kids by the window side laughing amongst themselves, an office worker staring blankly into the horizon as the sunlight caught her auburn hair in a shimmering light, lastly, an elderly couple shared a pie and some loving smiles near the bar.
"Welcome!" A melodic voice cuts through the air, littered with all the scent of flowers in an open field, warm like the hearth of a fire.
Karasu turned at the direction of the voice, squinting at the sight of a girl in an apron holding a notepad. Who the hell was this loser? He thought, amused in the kindest light, domineering, in the worst.
The soccer player pushes [Name] to an empty booth, telling her to go order whatever her heart desires.
“Just get me whatever,” she mutters, closing her eyes looking every bit like the monks he occasionally sees on TV… only cuter—what the actual hell?
“Sorry to burst yer bubble but they aren’t sellin’ that here.” He teases, reaching over to pinch her cheeks to get her to wake.
“Ow! Quit that!” She yelps and swats his hand away, sticking her tongue out at him before grabbing the menu from the table. “I’m gonna make your pockets hurt, turd-face.”
She buries her head in the menu dedicating every bit of concentration on the booklet, and he let her—even if he knew how this was gonna end.
“The Chocolate Milk non-coffee drink! And some cake trio platter!” she smiles at him—like he hung the constellations in the sky, or that he had been the one who conjured all the colors of the sun—the first in a long while, so it seems.
“Ya always get that everywhere we go.” He sighs, tracing her features with a gentle gaze.
“Ya asked me what I wanted, and I want that—” she raises her voice in faux defiance as if daring him to contradict her.
“Yeah, yeah…” he waves her off, flicking her forehead to add to her ire. “’Scuse me,” he calls over the lady who welcomed them earlier.
[Name], lost in her own thoughts, allowed her gaze to linger on his side-profile from under her lashes. It wasn’t intentional. Why was he sitting there like that anyway all broad-shouldered and tall and—and…
She sighs in defeat.
When did you get so pretty? She thinks, mapping the edges of his jaw, memorizing the sudden sharpness in his gaze.
When did I get so sappy? She lets out a breath, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.
"Oh, Karasu-kun! Long time no see!"
The greeting caused [Name]’s eyes to shoot open, her stare landing on Karasu before it traced his gaze to the café worker smiling at them—at him, every atom the embodiment of a daydream. Built upon the foundation of effortless femininity.
“Uh…” Karasu trails off, unsure of what to reply. He was certain he didn’t know this person—
“You don’t remember me?” the waitress points to herself, “It’s Marisa, from elementary school.” She laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.
Karasu didn’t speak for a moment, short enough to feel natural yet all the stretch to let [Name] know that he was struggling to think about what to say.
"Marisa… Oh, Marisa!” His voice raises higher than expected, like he was caught red-handed for something he was guilty about. “Didn't expect you to be working here." He says, his easy-going tune hiding the truth that they intentionally chose this place because she was working here—that it was not a fated coincidence but a conspired plan. That was what [Name] thought, after all, she was the one who brought him here.
But Karasu… Karasu had forgotten all about that.  
"[Last Name]-san, too. Hello," Marisa greets politely, every inch of her polished to a girly perfection. [Name] nods her head in acknowledgement, mumbling a quiet “Hi”.
"So, what can I get you two?" She asks smoothy, quickly pulling out a notepad.
Karasu steals a glance at [Name] finding her slumped where she was seated, painfully aware of the feel of her knee grazing his from under the table.
"I'll get the bamboo shoot soup if ya will." He replies cooly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it probably was.
What wasn’t natural, however, was that…
"Ever the favorite, huh?" Marisa teased, writing down his choice. "Ours have some mushrooms in it, so do be careful."
…She remembered.
"No biggie, [Name] here loves those." Karasu tilts his head to her direction. Did he have all the intention to rub it in her face that he was so close to getting the girl of his dreams? Or did the world mocked her through him as if saying, in big bold letters: Stop dreaming already, girl, yer never gonna get ‘im. Totally not cool.
[Name] didn’t know how to reply, she had no intention of doing so in the first place since she wasn’t even supposed to be part of this conversation to begin with.
"Really? I love mushrooms too, [Last Name]-san." Marisa beams, smiling like an angel.
"Well ain't that a surprise!" Karasu laughs.
No... it really wasn't.
He was enjoying this too much, [Name] thinks. How cruel does fate have to be that [Name] was hearing this conversation right in front of her face? Pretty damn cruel. She was no stranger to that, her coach made sure of it, fate made it certain, and the world set it in stone so that she may never forget.
Yet it still hurt. It hurts… so much. Every time she’s led back to this road, back to this desolate, empty, and pot-hole-riddled road—her resolve… breaks just a little bit more.
But she took one look at him, at Karasu—her best friend in the whole wide universe—looking so happy, and she plunged to freezing depths of her acceptance.
She steeled her heart, tightened the seams that they bled through the threads. Just a little longer, she whispers. Please, just for a little longer. Karasu's happy. Finally, after three long years of waiting for this chance, it's already within his grasp.
That's right.
This is how it should be.
This would be the inevitable outcome of all this planning and running around. All so he can be with her.
These useless feelings need to go away, they need to leave because they would just get in the way. They'll wedge themselves between Karasu and his happiness. [Name]’s yearning to be more than just a friend in his eyes would drive him away. Karasu didn't think of her like that. He didn't like her that way. And he would never. And she needs to learn how to accept that.
Because why would he—how could he—if Marisa was the one in front of him? How could he bring himself to love [Name] when the girl of his dreams liked him, too?
I'd rather see them happy together. So happy that it'll show just how ridiculous it is for me to want him. Until I can't even dream of it anymore.
Because that was how it should be.
This was the reality.
[Name] loves Karasu that much was true.
But... Karasu loved Marisa… and no power on earth was going to change that.
---
"Isn't this strange," Tsubame, Karasu's older sister, mused, looking up from her schoolwork all the way from the dining room table to stare at her little brother's entrance like he was some strange lab experiment gone wrong.
"What's strange?" Tabito questions, yanking his shoe off with all his usual carelessness before haphazardly shoving them in the cabinet by the door.
"Yer not with [Name]-chan."
Tsubame now stood before him, an inch taller than him, courtesy of the higher leveling of their living room from their entry way.
"Didja get in a fight with her or somethin'?" She buzzed around the taller male like a bee, completely forgetting about her work still littered on the table. "Finally win? Yer count is on an outstanding three to fourty seven, those three wins because you cheated!"
Karasu dodged his sister's nosiness, grabbing a glass from the cupboard to fill it with his usual kelp tea.
"We didn't fight," he mumbles, from his spot, he could see past the window above the kitchen sink and to the window of [Name]'s living room. "She was just tired 's all." He answers mindlessly, rinsing off his glass before turning to leave, brushing past his older sister and her simmering curiosity.
Tabito didn't understand it himself.
That was supposed to feel like mission accomplished! He should've been over the moon, even reaching farther than the center of the galaxy... but he wasn't.
He blamed it on the mushroom he was forced to eat! He blamed it on the karate team's coach. He blamed it on destiny, on fate, on any other higher being messing with him and laughing in the coves of their habitats!
Most of all... he blamed himself.
Whose fault was it other than his that all [Name]’s hard work got burnt to the ground?
Because when he talked to Marisa for the first time in three years—just when he thought it would be a lasting moment that would echo for all eternities to come—he felt absolutely nothing. Like that day back in elementary graduation. Completely impassive from that girl's confession.
Empty.
He didn’t even recognize Marisa! He called her a loser! And despite having her right next to him, within arms’ reach, close enough to hold, all the bit possible to touch… all he could think about was the girl sitting in front of him.
How her eyes looked too tired, that she probably wanted nothing more than to sleep, or get that tournament trophy over and done with and goof around.
Everything about Marisa blended with all the colors of the earth, nothing but a backdrop to make everything else shine. Her voice fading to a dull echo until all he could hear was the silence…
"Ya can't keep denying, Tabi-chan."
...Silence left by the lack of [Name]'s presence.
It must be witchcraft; someone must've cast a spell on him on the way home! That must be it! Because why on earth was he hearing [Name]'s voice in the safety of his home when he very much clearly saw her walk through her front door and shut the door on his face?
He blamed it for forgetting to clean his ears earlier, because the next words he heard came in the form of his sister's voice. "If there's somethin’ ya wanna say to her then ya better say it."
It was tsubame-nee-chan from the very beginning.
It was just Tabito thinking otherwise. It was him summoning all these hallucinations of [Name]. Conjuring the image of her in the afternoon haze, seeing her face in the breaks of dawn, hearing her voice in the horizons of twilight. It was all him. All him.
"It'll make ya feel better if yer just honest with yerself. Do it now while ya still have the time." Tsubame places a comforting hand on her little—who is now not so little—brother's shoulder. "Regret always comes when the moment's over."
"Does this come from yer personal experience?" Tabito shot back, evading what he already feels engraving in his heart.
"Imma let that slide, you ungrateful brat," Tsubame smiles through her irritation, before it quickly thaws to a sigh, "It's an old saying, Tabito. 'Repentance comes too late' or 'the biggest fish is always the one that got away'." She shakes her head, tired of her brother being an idiot!
"While she's still there, just tell her how you really feel."
"What's that s'posed to mean?" he barks, aggravated by the hidden implication, he didn't like that—
"Oh, please! Assess yerself for once!" Tsubame yells, throwing her hands fed up with this idiot’s stubbornness, turning her back and retreating to the dining table to continue her work. “Ya shouldn’t need someone to spell it out fer ya! Figure it out like man, ya idiot!”
His sister’s words strike true, rattling the peace within his great fortress of denial. The weight of it left him standing there in the ruins of his cowardness, unsure if he should rebuild the remnants of something he once had thought would stand for eternity.
Tabito needed to know that for himself, he knew that. He also knew that he shouldn't need an external force to have him work on his tangled feelings of friendship and love, because it would make it meaningless. He needed to find that out on his own.
He needed to do all that gruelling powder and brush work on his own accord and find out for himself where exactly did he cross the line between friends and 'I guess spending life with you wouldn't be so bad'.
[Name] was always there.
Everywhere he looked, in every memory he held, she existed. No matter what point in his life he travels back to—she was just... there.
All the memories he could recall had remnants of her: a smile, her daunting laugh, the pain of her kicks, the scent of daylight that lingers around wherever she goes. She was there. In everything. Everywhere. In all the colors of the sun.
The heat from soccer practice. The gentle gale of spring. The moon in all its glory. She was there. The laughter echoing in the streets. A shadow in the playground. The starting thought before daybreak. A lingering memory before he succumbs to slumber. She was there.
In all his thoughts, every action, every smile, every laugh... they all led back to her. The fall of snow, the rain of petals, the crashing waves, the eternal saturated autumn sky.
There's a piece of her in everything.
When did it all change?
When did I start seeing you like this? When did I go so far beyond the boundary that I couldn't see that everything was blurring past all the colors of friends? When did I start missing the sound of your voice? When did I start staying in the illusion that I didn't see you more than a friend?
When did I...
This was the reality.
An undeniable truth he had always run away from. Choosing to cower behind the fragments of a past he had long swept out of his heart.
He was in love with her.
Karasu Tabito... was in love with [Name].
And he has been for a long time.
---
When Monday morning came in, Karasu showed up on her doorstep with his uniform thrown on his figure looking like a whirlwind passed him by on his way to her house.
He gave her his usual smirk, trying to bite at her ego from the way he stares at her. Condescending from an outsider’s words; lovesick from his.  
“Didja run twenty before comin’ here on somthin’?” She teased, fixing his crooked tie with a laugh.
Karasu stares at her face scrunched into concentration, his head buzzing from the drumming of his heart—reaching all the way to the tip of his fingers. He prayed to all the deities out there that she couldn’t hear the way his chest wanted to split open from the lingering warmth of her touch. Or that she couldn’t feel that his body was emitting more heat from her close proximity.
Did he do this on purpose? No.
But for once he thanked all the cells in his body for working late on a Monday morning because he gets to be at the receiving end of [Name]’s warm touches.
“Tabi-chan? Are ya listenin’?”
Karasu’s momentary reverie crumbled at the sound of her voice. [Name] eyes him with heavy concertation, tilting her head as she looks up at him, her hand no now holding to the strap of her bag.
“Sorry, what were you sayin’?” he whispers, his breath falling short and had his words tumbling like the wind, left for only his and the earth to hear.
[Name] paid no mind to his strange demeanor, shifting her weight from one foot to another and looked at anything but his searching gaze.
“I said I was sorry,” she purses her lips together, the words didn’t taste particularly unpleasant, but the reminder of their laughter still haunted her more than she’d like to admit. “Fer cuttin’ yer date short with ‘er, I mean.” She clarifies, shutting the door behind her as she steps a foot onto the front lawn, walking past Karasu who stood on her porch a moment longer than usual.
Karasu quickly pulled himself together and closed the distance she put between them in a few large strides, slyly taking her bag with her as he distracted her with conversation.
"'S nothin'. We had a talk while ye were dyin' in the bathroom," he muses, poking at her side to rile her up.
"Hey! I wasn't dyin'—" [Name] rose to protest, because she really wasn’t. She excused herself to the bathroom to spit out whatever the hell it was that she ate—"Their bread had raisins on them. Raisins. I hate raisins." She argues defensively, crossing her arms over her chest… entirely unaware that her bag was no longer in her hold.
"Could've given them to me," Karasu shrugs, leaning half his weight on her, a terrible habit he developed when they were nine years old and hasn’t grown out of ever since.
[Name] dragged her weight to her legs, trying to keep both him and her upright. She doesn’t wanna topple over the sidewalk... again. It’s happened too many times already, and with more than at least ten of their neighbors seeing.
"Not in front of yer Mona Lisa," [Name] sneers, pushing his ever-drawing face away.
"Puhlease, she's hardly a Mona Lisa." Karasu comments, voice mumbled by the nice-smelling hand that belonged to the girl next to him.
[Name] was not sure how to respond to that. The truth was that they left the café after they finished eating. But some might think, oh, isn’t that what you do though? Well, it was what she wanted to do. She planned that meet-up to end with Karasu and Marisa living happily ever after. But as she went to the bathroom, came back, and told Karasu that she had to go home because she wasn’t feeling well—he offered to walk her home. It was what a good friend does, really it was. But you don’t do that when the girl you like is standing right next to you!
Plus, they talked about that! [Name] told him that she was gonna make up some dumb excuse to get them alone. This was the dumb excuse! But he was being more of an idiot than the idiotic excuse leaving her lips.
In the end, they ended up bidding her farewell… with Karasu lying through his teeth that he was gonna come back—not that [Name] knew that considering she was far too busy glaring at him from the side.
"Marisa... has a boyfriend already,"
Karasu’s voice froze the gaping silence between them, his words flying into the blue skies, forever left to find their way to the land of acceptance Karasu has long since passed.
[Name] looked to him in shock, stumbling over her step before regaining her footing only to gawk at him again.
Is that true? Did Marisa really have a boyfriend? Since when? I never saw that on her socials. Did Karasu confess or something? Or was Marisa possessed by some sort of psychedelic mind reader?
[Name] would never know… and she reckons Karasu was never gonna talk about it either. She knows that look, when his eyes stare so far into the distance she begins to wonder if he was seeing a portal to another universe open before his eyes, let’s not talk about it.
"Oh... uhmm,” she starts; racking her brain for an appropriate response that wasn’t Hell yes! or Woo hoo! because that was not appropriate in the least. “That's rough buddy." She awkwardly pats his back, only this time, she had no melted, half-eaten popsicle to offer him. Only a heart, battered and bruised, covered in bandages and held together by a thread… that will only ever be his.
"Ya know, I thought I’d be more upset about it." Karasu looks to the heavens, oddly vocal of what he felt.
Maybe it was morning dew refracted by the early morning rays. Maybe it was autumn gale, ruffling the threads of his clothes. Maybe it was because of her—of [Name].
She looks at him with a raised brow, "And ya aren't?"
He smiles at her, one so gentle it could rival the clouds, replace the sun in warmth… dethrone Aphrodite from her position. “No,” he whispers, “No I’m not.”
He takes it all in, the image of her in this light. Karasu traces the contours of her face, the dust of roses powdered on the hills of her cheeks, the shine of a thousand galaxies in the pools of her irises.
Karasu was never one to believe in magic, or the supernatural… he couldn’t even consider himself an avid fan of the faerie folk.
But if somehow, somewhere—in this vast infiniteness, in the depths of the parallels, and the lullabies of the unknown—if there existed a figure for love, he was sure that it would be her.
"Maybe it's cuz I never liked her enough to begin with."
His confession slipped past his lips in a low murmur, faint enough that it could pass as a song of the fall, but she heard it. Always. Because what else could explain the reason that [Name] had suddenly started choking on her spit.
"Oi! Ya alright? Hey! [Name]! Don't die!" Karasu panics.
