#anyway i hope japan wins nevertheless

[maguro13-2]

The Dark Picture ~ Origins of the Ink Demon : Operation Drawcia Pt. 23 ~

[Mamimi Daily Residence - Atlanta, Georgia]

(News Anchor talking on radio)

(Cat meowing)

Mamimi : Talk about a big retcon. So there were any news update back in my homeland of Japan, it's no biggie. Well, you could say that I'm on a tight busy schedule. So yeah, I get that feeling right now, some crappy idea about monsters, myths, and legends. I always think about myself between this and that, and the others. Do I feel really that bad? (drinks a can of root beer) I regret nothing. Can't believe it's been five years since that weird incident, but it was no incident that I found out that I discovered some witch floating in the sky. The mess on the American public and Tokyo's attacks from the ravenous Ink Demon was that kind of incident, I know. (Looks at her cat) Don't believe in anything? Heh, it's your call. Anyway, what movie do you wanna watch? I got some old school romance, action, thriller, and even horror stuff, It's my favorite. Wanna watch the comedy ones? (her cat points to the Ron Burgundy movie) Good choice.

*door knocking*

Mamimi : Who could that be?

*open door*

Mamimi : Hello, sorry to bother you, Takkun. But I'm living in a lifestyle of my own and...Oh, I didn't see you there.

Marie Mjolnir : Are you, Mamimi Samejima?

Mamimi : Yeah, that's me. You must be that eye-patch lady who usually work for some kind of institution in Nevada or what state do you come from anyway?

Marie Mjolnir : I'm Marie Mjolnir, the same woman from around 12 years ago. Yes, I'm from a state called Minnesota.

Mamimi : Minnesota, that state in the Midwest, home to a bunch of Swedish people? Yeah, I may not know about Minnesota, but that is a great place to live. Retcon script is kicking up a notch and, uhh--Oh wait, I've known about Minnesota. Clearly, I just hope it's about the gophers, Ice Hockey, and Vikings, are there really any real vikings in Minnesota? No? I guess I take that advantage. Anyways, come in, come in. (Marie enters) Feel free to welcome yourself.

Marie Mjolnir : So, this is where you work here? You opened a media company of your own, Mamimi Daily Newsletter, right?

Mamimi : Yes, I am, I'm a photographer. But I was also an enthusiast it's just my kind of thing. I heard I went to a Dave and Busters in Marietta, to get food and play a lot of games cause I'm an expert.

Marie Mjolnir : Well, gee. It's quite a thanks that you love entertaining while people gain your skills of an enthusiasm. So, you live in Atlanta?

Mamimi : Yeah, this is where I reside here, and what place do you reside in, miss?

Marie Mjolnir : I reside in a place called the Twin Cities, Azusa Yumi resides and works at the State Capital St. Paul, while I reside in the city of Minneapolis, the home of my favorite football team, the Vikings. Plus, I was once the cheerleader of a football team back in high school.

Mamimi : That's fond memories of you, I can't break it to win it, you gotta have some kind of opportunity if you're feeling down on your oppression and neither them expectations that will get you all woozy.

Marie Mjolnir : Of course, I did see the fact that I have some minor details on whether we stay put or nevertheless, I guarantee it is my duty to think about the days of early skills. Didn't you hear?

Mamimi : Hmm?

Marie Mjolnir : I used to be cheerleading coach for Cheerleader, I was so excellent, I was perfect! But when I decided to quit the cheerleading team, I felt something in my life that I needed the most. I was wondering to make a retcon about Franken Stein's death.

Mamimi : What?

[Echo Night Beyond/Nebula : Track 3]

Marie Mjolnir : It's true. I heard that he was killed in Tokyo and I had realized that he was going to kill an innocent witch.

Mamimi : ?...

Marie Mjolnir : I can't believe that how could he do such a stupid thing!? It's all my fault that I wasn't able to save him in time, I failed to realize that. I never got the chance to reunite with him, everything went dark and I went downhill.

Mamimi : That's kind sad for you isn't it? I guess your love for Franken Stein is broken and cannot be fixed, I deeply recommend you that you would be astonishing for one's death and one's love filled with that courage crap. It's not about heroes nor villains fighting against each other for the struggles of this here planet, it's about conquering this world with love and purity. You gotta cherish those feelings for someone who you really loved in your life. You wanna know something why?

Marie Mjolnir : (nods)

Mamimi : I used to have someone to love with. I have my cat, my friends and teachers too, but the only question is, I have a boyfriend.

[Distant Temperature - SEGA Sound Team]

Marie Mjolnir : You do?

Mamimi : True, it's an example about being a young girl from Japan of what's like living in the real world, hear me this once. Back about over year ago when I was in school.

" I was once the school's greatest photographer that wanted to bring out the latest scoops to the presses back in my days, my mother and father have acknowledged the greatest catch I ever did once in my life and I even had to make out with boyfriend, I was so happy that I finally even met Takkun and the others. But the during the time when Haruko arrived, My boyfriend said that mom and dad were obnoxious because they found out that Haruko Haruhara was a girl from the stars and from space who was searching for the weird-space guy named Atomsk, the pirate king himself."

"Around the same time, My boyfriend and classmate were fighting over to prove who will love him back for me and that was the only person that I ever had felt. But the problem is, it wasn't an argument and we weren't fighting over to get him, they both wanted to get rid of me to think that I was such a loser and my parents had to abandoned me in the United States where I can work alone as a photographer and a news editor to start my own company and do all my daily deeds. My friends and teachers are still back in Japan and everyone in Atlanta too."

"It's nonetheless that it's always like that, I was the person no one wanted in my life. With my mother and father gone, who's going to look after me when I'm not upset? And when they do, nobody would mourn their loss and I would've had the chance to see them again."

Mamimi : So now I've begun to change a lot, I even had Takkun and everyone else on my side, but now that Takkun moved on, I finally get a chance to see that he's married with one of the girls he kissed. Isn't that a pleasant story to feel like that he loved someone dearly in his life?

Marie Mjolnir : Well, I guess that it's true even though, I still may not what to think about anything in life and I mean that even If I feel alone when I was already in love, but not anymore, but I believe that I even begun to change when I am already moving forward, even though we make the past mistakes with our lives at best, still...I even had Azusa Yumi on my side and she is a great friend to me. So with that Epiphany, I decided that I would step away from Nevada and moved back to my hometown of Minneapolis, where Azusa Yumi was coming from the state capital St. Paul. But do you have someone loving you in your life?

Mamimi : Yes, I do. And at least don't forget, when I arrived for my departure from Japan, I landed at San Francisco to catch that scoop two years ago. That scoop when I discovered that a 13-year old minor and former sixth grader, Maka Albarn, was mistaken for a crime that she did not commit, there was someone else that did the job to frame her. I discovered that it was not the queen of the Ink Demons nor her son. It was that girl named Patricia Thompson that wanted to make her the fool. It's always a fool's rule, whoever is the fool always the fool, that's the real reason Maka Albarn has always been a fool to think she wouldn't make believes about being a hero.

Marie Mjolnir : Say what?

Mamimi : It's true, she got angry or frustrated that she was never a hero to Soul World, she's only a girl living in the real world who was outcasted by others and had no one to play with. She could've been friends with anyone until she met the masked boy who changed her life. His name was Makoto Asagiri, the son of the legendary Phantom. He is an edgy guy who proclaims that Maka was called the Shattered Meister, a warrior that is driven with the power of Shattered Resonance. It is a power system that is a deadly force and it has the ability to target not the souls of people, but the heart of others.

Marie Mjolnir : Well, yeah, I once heard about that kind of power. It kills people, when it target people's hearts and utterly destroys it from it's powers. When Maka was only a little girl, she became frustrated over the course that she had Sympathy from ever being loneliness, but that all changed, when the powers of Shattered Resonance unleashed a massive explosion, wiping out four-fifths of the country's populace. But after Makoto saved her life, Maka has begun to change, thus creating the event known as the Shattering and Maka Albarn has become the only person that we have ever known about. Darkside Death was keeping truth out of it to lend it all a secret to us long as we could, but as in terms of what we went wrong. But she's highly dangerous and could kill people, but that doesn't make her the hero of Soul World! That's Darkside Death's doing and he wanted to keep truth out of the public eye and it was going to win it all! But it reminded one thing about! It reminded me of the day of what we remembered of what he did to Ohkubo's last hero Shotaro! The one who he really created us!

[Echo Night Beyond BGM : Track 4]

Darkside Death : (laughing evilly)

Shotaro the Dokeshi: (screams)

Marie Mjolnir : I never fought that a heartless being was created by the hero of the Ohkuboverse, Shinra Kusakabe! The mangakas of the industry like him we're all not too arrogant because of economics! They all wanted the stakes to raise for their own and me, I'm just a woman from the Midwestern States of America, what I'm going to do? I'm only human and I didn't wanted to be a tool working for a stupid heartless! But how can I not know that Darkside Death was behind everything, the evil forces, the school, the real reason why he made us kill innocent witches and not just the evil forces because he was making us protecting a family tree which was kept secret for years!? I should never trusted that stupid devil, even if it means to one's life before. And that's why I made my decision.

Azusa Yumi : Hey, Marie. I finally know where Maka Albarn is located! Excuse miss, sorry for the delay. But do you know where Maka Albarn is located at?

Mamimi Samejima : Sure, she's at one of them mysterious castles that is straightly coming out of a video game's world. Here! It's that picture Haruko gave it to me. (gives photo to Marie Mjlonir)

Marie Mjolnir : This is...(looks at the photo that appears to be Hang Castle Zone) The Reaper's Castle. So that's where you at, Maka Albarn.

"You and Inky Albarn are alike, Maka."

"The difference between you and her, are so similar and identical to each other."

"What can I do with this priceless life of ours into one's journey."

"I hope that you have our wishes granted dearly."

"This is what it means to be that kind of hero."

~ Mission 22 : Motivation of Love ~

[seijorhi]

Inescapable

Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader

TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader

“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.

It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win. 

You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.

A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.

“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. ���I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into. 

Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against. 

Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–

Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

– but only for a moment.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”

—

You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–

Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times. 

Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.

Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.

It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you. 

“Where I go, you go, always.”

“Always.”

And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned. 

His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away. 

But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering. 

Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.

“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”

The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.

“Thought I told you two–”

It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.

“Iwa?”

Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.

There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”

And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”

The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.

“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”

You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”

Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.

“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.

“Let me walk you back.”

Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”

It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”

It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.

He always does.

So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”

And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”

—

It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet. 

And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in. 

Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.

What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine. 

He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.

Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.

But once again, you’re proven wrong. 

It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.

It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.

“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”

Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight. 

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. 

He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.

Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that. 

You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.

“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.

He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata. 

Maybe.

But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face. 

“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”

The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”

And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. 

“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”

He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”

Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–

You have your soulmate. 

“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.

“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.

The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.

Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.

“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.

There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation. 

You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms. 

And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–

“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.

He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.

“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.

He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”

Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.

 “You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion. 

And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”

Of course.

And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”

He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”

Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.

Several actually. 

“Talking shit again, Miya?”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”

And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–

“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”

Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.

Atsumu, he’d said.

Miya Atsumu. 

Two words, and your world stops spinning. 

You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.

Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate. 

The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.

And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps. 

It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.

Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.

It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.

Miya Atsumu.

There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise. 

“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much. 

On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane. 

The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.

“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.

And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”

Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably. 

And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.

This isn’t what you wanted. 

If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”

The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”

A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.

“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”

Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.

Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps. 

“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”

You can’t breathe.

“Not when yer hurting her.”

It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing. 

You can’t breathe. 

“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”

You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?

“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”

You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter. 

He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–

“You’re hurting her!”

“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”

“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.

But somebody else does. 

“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!” 

Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.

“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist. 

You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face. 

“Iwa–”

“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!”

He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”

It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…” 

Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice. 

He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”

Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?

He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.

Not tonight, not when he has other priorities. 

And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.

And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again. 

How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him. 

You love him, for better or for worse, you love him. 