"Whaddaya mean ya don't like her?!” She screams, shoulders heaving from the sudden strain on her lungs. “What's all that work for then? Didya lie to me? Karasu Tabito—"
Her tone sent shivers crawling through his spine. "Woah,” he raises his arms in surrender. “Don't go drawin' the full name card on me [Name]." he tries to laugh it off, but the look in her unimpressed eyes told him that he needed to say something else.
"I did get somethin' out of yer hard work," he smiles.
"Which is?" [Name] nods in anticipation, leaning closer.
"Realizin' I don't like her anymore."
[Name] draws a deep breath, releasing it in an exaggerated huff of air, and without another word, continued to walk to school.
This was hopeless.
She walked in front of him. One, because she didn’t want to look at his face at the moment. And two, so that he won’t be a witness to her burning cheeks and her desperately suppressed smile. Yeah, no way in hell was she letting him see that!
"Told ya about it remember?" he calls from behind, a good four to five steps apart.
"I can barely remember what I ate yesterday, ya gotta be more specific."
Karasu stares at the back of her head, a view he’d seen for at least half his life already. "That day… by the seaside."
[Name] remained wordless; she remembers that vividly. Because how could she ever bring herself to forget.
The day that she…
"Ya have the memory of a goldfish," Karasu groans, every bit the telenovela star he was. "I told ya, getting’ love ain't everythin' in this world."
…began to like this guy.
"Oh." She whispers.
"Remember now?"
That memory had always been something she treasured, never an ephemeral wandering like a half-buried shell washed ashore.
[Name] looks to him from over her shoulder as she nods in confirmation. "What's that gotta do with this though?" She continues ever forward, eyes once more trailing to focus on the pavement before her.
Karasu’s answer got stuck in the tunnels of his throat, like his own brain was unsure of the reason why he brought it up in the first place. He just wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice echo for all eternity in the caves of his soul, even long after he’s left this world. "Losin' an ordinary girl ain't worth it to be upset over."
[Name]’s footsteps falters, the edge of her shoe getting caught by a crack appearing out of nowhere, much like her own traitorous heart, once again caught in the snares of his words. The words someone spoke to her long ago echoing in her head, you two are finally reaching the age of maturity. Finally—after so, so long—brave enough to let do of the things that weren’t meant to stay, and to be strong enough to accept those who were supposed to.
"Woah," this time, [Name] turned to face him with a skin-crawling grin, an all too familiar shape, he thinks.
"Who ever knew a day would come when Karasu Tabito calls his lifelong love an ordinary girl—"
"She wasn't a lifelong love!"
---
It took a long time for Karasu to gather the dust and form the courage to profess his love for [Name].
He was cocky, and overconfident, and rough and ragged around the edges, and disliked it when anything went wrong. Basically, he was his own enemy when it came to his own love life. Sure, people liked him enough to give him Valentine’s Day chocolates, but the issue lies in him, not his admirers. For the life of him, he could not be nice to anyone he saw as mundane or boring. He was an—in the nicest way possible—Karasu Tabito was an asshole. His smirk didn’t help his case one bit.
Oh, but how humbling an experience it is for him when she was the one standing before him. The great, I’m-gonna-make-you-see-yer-ordinary Karasu Tabito who stared down his opponents on field, was afraid to tell his best friend that he liked her.
That’s why he had dragged his feelings by the collar all the way to their second year of high school. His sister had more than a few not so nice things to say about him when she hears that up until now, he was still shaking in his elementary-school-boy shorts.
But could they blame him? Yeah, they really could. Even his parents looked at him weird when he always offered to wash the dishes at night because it gave him the excuse to see [Name] from the comfort of her living room.
Still, here he was—beating around the bush with the girl he likes.
But could they really blame him? This was [Name]! The one who could brawl in a gang fight barehanded and win. [Name] who had the nicest laugh and the warmest touch. It was [Name] whom he liked… [Name] who was dyed in all the colors of the sun.
And he was scared to lose her.
Karasu didn’t want to mess this up because not only will he lose her as a lover, he’d also be left to live in a word where he was no longer her best friend.
What if he did confess and she turns him down?
What then?
In his eyes, compared to her—[Name] who was everything in his world—to [Name] who had the nicest smile, and the happiest laugh, Karasu felt mundane in all the aspects of his life.
So sometimes, when his own emotions overwhelm him as he gets so lost just thinking about her in the silence of the night, he tells himself that maybe, it was fine like this.
Tabito and [Name]; [Name] and tabito. Best friends.
Maybe, he should just shut them in, keep it all inside and wait for it to go away, pray for it to go away. He was having loads of fun already. They were together all the time. Maybe... just maybe... it's fine like this. Maybe staying as childhood friends—as best friends forever—isn't so bad.
"Why're ya dressed like an old man?" [Name] raised a brow at him, lips twitching as she fought tooth and nail to swallow her laugh. Her eyes analyze his get up from head to toe, taking in his fake white beard down to his green yukata and his grey haori, and the geta on his feet that echoed with every exaggerated step; wooden footwear she saw inside her grandpa's shoe cabinet. He was hunched over like a shrimp, with a cane to support his weight.
"'S for the class!" he replies with enthusiasm, stroking his fake white beard like some wise old monk.
"Ya look like a senile old man." [Name] snorts, her restraint shattering at the angry look on his face as her laugh resonates in the crowded hallway. She adjusts her grip on the box of props, shoulders shaking from the little giggles that seeped from her lips.
Karasu cracked an eye open to glare at her, and with an added pizzazz, rose in hand to counter—more like agree—with her. "I am a senile old man!"
[Name] laughed harder, the box rattling like the happiness that rippled the once serene calmness of her soul. "Ya sound just like gramps!" She breathes, wiping her eye on the cloth of her shoulder.
Karasu grumbles in defeat, knowing he couldn't win against [Name] and her oh-so-creative teasing.
He dropped the act and adjusted his posture to stand to his full height, ultimately noting that [Name] had stopped laughing once she realizes that in height, Karasu would always have the last laugh. Or in this case, a triumphant smirk on his face as he eyes her from above, not even craning his head.
She squints her eyes at him. “Damn evolution,” she mutters under her breath and made sure her voice was loud and clear as she finishes her sentence with— “Since when did idiots grow to be so tall?!”
[Name] hmphed, turning her head to look away and sidestepped to get past himto move onward to her destination, but before she could, Karasu shifted to block her path.
"What is it now—" The words got lodged in the tunnels of her throat as the weight of the box she’s been carrying since the school gate suddenly disappeared from her arms.
She looked at him, startled to find him looking at anywhere but her. The autumn daylight made the crimson on his cheeks all the more prominent.
Karasu couldn’t bring himself to believe that he could ever be happy with being just her friend. He reckons he never will. It would kill him not to love her beyond all this. If there ever existed a universe where he was contented with that—he was damn sure it would not be this one.
Because he as much as he was cocky, and overconfident, and an asshole. Karasu was greedy. And he was selfish. And painfully stubborn.
"Just helpin' the pretty girl lift the heavy boxes."
[Name]’s face erupted into a thousand shades of red, but this time, she had nothing to use to hide it from him. He caught her by surprise. A dirty trick. Ambushed her to this—this… vulnerable position. She could feel like fire spread through her veins like lava, setting all in its wake into a melting heat, burning at the thorns of her restraint, drowning the caves of her hesitance to a resounding calm, and lighting the heavens of her soul into all the colors of the sun.
She hated this. Stupid Tabito. Before she could contain herself, her embarrassment took reign of her actions, her knee jerks up, landing a solid kick to the back of his thighs.
"Ow!" He yelps, did Karasu ever mention that her kicks were heavy? Well they were. The force of her assault had him fumbling over his own steps, but he could not stop the growing smile on his face.
"Get goin' old man!" she snaps, crossing her arms and glaring at all the things around them. She was flustered. Her body couldn’t decide if she liked it or hated it. Why does he find the need to say that? Why does Karasu have to be so—so… embarrassing?
[Name] buries her face in the palm of her hands, as if her own flaming limb could help cool the raging inferno on her face. Her mind replays his words like a broken record. Pretty girl. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he even mean that? Probably. That stupid crow always pushed her so far, teased her to no end. So, what was the difference this time?
Karasu laughs, a sound so cool and warm, the sting from his best friend’s kick fading to a dull echo. His gaze made from the softest threads, one so intertwined with the melody of affection, blanketed with the warmest colors.
…Maybe it’s because this time around, he actually means it.
And this time, he wasn’t afraid to say it to her.
This one will probably come around to bite him back, but he would take it. Anything the world throws at him—he would take it. Because he wouldn’t allow himself to see another sun if [Name] didn’t go to sleep not knowing that she’s pretty.
---
The day of the school's culture festival rolled around.
For the past three weeks, their class united on the single idea of setting up a little café. By some miracle, they actually pulled it off quite well, despite battling the initial deadline, heavily handicapped at the loss of their two athletes. Between Karasu’s rigorous training schedule and [Name]’s tyrant of a coach monopolizing every spare second of her time for practice, there was no way they were ever going to contribute much beyond the bare minimum.
But [Name] did not want to be dead weight.
She volunteered to carry the boxes containing the ingredients and decorations, carrying them across campus like a one-woman moving company. While Karasu was left with no other option but to dress up like an old man inviting people to come and buy—he would probably garner more attention if he stayed just the way he is, but with his sharp tongue and domineering stare, he would just scare all their customers away (not like a beard and a yukata could hold his words back).
By the time the sun had reached the middle of the sky, they already looked like they wanted to go home—both completely floored from the physical work.
[Name] sat crisscross apple sauce outside the classroom, her back against the wall, and Karasu plopped down beside her, stretching his legs out with a groan—no respect for anyone walking by, his legs were nearly occupying a quarter of the hallway!
Their lunches were as mismatched as their personalities: [Name] poked at the pasta littered with raisins while Karasu grimaced at the sight of mushrooms contaminating his bento.
He knew he should be thankful to his sister who had oh-so-kindly offered to make them lunch seeing as she was on break from college, but Tabito has already told her like a million times! He doesn’t like mushrooms, [Name] does. And [Name] didn’t like raisins, he did!
Without a word, he begins plucking the raisins out of her food like they were newly ripe fruits ready to sell, dumping them on the lid of his bento. In honor of distributive justice, he traded in all the mushrooms he had on his lunch to hers.
"Yer actin' weird," she mutters through a mouthful of pasta, eyeing him from where she sat.
"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, I've always been this kind." He retorts, smiling to convey his sincerity as he places a hand over his heart like it could vouch for his claims.
"Kind-a suspicious ya mean!" [Name] squints at him, pointing a stick of bread at his face. "Just say whatcha wanna say already!"
"Yer ovethinkin' it! i'm always like this!" he defended, not bothering to hide the way he eyes [Name]’s stick of bread.
If he were to just…
"Hey, Tabi-chan...” her call drew the curtains close to his evil scheme. “What would you do if I got a boyfriend?"
Her question silenced the chaos in his head, pulling apart at all the worlds he built until everything came to a standstill. Until he was surrounded by the never-ending nothingness that came with the weight of her question. Heavier than all the stars, so it seems. Why was she saying this? Why now? Why does it have to be now? Now that he was finally—
But she didn’t wait for an answer. Maybe he was perturbed by his silence, mistaking it for agreement. Yet the truth was that she just caught him off guard.
Like [Name]… he didn’t hold all the answers in the world.
"I probably wouldn't, huh?" she laughs, smiling despite the obvious squeeze in her throat. A jest, in the kindest words; hurt, in the worst. "No one's ever gonna want a brute like me."
That's not true, Karasu wanted to protest. What she spoke of couldn't have been farther from the truth.
He didn’t want her to think like that—she just couldn’t. She was someone who deserved the love she wanted to have… more than anyone else. And he wanted to say that to her. He wanted to tell her desperately that there was someone who loved her—hell, so many people loved her.
Every day, he raced against so many people for her affection, for a chance to feel what it’s like to be loved by someone like her.
"There's gotta be someone out there, right?" he offers. Or right here... if you can only look at me. "Someone who'll love you… just fer who ya are."
"Ya really believe in that?" she asked, laughing again, but this time it sounded more like an escape. She wraps the furoshiki on the bento box, her hands moving far too quickly that Karasu knew she was doing it just so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
But that didn’t matter. She could turn a blind eye to him today. He would wait. Ignore his attempts tomorrow—he would still wait. Stay oblivious to it for the next five years? Then he’ll just have to step up his game.
"I know it."
There was something about the way he said it, shacked by all the chains of his beliefs, as thought there could exists no surer thing that what he knew right at this very moment.
It took her by surprise, stole all the breath reserved in her lungs that she forgot that she needed to breathe to see the next day.
“Ya don’t even need to wish fer that,” he adds, voice steadied by the foundation of his own experiences. “They come naturally,” he continues.
In all the forms you can think of. A piece of paper with the things about yer crush. A soccer ball. The kicking pad almost takin’ yer head off. Or a melting, half-eaten popsicle on a summer day.
“Sometimes… ya never realize ya had them all along.”
[Name] formed her courage from the dust, turning to look at him, despite every pull of gravity telling her not to.
He was never gonna make forgetting him easy, was he? Perhaps he never wanted her to forget. Because how could she when Karasu says all these things that made her heart want to run out of her own chest? When he says all these that it leads her back to her planet-sized crush on him. How was she supposed to get away from him now? How was she supposed to move on? How was she going to ever fully deny that she didn't like him anymore when everything, in everywhere... all the roads lead straight back to him?
“And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”
Karasu smiles at her, one so different from all the others he ever gave her. Dyed in all the colors of gratitude, blessed by the heavens, shaded in all the colors of the sun.
“Because he already does.”
---
"Why'd we hafta go, Tabi-chan?" [Name] whines, tired from all the walking they had been doing for the last thirty minutes, now tired from all the hiking—seriously, who hikes in the evening?
"Whaddaya mean why?” Karasu shot back, raising a questioning brow at her complain. “We always go every year! And don't act like ya don't like it when yer all dressed up." he points to her yukata, dyed in the shade of violets, decorated with the flowing river in the form of cranes. Karasu had to leash his head and make a conscious effort not to look too much lest he risk getting reported for being a creep.
"Only cuz Ma made me,” she admits, tugging slightly at her obi. “Always naggin' 'bout actin' like a girl and lookin' like a girl as if I ain't a girl." She huffs, the corners of her lips weaving to a scowl.
Karasu tilted his head in fond gentleness. “You look beautiful,” he whispers, the sentiment flowing past his lips like the gentle spring breeze. “Yer always beautiful.”
His words crashed against her like a tidal wave: caressing the soles of her feet, drawing back, before coming at her all at once—with little to no warning at all.
[Name] tilts her head to the side to look at him, smiling at him with all the happiness in the universe. “Ya don't look to shabby yerself, Tabito."
Before he could fire back, Karasu caught a glimpse of sparks tracing the obsidian sky, rising to reach the heavens for it to fracture into a thousand colorful fire, dyeing the obsidian canvas with all the colors of man.
Yet he already saw something far more grandeur than those when he looked into the pools of her eyes—reflecting all the stardust and galaxies, as if everything existed just so they could dim when compared to her, like it all came to being, just so they could fall short when she breathes.
"They're so pretty..." she whispers in awe, smiling at the sight of the transient lights.
"Yeah," he hums mindlessly, but his eyes never left hers. You are beautiful.
"I like you, [Name]." Karasu’s words silenced the chaos of the world, as if everything spiralled into nothingness to create a space only the two of them shared.
[Name] stares at him in bewilderment, her lips parted slightly, not knowing what to say.
"Don't look so surprised,” Karasu berates her with a crooked grin. “Whatcha expect? I'm only human, ya know. Ain't immune to yer charms."
"Tabito what the hell—"
Her vision burst forth into multitudes of colors at the sight of him, red-faced, flustered beyond her wildest imagination, eyes that shone with all the bravery and strength in the world, still his voice is riddled with a careful gentleness—like if he spoke any louder, this ephemeral space would crumble and he’d find himself back to reality. But his words would resound in the depths and skies of her soul for all the eternities to come, until all the stars are nothing but a dream. Until the earth is painted with all the colors of the sun.
"I'm in love with you," he confesses, his hand reaching for hers. Shaking from his nerves, determined in his affection.
His eyes searched hers for traces of disdain, any hints that she didn’t want this. Karasu dug through the colors of her face for anything—anything that told him to go away, to never show his face to her ever again.
"And I have been for a long time."
His touch lingered, hesitant to take another step forward.
"I know I'm nothin' much.” He admits, pained at the thought of his own imperfections. “I get jealous easily, and I can't be nice to mediocre people. I can't swim, and I'm afraid of water. I'm prolly the last person ya'd ever want to love ya but..." he falters, his breaths coming in short intakes as he scavenged the lands of his soul for the right words to say—for the courage he had stacked upon one another.
“I don’t—” His voice cracks, holding her hand tightly as if her touch could piece back his crumbing confidence. “I want ya to be happy. God knows that I do. But I don't want to lose ya to anyone else.” But it seems like her warmth could not hold together his voice that shattered from the weight. “I’m selfish. And I’m greedy. If you still have space in yer heart for a little bit more of me, even if the odds are one to a million... then I'd want to have it.”