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.

It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.

One beat, then two, and then–

“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time. 

There’s another thud.

“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”

[thestargroup4]

Spirited Away (2001) and Shintoism

Hayao Miyazaki’s 2001 Japanese anime film, Spirited Away, received both commercial and critical success, not only remaining the highest grossing Japanese film until 2020, but also winning the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature. While Miyazaki claims that his stories are not structured around a specific Japanese religion or doctrine, he does include many aspects of Japanese culture and beliefs. Nevertheless, it is impossible to ignore the influence that Shinto has on this story.

The story opens with a young girl named Chihiro yearning for her best friend as she drives to a new home with her parents. When they take a wrong turn, her father insists that they take a scenic route and drives them into the forest.

When her family enters the forest, they enter the world of the kami. At the break between the road of the real world and the forest of the kami lies a torii gateway, the gate that separates the earthly world from the spiritual world at Shinto temples.  

After they discover a town, Chihiro realizes she is alone within a world full of kami. At a time when she feels the lowest, she must connect with the spirits that govern the order of the natural world. This is the ultimate essence of Shinto—that a connection with the kami and nature purifies the soul and cultivates the most virtuous person.

In order to stay alive, Chihiro pleads for a job from Yubaba, the manager of a kami bathhouse. Remember, Shinto ritual emphasizes the importance, especially when people ritualistically wash their hands and mouth entering a Shinto temple.

Yubaba gives her a contract to sign, changes Chihiro’s name to Sen and threatens to turn her to a pig if she does not perform to the highest level. Side note—her parents were turned to pigs—representing human greed.

And by the way-- Yubaba also flies around like this, so this is not a great working situation yet.

Anyway-- at the bath house, Sen has a guest who is a “stink spirit,” and instead of complaining, she accepts the challenge of helping this kami. When she finds a “thorn” in his side, she pulls as hard as hard as she can, and when she gets help from other kami, a pile of pollution and human waste flows out of the kami.

When it shoots out of the bath and flies away as a dragon, Sen realizes that this is a mighty river that had been defiled by humans. This pushback to modernity resonates directly with the sentiment of State Shintoism and its formation by the government.

While life with modern technology and mass consumerism in Japan may seem enjoyable and convenient to the people of Japan, Sen sees the ways in which the kami and nature are suffering. In tun, the film suggests that the harmony between humans, kami, and nature has been disrupted, and Sen’s journey into a strong and empathetic girl demonstrate the ways in which human life and society as a whole would benefit from restoration of this harmony.

I do not want to ruin the end of the movie for you all. This film has earned the acclaim that it has gotten, and I would not be doing this movie justice. I hope this has at least been a good introduction into some common Shinto themes in Spirited Away.

Just another fun tie in to Shinto and Spirited Away-- Ghibli Studios, the studio that produced the film, has an exhibit in Tokyo where you can get a fortune directly from Yubaba and follow another Shinto tradition.

Wiley Pippenger

[morkleemelon]

Jet Lag✈️

1) you and Mark are both idols and you're on video call from different countries and you miss each other. You surprise Mark secretly visiting Korea and you then surprise him in his room and you guys cuddle and stuff ^~^

@smolninja thank you for your request! I hope it’s everything you wanted! I’m sorry for the delay, I had so many issues with Tumblr and accidentally deleted it when I was like 70% done it was so sad. Nonetheless, I really liked writing it! Enjoy :)

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Fem Idol!reader x Mark Lee

The set up: you’re in a 7 member kpop group called Girl Trouble and you’ve just finished the first concert of your Japanese tour. We’re pretending corona doesn’t exist :) The general public does not know that you are dating Mark Lee

-----

You feel the van come to a stop as flashing lights bloom from outside the tinted windows, waking you from your much needed sleep.

“We’re at the hotel y/n,” your bandmate, Yeeun, informs, fixing her hair in her phone camera to make sure she was ready to be photographed.

The excited cheers coming from the street bring you out of your sleepy stupor and you stretch your arms above you in a big yawn.

“How do I look?” you ask Nayoo, your best friend in the group who’s sitting next to you, touching up her concealer.

“Perfect as always y/n, duh,” she replied, playfully winking as she put her stuff away.

“Ok I’m opening the door!” you warn as you grab the handle and take a deep breath, putting on your best smile.

Swinging the door open, you’re met with an uproar of fans calling out your name and a storm of camera flashes eager to capture your latest look. It was your group’s first time in Japan so the fans were especially excited to finally have the chance to see you.

*Click click click click*

You stepped out of the car as gracefully as you could, smile never faltering as you showed off your pearly white teeth and prize-winning dimples. Brushing your hair back slightly as you walk, you tease your new gold earrings as a subtle endorsement to the brand. Your members following suit, you wave to the crowd and make your way to the entrance, nodding at a few fansites you recognized.

- - -

Throwing yourself onto the bed, your freshly showered hair promptly soaks through the comforter but you couldn’t care less.

“Ugh...,” you sighed, melting into the plush goodness of the hotel mattress, “I’m so goddamn tired.”

If only he were here with you...

“Oh!” you gasp, head shooting up from your now wet pillow, “I promised I’d call!”. You rolled off the bed and scrambled to find your phone in your bag, suddenly wide awake.

“You’re calling loverrr boyyyy?” Nayoo teased, dragging out the letters because she knew how much you hated it.

“Stopppp!” you whined, throwing your soggy pillow at her and trying to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.

Frantically unlocking your phone, you scroll through your contacts to find your boyfriend, heart racing with anticipation. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen Mark and you know it’ll be a few more until you have the chance. You promised each other to call whenever you could, but with NCT dream having a new comeback and Girl Trouble was starting to be really popular, there was only so much you could do. On top of that, it was stressful trying to keep your relationship a secret with all of the prying eyes around you and Mark’s intense fan base. Nevertheless, you’ve been going strong for about 8 months now you know that everything, every struggle, is worth it because of how much you truly love him.

Calling: Baby💕💋🦁...

You don’t bother to fix your makeup-less face and frizzy hair because you know that he’ll say you’re beautiful.

You smile at the thought of him as the FaceTime chimes ring.

*whoom*

“Marky!” you whisper cry, heart racing with excitement as you see his face for the first time in days.

“Baby!” Mark squeals back in the same tone, losing himself to giggles as you both giddily recover from the excitement of getting to see each other. You can hear the sound of voices mocking him in the background and Chenle’s piercing scream cuts through the audio.

“How have you been, baby?” you ask adoringly, ignoring the dreamies and look longingly at the boy in round glasses and his favorite grey hoodie.

“Shut up guys! I’m trying to talk to y/n!” he yells back at them, met with only more mocking and screaming. Sighing and giving up, he turns back to the camera, “Ah you know, I’ve been alright. We’ve been pretty busy with practice. I’m actually at practice right now if you can’t tell”. He pans the camera to the other members of dream who are clearly only taking a break because Mark made them stop for this phone call.

Guilt grips at you as you realize how you were probably inconveniencing them. After all, it was getting late and they all have to stay even later now because of you.

“Oh... if now’s not a good time we can always try tomorrow,” you offer, smiling slightly but not enough to hide your disappointment and guilt.

“Aw baby I’m sorry,” Mark soothes, “don’t worry about us I didn’t mean it like that. I missed you so much and these guys can spare a few minutes it’s fine”.

“I wish you were here, Mark. Or I was there,” you whisper, lying down on your bed once again. Placing your phone in front of you, it’s almost, almost, as if he were there lying with you.

Mark wears a pensive expression as he looks down, using his free hand to fiddle with his hoodie strings.

“Yeah. Me too”.

His voice is strained as he thinks about the nights you’ve snuck out together and the secret dates you shared. He misses the way you feel in his arms and the way your soft hair felt when it tickled him awake in the morning. He misses your terrible dad jokes and your night cooking. It was really frustrating how you were both so young and so in love, but everything else in life had to get in the way. Mark really missed you.

You reach out instinctively to stroke his hair but instead of comforting the boy you loved, your hands are met with only the cold surface of your screen.

The two of you talked for a few more minutes, trying to make the most of the time before he had to go. You could tell by the way his voice strained that he was really exhausted.

When he finally hung up, you couldn’t shake the empty feeling off; not being next to him, being able to touch him, to comfort him, to be with him was the worst feeling in the world.

And before you could stop yourself, warm tears began to fall as your shoulders shook with your heartbroken sobs. Video calls were supposed to make you miss each other less, not more. You loved him so much that you’d miss him even if he was right there with you. Being apart was devastating.

“Oh, honey…,” Nayoo coos, crawling into your bed to give you a much needed hug, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Let it out”.

Wrapping your arms around your best friend, you let the tears fall onto your already soaked pillow and spilling out the feelings you’ve kept buried inside for so long. 

“I just miss him so much,” you gasp, squeezing your fists around the fabric of Nayoo’s sweatshirt. 

“Oh I know y/n, I know,” she comforted, “remember back when we were trainees and you just started dating Mark? And I was always there to distract Manager Kim when you snuck out to meet him?”.

You let out a small laugh at her attempt to lighten the mood. Nayoo was truly a good friend and she always had your back. You were really lucky to have her in your life.

“I do, Nayoo. I never thanked you enough for that”

“You know I love you. I’d do it again now if you wanted to sneak out and meet him. Actually I bet you could pull it off since our next show isn’t for another 4 days”

“Wait…”

Both of you sat up at the same time, looking at each other with wide eyes. 

------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Shush! We already bought the tickets there’s no backing out now”

“What if someone notices me?”

“They won’t. Look at you”

You looked in the mirror of the lobby bathroom you were hiding in. You were dressed in plain, unbranded clothes, your hair tucked in a low, messy bun. The majority of your face was covered by a mask and a baseball hat, making you look nearly unidentifiable to anyone looking. 

“I guess,” you sighed, still nervous, “let’s just go over the plan again”.

“Alright sheesh,” Nayoo groaned, “as if I am not a wizard of distracting our manager. You’ll get into the Uber we just called and go to Japan Airport. Your flight is at 2:30am and you’ll arrive in Korea at about 4:00am. Then you’ll go to Mark’s dorm and make out with him yadda yadda-”.

You punched her in the arm.

“Okay! Did I lie though? Anyways, you’ll be on your return flight the next day at the same time so you better savor your time. MY job is to tell Manager Kim that you are having lady problems and you can’t make it to practice today. He hates when we talk about periods so this is fool proof seriously. Plus we know that you will do fine on stage without one day of practice”.

“Okay…,” you chewed your lip nervously, half dreading the thought of being caught and half thrilled at the thought of being in Mark’s arms in a few hours. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you looked at the notification.

*your Uber driver Ayako is here! Look for license plate A29&Q on a black Honda Pilot*

Hugging Nayoo goodbye, you rush out of the hotel and into the cab, adjusting your cap and mask to make sure it covers your face. 

Each second that passed, you became more excited about seeing your boyfriend and less nervous about the consequences. 

Mark, I’m here for you. I’m coming, just wait a little bit longer. 

Your hands itched to call him and tell him what you were doing but you knew that he was catching up on some much needed sleep by now. 

When you arrived at the Japan Airport, you thanked the driver and walked briskly through the airport. You had nothing except a small backpack and your plane ticket so getting through security was quick. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people there at 2 in the morning so you began to relax. 

Successfully making it through security, you finally board the plane and claim your seat at the very back. 

Looking out the window to the dark, starry skies, the lights of the airplane wings illuminate the drops of rain that began to fall. 

-----

You jolt awake as the plane lands at the South Korea Airport with a rumbling thud. Your hands dart to your face to make sure your mask and hat are still there, sighing in relief when they remain unmoved. 

Grabbing your bag, you walk down the aisle of the half-empty plane, each step bringing you closer to Mark. 

Rushing out of the airport, your steps gain traction as you feel your heart racing in excitement at the thought of seeing your boyfriend so soon. The cold night air greets you familiarly as you call the nearest cab over. Telling the driver the address of Mark’s dorm building, you watch as the streetlights pass by and you near the boy you’ve been dying to see for weeks. 