I'd risk everything to have it.
Karasu looked at her again, mapping the face of the one he loves, breathing heavily until he found the words he always wanted to say. "Yer beautiful. Yer smart, and strong. Anyone would be lucky to have ya love 'em."
He smiled weakly, voice softening to melt into the silence of the night.
"And... I'm just an ordinary guy, standin' in front of the most amazing girl... askin’ her to love him."
He could wait a thousand more years if she told him to. Capture every star in the sky if it makes her happy. Karasu would move the universe for her, and she will only ever need to ask.
He would color the world to her liking if she tells him too.
“Yer an idiot are’ntcha?”
Karasu raised his head to meet the sound of her voice. God, she was so beautiful.
“I guess I am,” he laughs.
“Good on ya that I like idiots.” She tightens her hold on his hand, smiling at him for all that he did and more.
Because people can’t love you exactly the way you want them to. You just have to let them try to do their best.
Tumblr media
I think I got sidetracked halfway tbh 💀this is my first time writing a non-tragedy paleontological distaster-ending fic also my first time writing for karasu because he wouldn't leave me alone 😭 I can't believe I managed to give birth to a fic in under four??? yeah four days. I think I began liking this guy like five days ago for some unknown reason 💀 anyway, my requests are still open, and ya can read my other works here! thanks fer readin' 😁❤
67 notes · View notes
itspileofgoodthings · 2 years ago
Text
I don’t know what a parasocial relationship is and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.
#I mean I sort of get it#but there is a mental block#it’s not all poisonous I guess!!!! sometimes you love people from afar!!!!! it’s okay!!!!!#reality will let you know when it’s time to let them go#I loved stonefield for YEARS and you know what it’s good they broke up because it got too intense#and I healed and moved on. but also like. love from afar isn’t inherently messed up and twisted#‘why woULd aNYoNe CAre ABouT ceLEBritIEs’#ummm idk because they’re human beings And have you met human beings they can be so funny and fascinating and charming#No amount of fame or ego undoes that and sometimes it just makes it more tragic#and like. I say this as someone who has (largely) moved on from caring about celebrities the way that I used to#because like. I needed to. And I needed to grow up#and learn to love the people in my life the most#and to understand who that was#and that it WASn’t Emma stone#But like. I loved her truly and a part of my heart still does#anyway like. all of our lives/loves need to be purified in the Sacred Heart#that is just how it goes#and that is the only way to never lose them#Cc: that cs lewis quote about how only in loving Him more than them can we love them more than we now do etc. etc.#anyway I can’t remember my point but like oh yeah sometimes you love people from afar and they’re special to you and like THAT’s OKAY#like yeah yeah blah blah equal healthy relationships that go both ways where you are also seen and loved yeah yeah#it just annoys me though#Life is about learning how to love deeply and purely#and you only learn that by loving#Reality will teach you!!! when it’s off balance a little and needs to adjust !!!!!!!!#something will smack you in the face#But the act of love is never wasted#Okay I DO know what a parasocial relationship is (sort of) I just hate the rhetoric#Love the things you love with your WHOLE heart!!!! Give your WHOLE HEART to things!!!!!!!!! Yes it will get broken!!!!!! That’s okay!!!!!!!#Do not choose disdain!!!!!!!! Do not let anyone tell you you can’t love people or things YES YOU CAN
9 notes · View notes
gojoest · 3 months ago
Text
sometimes on sundays you like to go to that coffee shop.
the one where satoru for the first time dramatically got down on one knee, proposing to you. but not really asking for your hand in marriage — you were already married.
he wanted ovations, he wanted people to clap, and he wanted a free dessert.
it’s not like he can’t afford a sweet treat, in fact he can afford all the sweet treats in the world, but that’s just how the guy you married is. he’s constantly putting you through tricky, impromptu situations, as if to test you on purpose.
anyway, it worked — it had to, because you must have fast and at least somewhat adequate reactions when you decide to marry a man like him.
people clapped, he got the cake — he ate the cake. the owner of the coffee shop proclaimed that very table you occupied yours — it was the very first proposal in the history of the cafe, a special occasion that needed to be celebrated and remembered. so the owner said, “this table will always be reserved for you on sundays” (it was a sunday that day)
so, every now and then you like to go there. it was a cozy spot, besides all the staff knew you already. they knew your orders by heart, too.
but today there’s a new guy working on the counter, taking orders. a newbie that’s clueless. so clueless, in fact, that he has the audacity to stare at you while you’re sitting on the table, waiting for your husband to bring your drinks.
satoru turns around and looks over his shoulder — to follow the direction of the newbie’s gaze, to double check if he’s indeed really staring at you.
what a mishap — he indeed is.
“pretty, huh?”, satoru casually asks the guy.
“yeah”, the newbie’s face gets visibly hot, the blush stretches from his cheeks straight to his ears. “really pretty. maybe i’ll slide her a tissue when she comes over, with my number written on it — i’ve seen it in the movies”, he chimes, excited and visibly very smitten.
satoru laughs. “good luck with that”
the boy on the counter thanks, he thinks those are words of encouragement, but in reality those words were a dare thrown at him — he was just too painfully naive and clueless yet to understand.
“oh— do you want me to write your names on the cups?”, the boy points at the beverages in front of him.
“yea, sure— that’d be mr. gojo and mrs. gojo”
satoru takes the cups and slowly makes his way to the table.
in an obnoxiously loud voice he speaks, “here, my love — this one’s for you. careful not to burn your tongue, sweetness”, all while, of course, heavily stressing on the terms of endearment — to make a statement, in case the names on the cups and his actions weren’t clear enough to get the point across — and continuously starting at the guy on the counter with brick-red bloodlust.
yeah? i dare you. i fucking dare you.
848 notes · View notes
crybabycinna · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
That Night (smut)
(Sugar mama Lin Beifong x sugar baby reader)
Minors go tf away!
Warnings: men being weird, fingering, drinking, degrading, fucking in a closet, fighting, lots of hickeys
Remember that party Asami invited you and Lin to? Yeah it’s party time!
I had a glass of champagne in my hand while I watched people dance around at Asami’s party. The more I drink my champagne the more I realize I should have just gotten a shot. I’m not the biggest champagne person but I try so hard to be it’s stupid. I got this itching feeling that someone was looking at me but before I could look around Mako came up to me. “Hey.” Mako said. “Hey.” I said back and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Have you seen Bolin?” Mako asked. “No I have not.” I said. “Damn, well you wanna take a shot with me?” He offered me a shot glass. “I’d love to.” I said as I took it.
We clinked glasses then tossed our shots back. The liquid burned for a second then the feeling subsided. “I gotta go find Bolin to make sure he’s not doing anything stupid. I’ll come back to check on you in a bit.” Mako said. “You don’t have to check up on me, I'm a big girl.” I told him. “Tell that to chief.” Mako said as he walked away. I shook my head. When I go out by myself Lin sometimes has Mako follow me around which he rather do then paperwork anyways but it’s not like I can’t take care of myself. I started getting that feeling again of someone watching me and it’s bugging me.
I need another shot. I walked off to the mini bar and ordered a shot of cactus juice and then after I took it I said fuck it and ordered another one. Before I could leave the bar some guy blocked my way. “Excuse me.” I said as I tried to get past him. “Why don’t you come dance with me?” The average height man asked. “Actually she’s my dance partner.” Asami said as she grabbed my hand and dragged me away towards the dance floor. “Thank you.” I said. “No problem now, dance with me.” Asami said. I laughed as she held my hand as we danced around each other and on each other.
“I’m surprised you can dance in this dress.” Asami said to me as I danced on her. “What do you mean?” I asked as I moved my hips. “The slits of your dress goes all the way up your thighs at any minute we could have a flash moment.” Asami teased. “Oh shut up I used the tape you invented to make sure this dress don’t move like that.” I laughed. “I’m glad it’s really working, I’m truly a genius.” Asami said. “Indeed you are.” I said. Once the song was over Asami went to go find Korra. I ran into Mako again. “Still no Bolin?” I asked. “He’s in the pool.” Mako told me.
“Oh also you are doing a shitty job at protecting me.” I teased him. “What happened? Are you ok?” Mako asked frantically and started looking over my body for bruises or scratches. I mean he might find a bruise or two because Lin likes to mark me up. “Did someone do this to you?” Mako asked as he poked at my shoulder blade. “That’s a hickey.” I told him. “Oh.” Mako said as he turned me around to face him. “Yeah me and your mom get frisky.” I said. “I don’t need to know about what you and the chief do.” Mako said and shivered in disgust.
I laughed. “Anyways what happened?” Mako asked. “Some dude blocked me from leaving the bar then Asami came to save me.” I said. “I saw you two on the dance floor, you don’t think chief will get mad?” Mako asked. “Why would she?” I asked. “Since she likes to leave marks on you like that and has me follow you around she seems a little possessive don’t you think?” Mako asked. “I suppose so, yes but I don’t think she’ll get upset over me dancing with Asami.” I said. “Anyways stay with me so you don’t get bothered.” Mako said.
Hmmm how about no. “Mako, look , there's a tall buff smart pretty girl over there.” I said and pointed in the opposite direction. “Where?” Mako asked and I took off. I went back to the dance floor. I’m not afraid to dance alone. Is it more fun to have someone to dance with yes but oh well I have to dance alone. As I was dancing I felt someone grab my waist and I wasn’t alarmed at first my brain thought it was Asami or Lin. “Where’s your dance partner?” The male voice asked. Oh hell no! I quickly moved away and turned around.
“Dude what the fuck?” I asked. “Just dance with me.” He said. “No.” I said and tried to walk away from him but he grabbed my wrist. “Hey! Get off.” I snapped and turned back to face him. “It’s just one dance.” He snapped back. Before I could raise my other hand to punch him I was pulled away and then the guy was put on the ground. “You ok?” Mako asked. “Yeah I’m fine.” I told Mako. “You sure?” Lin asked me. “I’m fine baby.” I said. “I’ll get him out of here.” Mako said and dragged him away. “Come with me.” Lin said and we walked off the dance floor. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Since people wanna dance with my girl I’ll just have to remind them you belong to me.” Lin said. Oh no. Lin dragged me into a closet. She pushed me against the wall and started a passionate make out. Her coming to save me made me horny but now her shoving me into the closet has me even more excited. Anyone could come in and see us but I don’t care. I want them to know, I want them to see, I need them to know I’m her’s. I pulled away. “You gonna keep making out with me or are you gonna remind everyone who I belong to?” I asked. Lin immediately attacked my neck.
I leaned my head back so she could have more access to my neck. “Lin please more.” I begged her. “Don’t be an impatient brat.” Lin growled. “Please.” I begged. Lin turned me around and lifted up my dress. I wasn’t wearing any shorts, it was just a dark red thong with a heart chain under my long dress. Lin smacked my ass and I let out a moan. “Lin.” I whined. She nibbled on my ear and smacked my ass over and over. God this feels so good. Lin pulled down my panties and started to circle my clit. “You’re wet just from me spanking you?” Lin asked.
“Yes, I love when you spank me.” I whined. Lin turned me to face her and pulled down my dress to pull out my breast. She nipped my left nipple and I gasped. She was gonna leave marks all over my tits. “Lin please more.” I begged. Lin slipped two fingers inside of me stretching me out and my back arched. “Yes, more baby more.” I whined. She curled her fingers and did a come here motion. “Fuck keep doing that.” I moan out. “You’re all mine aren’t you?” Lin whispered in my ear. “Yes I’m all yours!” I cried out. Her fingers feel so good inside of me. “You’re sure?” Lin asked.
“Yes baby I’m yours.” I moaned. “I thought you’d be Asami’s the way you were dancing on her.” Lin growled and rubbed my clit with her other hand. “No Lin. I’m yours all fucking yours! I belong to you!” I cried out. I guess Mako was right. “That’s right you belong to me.” Lin said. My legs were shaking and ready to give out. “Oh god please chief I’m close.” I whined as I felt a familiar tightness building in my belly. “When you cum you better scream my name.” Lin commanded. I nodded my head and the closer I got to tipping over the edge I kept saying her name over and over again.
“Do you think you can take another finger?” Lin asked. My eyes widened. “I c-can try.” I said unsurely. “Good girl.” Lin said and I felt her add a third finger. I gripped Lin’s shoulders. “Fuck chief!” I cried out. “Your tight pussy is swallowing my fingers up so well baby girl.” Lin cooed. We’ve never done this before but it feels so fucking good and I can feel my juices leaking down my thighs. “I’m so close.” I told her. “Cum for me baby you can do it.” Lin said, pumping her fingers faster. “I’m all yours Lin, I belong to you, I’m yours. I don’t want anyone but you,” I grabbed Lin’s face so she could look at me as I declared her ownership over me.
I could tell her eyes were full of lust but there’s something else there but I had no time to decipher what it was because Lin smashed her lips against mine. Lin plunged her tongue in my mouth and I didn’t even put up a fight. I let her do whatever she wanted to me. As Lin slowly pulled away I felt light headed. “You’re right you’re mine, you belong to me, there will be no one that touches you the way I do.” Lin groaned. Her words pushed me over the edge. “Lin!” I cried out as I orgasmed.
Lin fingered me through as my whole body shook. “Fuck Beifong.” I sighed out. “You ok?” Lin asked. I nodded my head. “You sure?” Lin asked. “Yes baby I’m fine.” I said. “Good.” Lin said as she pulled out her fingers and I put them in my mouth. I sucked them clean for her. “Let’s get out of here.” Lin said. “No, I wanna keep dancing.” I whined. “One more dance then we go.” Lin said as she helped me put on my panties. “You fucked up the tape.” I sighed. “What do you mean?” Lin asked. “There was tape that I put on the strings of my panties to help keep my dress from moving all over the place.” I told her.
“You’ll be fine.” Lin said. I nodded and we exited the closet together. Before we made it all the way back to the party Lin stopped me. “What’s wrong?” I asked and turned to look at her. Lin opened her mouth but then stopped. “Where the hell have you two been? Are you ok?” Kya asked coming up to us. “I was a little shaken up about what happened earlier.” I said. “Aww Linny, look at you taking care of your girlfriend. How romantic.” Kya teased. “Kya don’t you have single woman to mingle with?” Lin asked. “No need to be hostile Linny, but are you really ok?” Kya asked me.
“Yes I’m fine.” I said. “Oh and by the way Mako got into a fight with that guy.” Kya said. “Is Mako ok?” I asked. “Of course he’s ok.” Lin said. “Lin knows her precious son can handle himself but yes he’s ok.” Kya said. Lin rolled her eyes. Kya’s eyes widened. “What?” I asked. “Y’all are nasty! All those hickeys.” Kya gasped. “Oh hush Kya.” Lin said. Kya and I laughed. I was happy that the hickeys were seen. This is what we wanted. We walked back to the party and I got to dance with Lin for a little bit. Lin ran her hands over my body as we danced.
137 notes · View notes
vinelark · 5 months ago
Note
Do you have any more outtakes you'd be willing to share? I love seeing what did and didn't make the cut on fics
i do!! i remember doing a little roundup of some outtakes for chapters 1 - 3 (found it! here) and i have some similar snippets from chapters 4 & 5 ☺️
chapter 4
a bit of cut dialogue from the zoo rescue:
“Oh, I’m aware,” Nightwing says. “Atlanta, remember?”
“What happened in Atlanta?” Tim demands, ducking away from another bird.
Nightwing waves a hand. “Classified superhero business.”
“Superboy, what happened in Atlanta?”
In Atlanta, Kon yelled at Superman about Tim’s misinterpreted fear toxin hallucinations right in front of Batman and Nightwing, which still makes Kon cringe a bit to think about. “Uhh,” Kon says. “Yeah, classified.”
two cut texting exchanges after the date:
Text message: Clark & Kon
[Saturday, 10:21pm ET]
Clark
Hey Kon—is everything all right?
I can have someone cover the rest of my watch if need be.
Kon
no, all good
apparently mr. wayne’s lawyers are On It
whatever that means in rich people speak
sorry if you like. get asked about this by the press lol
like we weren’t trying for a photo op but i should’ve heard the drone earlier
Clark
This isn’t your fault.
And I’m sure Bruce’s lawyers will have it sorted out by morning
Kon
yeah that’s basically what tim said
Text message: Jon & Conner
[Saturday, 10:23pm ET]
Jon
Ok the live is gone now
Also pa’s asking where u are what do i tell him
I think i have to tell him the truth he sounds worried because earlier i said u went to rescue someone n you haven’t come back
I can’t lie about this i feel bad :(
oh i just heard your window open nvm !!
Conner
all good kiddo, thanks for looking out
in tim & bruce’s conversation, there was a longer section about tim leaning into the “socialite” civilian role, which included the following exchange:
“Like…Paris Fashion Week?” Tim says. That’s always a big one for Bruce Wayne to be caught ducking into dressing rooms with various models.