At last, you arrive at the steps of the apartment complex. Thanking the driver, you rush into the building and attack the elevator button going up. Your breathing is shallow with excitement knowing that he’s there right now. He’s there and you’re going to be with him. 

Every second in the elevator feels like hours and you kick yourself for not taking the stairs. The floors seem like they’re all a mile away from the last and you tap your foot impatiently on the carpeted floor. 

8...9...10

*Ding*

You speed out of the elevator and find your way expertly to the infamous 10th floor dorm room. Feeling around the crevices of the carpet floor for the spare key, you feel a slight twinge of nerves because you’re technically breaking into their home. But, as soon as you enter the familiar room, any guilt you have washes away and the only thing you can feel is the rapid beating of your heart filled with love and anticipation.

Making your way silently through the dark common room, you stop at the oh-so-familiar door. When your hand touches the cold metal of the doorknob, you swear that the beating of your heart was loud enough to wake the entire building.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door and you see him. Your breath hitches at your throat and you fight back the urge to cry right then and there. Mark was lying on his bed, snuggled under the covers with his arms and legs wrapped around a pillow like he always does when he sleeps. His soft breathing was rhythmic and calming, the warm scent of his room inviting you in. 

Without wasting another second away from him, you drop your bag on the messy floor and walk up to his bed. Carefully, you pull at the pillow in his embrace and replace it with your own body. Mark shifts slightly and you freeze, not wanting to wake him up from his rare sleep. His eyes remain closed and his arms instinctively tighten around you. You can see through the darkness that his eyebrows furrow slightly and his lips part, and you wonder if he knew you were there. 

“Finally,” you thought to yourself, reaching up slowly to caress his hair, “we’re finally together”. It didn’t feel real. You couldn’t believe that you were finally here in his arms. His body was so warm and felt like home to you. 

You can feel Mark’s fingers autonomously rub circles into your back. As if his body realized what was happening, Mark’s eyes opened slowly and he peered into your face, blinking slowly to process this new information. 

“I’m here, Mark,” you whisper as softly as you can.

Without any hesitation, Mark leans forward and presses a deep kiss onto your lips, conveying ten thousand words with his actions that could only be interpreted as “I missed you so much”. 

You kiss him back, fingers gripping onto his shirt with raw emotion in an “I missed you too”. You breathe in deeply, not wanting to forsake any aspect of him, taking in all of his scent and drinking it all like a flower with no water.

He pulls away with a sigh and presses his forehead against yours. Mumbling incoherent words, you notice that he seems to have fallen back asleep.

Your own eyelids feel heavy and they flutter closed as you succumb to the warm welcome of sleep, your heart whole with love.

----- 

Dull beams of sun fell slanted through the curtains as you drifted awake the next morning. You felt a hand playing with your hair and you opened your eyes slowly, temporarily forgetting what you had done the night before. Memories flooded back and your attention narrowed in at the smiling boy in front of you. 

“You’re really here,” Mark whispered, “how are you here?”.

“It’s a long story,” you whispered back, voice still hoarse from sleep. 

He pulled you in closer to his chest and you gladly snuggled into his warm body, nuzzling at his favorite hoodie, the one you got him for Christmas. 

“I thought it was all a dream when I saw you last night,” he admitted.

“Stay with me today?,” you ask, worried that your time together would be short. If he had to go to practice, you could hardly see him at all and you’d go back to missing him a thousand miles away.

“I’m not going anywhere today,” Mark replies, kissing the top of your head, “my wishes have finally come true and you magically appeared in my bed. I’d be an idiot to leave”.

You giggled at his words, working your fingers to draw shapes into his back. 

You start to tell him what happened after you called him the night before and how devastated you were when you weren’t with him. Mark’s arms tightened around you as you told him you cried when you saw how tired he was and you weren’t there to cheer him up. You told him about how you put on a disguise and snuck around Manager Kim who thought you were dying right now. His body shook with laughter at the crazy night you had and you both agreed that this was the wildest thing you had ever done.

“How long are you gonna stay here?”

“My flight back to Japan is at 2:30am tomorrow morning. What time is it now?”

Mark shifts to unlock his phone on the nightstand. 

“It’s 10:49am”

You sighed and buried your face deeper into his chest, trying to get impossibly closer to the love of your life and make the most of your hard-earned time together. 

“Let’s do everything today,” you heard him say.

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your chin up to look at him, pressing a small his to his jaw. 

“Let’s just do everything we always wanted to do. Let’s get ramen from the convenience store together and then go on a walk at the park. Let’s get matching sweaters from the mall and then full sugar boba tea. You’ll drink half of mine and I’ll let you because I’m a good boyfriend”. Mark giggles at his imagination and peppers kisses across your face. 

You laugh at the ticklish sensation and your heart swells with love for the Canadian boy. 

Your whole body tingled, the feel of his body around yours and his lips on yours sending your head spinning. Rubbing your nose adoringly against his in an eskimo kiss, you vow that you would be strong for him from now on. You might be apart for work a lot, but the love you share is inseparable and undeniable. Nothing could ever come between you. You were his and he was yours. 

“Let’s do it, Everything”

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

“How are you holding up son, are you eating enough food? You need to keep up your strength.” Mitsuki Bakugou questioned through the phone when her son called to give her an update.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I am! And, um, thanks for the money you put in my account,” Bakugou mumbled his appreciation.

“It’s from us, Inko, and All Might— actually he’s been putting up the bulk of it. We’re all hoping you find Izuku soon, but until then we’ll make sure you have what you need, just bring him home.”

“I’m working on it. Bastard’s not making it easy, but at least the damn authorities haven’t picked up on the trail yet.” It was a good thing, because Bakugou didn’t need them scaring Midoriya further away.

“You’re like a dog with a bone when you put your mind to something, so I know you’ll find a way.”

“I can’t believe you just equated me to a dog!”

“Oh, bite your tongue boy! It’s an expression!”

“Yeah, yeah. I better go, the train’s here.” He could see it pulling into Kawaji station.

“Are you still not gonna tell us where you are?”

“Nope. He moves around a lot anyways. Just know we haven’t left Honshu.”

“Alright. Good luck son. I’ll pass on your update to Inko and All Might.”

This game of hide and seek was physically wearing on Bakugou, but there was nothing short of a full incapacitation that would keep him from searching. After the Ena incident, Midoriya’s tactics had changed somewhat. The man moved more frequently and, in a zigzag, whereas in the past it had been heading in a straight line towards Shizuoka to the southwest. But there was one thing Midoriya couldn’t hide— victims. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

There were still times victims were drained, but not all of them. Bakugou surmised in order to not leave them fully incapacitated like before, his friend wasn’t always waiting until he was hungry, or he hadn’t learned to control it yet. He probably fed almost nightly, picking drunkards who wouldn’t remember what happened, and even less likely to report the incident. But less reports made it harder to track, and less blood also forced Midoriya to drink more often. Bakugou hoped that with shorter times between attacks, the man would get sloppy and make a mistake.

There were a lot of small towns all over, including abandoned structures from older times. Plenty of places to hide, not to mention dense forests and the mountainous terrain of central Japan that a person could disappear in. When tracking a lack of victim reports grew frustrating, Bakugou started looking for other clues, and in one town, a perceptive police officer commented about thefts he’d been hearing about from the surrounding areas. Random stores or restaurants, even some homes reporting the theft of food, sometimes clothing, basically survival type supplies but no valuables, which are not the norm of a burglary. It was brilliant.

Bakugou had thanked the officer for the information and immediately began inquiring in towns and watching newspapers where they were having both types of problems. It took almost a month, including a couple of near misses, until Bakugou knew he was closing in.

Local newspapers were reporting about unusual happenings in the smaller towns. In Ieyama city, high up in the mountains north of Shizuoka, Bakugou spoke with a police officer and confirmed a rash of strange incidents reported. Three burglaries of just food, one bath house broken into after closing, and a couple of reported attacks where the victims had marks on their necks. So far, Izuku’s new behaviors included sticking around the same area for about a week before moving on. With these latest cases only 3 days old in total, Bakugou knew they were a fresh lead.

“Yesterday, right?”

“Yes, the last burglary was in the afternoon while the homeowner was at work.” Using a paper map, the police officer showed Bakugou the location of the most recent burglary as well as two others over the last couple of days. It was very telling. The three places were centered around a 4-block radius. “If you are looking for hiding spots, there is an abandoned factory in that area. I’ll give you the address.”

“Thanks. I doubt they’d stay so close to the attack grounds, but I’ll check it out.” He didn’t want any of them following him.

It was still daylight, but Bakugou didn’t want to waste any time and risk his friend moving again after dark, heading straight for the dilapidated warehouse. The place looked like it had been emptied for a longtime. There was a rusted, chain link fence around the property, many broken windows, and weeds growing over the structure. Bakugou crept up to one of the windows, and heard nothing, so he moved slowly, quietly around the exterior paying close attention to any sounds or movements inside. But he heard nothing to indicate anything was there, not even an animal. Maybe it was another dead end, or maybe Midoriya was just sleeping. Un-phased, he moved inside the two-story building to make absolutely sure.

It took a while to search cautiously through the darkness, watching his step so not to step on anything or make a noise. The vastly open bottom floor was almost completely empty aside from a few left behind junk. So, Bakugou moved to the second floor where offices once were. Of all the areas, the top floor would provide the warmest cover, as well as quicker access to the roof. Like a trained tactical soldier, he cleared room after room, moving down the hallway that separated the individual offices, and one by one, eliminating them from the search. Finally, Bakugou reached the last one and heard the soft breathing of a sleeping person. Well, that meant two options, it’s just a homeless person or he’d finally caught his friend off guard.

Bakugou peered cautiously around the door frame. It was dark, but just enough light from a small window allowed his eyes to adjust quickly on a form lying down on the floor. Next to the person was a backpack, empty food containers strewn around, and possibly other items from the burglaries. There was also a make-shift hearth of broken bricks and a metal bowl with dark residue inside. He could even smell the light scent of soot mixed with burnt wood. ‘Gotcha!’ He smirked as he pocketed his flashlight and pulled out a special pair of handcuffs used to dampen quirks. It didn’t completely shut down a person’s quirk, but it kept them from using its full power. He was ready for Midoriya this time.

‘Almost there…’ he crept forward in a crouched manner ready to pounce like a predator stalking its prey in careful movements since he no longer had the flashlight out to see by. ‘Damn minefield,’ Bakugou grumbled as he navigated around the strewn mess of stuff the sleeping man had around him. ‘Almost there—'

*Crunch*

A piece of glass shattered below his boot, the sounds reverberating off the silent cement walls. “Shit!” Bakugou dove forward when Midoriya immediately popped up and tried to dash away. “Not this time nerd!”

“Waaahhhcchan!” Midoriya screamed as he was tackled to the floor. The two men fought, vying for footing, but the blonde kept them on the ground. Bakugou grabbed for and slapped one end of the handcuffs onto one of Midoriya’s wrists. “Nooo!” The man screamed.

“Not this time Deku! You ain’t getting away!”

Weakened by the cuff, Bakugou poured all his strength into jerking the disheveled man, flipping him onto his stomach, and tweaking his arm behind him into a wrist lock for leverage.

Midoriya screamed again from the pain, but nevertheless fought with all he had. Unfortunately, the cuffs were doing their job. “Please, Kacchan! Don’t do this!”

“Tough shit!” Bakugou snapped back and attached the other cuff to his own wrist. The effects would hamper them both, but “I dare you, nerd, you can’t beat me in a contemporary fight.” He was confident of such, having always been the physically stronger of the two regardless of quirk. “I’m taking you home!”

Midoriya wriggled, and tugged, but it was of no use. His friend had planted his feet, dropped his weight, and refused to budge. He didn’t want to risk exhausting himself and triggering a full-blown thirst like last time, so he stopped struggling.