Bruce gives him a flat look. “You are welcome to attend Paris Fashion Week. Chaperoned.”
tim’s instagram post originally had comments:
briancollinsss i KNEW i saw superboy at car’s party!!!
jerseygirlsteph 👅👅👅
itsanickname_grayson Hope you stayed safe up there!
chapter 5
this exchange in the flashback at the top of chapter 5 was cut/altered for flow, but i still like it:
“Okay,” Tim had said. “And, um, if you can’t come get me, is there a plan B?”
“I will come for you,” Bruce repeated, at the same time Dick called: “Superman.”
extra banter (co-brainstormed by @tigerjpg) that got cut because it didn’t quite keep with the tone, but i still adore it:
“I’m not perfect, anyway,” Kon says. “I snore. Maybe next time make a specimen who doesn’t snore.”
“Sometimes his sneezes register on the Richter Scale,” Tim says.
“And I have a crooked tooth, though honestly that might be from the time I slammed face-first into a volcano.”
“He also thinks wearing sunglasses at night is cool.”
and a bit later, also cut for tone/flow:
“[…] Hey, how unhinged about eugenics do you have to be for Cadmus to send you packing as an intern?”
Cadmus. Did Kon—did he tell Tim the name Cadmus, earlier? He can’t remember—he doesn’t think he did—but it doesn’t matter, because his thoughts scatter as the guy whirls on Tim. The rod comes up, jams under Tim’s jaw, pressing into the side of his neck. Not on yet, but it could be. Kon freezes; Tim doesn’t react except to go rigid, still tracking the guy with his eyes.
“Tell me honestly,” Cadmus guy says, lip curling as he looks sideways to address Kon. “Do you even like this one, or was kissing him the only way you could get him to shut up?”
Kon’s heart pounds in his throat. “You’re so…obsessed with my dating life, dude,” he says. Every moment the guy is looking at him feels like one less moment the rod might switch on. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old for me.”
and i have some extra core four shenanigans that probably won’t fit into chapter 6 at this point, but i’ll wait til i’m done to share that 💪
108 notes · View notes
wooahaes · 8 months ago
Text
a surprise to soothe anxieties
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: non-idol!i.n x fem!reader, ft coworkers!3racha... and also seungcheol from accounting in a throwaway line
genre: established relationship au. kinda fluffy? kinda comfort-y.
warnings: reader is written to have anxiety in some form. 3racha being readers friends to the point of 'yeah we'll throw hands for u.' food mentions. reader worries jeongin forgot her bday. also a lil hint that reader's past relationships have been kinda shit. candles(/flame) mentioned but they're battery-operated/fake.
word count: ~1.5k
daisy's notes: know tht i loved writing chris + binnie + jisung popping in for a moment.
Tumblr media
Jeongin had kissed you that morning before you left for work. “Good morning,” he said, casual as could be. “Have a good day at work, okay?”
Which… If you were honest, wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear first thing on your birthday. 
You’d never been someone who was so attached to having your birthday recognized to an absurd degree. Sure, you liked to do little things to celebrate—but unless a person was close to you, you were pretty indifferent to whether people recognized your birthday. Of course, for the people closest to you, the sting from them forgetting was pretty inevitable no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. For Jeongin… You tried to talk yourself out of overthinking it. Most likely, he hadn’t put any thoughts into it yet—it was early, and he had mentioned he had plans for today. Jeongin would likely call you at lunch (or just text if he was busy) when he remembered. Was it too clingy to wonder? You weren’t sure, but most of your day at work had been spent overthinking everything.
“You’re pacing,” Chris didn’t look up from his computer screen for a moment. “What did you two argue over?”
Of course Chris would guess that. While you and Jeongin didn’t fight often (you bickered most often over the silliest things, yes, but fights? The two of you were good at stepping back, calming down, and talking things out), Chris knew how you were when things were a little rough. You paced too much, you couldn’t focus for too long, and you apparently were prone to sighing sometimes (although that one was something Changbin noticed and pointed out to you). 
“Nothing!” You paused. “But…” With a sigh, you leaned against the copier. “It’s my birthday and Jeongin didn’t say anything.” 
Chris looked up. “Hold on. It’s your birthday? And you didn’t tell any of us?” 
You just crossed your arms, shrugging. “It’s not a huge deal—”
“Seungcheol in accounting pouts when you don’t wish him a happy birthday,” Chris pointed his pen at you. “That’s why Jeonghan sent out that email once. I would have bought you something if I knew—”
“It’s fine, Chris,” you waved him off. “I’m fine.”
He nodded after a moment. “Fine… But if you want me to buy lunch one day, just say the word.” Then he turned, watching you closer. “I don’t think Jeongin forgot, by the way.”
You let out a heavy sigh. “I know, but…”
“Can’t help wondering?” 
Changbin looked up from his seat. “Wondering what?”
“Her boyfriend didn’t wish her happy birthday,” Chris turned back to him. “You know Jeongin, right?”
Changbin looked at you. “Do I need to fight him? I work out. I could do it.” 
Despite how buff Changbin was, you didn’t think he had it in him to hurt another person—regardless of the way he was joking now. You shook your head anyway. “I’m not hurt by it—”
“You should be,” Jisung leaned back in his chair, butting his way into the conversation oh-so-casually. “I would be. He’s your boyfriend. He should do better.” 
You turned, poking Jisung’s forehead. “Jeongin is nowhere near the worst guy I’ve dated. Forgetting to say ‘happy birthday’ this morning is nothing.” 
Even still, the thought never fully left your head. Although you noticed the way Jisung quietly set a snack on your desk at one point, giving you a shy smile before heading back to his own desk—and the casual way Changbin offered to refill your water bottle for you at one point, just to be nice—it hadn’t exactly lightened your mood any. Hell, you ended up taking Chris up on the offer to buy you lunch, just to get out of the office for a little bit. All throughout work, your mind kept going back to Jeongin. Seungmin had texted you a little ‘happy birthday! you’re getting old :)’ at one point. How did Jeongin’s best friend remember and he didn’t…?
By the time you were off work, Chris had convinced you to let him drive you home. It was your birthday, the least he could do is spare you another trip through public transportation. Not that it was hard to convince you—you’d denied it maybe twice, just because it was out of the way, but asking if you wanted to put up with the journey home was all you needed to agree. He’d walked you into the lobby of your building, giving you a warm hug.
Before he left, he held you by the upper arms for a moment. “If Jeongin did forget… Just let us know. We’ll rough him up for you,” he chuckled, just trying to get a smile out of you.
It did work, to be fair. You just rolled your eyes. “Uh-huh. Drive home safe, Chris.”
You stepped into the elevator, already feeling how jittery you’d become. If Jeongin didn’t say anything… How were you supposed to gently correct him? It felt weird to do. You hugged yourself, letting out a slow sigh. People were busy. People sometimes forgot things. Forgetting one birthday wouldn’t be too bad, especially if he was sorry for it later. The elevator slowed to a stop, and you stepped out to head to your apartment. You slowly punched in the code to your apartment door, took a moment to compose yourself, and then stepped inside.
Immediately, you were greeted to the sight of dimmed lights with little battery-operated candles lighting the way to the dinner table. You stopped where you stood, just staring at the sight that greeted you for a moment before slowly stepping in. Stepping out of your work shoes, you set them aside before blindly groping for where you’d left your house slippers when leaving that morning. But you could hear Jeongin moving about the apartment slowly.
“Happy birthday to you…”
His voice carried through the apartment, pretty as ever as he continued to sing the song. Even though you hated when people sang it to you, you always made an exception for Jeongin because of the way he’d sing it to you. His voice was always kept soft rather than the loud half-yelling half-singing people would do—which felt like a competition for attention. Slowly, he came into view, carrying a little cake with candles lit on top of it. He stopped, smiling at you as he finished the song.
“Happy birthday—”
All at once, your emotions overwhelmed you and tears were running down your cheeks. When did he set all of this up? How did he get everything without you realizing…? You could smell your favorite dinner from where you stood, and everything seemed to hit you threefold. Jeongin’s eyes widened as he quickly moved to set the cake down and then come to you. 
“Are you okay?” He giggled. “Angel? Sunshine?” He paused, only deciding to tease you a little further with a playful, “My love—”
You just wrapped your arms around him, sniffling. “I thought you forgot.”
“Ah… So it’s my fault you’re crying,” he didn’t seem bothered by it—almost as if he was teasing himself for the act. He squeezed you closer to him. “I wanted to surprise you. I should have texted you like I was going to, but…” 
You just squeezed him tighter, too relieved because your favorite person hadn’t forgotten you like your anxiety had tried to tell you. You knew it was silly, but still… It was hard to not worry when those thoughts had haunted you all day. He swayed with you for a moment, giggling softly as he pressed soft kisses against the side of your head.
“I made your favorite,” he said. “I had to watch a video to make sure I was doing it right, but it tastes good!” He craned his neck and rested his head atop yours, taking full advantage of the fact you were a step lower than him right now. A moment later, he drew away, looking you in the eyes. “Did I really upset you that much…?”
You shook your head, wiping at your eyes. “No, just…” With a deep breath, you composed yourself before facing him fully. “I guess I got carried away with my thoughts.” 
“I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead. “I’ll say something next time and then surprise you with things.” His hands ran down your arms until he was holding your hands in his own, taking a step back. “Why don’t we eat instead? I don’t want it to get cold.”
You let him guide you away easily enough. “Okay,” you said. “Jeongin?��
“Mhm?”
“I love you,” you said, soft and shyer than before. “Thank you for the surprise. It’s sweet.”
“So you like it?” His eyes lit up a little, and he was smiling at you again. “I’ll outdo it next year.” 
And maybe he would. But you’d be looking forward to it regardless, happy to be loved by him.
Tumblr media
taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky
72 notes · View notes
scenetocause · 4 months ago
Note
can i ask about grid boy oscar please?
ofc. grid boy oscar my beloved.
basically: the fia brings gridpeople back as a concept but they're there all season and it's an excuse to put oscar in a skimpy leotard, as well as various situations like having to participate in an FIA litterpicking initiative and endorse synthetic fuel as part of the "grid for good". all of this happens in front of a particularly half-drowned cat lando who's desperately lonely and kind of falling apart. also logan is lando's teammate (bc if no oscar he would have won f3, etc) and they are quite fun to write together.
lando basically falls in love with his hot, slightly awkward grid boy and keeps giving oscar his coat or hoodie and things when he's cold or his umbrella when it's hot and oscar's a bit bemused about it but not arguing because he only took this job to try and make contacts with teams about an engineering internship. except there's this cute, weird driver who keeps asking him to hang out and keep him company at dinner and falling asleep while oscar's sitting on his bed and lando sometimes looks so pathetically needy. oscar has no idea what he could do to help him out but he wants to.
so lando sort of staggers through the season, with oscar as more and more of a support and they're both a little bit lost but helping each other enough and then perhaps they have a lovely little snog when they realise they're going to be separated and oh, maybe they won't be, then.
snippet under the cut
“What do you think about the grid girls - well, grid people?” Lando is not expecting Ted Kravitz to ambush him, Notebook mic in hand, while he was trying to re-do his shoelace under the only bit of rain cover near McLaren’s hospitality in Suzuka.
“Uh.” He blinks, water dripping in front of his eyes. “They’re uh, they’re very nice?”
Ted gives him a look like that’s not the right answer and Lando’s mouth panics before his brain has time to catch up. 
“Nice people, you know. They clearly have lots of passion for Formula 1 and they-” there’s rain running into his mouth, off his hood. Has to pause to swallow and shake his head like a dog. “They’re here, you know, because of that.”
“Oh, right.” Ted nods. “Yes, it’s good for them, isn’t it?”
There’s a note of concern in his voice that says he’s not totally sure what they just had was a coherent conversation but it’s the Notebook so. Whatever. Lando shakes himself again, water spraying, as Ted burbles away from him and he finally gets the sopping wet lace on his team trainers into something approaching a knot that might hold to the car park, at least.
Logan catches up to him with a papaya umbrella halfway there. “Dude. You’re soaked.”
Ok, yeah, Lando probably should have thought about an umbrella himself. He’s a bit out of sorts, lately - Jon used to handle all that sort of thing for him and he’s actually fine coping on his own and it’s ok for Jon to be home for a few races and Lando’s an adult, yeah? He’s leading the team, Logan doing well enough but the points gap between them clear, Lando getting asked about executive-level decisions in the group like he’s one of the real grown ups, lately. 
So he’s doing fine, alright? Just, like, a bit wet. On this particular occasion. Sometimes he’s also thirsty and can’t find his water bottle or hungry and hasn’t remembered there’s a wrap ready in the fridge but he’s basically alright. His back hurts more but he’s fine, it’s only a few races. He can do this.
“Where’s the - team car or whatever, anyway?” Now he’s under the umbrella it’s obvious quite how bad it was, water sluicing off the spokes like it’s out of a tap. 
“I dunno.” Logan sighs, heavily. “I just figured Zak’d probably have another reason to fire me if I let you drown.”
18 notes · View notes
lolitakirstein · 10 months ago
Text
Hey Neighbor Pt 7
Part 7
{Previous Part}
[Archive of Our Own Link]
Oh, yeah. I’m here to apologize for my drunken behavior last night.
Finally, you remembered why you had come to Toji’s house. You had forgotten amidst the never-ending back and forth between you two. 
Feeling a little more focused, you sit up straighter as Toji stomps down the stairs. 
“Better,” he asks, gesturing to the shirt he now wears. Though better than being shirtless, the black shirt clings to every muscle in his chest and stomach. He slumps back into his chair beside you. 
“Yeah,” you squeak out. 
“So what important adult things do you want to discuss,” he crosses his arms across his broad chest. 
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night,” you reply, tiredly. Your eyes focus on your hands in your lap. Once again you feel embarrassed.
“Oh?” He cocks an eyebrow. 
“Yeah, so. Sorry. I usually don’t drink. Actually, I never drink,” you confess.
“So what made you drink so much last night.”
You shrug. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Like?” 
“I don’t know. Long hours of work. Still trying to settle in and then after you said those..things.” Shit! You didn’t want to bring that up. Not yet anyway. You hadn’t planned on how to tackle it. 
“What things,” he leans his forearms on the table. You dare to meet his eyes, scared of seeing a smug look. Instead, his eyes have softened. The teasing, cocky attitude is gone. 
“Nothing,” you shake your head and push back from the table.  “Just— sorry about last night”
You turn to leave, suddenly exhausted and embarrassed by confessing so easily to a stranger. You feel Toji grab your hand and tug you back. 
“Hey,” he says soothingly. “Talk to me.”
Until this moment you haven’t realized how alone you have felt since moving in. How sometimes you cried yourself to sleep because of it. You busied yourself with work and hobbies, but at the end of the day, you felt utterly alone. In your grief and your love life. 
Tears threaten to fall but you whip them away quickly. “My grandmother was my last living relative. My parents are dead and I have no siblings. She was it.”
“I know,” he answers, softly.
“How? How do you know? And don't give me that ‘it's not my place to tell you’ shit like there’s some big secret I don’t know about.” the words tumble out faster than you can register what you're saying. 
Toji reclines in his seat, staring up at the ceiling with a huff. 
“Why was Megumi ‘hiding’ there while you were gone?” you continue. “And how did you know she called me—”. 
Again, tears choke you from repeating those words. You can’t bring yourself to speak them without falling apart at this point. 
“Il mio Angellino” Toji finishes for you. He tilts his head back to look at you. You nod and look to the floor, still afraid to vocalize an answer. 
“She told me of course. You,” he drawls, standing up and closing the gap between your bodies, “were the most important thing on this planet to her. She wanted nothing but to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?” you ask weakly, craning your neck to look up at him. Toji squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s having an internal struggle. As if he’s conflicted about whether to tell you what you're so desperate to know or not. Boldly, you squeeze his strong forearm and softly beg once more. “Please”
“I promise, you will get the answers you want. But—” he sighs, “I can’t. Not right now anyway. And yes, Megumi was—hiding, in a sense, at her house while I was at work because I trusted her to keep him safe”
“And what exactly is your ‘work’” You narrow your eyes at him. “You kill people or something?”
“I can’t…discuss that.”
Your anger threatens to erupt. Why is he making this so fucking difficult? He’s acting as though there’s some huge conspiracy going on. And what did you, or Megumi for that matter, need protection from? Or was it a person or people? A group? You spin on your heel to leave. For real this time. Tears burn and blur your vision, making you fumble with the doorknob. After a few attempts you finally sprint out the door.
As you're distracted with wiping the tears on your sleeve, you’re suddenly stopped in your tracks by something—someone to be exact. You stumble back.
A tall man stands before you holding a briefcase and wearing a well-tailored black suit. He slides his sunglasses down his nose, looking you up and down with eyes that strike fear into you. He slides them back over his eyes.  “Are you ok, dear?” he asks in a crisp accent. 
Too overwhelmed by everything, you quickly rush past. Not daring to speak or look back, but you can feel his gaze on your back. Once safely inside your house and locking the door, you peek through your window, watching the man enter Toji’s house. 
A/N short one today, next chapter will be in from toji's POV
27 notes · View notes
thatgirlonstage · 5 months ago
Text
On the last post also. I have given up not being annoying about reminding people of my food restrictions. Because I swear EVERY time I have not bothered to mention it. You will never fucking guess what happened. So now any time someone invites me to have food I’m just like. “Sure I would love to please remember I can’t eat mushrooms” without prompting. Or at restaurants, with the exception of if it’s a) a place I’ve been to before and had that exact dish before or b) VERY clearly spells out every ingredient of a dish (and honestly sometimes even then), I just always always say I have an allergy now bc man those buggers will pop up in places you wouldn’t believe. I have to hammer it into people’s heads too bc people will respond with “oh yeah I don’t like mushrooms either” and I’m like no. You are not listening. This is not a matter of preference this is a matter of protecting myself from becoming violently ill, so no I cannot just pick them off the pizza, I am not eating anything that has been cooked with them. This is rambly sorry but the point is friends with food restrictions please learn to be annoying about them. The people who aren’t assholes will be happy to be able to better accomodate you and the people who ARE assholes need to be reminded of it repeatedly anyway.
13 notes · View notes
em-mermaid · 9 months ago
Text
my heart is wherever you are
Ren’s hand is warm between his own.
“You’re here.” Ren whispers, as they meet each other’s gaze. His eyes seem to search, drinking in Martyn’s face with a look that feels like he’s afraid he will disappear. “How?”
or: Ren finally gives up his role as king.
(also on AO3)
——————
Martyn is falling.
Falling.
Down. Always down.
A never ending plummet, tumbling towards an unknown destination. Sometimes, he wonders how he knows he’s moving downwards instead of any other direction through this liminal space, through this in between. He supposes he has to trust his gut on that one. No other choice really.
So he falls, ever downwards through the endless stream. A sort of stasis.
Usually, it ends with a phone call. Sometimes it’s Scott calling to say hello or one of the Noxcrew pulling him into another MCC. Other times it’s Grian on the other end, extending an offer to join yet another one of his experimental servers. An offer to join a game that he would accept without an ounce of hesitation, but boy is he getting tired.
Well, maybe tired is the wrong word.
He still enjoys them quite a lot. It’s a chance to see some old friends and make some new ones. A chance to strategize and have fun. But maybe, he thinks, after this last game the taste of victory didn’t sit on his tongue in quite the way he wanted it to.
And there are always the whispers. The taunts and bloodlust that he can’t quite shake. The voices calling for a rematch, for a victory, for a reunion with a king that is no longer his. A king he failed.
A king he lost.
A king he loves.
And still, he falls.
The shrill sound of his communicator startles him from the monotony of air rushing past his ears. He looks down at his watch to see… Cleo? Why is Cleo calling? Cleo never calls.
“Hello?” he answers, feeling a tug from his sternum. Well, that’s definitely her on the other end.
“Oh Martyn, hi!” Their voice crackles through the speakers. “I wasn’t sure this would work, I’m glad you answered. Do you have a minute?”
“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he replies. “Although, would you say this is out of the world? How would you classify the datastream?”
He hears her chuckle through the line. “I dunno Martyn, you’re the one who spends all their time there.
“You make a good point.”
“Yeah I do. Anyway, I have, well, a bit of a large request.”
Martyn hums inquisitively, unsure. What would Cleo need from him of all people?
“I know this is a touchy subject for you, but it’s important, alright? I was giving Ren a tour of–”
He cuts them off, talking over them, words tumbling from his mouth before he can think twice. “Whoa whoa whoa wait what? This is about Ren?”
Cleo scoffs. “Yes Martyn, it is. If you could give me just a minute to explain before interrupting that would be grand.” And oh, of course the sharp sting of her words is something reliable in every life.
He rubs a hand down his face with a groan. It’s not worth the argument now. He knows she would just hang up and leave him wondering, and he is far too curious to risk that at the moment. “Right, right okay. What’s this about Ren, then?”
“So, I was giving Ren a tour of my museum earlier and— you remember that he became king of the server for a while, yeah?”
Martyn makes a noise of acknowledgement. He remembers overhearing something about it in passing but never had the chance to ask about it.
“Well,” Cleo continues. “My museum has a lot of artifacts from then and he sorta had a bit of a breakdown after seeing them? And now he’s asking for you.”
“He–” Martyn hesitates. Surely that’s not true. It’s been so long since he’s heard from Ren. Why was he only reaching out now? Why through Cleo? After they had been allies at the end of last life, Ren had seemed distant. There was the sting of double life, where BigB had taken his place at Ren’s side, followed by Ren’s complete absence in limited life. Martyn had finally been starting to accept that maybe Ren was avoiding him, that maybe he had pushed Ren too far, gotten too close.
When Martyn finally speaks his voice is softer, with a quiver he didn’t intend to let through. “He wants to see me?”
She lets out a soft sigh, a noise far more genuine than he’s heard in a while. “Yes, Martyn, he does.”
“Oh.”
“X has already agreed, you’re whitelisted if you want to join us. Quite honestly, I think Ren would really appreciate seeing your face right now.”
This is his chance. Ren wants to talk. To see him. It’s almost bittersweet, but also too good to be true. After all this time. After all these months, nearly years of waiting for him. All those unanswered calls and messages and finally the chance at some answers.
“Yeah,” he says, and it feels like the right decision. “Yeah, I’ll join.”
“Perfect. Give me a minute to message X and I will see you soon.”
“Aye aye captain, see ya.”
And, with that, the phone call ends as quick as it started, leaving him in stunned silence. He’s going to see Ren. He’s going to see Ren today. It’s finally time to be reunited with his love. With his King.
His phone beeps.
[Join Hermitcraft Season 9?]
He clicks.
——————
The world spins when his feet touch down, the air squeezing on his chest as he struggles to adapt to the new environment. He can feel the busyness, how the air seems to almost vibrate with life. Redstone lag pulses from somewhere to his left and a drowned gurgles from below the soft waves to his right.
He feels a hand come to rest his shoulder, holding him steady as he finds his balance and blinks in the bright sunlight.
“Ah, are you quite alright, my friend?” A voice asks, and he finally regains his senses enough to see a helmeted face in front of him.
“Peachy,” he manages as Cleo touches down on the ground nearby. She stumbles slightly with the speed of the landing, but before he can say anything to her, she tosses him an elytra. It nearly knocks the breath from his lungs as he scrambles to catch the wings.
“What, not even a hug?”
“Not if you ask like that!” She quips back. Despite the sharp words, she squeezes his arm in greeting.
“Thanks X, I got him from here.”
“No worries. Let me know if you need anything else. And keep me updated on Ren, yeah?”
“Will do.”
Xisuma flies away, leaving the two of them alone at spawn. It’s quiet for a moment while Cleo watches Martyn put on the elytra. He takes a breath and Cleo fishes out some rockets, passing a handful to him. He feels unsteady, uncertain. Now that he’s here, he begins to wonder what he’s gotten himself into.
“It’s nice to see you,” Cleo says and they give him a small smile. It doesn’t fully reach their eyes.
“Right back at you. Are you alright?”
Her eyebrows pinch together and he sees a flash of pursed lips before she’s leaning in and wrapping him in a hug. It’s nice, he thinks as he returns the gesture. Her hair tickles his nose, but her arms are warm where they rest around his shoulders.
She steps back after a moment. “Ren’s at my base. We should really go.”
“Yeah ok,” he nods, holding out his rockets. “I’m ready.”
They take off together, the twin bursts of rockets leaving behind a trail of dust as they lift up into the air and steady out over the landscape. Buildings pass below, connected by paved roads and dark oak forests. He sees a few distant people walking below and some even flying around.
Cleo veers right, passing a towering bone hand and two large buildings before the ocean and a floating island comes into view.
It truly is a stunning base.
The dark towers and prismarine roofs are bold and powerful, but the whole area is softened by lush gardens and crawling vines. Sculptures of various people appear in windows and through doorways and hint at the life and love hiding just inside.
Cleo leads them inside, through a grand throne room and past a room of cards. When they reach a secluded door, she finally pauses.
“You can leave your elytra in here if you want,” she offers, opening a nearby barrel and placing her own inside.
He fumbles with his for a moment before placing it on top of hers. She nods and closes the barrel softly, turning towards the door.
“He’s in here.” She pushes open the door and gestures for him to go in first.
It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark room, but when they do, they are drawn to the man on the bed. He’s curled in on himself, tucked under a red cloak. His eyes are distant, unseeing, and even in the half light Martyn can see tears gleaming behind them, threatening to spill over.
“Ren?” he whispers, voice cracking over the word as he reaches out his hand, unsure.
Ren blinks, eyes struggling to focus towards the voice and a silence stretches over them. It’s suffocating and threatens to take over his already tight chest. For a long moment, the only thing he hears is the soft wheezing breath of Cleo in the doorway and the distant waves against the island below. And Ren just blinks. Blinks into the darkness. Blinks as a single tear trails down his cheek.
Martyn hesitates in the silence, looking on as Ren gathers his senses. It stretches long enough that he begins to believe that Ren hadn’t heard him. He wouldn’t ignore a direct call of his name, right? Martyn withdraws his hand, moving to tap his fingers on his thigh, anxious, unsure. Surely Ren just didn’t hear. Maybe he should ask again? He takes a breath in the stillness, opening his mouth, ready to speak again when a soft, broken voice burrows its way through the silence.
“Me Hand?”
At that, Martyn rushes forward, all hesitations thrown to the side as he falls to his knees by the bed, taking Ren’s hand in his own. “I’m here, My Liege.”
This close, he can see the tear tracks along Ren’s face, the way his laugh lines look so jarring against the furrow of his brow. His eyes are red, but not in the way they had been during The Games. Now, instead of irises shining with an unnatural color, they are a gray-blue surrounded with a redness only found in a man who is holding back far too many tears.
Ren’s hand is warm between his own.
“You’re here.” Ren whispers, as they meet each other’s gaze. His eyes seem to search, drinking in Martyn’s face with a look that feels like he’s afraid he will disappear. “How?”
There is a quiet chuckle from behind him and Cleo’s voice melds into their shared bubble of silence and not silence. “I might have called in a favor from Xisuma after you asked for him back at the museum.”
Ren gives them a shaky smile, something much closer to a grimace than Martyn prefers to see on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that my dudes.”
“It’s fine, Ren.” Cleo says, moving into his periphery to sit on the edge of the bed. She places a hand on Ren’s knee comfortingly. “Although, you did kinda space out there for a while after the tour. You kept asking for your Hand and I thought you meant Bdubs at first, but–”
Martyn whips his head around to look at her, a sudden fury rushing through him. “Bdubs?” he exclaims, something far louder than anything else being said. Cleo only rolls their eyes at him.
“Yes, Martyn. Bdubs. I thought I told you about Ren being king of Hermitcraft.” The words aren’t exactly unkind, but he can feel his hackles rise at the thought, the implication that anyone except himself could ever be Ren’s Hand.
And sure, she had mentioned to him that Bdubs had given him the crown and played that role, but that didn’t mean Bdubs could just take that from him during some silly copycat event. Martyn is Ren’s Hand. Ren is his King.
He feels a gentle squeeze of his hand, drawing his attention back to Ren. His King, who is now smiling so softly up at him, despite the tears still lingering just behind his eyes. “I missed you, Me Hand. But surely you must know that Bdubs could never replace you.”
How, Martyn wonders, is Ren able to make him crumble at just a small handful of words? To take such an outburst of emotions and cradle them so gently when he is so clearly fighting an emotional outburst of his own. Had it really been long enough for him to forget how Ren cares so deeply for those around him? How he dismisses fears of his own when someone else needs guidance?
Or, a voice in the back of his head whispers, is it that he had thought Ren had moved on? It has been so long since they last spoke, last touched hands, and even when they did it had been fleeting. Watcher assigned soulmates tugging them away from the possibility of rekindling what they once had.
But the hand in his own is warm and real and he’s certain Ren can see the war in his eyes as much as he can see one reflected back from his King’s.
“Do you really mean that?” Martyn asks, his voice now barely audible in the quiet room.
“Of course I do,” Ren whispers back, lifting their hands to press a soft kiss onto Martyn’s knuckles.
The surprised noise Martyn lets out lands somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he falls forward to tuck his head into Ren’s neck. “I missed you so much, my Liege.”
For a moment they sit in the quiet, breathing in each other’s presence. It’s nice, relieving, like releasing a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He already feels lighter, more at home than he’s felt in years. Ren is here. Ren is safe. Ren missed him too.
Martyn starts to become aware of an ache in his knees where they are pressed against the hardwood floors. He shifts minutely and leans up to press more weight onto his arms.
“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve been on my knees for you, my Liege. These joints aren’t as young as they used to be.”
Cleo snorts while Ren, his lovely Ren, lets out the loudest laugh. It’s still tinted with tears, but it’s real and genuine and it’s music to his ears.
“Get up here, you old man,” Cleo says fondly, nudging Ren’s legs out of the way so she can slide across the bed. Ren shifts with her, sitting up to make space for him.
I’m younger than you!” Martyn deflects as he pulls himself up off the ground and onto the bed, earning himself a threatening glare and a pillow to the face. “Alright, ok, I earned that one.”
He delights in the way Cleo’s eyebrows scrunch together in a scowl and how Ren tilts his head back as he continues to laugh at their antics.
“Ok Ren,” Cleo prompts once the laughter dies down. Her words are direct, yet laced with concern. “What happened back there?”
And Martyn sees the way Ren hunches as he pulls the red robe tighter around his shoulders, how his eyebrows pull together and a frown takes over his features. There’s a hesitancy in his actions, like he is holding back. Making himself smaller despite the joy he usually finds in being at the center of a conversation.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles, and Martyn’s not sure he’s ever heard him that subdued.
Cleo reaches out to place a hand on his knee. Something about the touch seems to relax him slightly. “Then what can we do to help?
Martyn, for all his love of words and jumping into action, sits in stunned silence watching the pair. Sure, he had seen Ren in the quiet, tense moments between battles, seen the way he would analyze their previous moves and strategy before marching on to the next task. He had seen the way he sometimes doubted if he was making the right choices, but still managed to talk through a solution.
And even in the calmer moments, curled up together to ward off the chill and loneliness of the night, never had he seen Ren unsure of his actions to this degree. Unsure enough to fold in on himself and hide away like he would be shamed for even admitting to his thoughts or actions.
For a moment the three of them just sit, waiting for Ren to collect his thoughts, watching how his face twitches with hints of fleeting expressions as he works out what to say next. He opens and closes his mouth a handful of times before settling on a statement that feels like a punch to the gut.
“I was never worthy of the crown.”
“What?” Martyn can’t help but exclaim, the words finally spilling from him without thought to the delicacy of the situation. “Of course you are! I mean just look at all you’ve done. I’ve never met anyone else who cares about his friends and subjects as much as you. You put so much time and attention into every detail, every plan, just to make sure no one is excluded or left behind. And you give so much of your time and resources and energy to everyone regardless of their rank. It’s so obvious to anyone that sees you, that you are a natural leader and anyone would be lucky to have you as their king!”
Martyn sees how Ren’s eyes widen at the outburst, how tears gather in the corners as he stares back.
“But, me Hand, you weren’t here when the shopping district fell to ruin. They hunted me down, I was slain in mine own labyrinth.” His hands rest in his lap, fingers fidgeting with the diamonds in his cloak. “I let them down. They needed a king who could improve the server and all I did was make it worse.”
“Ren, Martyn’s right.” Cleo says, lightly squeezing his knee.
“Of course I am!” Martyn interjects
“He’s right sometimes,” she jabs lightly before continuing. “You were an amazing king. Yeah you made mistakes, but who doesn’t, y’know? No one is holding that against you.”
“But the people grew tired of me. They hate these robes and everything I did.” His voice wilts. “I see the looks they give me. I barely see anyone in the shopping district anymore. It’s like they are avoiding me.” He takes a shaky breath. “I never wanted them to hate me.”
“Oh, is that what this is all about?” Cleo asks softly, leaning over to cup his face with her palm and guiding him to meet her eyes. “Listen to me, Ren. No one hates you. Not for what you did as king and not for any other reason.”
A tear finally breaks free and rolls down Ren’s face. His voice cracks when he speaks. “Thank you, Lady Cleo.”
She smiles fondly at him, soft in a way that Martyn has never seen. “Anything for you, Ren.”
They sit for a moment, quiet and still, before Ren takes a steadying breath, squares his shoulders and slides off the bed.
“Me Hand,” he announces, with a dramatic twirl to face them. The pose he strikes is tall, powerful, and authoritative, despite the tear tracks on his face and Martyn finds himself moving closer on the edge bed, sitting on his knees before him. “I think it is time for me to pass on my crown to the next in line.”