After a few seconds, Bakugou got off the man and turned him over so he could sit up. Midoriya nursed his arm and rubbed at his wrist to soothe the pain. “Of course, I want to go home,” he sighed. “But it’s too dangerous Kacchan, why can’t you understand that?”

“Eri’s getting better every day, one day she’ll be able to control her quirk and fix you.”

“That’s not good enough. What are you gonna do, lock me up hoping she can fix me?! You saw what happened! Just like we eat food every day, I need blood, how are you gonna deal with that?!”

“Fine,” Bakugou shrugged, “we’ll hook you up to an IV and feed you blood when you need it.”

“No,” Midoriya started tugging again as tears flowed down his cheeks. “Please,” he begged, “this is too embarrassing, don’t you understand! I’ll never be able to be a hero again, my reputation will be ruined once everyone finds out! Hero society will look bad! It’s better I stay away!”

Frustrated with having his wrist yanked, Bakugou whipped his friend around and put him in a carotid choke hold. “Well, I’m not fucking leaving,” he spat, “so, we need to come up with a solution. Now stop fucking fighting me and get it through your head, the reality is I’m not going anywhere.”

Midoriya clawed at Bakugou’s arm trying to pull it away from his neck, but the man had it cinched in tight. If he kept struggling, he was bound to pass out. Exhausted, he finally relented and turned into a dead weight, sobbing quietly. “Why are you doing this, Kacchan… why?”

“Because a friend once told me I need to save to win, and right now you need to be saved for me to win.”

“Right? Win, I get it,” Midoriya narrowed his eyes along with tone. “This is an ego thing? You’ll take me back to show how you’re still better than me?” His heart didn’t believe those words, but as a coping mechanism, it did.

Bakugou let go of the man and shoved him so hard Midoriya face planted on the floor, stretching the handcuff chain to its limit. “I ought’a punch your lights out for saying that! I’m trying to win my friend back you asshole! You think I’d spend all this time chasing you if I didn’t care?!”

“Kacchan…” The man sighed and slowly propped himself back up. “There’s nowhere safe for me to go.”

Bakugou ignored the man and looked at his watch, noting the sun would have fully set by now. It might best to stay another night while he came up with a plan. “Tch, I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, behave or I will just knock you unconscious.”

“Fine, I won’t fight. But I do need to feed tonight.” Midoriya lifted his arm to flash the cuff. “Guess you’ll have to help me.”

“Why? You feeling the urge?” Midoriya nodded yes. “How can you tell?”

Midoriya thought about the answer for a minute before responding. “It’s like feeling dehydrated, maybe, at least in the beginning, but then it starts to get painful if I don’t feed it. I guess think of it like if you don’t eat for so long your stomach hurts— that’s what it’s like.”

“Sounds like it sucks.”

Midoriya snorted. “Understatement. It takes control of my mind by that point, almost as if it’s a survival instinct to protect itself.”

“Well, mister know it all. You ever heard of this kind of quirk before?”

“No,” Midoriya shook his head.

“Do the vestiges have anything to say about all this?”

Again, Midoriya shook his head.

Bakugou groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter for the current situation.” He looked up again fixing a stare at his friend. “So, what do you do to get the blood?”

[gossipchii]

Drive to survive

FF.net: here / AO3: here

Characters: Ishida Yamato

Words: 5100+

Notes: I promised this on twitter, and here as well and well, it happened. A Digimon story on my latest obsession. the Formula 1.

It’s safe to say I got excited, this is my longest story in forever!

Anyway, hope you like it as much as I do. Enjoy!

He was making history; he could not let himself forget it. Not ever had there been a Japanese driver to win podiums, and so far, during that season only, he had five. He had been working towards where he was right now ever since he was 8, when his dad had taken him to a kid’s go-kart circuit in Tokyo and had found out his heart had never beaten quicker. His mom had gotten scared when he told her how much he had liked it, and that he wanted to go back.

The owner of the place, a former engineer for Formula 1, was impressed as soon as he placed his eyes on him.

“He’s got talent,” he had told his mother, she shrugged it off. It was only a hobby, it had to be.

When his grandparents had gone visiting from Paris, Yamato had insisted on them seeing him race, he was only ten at the time. His grandfather knew he raced go-karts from his calls with his mother, but since she had insisted it was just a hobby, he took it that way. Of course, as an old French man, he was a big afficionado of car races, and nevertheless he was impressed by how fast his young grandson was.

“He’s a natural Natsuko, you must understand this is not just a hobby.”

Yamato traveled back to France with his grandparents, after he had heard them discussed with his mother about him taking a shot at race teams in Europe, professional ones. He had never been a professional before, he was not even sure what that meant, since Formula 1 was not a popular sport between his classmates, it was all about soccer and baseball, he did not know people could get paid by racing.

Michel, his grandfather, had a friend, who knew a friend, who was a part of the recruiting team of Renault’s quarry, and as soon as they saw 10-year-old Yamato behind his tiny wheel, they knew he was a natural, good enough to start training as soon as possible with their team.

It all happened too fast for him, he had to go back to Tokyo to pack up his life and leaving for good. He was not even certain if he were feeling sad or nostalgic, all he knew was school would turn into something he could do at home, and in French, and that he would be racing all the time. It all sounded like a dream, really.

“Don’t tell your grandma I’m telling you this but go kick those English kids’ butts!” had been the encouragement words coming from his grandpa before his first-ever professional race. He was 13 at the time, already gaining enough attention from the media, especially from his home country, despite only stepping foot in Japan once a year.

He tried not to read anything regarding himself, they tended to be mean, and underappreciating him. He knew after the first article he had read, he would never read it again, what was the point anyway?

“Next time I see anyone writing something mean they’ll be fired, even if they work elsewhere,” his dad had threatened.

“It’s okay, I don’t even care anymore. Let them talk, all I care about is getting podium, again.”

And so, he did, until he was old enough to jump to the bigger leagues. From Formula 3 to Formula 2, and finally, with only 21 years old, signing a five-year contract with the team Michel had always admired: Scuderia Ferrari.

Sadly enough, he had not had the chance to see him drive in red, because he had passed away due to a heart-attack, his grandmother passing away shortly after. People said she had died from heartbreak. Yamato only took it as another reason why he had to prove his best. His management team had told him media were already calling him the best Japanese driver in history, and that was nice, but only if he made it reality.

Yamato had helped Ferrari pound back to being the first-place team once again, after years of competing against Red-Bull and Mercedes. But he had only been the fifth best racer, not good enough if he wanted to make history.

That week he was back in his homeland, Japan greeting him as a hero for the Japanese Grand Prix. It was scary how much his face was everywhere he looked, even more so than pop-icons. He was glad his team respected his choice to remain mostly private, and when they wanted advertising, his team-mate, an Austrian dude who was six years older than him, was more than happy to do the interviewing.

It was safe to say he was not pleased when they asked him to do a photoshoot for a local fashion brand, up and coming worldwide, apparently. Yamato did not care much about fashion, despite him being called the best dressed racer a few years in a row. Not that he knew about it, plus he usually put on an all-black outfit and he was through.

“Why can’t Lechner do it?”

“They want you specifically, Ishida.” His manager said softly, “even the Japanese embassy is paying for this partnership. Aren’t you proud to be Japanese?”

“Of course, I am, asshole.” He smirked, rolling his eyes as he decided it was the perfect timing to visit his brother.

As expected, he was on a tight schedule, this could never count as a vacation visit to Japan, but he had asked his team to send him into Japan two days earlier to visit his family. It was a tradition he tended to do ever since he started racing world-wide.

He took his ever-loved motorbike and drove as fast as he could to Odaiba. Driving a motorbike had been what he could call his hobby, since karting had turned into his job, having built a couple of them while living in Italy.

“He better be home,” he stretched his arms as he opened the door in front of him, knowing damn well his brother always made the mistake to leave it unlocked. He heard him singing in his bathroom, which meant he was finishing taking a shower. He looked around to confirm his mother was not home and shrugged it off. He had drifted apart from her when he initially moved to France with his grandparents, and even more so when his parents (finally) got divorced.

“Don’t you dare opening that door if you’re naked.”

“YAMATO?” Takeru opened the door wearing nothing but his tiny white trousers.

“I truly do not feel like seeing you naked,” but of course his younger brother could not care less and ran to greet him with a hug. He was the only person on earth allowed to hug him.

“What a funny way of admitting how much you had missed me!!” He gifted him one of his traded white smiles, the warmest smile Yamato knew. “Nervous for this weekend?”

“As long as it doesn’t rain, I don’t see why I should be.”

“Even when it rains you succeed, you’re always making everyone proud!”

“Even you?” he served himself oolong tea. He was surprised to see beer in his mom’s fridge, forgetting for a second his younger brother was legally allowed to drink.

“You know I’m your number one fan, those old-rich men are nothing compared to the original Yamato Ishida stan!” Takeru walked into his room to get dressed, for Yamato’s relief. He had offered his mother if they wanted to move to a bigger apartment, considering he now had the money to provide her and Takeru with something better, but she had refused, and he gave up after the third time.

“Going out?”

“I was going to, with the good-old gang, but that was before I knew you would pay me a visit.”

“So Hikari and company, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, even Taichi is coming, you should come, too!” Taichi was his oldest friend, the only one he missed when he moved to Europe.

“Nah, you know I don’t drink.” And it was not merely because of his strict diet, he was not a fan of what alcohol did with his mindset. “But you go and have fun, I must get back to my place, anyway, and be as early as possible in Suzuka tomorrow morning.” Takeru looked disappointed, Yamato felt a pinch of guilt for not being what a fun older brother was supposed to be. “But I’ll text Taichi! Remind everyone they’re invited this weekend, VIP seats and all!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, brother.” Yamato smiled softly before playing with Takeru’s hair like he used to when they were kids, even if he was almost his height.

He took a chopper ride from Tokyo to Suzuka the morning after. He had much rather taken the train, but Ferrari strictly prohibited him from doing so.

“Are you insane? People would eat you alive, you’re pretty much as famous as Hello Kitty is in this place!” He ignored his comment, it was always annoying to Yamato when they were in Japan, because most of his team-mates were foreign to Japanese culture, and he did not have the patience to educate every single one of them.

It was Thursday, which meant he could do strength exercises before the testing race the next day.

“How’s my superstar doing?” the mere voice of his manager irritated him, but he had another year signed up to him, afterwards he had decided to work by himself. After all, he still had another three-year contract with Ferrari.

“He’s extremely focused,” and he was strength training was the hardest to him.

“Don’t forget you have that photoshoot I had mentioned you in an hour, and I wouldn’t like you to go there all sweaty.”

“Do you think I would forget?” but in fact, he had forgotten it, his mind had probably erased the memory of that specific event.

“I’m glad we’re finally on the same track,” he winked at Yamato, before shutting the door of the hotel’s gym.

Yamato did not have much of a choice, so he took a cold shower before heading to one of the hotel’s meeting rooms. It had all been transformed for it to look like a Sakura garden. In reality, it was October and Sakura’s were far from blossoming. He would be lying if he did not admit it looked rather breathtaking.

He had heard about this up-and-coming brand. They had turned the Japanese typical attire and turned it into mainstream. He had to admit he was a fan.

He had also heard the brand had been started by a young student from Bunka Fashion College, under the wings of a bigger brand. He had heard, not that he cared, really, that the founder was around his age. Suddenly, he was curious.

“Ishida Yamato, what a pleasure to finally meet you!” a man around his thirties greeted him rather enthusiastic.

“You must be…?”

“Oh, you’re a funny one! Yoshio Fujiwara, of course!” And the Fujiwara branding was the bigger one who had taken the young designer under his wings, he wondered where she was.

“Of course, of course,” he bowed, always traying himself to remain close to his Japanese customs and traditions. “A pleasure to meet you, Fujiwara-san.”

“No need to be formal with me, I’m very used to western traditions, having spent most of your life in Europe, I would have killed for an opportunity like that!” Yamato tried his best not to roll his eyes, faking his best smile. “It is our biggest pleasure that you have accepted to be the face of our newest collection.” Yamato saw a petit figure running around the room with pieces of clothing covering her, he wondered if that was Fujiwara counterpart.

“It’s always delightful to put Japan’s name high, you know.” He cleared his voice, “so, am I also going to meet Takenouchi-san?”

“You absolutely will, she must be somewhere around… Sora!?” The fast-paced person finally stopped, uncovering her face from the piles of clothing she was carrying. “Don’t be rude and introduce yourself to Yamato.”

“Sure thing, just let me finish up the final touches and…”

“Now?!” Yamato noticed a subtle sigh coming from her lips. She surely seemed young, barely his own age. For the first time since the encounter started, he felt safe.

She ran right next to him, her attention still clearly on the mess she had left. He could immediately tell how passionate she was about what she was doing.

“It’s a pleasure, Ishida-san. I would love to lie and say I’m a fan, but truth is this is my first time having an encounter with races, or cars in general…”

“Sora! You’re being rude!”

“Sorry, I still take the subway and I never got a driver’s license!” Yamato snorted, in those five seconds he decided that redhead was his favorite person in the room.

“Well, I’m glad to admit this is not my first encounter with your brand, I’ve read so much.” Her eyes lit up; Yamato could have even sworn he spotted a subtle blush in her face.

He was rather awkward in front of the cameras, never quite a natural. Another reason why his team-mate was the one to do most of Ferrari’s advertisements. But Sora helped him feel in his element, somehow. He liked how much she got into her character, almost ignoring him by how much she cared on how her designs looked on him.

“I think we’re good, we shouldn’t take much more of your time.” By then, Fujiwara had left the room, Sora was certain he had slipped into the hotel bar.

“That must have been the less stressful photoshoot I’ve ever had, thank you, Takenouchi-san.”

“Oh, don’t call me that! I’m not older than you are.”

“Then you must accept to drop the formalities with me as well.” A grimaced appeared on her face, clearly unsure.

“But you’re a client, that would be completely unprofessional!”

“I promise I won’t tell anybody,” Sora liked that, a dirty-little-secret.

“Fine, but if Fujiwara is around, I’ll go back in character.”

“Deal,” Yamato grabbed a bottle of water and doubted if he should say what his mind was begging at him to do. “Are you staying for the race?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I had no idea how this worked.” She shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “I don’t understand why it lasts so many days, it’s confusing. This whole sport is confusing.” Sora liked sports, for instance, sports where a ball had to go from one side of the court to the other, not cars and tires.

“It’s not that hard, you’ll see,” they took a seat on the fake grass Sora had built for the photoshoot. “The first day is merely for us to get familiar with the track, nothing formal. The second day the places for the actual race, which is on Sunday, get settled. And that’s pretty much it.”

“And you get to travel the world for that?”

“People can be very serious about their cars.”

“Incredible,” she locked eyes with Yamato, she was not familiar with his sport but she sure was with his face, and not only because it was everywhere she looked around the city’s billboards, but because she had studied it for the whole photoshoot, and even for the particular line she was about to launch.

“It would be fun if you stayed, some friends around our age are coming too, so it won’t be that weird for you.”

“Okay, but I’ll stay for fun, not as a part of my job schedule.”

“Great!” He said way too enthusiastic, regretting it right away. “I can get you great tickets, so don’t worry about that.” She chuckled, taking out her VIP pass.

“Don’t worry, I have that part settled.”

“Of course, you do,” he felt stupid, all sponsors got the best tickets, even better than he could even get most times.

“So, I’ll see you around? Do you say break a leg for this?”

“Absolutely not! But I appreciate your luck wishes.”

He was glad on Friday’s there was never much of a crowd, that way he could stay focused on what mattered: getting comfortable enough with the track. Whenever he raced, he felt an almost out of body experience, where he could disconnect from his current reality and be one with his car. Ferrari had nicknamed him the racing samurai, for how dramatic his recovering could be whenever he was behind on the race.

Japan had never particularly been the biggest crowd when it came to Formula 1, but ever since he had started getting podiums, and making a name out of himself, it had a 180 degrees change. Ferrari could not be happier with the now 23-yeard-old racer, he was smart, analytic, and cold headed.

When he got back to the Pits, he was greeted by his family, not expecting to see them until the day after.

“You were pretty fast out there!” his dad said, as awkward as he usually was.

“This was merely the boring race, we were just testing the track,” he smiled widely, greeting him by what could be considered a hug, or sort of one.

“But Hiroaki is right, you were extremely fast. That car you’re racing, is a beauty,” seeing his mother was always an adventure for Yamato. Ever since he left home, at such a young age, they had drifted apart. Naturally, she was worried for her older son, racing and putting his life at risk every time he did so. Yamato had heard her fighting with his grandpa countless times, until she finally gave in. She was never going to win, Yamato loved karting the same way she loved writing.

“You were tremendous there, superstar!” his manager came to greet him, as much as he annoyed him, he was not a bad person, he just clearly loved the money Yamato made him gain. “You better keep up the pace the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s the plan,” Yamato served himself a cup of tea, while he took a seat in front of the screen that was studying his track performance. He was nearly obsessed with improving, never not paying attention at even the slightest mistake.

“Before I forget,” his manager was French, and spoke a very heavily accented English. His family, apart from Takeru, barely spoke any English at all, hence why they did not communicate with one another. Yamato despised that, considering he could speak four languages. “Young Takenouchi asked me to give you her number, Romeo.” Yamato’s cheeks flushed, as he took with both hands the business card he was being given.

“I’ll quickly go to my room,” he excused himself with his family, promising he would meet them for a quick dinner.

He wrote and re-wrote his text message towards Sora, not wanting to appear desperate. Formula 1 drivers, at least some of them, had the reputation of being more than successful with the opposite sex, however Yamato was rather unlucky. He put so much effort into his performance inside the track, he tended to neglect everything else. Hence why it felt nice to have a close to normal conversation with someone his age, a woman his age.

“This is Yamato, I heard the rumor you wanted to have my number,” he finally sent, wanting to throw his phone over the window right after.

“How come we spent so much time talking yesterday and I had to ask your manager for your number?” she replied right after, Yamato felt relieved.

“I guess we lost track of time.”

“Hey, I had to come back to Tokyo, business matters. But I’m not one to break any promises, so I hope you still save a seat for me for the big race on Sunday. Did I say that correctly?”

Yamato immediately felt disappointment, but he had to understand he was not dealing with someone unoccupied; this was a young entrepreneur with a worldwide successful fashion brand.

“Are you sure you want to make a four-hour trip to see some car racing?”

“As I said, I’m not a promise breaker. Plus, is not Formula 1 supposed to be the best car racing in the world? I won’t miss it, and I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, and your spot on Scuderia Ferrari will remain untouched.”

“Great, I’m actually pretty excited! You have turned it into such a big deal for the country, I’ve never seen such a media coverage on the sport before. How was the tracking test?”

Yamato’s stomach made a turn. He did not want to focus on the pressure it meant to be in his home country, he just wanted to do what he always did, which meant to give his 100% performance, and get better every time. He just really hoped it would not rain on Sunday…

Him and Sora kept texting for the rest of the day, and the morning after as he got ready for the weekend’s second race. His goal was to qualify on the front row, that was always a determining factor for the final race. His mom had been right when she mentioned his car was a beauty, because it may not be the fastest car, that would still go to Mercedes, but if Ferrari had something no other team could fight with, was beauty.

He was not one to make many friends, but he was always amicable with the rest of the drivers. He saw them more than he saw his family, and even grew up with a big amount of them, but he always tried to focus on what they really were: his competition.

The weather so far had looked hopeful, a rainy race was one of his biggest fears, he had already had more than one rainy accident, and they had been hard to get over. He tried not to put too much thought into it, how he put his life at risk every time he got into the car, because there was no point in doing so, considering he was not going to stop, racing was the most important part of his life.

He got behind his wheel and his team assured his car was ready to go for the last time, and he got into driving mode, forgetting everything else, the pressure, the people, the weather, his friends. He almost disassociated from everything, but the track, and his team speaking whenever there was something to say, like which place he was on at the moment.

He had gotten so used to Ferrari, after being over two years on the team, that he could go as far as to describe its motor as a part of him. The first few laps were always the most stressful ones, and were most of the accidents happened, everyone tried to gain that valuable P1 as fast as possible, but Yamato thought of it as a waste of energy, he would rather stay behind for the first few laps and give it all in after. It had worked for him so far, avoiding the turmoil behind it.

There were 53 laps in the Japanese track, not that he counted them, but he always studied the tracks of wherever he was at. He just focused on staying in track, passing the rest of the drivers and being fast, and his team made sure he did not forget where his position was at the moment, which was a P5, his teammate was currently second. Fifth was not a bad position, it was still second row, but it was not his goal, he truly wanted first row. In the end he had managed to end up fourth, which his team congratulated him for, he still was not happy.

Back in Ferrari’s box, he had a bigger crowd greeting him, not only his parents and brother, but some of his closest childhood friends.

“Man, how does it feel to be able to fly!” Taichi said before giving him a big hug, which Yamato did not mind, he guessed he was also allowed to hug him.

“What I wonder is what that amount of speed can do with your body, I read you lose up to 3 liters every time you race,” Joe patted his shoulder, the soon-to-be-doctor never missed to drop a random anatomy fact on him. “And sorry, but it seems to Koushiro your car’s machinery is way more impressive than you.”

His third friend, a genius redhead, had been talking non-stop with his team’s engineers, asking questions Yamato could possibly never answer.

He spent the next few hours doing interviews, as much as he hated them, it was on his contract to do them before and after every Grand Prix. He also took more time studying his career, and where he could improve. He wanted to get podium on his home country more than he had ever wanted before.

But of course, he also took the chance to spend some time with his loved ones, catching up about their crazy adult lives.

“Koushiro could soon enough buy one of these teams, you know? He’s getting so rich!” Taichi had a big mouth, but they had gotten used to it. And to be fair with his brunette friend, he was not wrong, considering Koushiro’s software startup had gotten public, and the dude was only 22.

“And Jou’s about to be a doctor, and you, well, you didn’t get kicked out of Uni!” They all laughed, Taichi rolled his eyes. Yamato had gotten so comfortable with their conversation, he got scared when his phone began ringing.

“Yes?”

“Guess who’s just landed in Suzuka!” it was Sora, his heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad I made it a few hours before I had promised, I truly didn’t want to miss tomorrow’s race.”

“Where are you exactly? You should come join us! I’m at Ferrari’s tent with some childhood friends, I mean, if you’re not too tired.” His friends started yelling embarrassing things to him, as friends did whenever you spoke on the phone with someone, even if that someone was your own mother. Except, of course, it was not his mother.

“Great! I’ll ask the driver to drop me off.”

They spent the next few hours chatting, and laughing, and making fun of Yamato with embarrassing stories Sora was rather intrigued to keep on listening. Of course, Sora had hit it off with his friends, she was a great talker, they all had liked her, he could tell, especially with Koushiro, considering the man was the clearest book when it came to first impressions. He felt disappointed once he checked his watch to confirm it was time for him to go to bed, the big day was closer than ever.

Suzuka was one of the last races on Formula 1’s schedule, which meant every single point counted even more. He was disappointed when he checked the weather, there was a rain forecast, but there was nothing he could do, he still was willing to give the best race he had given in his career span. His friends and family wished him the best of luck, just as he dressed up in the famous red suit.

He had never felt this overwhelmed before, as soon as he stepped a foot outside of Scuderia Ferrari’s box, the crowd chanting his name was like nothing he ever heard before. He bowed shyly, turning the shouts even louder. Fame had never been something he had been looking for once he started racing in Formula 1, but he thought at the end of the day it was only inevitable. He really wanted to make his co-nationals proud.

P4 was not a bad place to start racing, yet he could hear his heart beating up to his ears. A rainy race was always messy, and there was always a bigger risk for accidents, not just for him, but for the other racers as well. He had to drive smartly; speed was not all that mattered in that moment.