“What? Really?” Martyn exclaims, and Ren nods slowly at his incredulous question. Ren lifts an eyebrow at him and it’s then Martyn realizes what is happening.
Ren is offering them both closure. He is, in his own way, reaching out for this one final scene, one final moment, for them to truly be a King and his Hand. They’ve both been hurting, longing for a past that will never return. For a reign that was far too short and ended far too bloody. He’s offering this chance to wrap up this chapter of their lives by passing on the title, passing on the crown. To finally move on, to have this moment together.
An unguided Hand, now guided to freedom.
Martyn takes a breath, bowing his head in respect and allowing himself to slip back into his role as Ren’s Hand. “Who will it be, my Liege?”
And his King flashes him the brightest smile. “Why, it is Lady Cleo, of course!”
“Cleo?”
Cleo huffs, but joins the pair at the edge of the bed, her thigh brushing against Martyn’s own. With a small smirk, she joins their scene. “It would be an honor to wear the tiniest of crowns.”
“Then shall we starteth the ceremony?”
“Yes, my Liege.” Martyn agrees with a bow of his head.
His King stands tall and begins his speech to a crowd of two. “Hello, citizens of Hermitcraft! We have gathered today on this most glorious of occasions–”
Martyn snorts. “You make it sound like someone is getting married.”
“Hush,” Cleo retorts, elbowing his side. “I wanna hear where this is going.”
Ren, for his part, only gives them a small smile before continuing. “We are here today, because I have decided to step down as King of the Server. I know this might be a shock for some of you, but please hear me out, friends, and know that this is not a choice I make lightly.”
“As some of you must know by now, my popularity as King is dwindling. I’ve heard the rumblings of rebellion, I know the people want me gone. I know you are unhappy with the economy, with my Royal Emeralds. With me.”
It’s at this point, another tear pools out and makes its way down his King’s cheek. “This is why I have decided to pass on my crown.” His voice warbles. “Lady Cleo, would you please stand.”
“Yes, my King,” she says. They step into his space, brushing the stray tears from his face. When she whispers near his ear, it is almost too quiet for Martyn to hear, even in the otherwise silent room. “I’m proud of you.”
After moving to face him, she nods her head. She looks good there, next to Ren. She stands tall, red hair curling around her shoulders and her majestic blue dress already looks like it is worthy of royalty.
“Now presenting, Lady Cleo of Atlantis!” He speaks towards Cleo, towards the otherwise empty room. “As most of you already know, Lady Cleo is one of the knights of the square table and one of my most trusted advisors. She has put up with much of mine shenanigans. She is always around to tell me when I am being ridiculous, even if I choose not to heed her advice. They are smart and logical, and I know in my heart that the kingdom will be well taken care of in their hands!”
Cleo smiles. “Aw thank you, Ren.”
“Me Hand,” Ren addresses him, voice quieting. “It is time.”
Martyn stands, a tight feeling in his chest making itself known as he does. “Of course, my Liege.”
Ren takes his hands and pulls him close. His eyes are somber, yet determined. “Thank you, for all you have done for me. Your support, loyalty, and kindness have not gone unnoticed. Even in our years apart, I have wished only the best for you. But now, it is time for our reign to come to an end.” He lets out a shaky breath.
“Martyn,” says the voice of his King, of his love, his Ren, who presses their foreheads together as he speaks Martyn’s name for the first time in far too long. “Would you please do me the honor of crowning the new king?”
Martyn breathes in. The smell of Ren’s shampoo surrounds him and he remembers all the nights spent in the snow fort, all the days spent crafting and trading and planning. The way Ren would brush kisses across his forehead in passing or jump into his arms in excitement. And now he breathes out into the dimly lit room, on a server that is not their own, in a castle that isn’t theirs. But still, in front of him is the same set of bright blue eyes. “As you wish, my love.”
Ren kneels.
And Martyn knows it is a final bow.
This is his last moment as King. Martyn’s final moment as his Hand. All they have done is through, and it’s time.
Martyn brushes Ren’s hair from his face, tucking a strand behind his ear. “It has been an honor serving you, my Lord.”
“And I you.” Ren whispers.
The crown is small, but Martyn holds it between his fingers with overwhelming care. The jewels shimmer in the soft light of the room. It’s different from the original crown of iron Ren had designed in secret back in their other world. Back when resources and tools were limited. That one had been rough, uneven, with dents along the edges and a single rare diamond held firmly in place. This new one is smooth, golden, and the numerous jewels around it display the wealth and prosperity of his kingdom. Oh how far he has come.
Martyn lifts the crown, and with it, the burden of being King. The weight of countless difficult decisions. The need for perfection and protection and poise.
The crown feels heavier than it has any right to be and yet there is a lightness in the air.
Cleo smiles when he turns to her. Her hand finds its way to rest comfortingly in Ren’s hair.
He places the crown on her head. Her red curls wrap around it like snakes who have just found their new treasure. It looks stunning, like it was made to fit her.
“Now introducing, King Cleo of Hermitcraft. Long live the king.”
Martyn joins Ren, kneeling before their new King and sighs, taking Ren’s hand in his own.
It’s over.
A new chapter has begun.
Cleo is the one who finally breaks their shared silence, extending her hands to help them up. “Oh come here, you two. You’re being far too serious for such a joyous day.”
Ren grunts as he stands. “You’re one to talk, King Cleo. How do you think the dead king feels?”
“I think being dead is a wonderful thing and I’m glad you’re giving it a go!”
Ren laughs. It’s light and magical and so very him. “Ah, I should have realized you had nefarious undead intentions!”
Cleo takes Ren’s jaw in her hands and guides him closer. Martyn watches as he turns to putty under her gaze. “If I had truly nefarious intentions, you would have known a long time ago.”
Ren licks his lips, glancing down at Cleo’s, which are now just a breath away from his own. “But, you are known to play the long game.”
“Hmm, I suppose I am. Time will tell then, won’t it?”
He hums an acknowledgment before she pulls him the final stretch, kissing him firmly.
The kiss is fairly short, but undoubtedly full of love. Martyn can’t help but watch, taking in the way Ren leans into her, his hands wrapping around her waist as her’s continue to cradle his jaw.
It’s nice, he thinks as they part, to be privileged enough to be privy to this moment of softness from Cleo. To see that Ren has been treated well in his time between the Games. It soothes a tightness in his chest that he hadn’t realized was there.
“I love you,” Ren says to her, voice gentle.
They stroke a thumb along his cheek. “Love you too. You did good today.” She glances over at Martyn. “You both did.”
He startles slightly at the genuine tone of the compliment. It’s few and far between when he is on the receiving end of their kind words. Not unlikely, but still, he wasn’t expecting to be included in their little moment.
Despite this, the words settle themselves across his shoulders like a warm blanket, and he can feel a light blush begin to color his cheeks. “Aw, thanks Cleo.”
She reaches out, offering Martyn a hand and a smile, guiding him into their space.
How very fitting it is.
A Hand and his Kings. Guided by them, towards them, to them. Pulled into their gravity, always finding his way into their orbit.
But maybe, just maybe, they were always meant to collide.
So when he falls into their space, Cleo’s hand is warm where it squeezes his own.
And Ren’s lips taste like coming home.
22 notes · View notes
gumnut-logic · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
“I can’t believe he did that!”
John looked up as his littlest brother stormed into the lab. Alan was still in his uniform and obviously fuming.
“Did what?” Apparently, his calculations would have to wait. He straightened in his seat and turned to face his brother.
“You didn’t see it?”
“See what?” Sometimes it took time to get to the point.
“Virgil cleaning my face in front of thousands of people. With his own spit.”
“Oh, that.” John fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s just Virgil, you know that.” He turned back to his workstation. He really needed to get these calculations done and sent to Brains. “Oh, and it is more like millions rather than thousands. An enthusiastic Tracy follower clipped the shot and posted it to social media. It’s got raving reviews.” He pulled up the post and flung the hologram in his brother’s direction before focussing once again on that argumentative variable.
“What?!”
John vaguely registered Alan glaring at the hologram and its attached comments.
“Cute? Adorable? Baaaaby Tracy? What the hell?!”
John had to smirk. “Yeah, well, your fans do love you.”
“My fans? What fans?”
That brought John to a halt. He looked up at his brother. “Your fans. The Spacey Tracy Tribute Troop.”
“What?!”
John arched an eyebrow at the shock on his brother’s face. “You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t know.”
But Alan’s stunned expression blatantly said he didn’t. John rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Alan. You have a whole array of fans who love you. And that moment with Virgil is at the top of the charts.”
“But it is so stupid!”
“Why?”
“Because only mothers do that to their toddlers!” Alan’s face was a little red.
“Well, perhaps you will consider that next time you stuff a hot dog in your face before a big presentation. That glob of mustard was visible from space.”
“He could have just told me.”
Patience. “This is Virgil we are talking about. How long have you known him?”
Alan didn’t answer that, because it was obvious. Virgil and of course Scott would always be defacto parents to the rest of the brothers. Hell, John had been twelve when they lost their mother, but he still valued having two older brothers during that time. He had always valued having Scott and Virgil to turn to for support.
His little brother deflated and threw himself into a chair in picture of utter dejection. “It sucks.”
“Really?” John stared at Alan. “Look at the shot and you tell me exactly what you see.”
Stubborn blue eyes looked up and narrowed on the hologram as it replayed over and over again. “I look stupid.”
John sighed. “Read the comments. None of them say you look stupid.” He threw up a few of the better ones. “If anything they say you look loved.”
Alan stared at him.
-o-o-o-
Alan Tracy didn’t remember his mother. She died when he was still a baby. He had stories and photos, but all his life it had just been his older brothers. They were the ones who saw him off at school, they helped him with his homework, they were the ones he went to for help and advice. He still remembered the night he discovered who Santa Claus actually was.
It was their first Christmas on the Island and nine year old Alan had been worried the big red guy would have trouble finding him out in the middle of the Pacific. So, despite the reassurances from both Scott and Virgil, he had set his alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night.
Two am and he stumbled down the interior stairs of the new building. He could still remember the smell of new paint and wood stain and the slickness of the polished floor under his socks.
At first he had thought the voice was that of his father, but he knew his Dad was in New York for a special meeting. Scott had been rather loud in his argument against the his absence, but their father had left anyway.
Scott had been far from happy and Alan had given him a wide berth for most of Christmas Eve. Virgil had gathered them all for an evening movie, but even that had not fully dulled Scott’s expression. Not that his brother said anything. He just emanated unhappiness from the corner of the new lounge.
As he neared the main living room, he realised it was Virgil talking.
“Dad wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t important.”
“What possibly could be more important than our family?” Scott’s voice had anger in it, but it wasn’t the angry of him yelling, it was more resigned and defeated.
“He’s doing this for Mom.” Virgil sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Paper rustled. “Hand me the ribbon.”
“Grandma is upset.”
“I know.”
“It isn’t right. This is our first Christmas here. He should be here.”
“Well, he isn’t, so we’ll make the best of it.”
“It isn’t fair to Alan.”
“He’s got us.”
“We’re not his parents.”
“May as well be.”
“Virgil.”
“You said it yourself. Dad’s not here. Mom’s gone. He’s got us. He’s got Grandma. Could be worse.” Another rustle and Alan moved closer to the edge and peered around the corner.
Virgil and Scott were surrounded by wrapping paper in the middle of the circular lounge. Several shapes sat wrapped to one side. On the other there was a pile of shopping bags. A rocket kit almost as tall as him sat in amongst them.
It was the rocket he had asked Santa for Christmas.
His brothers were wrapping presents. Virgil stood up and grabbed an armful of gifts and hauled them out of the sunken lounge and piled them up under the tree just beyond the piano.
What?
“What are you guys doing?” It burst out before he could think.
His brothers looked up, stunned expressions on their faces. “Alan?!”
“Virgil?” He eyed his eldest brother. “Scott?”
Virgil recovered first, Scott was still staring at Alan in shock.
“Hey, Allie, what are you doing up? Bad dream?” His brother put down the presents in his hands and walking around the lounge, headed in Alan’s direction.
“What are you doing?”
“Um...” Scott appeared stuck.
Virgil came up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “We’re wrapping presents.” He squeezed a hug.
“But Santa...?”
Scott looked down at the wrapping paper in his hands. Virgil drew Alan close and walked him into the sunken lounge. He sat him down and took a seat beside him. “Well, I guess you’re old enough now.”
“Virgil.”
“Scott, he’s old enough.”
Alan frowned as his oldest brother’s shoulders slumped and his whole body sagged. He dropped the wrapping paper in his hands and sat down in defeat, running his hands through his hair. To be honest, that freaked Alan out more than anything. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Allie. Scott’s just had a bad day and he’s tired.”
“Then why isn’t he in bed? Why are you wrapping Christmas presents?” He felt he knew the answer, but it couldn’t be right, could it?
“We’re on Santa duty.” Virgil’s brown eyes were wide and honest and kind of caring.
“Santa duty? But where is Santa?”
Sad blue eyes looked up at him. “There is no Santa, Alan. We wrap the presents and put them under the tree for you.”
Alan stared him. “What?”
“There is a Santa.” Virgil was glaring at his eldest brother. “Just not the Santa you think you know.”
“What?”
“Every year we choose presents and under the guise of Santa, we gift them to those we love. You are now old enough to gift presents to those you love, too. You can be Santa.”
Alan stared at him. “But what about the North Pole and the reindeer and the red suit and...”
“A fairytale.”
“Scott.”
“C’mon, Virg, he’s found us out.”
“He’s found out the truth. That we as a family give each other gifts because we love each other. We don’t need to glam it up anymore.”
“You lied to me?”
Virgil’s eyes widened, but then he sighed. “A little.”
“Why?”
Scott stood up, walked around the centre table and sat on Alan’s other side. “Allie, it’s a coming of age thing.”
“Why?”
Virgil answered. “Because it is sometimes nice to believe there is a little magic in our lives.”
Alan remembered the disappointment he felt at that moment and perhaps the loss of innocence, but of that night, the one thing that still stuck in his mind was the sadness in his brothers’ eyes.
Sure, Virgil was cheerful and positive, and even if Scott had been a little tired and grumpy, he was there and an hour later after wrapping first Gordy’s present, then one for John, he had gone to bed with the new knowledge and a sense of responsibility.
The hugs hadn’t hurt either.
Christmas morning had a little less urgency to run down to the main room and Gordon had to be clapped around the ears by Grandma for teasing him about the whole thing, but it had just become another part of growing up.
That his mother and father had missed.
He didn’t hold it against them. Mom, he never knew, and Dad had to make the sacrifices so other families didn’t have suffer the loss of a parent like they had, but it really just was another example of his two eldest brothers being there for him.
Which really sunk in when he was officially orphaned two years later.
-o-o-o-
Alan continued to stare at John.
“Do you have a problem with being loved?”
“What? Nooo.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m eighteen! They treat me like I’m still a kid!”
“You are still a kid.”
“No, I’m not!”
John held back the instinctive rebuttal and bit the inside of his cheek. “Alan, look at it from Scott’s point of view. He has been your guardian for eight years. Technically he is almost old enough to be your father. It has been his responsibility to look after you for even longer than that. That isn’t something that just switches off.”
“I’m not talking about Scott. I’m talking about Virgil. He’s not my guardian, but he treats me like he is.”
John’s lips thinned. “Don’t you ever say something like that to his face. In fact, don’t bother saying it in front of me again either. We’ve all made sacrifices, Alan, but none more than Scott, and Virgil isn’t far behind. You’d be better to recognise that and be grateful for what you have.”
Alan grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. They’re great, it’s just...so frustrating.”
“Then perhaps it is your turn to show the patience that has been offered you all these years.”
-o-o-o-
In 2055 the world lost the brilliant entrepreneur, billionaire business man and founder of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy.
Eleven year old Alan Tracy lost his Dad.
He also lost a part of his biggest brother. Scott had been forced to sit idle in Thunderbird One while his father tackled the Hood. He hadn’t been able to do anything but watch the Zero-X explode in front of him.
The whole family had been shattered, but no more than its new head. Scott was driven wild, determined that their father was not dead. The world disagreed, the explosion had been too final, too definite, to be anything but fatal. But Scott refused to believe.
There were arguments. They tried to hide them from the youngest brothers, and yes, at sixteen Gordon was almost as under-aged as Alan. But the pair of them could hear Scott’s strident and commanding voice echo through the house, followed by Virgil’s bellowed contradiction.
The day Alan found Grandma crying in the kitchen was the last straw.
“Grandma?” Did his voice have to sound so small?
She startled and turned. Her eyes were red and wet and, oh god, there were tears on her cheeks. “Grandma? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Umm...I’m just not feeling right at the moment. I’ll be okay.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, but the smile was so forced his heart broke.
“Is it because Scott and Virgil are fighting?”
She shook her head, but didn’t seem to be able to say anything.
“Is it because of Daddy?”
And there were tears running down her face and he found himself wrapped in her arms. To his shock, he found he was almost her height, her head resting easily on his shoulder. “It will be okay, Allie.” But her voice was sobbing.