His eyes were fixated on the checkered flag, as soon as it went down, his feet went all in. Suzuka’s Grand Prix finally starting.

As it was expected, some cars lost control on the very first curve, him being noticed by his team on the other side of the microphone. He hoped nothing bad had happened to them. On a rainy race it was important to have extra control while reaching a curve, and absolutely never trying to overpass another racer while on them.

By lap 30 he had improved to P3, the engine of the previous third place had had some issues, which pushed him into the pits. The Ferrari engine had significantly been improved for the current season, and it showed. It had been a while since the red team had had both of their cars in podium position, and he was doing quicker laps than the last year’s race.

Everything appeared to be going according to plan, Yamato wanted to win, of course, but he was not unhappy with the third place. Yet, the unthinkable happened on lap 49, when his teammate lost control of the steering wheel. It all happened so quickly, Yamato could barely avoid the inevitable crash, which was bad enough for them to call a red flag, every racer had been sent back into pits.

His teammate had been fine, he could even walk by himself; however, his car could have been confused with garbage. A shame, really, everything had been better than what they could have imagined. Now every podium expectation fell on his shoulders, and he could hear the public screaming his name even louder, as if he was some sort of rock star.

“Only 4 laps left, you can do it,” and he was now put in second place, a bittersweet feeling inside his gut.

The final lap felt like the longest he had driven, all he truly wanted was for it to end. He was less than two seconds away from the first place, which his team kept repeating. He knew he could do it, if he tried and overtake him near the end, right after the final curve… And so, he did, winning a podium for the first time in his short Formula 1 life career. He had not done it for himself only, but for Lechner as well. It felt insane, he was no longer feeling the ground, he was still flying somehow.

Champagne soaked him as soon as he stepped out of the car, being hugged by everyone on the famous red car team. He was not easily to make cry, but he could not help the tears coming out, and he wished, if he were ever going to cry again, it better be as good of a feeling as he finally lifted the trophy for Suzuka’s Grand Prix.

[mlkytobio]

loving isn’t easy, but it’s bearable with you

a/n: for the cheese cult fic event <3 i tried my best lol

genre: little bit of angst if you squint + fluff // hanahaki au

warning: mentions of blood, but nothing too graphic

pairing: nishinoya x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k 

the hanahaki disease was something that everyone knew of. there were people covered head to toe in flowers, each one a reminder of a time where they had loved. and then there were the few lucky ones, the ones who just happened to have their soulmate as their first love. the ones with only a small flower tattoo over one of their body parts.

everyone covered all over with tattoos always knew that it was harmless at first, little flower petals being spat out, and then becoming thorns that scratch the inside of your throat as they come up. the process of coughing out the flowers was always quick, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. more often than not, blood comes out with the flowers and thorns. it depends though, on the type of love.

you had fallen in love exactly three times. and for one of those three times, you had a trail of forget-me-nots trailing up your right forearm. for the memories of true love, and like the name suggested, “do not forget me”. for the time you had loved miya osamu and he loved you back, and it only ended because you had to move to miyagi. maybe there were more reasons for it, but it was a mutual agreement. he was your first love.

-

terushima yuuji was your second love. and as a result, tulips bloomed across your left wrist, for unrequited love. and it was also the first thing people see when they looked at you. because well, the flower was highlighted with red, like blood, almost. maybe it was a little cliche, for you to have fallen in love with johzenji’s resident playboy. but you couldn’t help it. every little smile he sent you while from his usual seat at the cafe you worked at, every brush of your fingers against his when you went to take his order sending electricity running up your spine.

with osamu, it had been small flower petals and smiles about the flowers that came tumbling out. sometimes you even saved the flowers, but they wilted soon after. still, before you knew that osamu felt the same way,the coughing out the flowers wasn't painful. but why was it with terushima? there were thorns sitting in the bathroom sink, crimson red pooling all around them. and it only got worse after that.

still, you fell in love with terushima yuuji. you fell for his smirk and his tongue piercing and his sly words. and when he walked into the cafe that day, he broke your heart, having a girl draped on his arm and she looked at him the way you thought you looked at him. he broke your heart unknowingly, perhaps, but it was heartbreak all the same. you half expected it, but there was a part of you that hoped, nevertheless, that he would feel the same way.

that day, you coughed out tulips among pools of blood, and it was in the same night that you chose to go get the surgery. you knew you were one of the more privileged to get the surgery, and it was foolish to waste it on a teenager’s stupid crush. but it was better to have others look at you with pity. maybe it was a little dramatic, but you knew you were doomed from the start. this only gave you more reason to do it.

the doctor had given you a look of pity, but everyone did. everyone saw the way you looked at terushima yuuji and felt nothing but pity. and if that doctor expected a story, he had to wait a damn long time for it.

it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. just prickling along the skin, and then when you looked down, your left forearm was covered in blood-red tulips. maybe it didn’t hurt because the thorns had hurt more. the unrequited love hurt much more than getting your lungs pried open than living with thorns creeping up your throat every single day for the rest of your life, knowing that once upon a time you were stupid enough to fall in love with terushima yuuji.

-

everyone at karasuno knew you as the girl who couldn’t live with her love anymore. the girl who squandered away her privilege for the surgery for a mere high school crush.

the volleyball team were the first people who understood your decision. the first people who didn’t talk about you behind your back about how you wasted your probably only chance of getting the surgery and how you were a spoiled brat that deserved the pain anyways. you had heard of every single rumour that people spread about you, and although you tried to ignore them, they were like a thousand little knives cutting into your back every single day.

the volleyball team was where you felt at home. the sleek wood floor of the gym and the frequent shout, mostly from kageyama to hinata. there was some sort of solace in the walls of the gym, almost like it was its own little world set apart from all the rumours on the outside.

becoming their manager was one of the best choices you ever made.

“y/l/n! come and see my new move!” you looked over to nishinoya, his blond tuft of hair slicked against his forehead. you smiled to yourself, knowing that it was probably some other variation of rolling thunder or of the sort. still, it was one of the things you loved most about practice, the players’ enthusiasm and desire to win was forever unwavering.

nishinoya received the ball in a sort of speed that made you dizzy when you first saw it, but even after so long your eyes could only adjust slightly to it. he’s grinning, and you couldn’t help but give a smile back, because it’s nishinoya yuu and his energetic self that could put everyone to shame.

you never paid much attention to nishinoya yuu. sure, he got suspended from the volleyball club for a month for breaking something, but you saw what happened. you saw that he didn’t mean to, that he was just trying to get his friend back. the blond tuft in his hair was the first thing you saw when you first stepped into the classroom, but still, you never stopped and looked at him carefully. until you joined the volleyball club as a manager, and then suddenly you see the bright energy surrounding the short libero, and wondered how exactly did you not notice him before.

you chalked it up to curiosity, to the strange spike of his hair and the way a room lit up somehow when he walked into it.this boy was like the sun, too bright for his own good and probably burns anyone who got too close.

practices only made you notice him more, of course. and maybe he noticed you too, from all the little smiles that looked like they were directed at you and the glances he kept giving you.

to most people, flowers were things of beauty, but to you, they represented a dark time. they represented getting your heart broken and the person who broke it didn’t even know. love was the same, crushing and suffocating you, and the two just so happened to be linked. every flower you saw, especially tulips, made you turn away at the sight. so did love.

love was a curious little thing, taunting you and when it pulled you in, only then will it reveal itself to be deadly. coiling around you, your heart, more like it, and every waking thought, like some sort of boa. it suffocates you, then brings you down with it.

-

nishinoya yuu heard about you before he even met you. about the girl who had red tulips imprinted on her skin, basically a form of public shaming. he never thought about you as someone who wasted away their chances, though. everyone had heard of at least one story where because of love, people had squandered away their lives, and he was no exception. your life was more precious than some unrequited love, so what was wrong with getting the surgery? he had never understood why people held a grudge against you, and so did the rest of the volleyball team.

most of the second years walked home together, and you were in front of nishinoya when he suddenly grabbed onto your shoulders and started jumping up and down in the air. you saw him doing this before, but with other members of the team, and your first thought was: why did he have so much strength?

“oi, noya! don’t be so hard on our manager!” tanaka laughed, and noya’s hands released their grip on your shoulders, his face cherry red. you found it a little cute, actually, if it weren’t for the ache in your shoulders from how tightly he had held on to them.

“i’m so sorry y/n-san!” he sputtered out, even as you said that it was fine, you weren’t injured, but as he kept apologising, all you could say in that moment was “okay, then i’ll let you make it up to me.”

his head lifted up, eyes filled with something indescribable, as he agreed. “i promise you that i’ll make it up to you, y/l/n-san! i’ll take you out on saturday!”

-

a flower petal was floating in his teacup when he sat it down. you looked at him, surprised, but stayed silent, giving him a napkin. he looked at you with a grateful look in his eyes, the tuft of blond hair being swept to the back as he ran his fingers through his hair.

it was spring in japan, when all the sakura flowers started blooming and there were couples all around you. you never liked spring, or maybe you did, and the hanahaki just made you despise it. anything related to flowers you didn’t like, you realised.

“do you know who is it?” you gently asked as both of you walked down the street together. the pink flowers were everywhere, on the cobblestone path that your shoes scuffed against, and on the tall trees looming over you. he looked at you then, slightly surprised, but answered it anyway.

“i think so, i mean, i have a vague idea of who it is,” he gave a reply that was strange of nishinoya, but perhaps it was due to the fact you weren’t that close with him as you were with maybe tanaka, or ennoshita.

“well, i hope they feel the same way,” you gave him a small smile, and he returned it, but there was something lurking deeper in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

he walked you home, and when you were about to say goodbye, his gaze fixated on you, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t want to.

you were about to ask what was it when he yelled out, “y/l/n-san, i like you!”

how ironic, was the first thing that went through your mind. how ironic that you were intrigued by him and now here he was, confessing to you. how ironic it was that this exact scene gave you deja vu, of when you confessed to osamu. how ironic it was that when the thing you tried so hard to avoid doing turned into you being on the receiving end of it. falling in love.

“i-i’m sorry, nishinoya-kun, but i don’t really want to fall in love right now,” the words left your lips before your mind could even register them. his face fell at that, and you wished you could take it all back, say that you would give him a chance, but all he said was “that’s okay! i hope you can reconsider. have a good night y/l/n-san!”

you watched his figure retreat into the shadows, until all you could see was the faint outline of him walking. you thought about his words, and of a time you loved terushima yuuji. the memories of that were laced with regret, but then again, when you loved him, and osamu at that, all you could feel was pure euphoria. the climax of a roller coaster ride, when you’re tipping at the top and it felt like forever before it made its decent again.

-

hoodies weren’t your favourite piece of clothing, but they made well for covering the red ink on your forearm. as you pulled the hood over your head again, hoping to cover your face, you heard the familiar jeer. it wasn’t foreign for you to have insults hurled wherever you go, only for the person who shouted them to disappear into the crowd when you looked over your shoulder. and so, you always said to yourself not to look. it was better not to place a face to the voice.

“attention-seeking bitch,” you heard someone mutter, followed by the laughing. don’t look, don’t look, was all you thought as you made your way through the crowd in the hallways.

“i hope whoever you ‘loved’ is dating someone much better and more deserving right now,” was one of the more prominent insults that were in your range of hearing. gasping to yourself, you felt an empty ache in your chest, probably where your feelings had been. still, it hurt. it hurt for people to not understand your decision, for them to constantly belittle and insult you as if pain was something to be made fun of. you felt blood rushing in your ears, vision growing blurry as you tried to walk, run, even, out of that hellhole. throat constricting and breathing growing ragged.

“stop!” you heard someone say. you only increased your pace. “stop it, right now. all of you.”

it wasn’t directed at you, but to the people crowding around you. “it’s not funny to ridicule someone who has been through pain,” you recognised the voice this time. the voice of the person who constantly shouted excitedly in practice, even at the smallest things. nishinoya yuu.

he walked over to you, placing his hands lightly on your shoulders as he led you away from the gaping students. “if you feel uncomfortable, i’ll stop right now,” he whispered, just loud enough for your ears to pick up. you shook your head, the only thing you could muster then.

he led you to an isolated space behind the gym, where only then did you release your tears. and he was there, not uttering a single word, just silent companionship, and that was enough.

as you regained your breath, a single flower petal floated delicately out of your lips. he noticed it too.

“thank you, nishinoya-kun,” you said, gaze not leaving the flower as it sailed on the wind. no blood or thorns, though, you thought.

“i feel like the word love has been taken out of definition with me,” you whispered. “but i want to give you a chance, at changing the definition with me.”

he smiled at you, his hands on your shoulder once again. “i’d like that.”

-

the sakura flowers were in bloom yet again, and for once, you found them beautiful.

“do you remember-” the boy started, but you cut him off.

“when you took me out as an apology for jumping on my shoulders? yeah,” you grinned.

“i always thought you were beautiful, you know. and never understood why you got made fun of for choosing to have the surgery,” he said.

“well, i’m glad they did. it led me to you, didn’t it?” you smiled at him.

his hand found yours, and the two of you walked down the same cobblestone path you did a year ago. maybe love wasn’t easy, but there were some people that made it bearable. like nishinoya yuu.

and that was the third time you fell in love.

-

[ cheese cult bbys: @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @kawaiikraykray @bubbleteaa @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei @pineapplekween @estherwritess @keiji-n @achoohq @badlywritten-hq @mochibeaa @oinkanna @chxrry-wxne @spudicide @airybby @asranomical @karmasuna @nekoglasses ]

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 3.5: No Moral nor Decency (Part 3)

Warnings: none

Author notes: infiltrating a rival organisation does not require violence... For now.

For an underground organisation which had just arrived in Japan, I had expected them to remain discreet. Had I been the leader, I would have built the Mafia in secret, without being seen by any potential rivals, which would have given me enough time to make money, develop my business and create new contacts in the underworld. Most certainly, I would never have attacked the most powerful organisation of the town, knowing they could wipe mine off as easily as they could crush an ant on the ground. Whoever had established their strategy had been extremely careless, and it also reflected on their hideout, which was not exactly hidden. Their headquarters were openly situated in the basement of an Italian restaurant of Yokohama. As I stepped in front of it, I frowned slightly. Could they be even more cliche? Not only were traditional Mafias quite old-fashioned, but they were also not as efficient as new organisations. Their stubbornness not to employ any ability user was a weakness I would have to remember, and a detail I would have to pay attention to if I did not want to be killed. Strategically, the restaurant was not too badly situated. It was near the harbour, a place known ideal for overseas exchanges, and was not too far from the Port Mafia, as a way to show their growing influence. However, they were too arrogant. How did they expect to have some importance when they were only newcomers? And without any modern methods... If these people were Icarus, the Port Mafia was the burning sun he flew too close to in the sky, with his wings of prideful wax. I wondered if they had even thought about what our organisation could do to them. I emptied my box of pain relievers before entering the restaurant. A waiter, amiable, led me to a table and waited for my order. It was around midday, but, oddly enough, the place was almost empty. I barely glanced at the menu. I was not there to eat anyway... I sighed slightly, turning myself toward the man. The code was a dish that was not suggested by the chef.

"A veal Milanese and red Lambrusco, please." I said, confidently.

I thought it was strange that such a restaurant did not have these classics of Italian cuisine on the menu, but did not try to understand. I simply hoped my contact had done a proper job in gathering these useful information.

"It shall be as you asked..." He muttered, nervously taking notes "Please, wait a moment..."

I tapped my fingers against the white tablecloth, looking around. A few men were at the bar, smoking, and others were simply chatting around a pizza. In fact, I was the only member of the feminine gender in the room, which, obviously, did make me stand out quite a bit. I was not anxious, nonetheless. I liked imagining what a ruckus my order had created in their basement, and it made me smirk just the slightest. If they had known...

"Miss, you will be received in our private dining room." The waiter announced as he came back, after ten minutes.

"Sure." I nodded.

I followed him behind a door bearing a board on which the word "private" was written, and entered a rather fancy room, all decorated with velvet and tapestry. If my fingers did not betray me, the cloth put on the large table was made of silk, and I could see the cushions on the couch were embroidered with gold thread. Incredible... Where had they found the money to do that? Or were they indebted to another organisation? It was an interesting fact I could mentally take note of.

"Please, take a seat." I was told "Your interlocutor will come soon."

"Alright." I made myself comfortable "I am not in a hurry."

"Would you like something to drink while waiting?" He suggested.

"My order for Lambrusco is still on the table, if you don't mind."

"Of course not. It is my pleasure." He assured me.

It appeared the people working for that Mafia liked making clients wait. After ten minutes, I was even served a meal, which I accepted with no complaint. After all, I was hungry and the chef looked remarkably skilled. At least, the scents from his kitchen were absolutely irresistible. Just as the waiter came back to inquire whether I would like to end with a tiramisu, the door opened on a rather old man, tall, with a thin moustache, accompanied by a younger one. They both sat down in front of me, and, without saying a word, stared at me. I wondered if they were waiting for me to introduce myself, but I dared not talk without having been invited to.

"Don Cosola accepted to see you today because it is unusual for women to request something from us." The other man talked, his Japanese slightly tainted by an Italian accent "So, what is it you desire from our family?"

"It is nothing too complicated." I crossed my legs under the table "My only desire is to join your family, to serve your interests. My name is Kasumi, I am but a burglar. When I heard how you literally bombed the Port Mafia's armoury, I was amazed and looked for a way to contact you. So, here I am."

I had chosen "Kasumi", the mist, as my cover for that mission. After all, I could not let them discover my true identity.

"There are a lot of people wishing to be one of ours." He retorted "Most of them are turned down."

"Is that because I am a woman?" I frowned, acting vexed.

"That, but —"

"Vilfredo." The Don finally spoke "It is enough. Times have changed, women do not only serve their purpose in the kitchen anymore. Tell me... What do you do best?"

"I am confident in my skills to handle guns and to elaborate an efficient strategy." I said "But I can also be a mere soldier if you prefer. I can do anything."

"That's where you'll start, until you prove your worth." He declared, taking a cigar from a metallic box.

"Thank you for your trust, Don, I will make sure not to disappoint." I smiled slightly.

"As long as you remain truthful and loyal to us, you are a member of the Cosola family, and I am your godfather." He assured "It is my son, Gustavo, who will guide you at first. Do obey his orders. I trust he will not try to harm you."

"Yes, Don." I nodded "I will do my very best."

"That's good. I have the feeling we found a rather competent subordinate. What do you think, Vilfredo?"

"She seems to be a very serious person. I am sure she will do good work." He gave me a gentle look "Welcome in the family, Kasumi."

As soon as they exited the room, I relaxed the muscles of my face and let my lips turn upwards in a smirk. It had not been that difficult to deceive them and infiltrate their Mafia. I only needed to gather information and report to Dazai-san from time to time so he could establish our strategy to win against them. Nevertheless, I thought creating some inner conflicts could be at our advantage. I wondered how my superior would react if I were to tell him about it. For the moment, I had to meet Gustavo Cosola, my new mentor, who would teach me how to belong to the family. I was already impatient to see what sort of man he would be.

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[dweemeister]

2020 Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (final results)

TAGGING for the last time for 2020′s MOABOS: @addaellis​​; @birdsongvelvet​​; @cokwong; @emilylime5; @halfwaythruthedark; @idontknowmuchaboutmovies​​; @introspectivemeltdown; @maximiliani; @memetoilet; @monkeysmadeofcheese; @myluckyerror; @shootingstarvenator; @plus-low-overthrow​; @themusicmoviesportsguy; @theybecomestories; @umgeschrieben​; @underblackwings; @voicetalentbrendan​; and @yellanimal! I know some of you did not complete the final round, but you have been tagged in appreciation anyways.

I post this in full realization of how dark this day has been. It’s been a painful several hours in a deeply wounded country - a country that, for the first time in in a long time, has failed to secure a peaceful transfer of power. May this day not be an indication of what this new year may bring.

And now to the subject of this post.

I expected this final round to be a complete blowout for a certain song, based on my own personal predictions before MOABOS began and from eyeballing the point totals (which no longer decide the winner and placements for the final). That song did win, but with a razor-thin margin, preventing what might have been the biggest upset in the Movie Odyssey for Best Original Song’s history. I would’ve preferred the upset to the actual winner, but I am nevertheless very happy with the result.

31 respondents chimed in, slightly down by two from last year (my fault... but what a turnout!). The first set of standings you see are based on the points-based system that the preliminary round is based on. The final was formerly decided this way until too many one choice-one vote respondents skewed the process.

STANDINGS ON POINTS (USED ONLY AS A SECONDARY TIEBREAKER... the actual final result is the list below this one). Using the old method, the count would’ve looked like this (“Song”, Film title (points) / #1 votes).:

"Can’t Help Falling in Love”, Blue Hawaii (163) / 8

“Theme from New York, New York”, New York, New York (149) / 2

“(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, New Orleans (134) / 3

“Farewell to Storyville”, New Orleans (124.5) / 3

“Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?”, Weathering with You (116) / 3

“Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari / Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari”, Kaagaz Ke Phool (111.5) / 1

“Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, Kaagaz Ke Phool (114.5) / 3

“Happy Endings”, New York, New York (104.5) / 1

“Blue Shadows on the Trail”, Melody Time (103.5)

“You Make Me Feel So Young”, Three Little Girls in Blue (103) / 1

“Angela”, Aaron Loves Angela (92) / 2

"Please Don’t Stop Loving Me”, Frankie and Johnny (92)

“Here They Come (From All Over the World)”, The T.A.M.I. Show (74) / 2

“Moonlight Swim”, Blue Hawaii (64) / 1

“Personality”, Road to Utopia (60.5)

"Exsultate Justi”, Empire of the Sun (49) / 1

That’s a sizeable lead on points AND in #1 votes for “Can’t Help Falling in Love”. What did the actual results yield?

THE OFFICIAL TABULATION FOLLOWS.

We used a single transferable vote (which is explained visually here). With 31 votes, a song needed 50% + 1 vote of all #1 and transferred votes to be declared a winner. Thus, a song needed 16 votes to win. One ballot was discarded midway through the count due to that person only voting for one song, but the magic number remained 16. The top ten songs became nominees; the bottom six are considered honorable mentions:

2020 Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (FINAL STANDINGS)

"Can’t Help Falling in Love”, Blue Hawaii (1961)

“Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

“(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, New Orleans (1947)

“Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari / Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari”, Kaagaz Ke Phool

“Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?”, Weathering with You (2019, Japan)

“Farewell to Storyville”, New Orleans

“Theme from New York, New York”, New York, New York (1977)

“Angela”, Aaron Loves Angela (1975)

“Here They Come (From All Over the World)”, The T.A.M.I. Show (1964)

“Happy Endings”, New York, New York

“You Make Me Feel So Young”, Three Little Girls in Blue (1946)

“Moonlight Swim”, Blue Hawaii

“Exsultate Justi”, Empire of the Sun (1987)

“Blue Shadows on the Trail”, Melody Time (1948)

“Please Don’t Stop Loving Me”, Frankie and Johnny (1966)

“Personality”, Road to Utopia (1945)

Composed by Hugo Peretti, Luigi Creatore, and George David Weiss, your winner is “Can’t Help Falling in Love”. Ever since its debut in the film, it has been covered often by artists in various genres of music. And because of its ubiquity, it was also the song that perhaps came into this year’s MOABOS with the highest expectations of taking it all (aside from “Theme from New York, New York”). But spare a thought for “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam” (along with Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”, they jointly become the . It is one of the most spellbinding moments in all of Hindi cinema, a lovelorn anthem of classic Bollywood that has transcended its origins.