Eventually, she straightened and her smile became brighter and she sent him on his way. Told him to go clean his room, in fact, but Alan had a better idea.
He found them facing off on either side his father’s desk. Holograms hovered over it and his two biggest brothers were glaring at each other through the flickering images.
“It is what Dad would do.”
“You are not Dad.”
“Somebody has to be.”
“Why?! Why Scott? Why can’t we be ourselves?”
“Because this is what Dad would have wanted us to do.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I do! I knew him better than you!”
Virgil took a step back, eyes widening.
Scott echoed his expression as if realising exactly what he had just said. “I didn’t mean that, Virgil. I’m sorry.”
Plaid clad shoulders straightened and squared. “Yes, you did. But regardless, International Rescue was his dream, not ours.”
“So you want to give it up? Just like that?”
“No! As I have said multiple times, we just need to do it differently! We’re down an operative. Gordon and Alan are not old enough to take their places on the team. Hell, they may not even want to! We can only do so much. Give John some time to find his feet, for goodness sake.”
“Time is something we do not have. People will die.”
“People will die anyway! I just want to make sure no Tracys are on that list!” Virgil was leaning over the desk, his big shoulders wound so tight, his shirt look fit to bust a seam.
Alan had intended to yell at them, maybe scream a little for what they had done to Grandma, but instead their words scared him and suddenly he had tears on his cheeks, just like Grandma.
“Allie?” Virgil caught sight of him and within a split second was kneeling on the hardwood in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
It took him a moment to find his voice but he found himself wrapped in soft plaid flannel anyway, big hands rubbing his back.
“You hurt Grandma.” It came out as a sob.
“What? What’s wrong with Grandma?” Scott was standing beside them, his stance immediately ready to go and fix whatever problem Alan was able to point him at.
Unfortunately he was part of the problem.
He pulled away from Virgil and turned on both of them. “You. Both of you. You made Grandma cry. All you do is yell and fight!”
Both brothers froze and his eleven year old heart beat an extra beat in just a tiny bit of triumph. Perhaps they would listen? “Since Daddy died, you’ve done nothing but fight. I hate it when you fight and so does Grandma. Gordon hates it too. He goes swimming to get away from it. I don’t even know where John is. Please stop.” His throat caught again and he almost strangled on a sob. “Please.”
To his horror he realised Virgil had tears in his eyes and that, of course, only set Alan off more. Once again he found himself wrapped in his big brother’s arms. Virgil’s chest rumbled with words, but Alan didn’t understand what he said.
When he surfaced, Scott was no longer in the room.
“Scott has gone to find Grandma, to make sure she is okay.” Virgil wasn’t letting him go and his big brother had red rimmed eyes. Virgil’s voice was little more than a rumble. “I’m sorry, Allie. We’ll try to do better.”
His brother held him for a long time. Eventually Scott and Grandma found their way into the comms room, John was called out of his hidey-hole and Gordon dragged out of the pool. There was much family talking, hugging, a little more crying, but ultimately they worked it out enough to keep going.
The arguments stopped.
Well, mostly. Virgil still brought them out on very special occasions. Usually when Scott was being a pig-headed moron which fortunately wasn’t very often.
Life went on as best it could.
But then Gordon had the hydrofoil accident.
-o-o-o-
There was silence in the lab after that. Alan wasn’t happy, it was obvious, but he didn’t say anything so John just let him stew a while. Let him take the next step in the conversation.
After all, these calculations weren’t going to calculate themselves.
He just made it into that comfortable zone where he knew exactly what he was doing and had to be done, the numbers flowing, the equations dancing to his tune, and...
“What was Mom like?”
John blinked. That came from left field. Numbers dissolved in his head. “What did you want to know?”
“You know, things.”
“Things? You’ve seen the videos.”
“Of course, I have.” Their father, Scott and the budding artist, Virgil, had made many home videos over the years. They still did, knowing exactly what could be taken away in a flash and without notice. So there was plenty of footage of their mother.
Virgil was the brother most often found delving into those files. John had done his fair share of watching late at night when the Earth so far below just didn’t give him what he needed. Eos knew those files well and often offered them without prompt when John was feeling down.
But Virgil was the one who had the most affinity for their mother. Not to devalue any brother’s grief, but as Virgil had been the closest to her, the most like her in both appearance and interests. Knowing her must have been like learning about himself, his art, his music and answering all those questions their father just couldn’t answer.
John had a few of those himself. He had no doubt Virgil had more.
“She was a lot like Virgil is today. If you’re asking if she would have wiped the mustard off your face, I can tell you right now, she did the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions.” It had been quite gross actually. Fortunately, he had learnt fast and removed the stimulus for such an action at an early age.
His musician brother had been fifteen to John’s twelve and Alan’s one year when they had lost their mother. Alan had no memory of her. Gordon at age six had been just old enough to know what he had lost but not really why. John swore that the close bond between Gordon and Virgil had been forged in those early years as their older brother had responded when Scott couldn’t, tied up with the ball of grief that was their father.
It had been a bad time, but they had struggled through it.
“She used to sing a lot. She and Virgil sang together every Christmas.” His brother hadn’t sung much since, the tradition lost to grief. “She was more open than Dad. Less of a stickler for rules, more willing to be flexible.” Their father was military and he fell back on discipline when at a loss.
Scott thrived under his father’s regime.
Virgil did not.
And his resemblance to his mother didn’t help in the slightest.
“Mom knew how to make Dad smile. She loved a good joke. Heh, I swear Gordon gets that from her. Once she put a jack-in-the-box in Scott’s lunch box. He nearly had a heart attack in the school cafeteria.”
“Why would she do that?” Alan frowned up at him.
“She believed in experience being the greatest teacher. She caught Scott boasting about his parents to another kid who was far less fortunate. About all their successes. She didn’t appreciate it and figured Scotty could come down a peg or two. She succeeded.”
“Wow. Scott did that?”
John snorted. “Scott was a kid as much as any of us once. He’d prefer you believed he sprouted fully formed, but no, he had to grow up and make the same stupid mistakes we did.” Half a smile. “He’s far from perfect, but he tries.”
“He certainly does.” Alan grinned a little fondly, but then his face fell and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m being an ass.”
An arched eyebrow. “I never said you were an ass.”
“No, but I am. You guys have been great. I couldn’t ask for more.”
“Except maybe a little less saliva?”
“Eww, yeah, Virg had garlic bread for lunch.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
John couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.
Alan stared at him a moment longer before his face cracked too.
“Gotta love him anyway, I guess.”
A snort. “Yeah, we do.”
-o-o-o-
Gordon’s career was a fast one. Straight out of high school and into the Olympics. By the time he was eighteen, he had a gold medal hanging on the wall and had started his career in WASP.
Alan missed his fishy brother, but he was ever so proud of him. There had been talk of him joining International Rescue and activating the final Thunderbird once his training and tenure was done. Alan had seen his brother hovering around the slick little yellow submarine and Scott had been heard to wish for the full complement of Thunderbirds to finally be deployed.
The fact John was flying the ‘bird Alan wanted to fly more than anything was beyond frustrating.
Virgil was helping Alan with his physics homework when the call came through.
A familiar face flickered up on the holoprojector at the end of the kitchen table. “Aunt Val. Hey, how are you?” Virgil offered her a smile as Alan surfaced from under the details of pressure, torque, momentum and velocity that were required to tackle the problem at hand.
“Good morning, Virgil. Is Scott available?”
“Unfortunately, no. He’s out on a rescue. Can I help you?”
“Hey, Aunt Val.”
“Alan.” Her expression was grave and something in Alan’s gut twisted.
“What’s wrong?”
Beside him, Virgil sat up straighter. “What is it?”
The Colonel sighed. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news. Your brother Gordon has been in an accident...”
And their world dissolved there and then.
Alan didn’t remember much of those early days. There had been frantic calls to brothers, John limping around because he had crashed to Earth too quickly for his own health. The fear in Scott’s eyes had been terrible.
The sight of his fish brother decked out in medical equipment.
The not knowing.
The terror.
Virgil holding him in the hospital corridor while Alan cried his eyes out all over his shirt.
Scott sitting at his brother’s bed, head bowed down to the sheets clinging to a limp hand.
John, vacant eyed, staring into nothing the night they thought they were finally going to lose Gordon.
Virgil crying in his grandmother’s arms.
Scott kicking a hole in Gordon’s door and making enough racket to wake up the dead.
Gordon answering the call and faintly scolding Scott to keep it down.
The hope that followed.
That first week, their lives froze. Everything stopped. School, IR, regular meals, everything. The outside world kept moving around them, ignoring their pain, but within their family everything stopped, narrowing only to the hospital and their desperately ill brother.
Once Gordon woke up. It started to move again.
Life slowly came back.
It became full of odd moments. Brothers in places he didn’t expect to find them. Gordon’s illness brought out aspects of Alan’s family he didn’t expect.
He had to say that the most unexpected was the day John walked into Gordon’s hospital room with his red hair spiked in all different directions. It was as if he had stuck his fingers in a power socket and sprayed gel into his hair at the same time.
Gordon had laughed himself silly and considering there had been tears half an hour prior, this was a major thing.
Apparently Gordon had dared him once to do it and John had saved it for a special occasion.
Alan made sure he took pictures for history’s sake.
Another day he found Virgil curled up asleep in the chair beside Gordon, his head on his brother’s pillow. The engineer was still in his uniform and covered in dirt. The hospital staff were going to have a fit.
Alan stopped in the doorway and Scott collided with his back with a “What?”
“Shhh...” And Gordon was holding up a very shaky and uncoordinated hand that clearly said ‘Leave him be.’
“What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to back at Tracy Island.” Scott’s voice was a worried whisper.
“B-bad rescue.” Gordon’s voice was as shaky as his hand. “Think he w-want to ch-check I’m ‘kay. Cos they weren’t.”
“Shit.” It was little more than expelled breath.
His big brother disappeared out into the hallway and a moment later they had the full story from John.
A boat. A teenage boy. And a flood. Virgil did his best, but there were limits.
They sat together until Virgil woke up, groggy and miserable. Scott took him out of the room and Alan was left alone with Gordon.
“I should been there.” His brother’s speech was patchy. The hydrofoil he had be travelling in had been at travelling at a ridiculous speed. When one of its foils collapsed, he was very lucky he wasn’t killed. There was a long, long road ahead.
“Wasn’t your fault, Gordon.”
“No, but should be there for him.”
As if that was the starting point. His brother picked himself off the ground and drove himself back to health. It took a lot of work and no small amount of pain, but a year later Gordon Tracy presented himself to the Commander of International Rescue ready for action.
It took another six months and Gordon’s birthday for his brother to be drunk enough to mention to Alan exactly what had happened that afternoon and what Virgil had said to him.
His fish brother held up his glass, grim and serious. “Our big bros are THE BEST.”
Alan smiled, hoping to god Gordon wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning. The fact Virgil had come off a hell of a rescue, exhausted and upset, and flown in to see Gordon just to sing him a lullaby was baffling. But it had apparently done something for Gordon and for that Alan would ever be grateful.
-o-o-o-
“So what happens when we find Dad?”
John started, suddenly thrown out of old memories. “Uh, whatever needs to happen?”
“Do you think he will be okay? It has been so long.”
Eight years alone in space. “I don’t know, Alan.”
“How did we not work this out earlier? That capsule was sitting down there all that time. Dad has been waiting so long. He’s missed so much.”
John closed his eyes and touched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have the answers, Alan. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” His little brother swallowed. “It’s just that I can’t remember much about him anymore. He’s going to be a stranger.”
“He’s our father. We’ll make it work.” They had to make it work. The guilt was tearing Scott apart. Eight years. Eight long years just because they had missed one piece of the puzzle. Dad could have been home years ago.
The yelling had started again. Scott angry and hurt, Virgil battling to keep him on the straight and narrow and tackling his own guilt at the same time.
John felt the guilt, too. He had looked at everything after the incident. Everything. He had even combed space. Eos had been looking for their father from the day she joined him despite John’s heart telling him it was a lost cause, that Scott was wishing for the impossible, that it had been too long. She had been scanning for three years they still hadn’t found him. Until now, and from a clue that could have...should have been found so long ago.
“I wonder what he looks like.”
John closed his eyes.
“Johnny? You okay?”
“Don’t call me Johnny.”
He received a snort for that. “Yeah, well, I guess it will be good to save Dad and bring him home.”
A frown. “You guess?”
“Well, yeah, it will be great. But you are right.”
The frown deepened and he looked over at his little brother. “I right? With what? You’ve lost me.”
“Well, Scott and Virg are really the ones who’ve been there for me, you know?” Alan rubbed the back of his head. “So, like, they are the closest I have to parents. They were doing that gig even before Dad went missing.”
John stared.
His little brother didn’t notice. Instead he stood up. “Well, I guess I should get out of this uniform. Getting a little ripe, I think. Anyway, thanks for the chat, bro.”
And with that Alan bounced out of the lab as fast as he had bounced in.
John blinked and turned back to the calculations he had been trying to wrangle this entire time.
But the numbers ignored him.
Dad.
Scott.
Virgil.
If they found their father, things were going to change.
John frowned and rubbed his face.
Damn.
-o-o-o-
FIN.
54 notes · View notes
thatdesklamp · 1 year ago
Note
hey! i’m the anon that once asked you about ur english a level if you even care to remember lmaoo. I JUST SAW THE REBLOGGED POST WHERE ANOTHER READER SAID THEY HATED SATORU FROM IW AND I’M???
obviously everyone’s entitled to their own opinions. i think that’s the point of reading anything tbh, form your own opinions and decide whether you like something/someone or not, bUT I LITERALLY CANNOT HELP BUT DISAGREE SO STRONGLY 😭 i’ve literally never felt this strongly about a person’s opinion on a fictional character let alone how the fictional character was written in a FANFIC 😀
and obviously, no hate to them or whatever. as i said, their opinion is theirs, i just randomly felt the need to tell you mine (ik you never asked, i’m bored and my student finance situation is pissing me off so here i am lol). i think the reason why i feel so offended (jokingly haha) about any hate towards satoru in ur fic is bcz you’ve written him identical to how satoru in the actual anime/manga is, so i felt like it was a well aimed punch to canon!satoru and as his certified wife, i can’t stand by and watch this happen 😟
he makes dumb decisions sometimes but i think that has a lot to do with the fact that hebi is quite literally his oldest friend and allowing whatever feelings he has to get in the way of that (without knowing whether she likes him or not from his pov) is risky in terms of their friendship and where that’ll take them. like in the chapter where they had their first kiss, ofc, we as readers know why she backed off and what she meant by how she couldn’t “do this anymore” (or something along those lines), but he was never aware of her NON-PLATONIC feelings towards him, so i think (i say think bcz i’m the reader and you’re the author so what you say GOES) he was just confused by what she meant.
like if i were to randomly start telling you a story of my life with no context, and you hear me say names of my friends somewhere along that story, but i never TOLD you they were my friends, you’d think “oh who’s that?” until i clarified who they are to me. quite like how he was probably confused when she was explaining how she couldn’t allow herself to indulge in something that she thought wasn’t reciprocated. he had no context and was therefore just… stupid lmao 😭 he was criticising her for leaving even tho she promised to stay bcz he just didn’t understand (not saying it’s hebi’s fault in ANY way, she is MOTHER, i will defend her till the day i die).
yeah i have a lot of other reasons why satoru is not a bad person in ur fic (he’s literally a copy of himself in canon, kudos to ur BRILLIANT writing and characterisation of him) but ik you’re probably bored and i have to go turn the house heating on bcz uk weather is no joke 😀
Hello!!
This is so so funny and lovely to hear—I’ve heard so much variety in opinions on Gojo in my fic, mainly through the comments, and so it’s so lovely when people genuinely take a proper big opinion on either side of the ‘debate’. I fully get why people would be anti-Gojo just because we’re so invested in Hebi’s perspective and when she’s treated poorly/feeling shit, it does reflect poorly on him. I think that’s why I found it fun to write the Satoru-pov oneshots; IW is such a case of ‘unreliable narrator’-ism in a way that’s not always immediately evident, and so taking yourself out of Hebi’s perspective and immersing yourself in someone else’s can really help to get a more well-rounded view of all the characters, I guess.
But yeah, I’m glad you think IW Gojo is similar to canon Gojo! I used to struggle so much with his characterisation with him as a kid, which was I think partly because he was a child and that’s difficult anyway, but also because IW was one of the first things I’d written in… like, actual years, and I wasn’t that good at writing at that point.
I do think a lot of Satoru’s dumb actions come from ignorance, in whatever aspect, and I think it’s up to the reader as to how much they ‘blame’ him for that. Especially in the later chapters: should he have noticed Hebi’s degredation in mental health, and should he have done something about it if he did, even if she had never reached out to him? She did, after all, never actually confide in him about anything troubling her: I made it a point to state it multiple times. That, I guess, is where people’s opinions will inevitably differ, as to assigning both blame and responsibility. The idea will come up a lot next chapter, but—perhaps it’s almost similar to the Geto/Gojo situation. Yes, Gojo noticed a change, and yes, he tried to talk to Geto about it: but did he do enough? Should he have tried harder? Would it have even made a difference? People have different opinions on their split, too, because it’s not so set in stone. I think that’s the main reason people would dislike IW Satoru.
More about ignorance: you’re right, I can’t see him knowing about Hebi’s feelings. Satoru’s so much more of an active character than Hebi, who is intentionally very passive (if only ‘intentionally’ so I can have the slowburn make some degree of sense, lmao, but hey!). If he knew, I’d have to have him confront her about it. Like, I cannot see Gojo *not* pushing for something if he ever thought there was a possibility of her reciprocating. So, in my head, it can be concluded from his lack of action pre-kiss, that he absolutely doesn’t think she likes him back, and he also absolutely doesn’t want to fuck up the friendship. Again: it’s so, so, so important to him. I try to justify it in the oneshots—I know so much of this is #miscommunication, but controversial opinion, miscommunication adds to the drama and is fun under CERTAIN SITUATIONS, it’s not always a bad thing. LOL.
But also low-key I get why people wouldn’t like him. But also I get why people would, and would be more than fucked off with Hebi. And why people would be somewhere in the middle. Idk where I stand, they’re just both my lil pooks, yk. <3
But hell yeah! I love ur Satoru defence squad. And enjoy your heating (😀) and respite from student finance—I wouldn’t wish that process on my worst enemy </3
12 notes · View notes
bigbillybepper · 6 months ago
Text
Overshare/trauma dump time:
I just remembered a bit of my own personal lore that I forgot for a minute lol.
So back in the day when I had less than trustworthy friends there was an occasion when our antics had me sent to the hospital.
We had gathered round to do some drugs and party and they offered me what they claimed was mdma or something. I can’t remember exactly what, but I really have the feeling that it was just straight up meth or PCP or something. Like, it was not….definitely not how I’ve heard mdma or ecstasy be described.
What happened after I imbibed is a little strange and hard to explain but I’ll try my best.
So a little background. My friend group was exactly as you’d imagine a ragtag group of art kids and weirdos could be. Some of us in college, some dropouts, some not really sure what we were up to. But we were all running around doing irresponsible things.
One ‘friend’ in particular had really wronged me at this point. It was to the extent I wasn’t really sure what I was doing with this group of people any more. Are they my friends? Do I love them or do I hate them ? But I was having a fun time being self destructive so I continued to hang out with them (they weren’t all bad. There’s some folks i even wish I still could talk to)
Long story short (I wrote a lot more and deleted because holy fuck is this a loaded story) I got triggered by something they said about/to me. And looking back on it I think they intentionally said it to make me feel bad or something ? Anyways the drugs multiplied the emotions I was feeling and I fucking f r e a k e d out.
I blacked out at some point after trying to fall on my head hard enough to pass out. I just wanted out dude. I didn’t wanna die necessarily, I just didn’t want to be conscious. That’s all I can really remember as far as my motives. My friends took me to the hospital and at one point in the hospital I fucking panicked because I was morbidly addicted to nicotine at the time. It had been hours and hours since I had any, and I was getting desperate since I sobered up and found myself in a hospital bed not allowed to leave until I was cleared by doctors.
So I told the doctors I need some nicotine in me right fucking now.
And dutifully they came back with a full strength medical grade nicotine patch that they slapped onto my arm and good god.
I’ve been thirsty in my life. I’ve been hungry in my life. But I’ve never felt more relief than when I felt that shit absorbing directly into my skin. I sometimes let myself smoke a little tobacco here and there… but it’s almost like I can never ever fully get back to that sense of relief. That’s such a terrifying part of addiction- having the moment that’s so pinnacle and such a raw feeling of bliss that you will never ever find that same kind of enjoyment from whatever stimuli again.
Oh but yeah I got out of the hospital once I convinced the doctors I was sane and that it was just an itty bitty mishap. I was fine, other than some grand embarrassment and apologies to all involved. Yeah, I apologized to my friends that witnessed it. It was my fault, or I felt so at the time.
This post kind of started as a silly one in my head and then I remembered just how dark this story got. Haha it makes me feel thankful to be alive, because I’m much happier now.
If you read this far thanks for being here with me and also don’t do drugs with shady people!! It’s not worth it.
2 notes · View notes
linklethehistorian · 11 months ago
Note
salutations mr linkle the hyrule historian tumblr can u direct me 2 the last anon that said ur wrong bc i think they're great n I wanna give them a kiss on the lips!!!! anyway was it not u that said the OFFICIAL!!!!!!! 15 translation was wrong n bad so i dont think the opinions of anyone who considers rimbaud a doormat n wrote the abomination that is cherish are valid
anyway anon if ur reading this ilove u pooks u me n bitch tree anon n bully anon should b poly or smth we'd make beautiful children
Hmmmmmmmmmm, well I don’t remember anybody saying I was wrong, honey. 🤔 Last anon just asked me a question about if I’d ever considered something, and I answered! 😊
Anyway I’d love love love love to help you two hook up bc that’s so sweet and I want to meet your future children so much! 🥺💕💕💕 I could be a part of a real life love story! 🥺💖💖💖💕💕💕💕💕 So cute!!! I don’t think Bully anon or Bitch Tree anon would be into it unfortunately at first, since they send me little hearts and cutesie things these days…. I’m sorry about that. 😔 Oh well! I’m sure when they hear your dedication to reach out to me they’ll still want to give you kissies somehow ‘cause they’re so dedicated to me too, just in a very loving way.
And yee! I did say the ‘official’ translation was bad! Thank you so much for remembering my words and sticking around my blog so long. 🥺💕 Anyway yeah, that unfortunately happens sometimes, and by sometimes, I mean a lot, ‘cause a) there are people out there who unironically think it’s okay to take creative liberties in translating because it’s their right as someone taking the time to do it (can’t be assed rn but if you search around this site enough, you’ll find an entire thread of translators talking about this), b), there are people who write for a lot of series they’re not into and therefore aren’t aware of all the context of previous novels, c) there are people who just slip up and make mistakes! Happens all the time unfortunately and most people don’t understand that if you misunderstand or change one thing it can change everything, and d) people who are tasked with translating 99% of the time never even talk to the people team of people who actually published the original, much less are in contact with the author themself! Mistranslations and drastic creative liberties happen a lot for example in the fandom I came from (The Legend of Zelda), which you can see a bit here! And if you still don’t believe me, you can go ask Dear old Author Neil Gaiman, who has even had some of the characters in his books turned from lovers to sisters and everything, a lot of the time completely without his knowledge until fans point it out to him! If you scroll his blog, I’m sure you’ll find those posts for yourself, assuming he doesn’t see an ask from you on if it happens. ‘Tis a sad thing, but Asagiri-sensei likely doesn’t even know when a mistranslation happens, much less do these people sit down and ask him things directly before doing their thing. He certainly doesn’t have involvement overseeing the process; that’s an unreasonable thing to ask of someone when it involves other languages they may or may not even be fluent in. And all the proof we need that it’s wrong is that the JP novel and the Stage Play (both things that Asagiri was directly, heavily involved in and/or directly penned the words of/material of the script for himself) both contradict it. If you’d like to take on that claim, since you’re implying I’m wrong, have at it! The burden of proof is on you, so, I look forward to seeing you send me the individual JP source lines of the Eng translations you want to take a crack at defending and a long wall of educational text explaining why each part of the English translation got it 1,000% right, directly in my in-box. If not, have a good day ‘cause I’m sorry, but I got limited time and other things to do right now, baby. 💕 I’ll eventually get to it myself some day, but right now I have other articles to finish first, art to make, and a fic to keep posting.
Speaking of which…OMG YOU READ CHERISH? 🥺💕💕💕💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💖💖😊💖💕🥺💕🥺💕💖💕💕🥺💕💖💕💕💕 That’s so sweet OMG OMG OMG! I’m glad you enjoy my beautiful ‘abomination’ enough to read and keep up with it! Don’t worry sweetie, the next chapter is on its way!
See this is why I love love love love love love love my ‘haters’ so fucking much, I adore y’all, I’d kill for y’all, OMG. You give me so much dedication and time, I know how much y’all adore me and I adore you right back! My beloved super fans. 💕💕💕💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺 Every ask I get and vague post I read makes my heart flutter, frfr, I’ve actually got an album I keep of screenshots of y’all’s posts to give me the motivation to keep doing what I do whenever I’m down. 🥺💖💖💕💕 This one goes in the collection for sure ahhhh 💖💖💕💕💕 I’m so important to people OMG IT’S SO CUTE AND SWEET
TAKE CARE OUT THERE ANON! PLS SEND ME MORE MESSAGES I LOVE THEM. I WAIT WITH BATED BREATH 💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💕💖💖
GOOD LUCK ON YOUR DATE!!! PLEASE MAKE BABIES WHO ARE ALSO OBSESSED WITH ME, I CAN’T WAIT 💕💕💕💖💖
6 notes · View notes
kotos-and-smiles · 2 years ago
Text
Ch.122 Rambling
As I often am, I’ll be referring to tessenpai‘s rough tl which you can find here
MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CH.122 OF KOT!
Finally got around to reading the newest chapter of kot last week (brainrot for another thing has been taking over my life) and it’s just so amazing. Had some thoughts I felt like sharing and also remembered some of the Discord discussions about this chapter too. So, some things that stuck out to me: Granny (Shizune) is still so iconic, just being like oh yeah, thought I heard some people making a ruckus, makes sense it’s the Tokise kids, but also those are her grandchildren. Chika just loves being a grandkid and I can’t handle it. Like, he was so damn happy to be called Shizune’s grandkid, and he literally can’t really have that with actual familial relations anymore at this point. Chika deserves every good parent/grandparent figure he can find. Love Satowa joining the hive mind of the Sane, Kota, and Mittsu, though she still probably has a braincell to herself. That moment where Sentarou’s grandma mentions being in the hospital and just how obvious Chika’s reaction is when you know his thoughts just immediately went to his grandpa, it’s just so painful, and Satowa noticing is so significant. 
Tumblr media
There are so many instances, especially earlier on in the manga, where we have Chika noticing little emotional reactions from Satowa when something affects her, and so I love seeing that Satowa is also tuned into Chika and notices his reactions too. It’s all coming full circle. And I’m hoping this is also setting up Satowa actually asking Chika about his past. She’s wondered about it before, but a lot of what she knows is from other people, friends who have known Chika for longer, telling her things or things she learned with the whole Uzuki situation. I’d love to see a conversation where Chika opens up to Satowa about it, also because I think it’d be nice if she knew the whole story and for Chika to be able to share that with someone, much as she shared her story with him. It helps to understand one another better, as well as being able to ease the burden of the past a little.
Sentarou’s grandmother almost immediately melting at Chika’s offering to help because she sees the pure intentions despite the bad manners. He’s so eager to do what he can for her, especially once he notices how it might be harder for her to maneuver around a crowd to find a seat. Love that Satowa steps in after he leaves and thanks Sentarou’s grandma for understanding Chika’s feelings. Like, I just so love that, it’s like she’s trying to smooth it over a little and show manners while at the same time genuinely thanking her for not just judging him and actually understanding his feelings. I just, ugh, them. It’s an understanding from Satowa of just how much interactions like this mean to Chika. And Kota looks so serious when he says “true!” to Sane’s statement about how Chika’s such a granny’s/grandpa’s boy.
Tomoe needs to snap the hell out of it, cuz she witnessed Chika being the cutest doing such a pure, innocent thing, helping someone and waving to a young kid as he was doing it, like girl needs to get over it, and I’m excited to see her come around sometime. Just let Chika live and be the sweet grandchild he is in anyway he can be! She seems to be getting it a little, but hasn’t completely broken free of her prejudice. Her memories of seeing Chika interact nicely with people did give me an excuse to look up this moment again though, so that’s nice
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Akari deserves all the love and support he’s getting from his friends, both in and outside the club. His friends that came to see him are so sweet! They’re there not knowing anything about koto, having traveled all that way, purely to see their friend play, and that’s so sweet. And love the teamwork of the club and how much they’re supporting each other and especially Akari. Takinami has been such a mood lately, and I love it so much! Like, him trying to buy alcohol a couple chapters ago, and now him overhearing Keishi talking to Akari’s friends and just thinking disdainfully “extroverts” or as is pointed out more accurately “monsters of communication” which I think feels very accurate. Like, I don’t want random people to communicate with me. (Usually well intentioned) monsters indeed.
I love, as always, seeing commentary on the music through Tokise. It still gives little tidbits of the characters while focusing on the music. Even Momoya seemed like he liked the performance so far.
Think it’s cool that Sentarou, even playing alongside 2 17-stringers, has the power and presence to not get drowned out. Like, that was a cool moment. I really don’t want to discuss the last pages. They were simply so painful after such a nice performance and the chapter that got us to care about Akari. This just isn’t fair and my heart aches. Hope for the best resolution next chapter, but it could go either way. He’s a very new player and we’ll have to see if he can recover from this mistake. But just, oof, it hurt to see that. Akari is just so genuine and trying his best, and I hate to see him mess up like this especially when I know he’s gonna feel like he let down his Senpai. It’s just something you never wanna see happen. Especially with his friends watching too. Amazing storytelling though. I’m way more attached to Eidai than I thought I’d be honestly.
So yeah, that’s just a little collection of thoughts that got way longer than I expected. 
31 notes · View notes
candycryptids · 9 months ago
Note
List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers ╰(´︶`)╯♡
;0;! Oh jeez ok ☀️ 😌
Frogs- this one might be kinda obvious I guess based on my blog title and all but I really like frogs and toads and tadpoles I think they’re really fascinating little critters and every time I learn something new about frogs it makes me feel all sparkly. Like they swallow when they blink- because their eyes go down into the body and it squishes food down their throat. Isn’t that WILD? Nature is so cool. (-unfortunately there’s one Toad I can’t stand because the way she carries her babies makes me freak out. Sorry Suriname Toad! If trypophobia is a problem for you don’t look her up 🥰)
Scented Plushies- I love… being able to smush my face into a soft plush animal and smell a pleasant smell. (I like sweet/fruity/pastry kinda smells) It’s like… IDK I have a bunch of them in my bed with me so I can pick one to cozy up with and it helps me sleep? (I have to sleep with a plush animal anyways, the way I sleep I’ll fuck up my shoulders if I don’t have Little Guy Support lol.) but also uh. Yeah Build A Bear has insertable smells and they last for like ever and they’re really pleasant ;; my favorite I think is their seasonal Pumpkin Spice, but I also really loved their other seasonal, Sunken Treasure, it was like, mango-y …
Pork Katsu- whenever we make it at home it’s kind of a special occasion cos it takes some doin, tryin stuff yk, but it’s always SO GOOD… we never have enough leftovers for Katsudon the next day lmfao. Oh there’s also a little restaurant inside the Hmart we go to, they do Katsu Sandwiches? And they come with a Fruit Sando too (it’s filled with seasonal fresh fruit and whip cream and it’s SO PRETTY and tastes SOOOO good.) gotta be one of my top tens of food (both kinda of sandwich LOL, but also just Pork Katsu. I group them together mentally as one thing in my brain 🤔)
Dark Chocolate Terry’s Orange - already drooling thinkin about that Winter only treat auuuuu…. It’s just so good, and it’s easy to snack off of for like, weeks. Cos you slap it on the table a bunch and it has a bunch of fake orange wedges made of dark chocolate to Nomf on. If you like chocolate and Orange you should try one once, I think they’re pretty great! I think some off-brands also makes like, ones with fillings like mint and raspberry? They’re pretty decent too from what I remember… (oops.. double food Happies. Well.! Food makes me happy!!!)
Leaving my Rambling Gushing Tags on peoples art also makes me really happy tbh it’s just not something I can condense into one-two words for the bold and color format I started - lol. But I for real get so excited seeing the stuff people create (I count gpose as art actually, it’s a creative outlet!!! Art!!) and I don’t have a LOT of art technical terms- it’s been a while since high school so I don’t even fully remember the terms they taught me back then- but I’m still like. Idk I see a cool shot, or a piece of art, and my heart becomes like, thunderstorm on the ocean, crash boom!!!!! So I write a bunch of tags pointing out what I like and what I think (with restraint, sometimes, I try not to thirst tag too heavily since I don’t want to make people uncomfortable and like. Block me LMFAO then I wouldn’t get to see their cool characters/art anymore yk) and I just. I hope it makes them happy too? But thinking that it might/does make them happy to get ramble excited tags (cos I do Lmfao) makes me really happy too? Idk. I just wanna put out good energy on people’s stuff. Encourage them to keep pursuing their hobbies? They cared enough to post it so others could see it which meant they wanted to show others, rather than not posting it all and keeping it to themselves, and, idk. This got really long LOL. I just have a lot of feelings about this i guess. Ty for sending this ask btw it’s been fun to answer ;w;
2 notes · View notes