I also wanted to give a final shout-out to both songs from New Orleans (1947). Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday - two giants of American jazz - should have been the stars in that movie, but, because of the limited opportunities for black actors at that time, they are not. Armstrong has been part of MOABOS before, and I imagine we haven’t see the last of him. But for Billie Holiday, New Orleans was her only credited appearance in a feature film. This year’s MOABOS richly benefitted from her unique voice and musicality.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” joins these past winners:

2019: “I WIsh I Didn’t Love You So” from The Perils of Pauline (1947)

2018: “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” from Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing (1955)

2017: “Remember Me (Recuérdame)” from Coco (2017)

2016: “Stayin’ Alive” from Saturday Night Fever (1977)

2015: “Amhrán Na Farraige” from Song of the Sea (2014)

2014: “Rainbow Connection” from The Muppet Movie (1979)

2013: “The Gold Diggers’ Song (We’re In the Money)” from Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933)

I thank all of you for participating in 2020′s Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song. In a year defined by disruption and disease, I was happy to continue this small (and yes, time-consuming for everyone) end-of-year tradition with all of you. It is a privilege to share my love of classic films and musical tastes here on tumblr and elsewhere, and I hope all of you found some new films or music that caught your attention. With the end of this pandemic closer than ever before, I hope all of you stay safe as we navigate this year together.

The 2021 Movie Odyssey began several days ago. Another year of cinematic discovery beckons, and perhaps many of you might share some of that joy of discovery with me. Hope to see you here for a 2021 edition of MOABOS. Tabulation details are beneath.

31 ballots were submitted; sixteen #1 votes and transferred votes needed to win

2ND COUNT: One vote for “Exsultate Justi” is transferred to “New Orleans”:

3RD COUNT: One vote for “Moonlight Swim” to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”:

4TH COUNT: One vote for “You Make Me Feel So Young” to “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”:

5TH COUNT: One vote for “Happy Endings” to “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”:

6TH COUNT: Two votes for “Here They Come (From All Over the World)” to “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”:

7TH COUNT: One ballot was discarded. One vote for “Angela” to “Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?” 30 ballots remain; 16 to win.

8TH COUNT: One for for “New York, New York” to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”. The other went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”:

9TH COUNT: Three votes for “Farewell to Storyville” were transferred. One went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, another to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, and the last one to “New Orleans”:

10th COUNT: Four votes for “Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?” were transferred. Three went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love. The fourth vote went to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”.

11TH COUNT: Five votes for “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari” were transferred. Four of those went to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”; the other went to “New Orleans”:

12TH COUNT: Six votes for “New Orleans” were transferred. Four went to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”. Two went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” clinched victory on the 13th and final count by a margin of 16 votes to 14 for “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”.

[wrestlingisfake]

Wrestle Kingdom 15 day 2 preview

TBD vs. Jay White - White is challenging for the IWGP heavyweight title and IWGP intercontinental title, against the winner of Tetsuya Naito vs. Kota Ibushi from last night.  In fact several of the matches on this card are major spoilers for yesterday’s show, so I guess the whole thing needs to go under the cut.

Kota Ibushi vs. Jay White - Ibushi defeated Tetsuya Naito last night to become the 73rd IWGP heavyweight champion and the 27th IWGP intercontinental champion.  White is using his “IWGP double championship right to challenge” contract to receive this title shot.  If White wins, Ibushi’s 24 hours as double champion would be the shortest reign in the history of either championship.

Ibushi was devastated when he was knocked out of the Double Gold Dash last year, and moreso when he lost to White in the consolation match.  Ibushi and White met again during the G1 Climax, where Jay beat him again.  Ibushi nevertheless won the G1 Climax to earn the “right to challenge” contract.  However, the contract is defended like a championship, and Ibushi put it on the line against White...who beat him again.  White then elected to take January 4 off and schedule his title match with Naito for January 5.  However, Naito decided to spend the 4th defending the title against Ibushi.  The upshot is that Ibushi has finally achieved his dream, but he must immediately put it all on the line against his nemesis, who isn’t exhausted from working last night.

Frankly, I’m not sure why they set this up where the 1/4 main event sets up who gets to wrestle White, like he’s the biggest star in this thing.  I suppose maybe the idea is that he’s unavoidable so that you’ll worry until the very end that he could ruin everything. Maybe that psychology connects with the Japanese audience.  It doesn’t with me.  I’d rather just see the best and/or biggest match close the second show, and White vs. Ibushi isn’t it.  Their match at Wrestle Kingdom 14 last year was so dull that I lost interest for about 20 minutes.  Jay will go for the same cheap heat spots he always goes for, and Ibushi will randomly no-sell or oversell each of them, depending on whether he wants to be Ultra Instinct Shaggy or Ricky Morton at any given moment.

I suppose White-Ibushi matches have been fun, sometimes.  I really liked the G1 Climax 2019 final.  But personally I was over this feud months ago.  I really hope they’ve come up with some new material, or this is going to be a long slog for me.  I’m picking Ibushi to win, because I really don’t think they’ll book White to win just to troll the Tokyo Dome.  But the bigger problem is, I wouldn’t care if they did.

Taiji Ishimori vs. Hiromu Takahashi - Ishimori is defending the IWGP junior heavyweight championship.  Hiromu defeated El Phantasmo last night to earn this title shot.  Ishimori won the title from Takahashi on August 29, although they met again in the Best of the Super Jr. tournament on November 15, where Hiromu won.  So this is the rubber match.

This match should be good to great, but it feels inevitable that Takahashi will regain the title.  That’s not all bad, since he’s a big star and I’m a fan, but the match would mean more if Ishimori had been built up bigger.  I suppose the pandemic made that difficult, since there were enough shows (or junior heavyweights) for Taiji to really burn through other top contenders.

I guess I’ll just try to get in the mindset of enjoying Hiromu’s coronation, instead of hoping for a match that could go either way.  Then, on the off chance Ishimori actually wins, I’ll be properly shocked.  But I’m not betting on that happening.

EVIL vs. SANADA - Welp, it had to happen--after Evil turned on Los Ingobernables de Japon and joined Bullet Club, it was only a matter of time before his tag team partner Sanada finally got a hold of him and...wait.  I’m looking at my notes for the Evil-Sanada match from October 17.  I’m frankly not sure why Sanada suddenly got mad at Evil two months after winning that match.  I’m pretty sure they just ran out of ideas for each guy.  Well, the October bout wasn’t as emotionally charged as I wanted anyway, so I’ll take a delayed grudge match if I can get it.

I believe Kevin Kelly commented recently that a win for Sanada here moves him closer to the main event title picture, but a loss sends him tumbling back down. I’d agree with that assessment.  Along the same lines, a win for Evil suggests a renewed push for him, whereas a loss would signal that they’re putting him on the back burner for a while.  I don’t expect either guy to headline the really big shows, but even on the lesser shows, only the winner of this match makes sense chasing the heavyweight and intercontinental titles.

I’d be in favor of these two brawling all around the ringside area (as much as safety procedures allow) and getting it out of their system.  Blow this feud off quickly, so we can get on with new business--Sanada working his way up the ladder, and Evil plotting against his rivals within Bullet Club.  I’m picking Sanada to win.

Shingo Takagi vs. Jeff Cobb - Takagi is defending the NEVER title.  Cobb beat Shingo in their last singles encounter in September, but Takagi wasn’t champion yet.  So Cobb had to beat him again in a tag match in December to set up this match.  Of course, in the meantime, Cobb turned heel by joining Will Ospreay’s new stable, the Empire.

You could always count on either of these guys to have a great clubberin’ battle, but Cobb’s heel turn should add a vicious new edge to this matchup.  We should get a strong showcase of what to expect from Evil Jeff Cobb, above and beyond what he demonstrated in World Tag League.  Accordingly, I think he basically has to win the title.  There just isn’t anything so important that it’s worth keeping the belt on Takagi; the most interesting thing he could do right now is chase Cobb.  So this is another “feels like a foregone conclusion” match on a card full of them.  At least this one should be fairly different from the others.

El Desperado & Yoshinobu Kanemaru vs. Master Wato & Ryusuke Taguchi - Despy and Kanemaru are defending the IWGP junior heavyweight tag team titles.  Wato and Taguchi each managed to beat Despy in one-on-one matches during Best of the Super Jr., so I guess they figured they’d make a go of it as a team.

If you’d told me a year ago that a Young Lion would come back from excursion with a bunch of fancy vignettes, and it was all to build to this match, past-me would never have dreamed that the new guy would be the dimmest star of this group.  But as it happens, Desperado had an epic star-making performance in BOSJ, Taguchi is a comedy institution in the promotion, and Kanemaru is at least a champion.  Wato just hasn’t been booked like a hot new star, and the whole idea of having guys like Taguchi and Hiroyoshi Tenzan coach him just makes him look weaker.  You get the feeling this match is designed to help him recover from all that, except that I have no confidence he’ll actually win the big one in the Tokyo Dome.  If he loses here, he’s basically Captain New Japan Mark II.

What’s worse for Wato is that I’m not even sure it’s a good idea for him to finally win the big one, not at Desperado’s expense.  The drama of the BOSJ final took me from “Oh, that one guy who looks like Skeletor cosplaying El Kabong” to “holy shit El Desperado isn’t fucking around.”  They need to run with that, and maybe dropping the tag title is step one.  But dropping it to Master Wato?  I guess Wato could pin Kanemaru, but still.

To me the best finish for everyone involved is if the champs retain and Wato flips out and turns on Taguchi.  But that sort of thing is awfully swerve-y for New Japan, and it’s smarter not to assume it’ll happen every time it’d be a little convenient.  So I guess we’ll see what they’ve got.  But I feel safe predicting the champs retain and Wato doesn’t get over as a babyface.

Toru Yano vs. Bad Luck Fale vs. Chase Owens vs. BUSHI - This is a four-way match to decide who gets first possession of the provisional KOPW 2021 trophy. Whoever holds the trophy at the end of the year will be the official King of Pro Wrestling in 2021, or something.  Yano won the title for 2020, but it’s a new year so we have a new title.  The participants here were the final four of last night’s New Japan Ranbo gauntlet match.  I gather that the first man to score a fall over any other opponent wins.

This is a pretty oddball lineup so I would imagine this match will just be a lot of shenanigans.  All four guys will cheat to win, but Owens and Fale will work together to double-team cheat, so they can be bigger heels than the other two.

Yano originally won the KOPW 2020 trophy in a four-way like this one, by stealing a pin over Kazuchika Okada of all people.  So I would think that makes him a heavy favorite to win here.  The only question is if the bookers think it’d be funnier for his tricks to backfire when dealing with the massive, extremely irritated Fale.  I think I’d rather see Fale defending the trophy for six months, to be honest, but my gut says Yano will win again.

AZM & Saya Kamitani & Utami Hayashishita vs. Natsupo & Himeka & Maika - This is one of two women’s matches to provide exposure to STARDOM, the women’s promotion owned by New Japan’s parent company.  In Japan it’s seems to be considered normal for promotions to be all-male or all-female, and for fans to only want to see one or the other on a given event.  So I get the impression some New Japan fans have a problem with running Stardom matches on a NJPW show, although I certainly don’t see why.  In any case, TV and streaming rights mean that Western fans probably won’t actually see this match; I’m not even sure it will be televised.  And I unfortunately know nothing baout Stardom, so it’s kind of pointless for me to comment on performers I’ve never heard of in a match I’ll probably never get to see.

Tam Nakano & Mayu Iwatani vs. Syuri & Giulia - Another women’s match to showcase Stardom.  In this case I at least recognize Iwatani’s name from some ROH shows a couple of years ago, but that’s about it.  I’m all for getting women’s wrestling some more exposure anywhere you can do it, but unfortunately these matches are aimed at the live audience in the Tokyo Dome, and won’t do much good raising my awareness.

[thearkhound]

Kojima Cinema Vol. 1: Daylight

Game Hihyō (Game Criticism) was an advertisement-free videogame criticism magazine published by Micromagazine Inc. from 1994 until 2006 in which freelance writers, as well as game developers themselves, would provide their thoughts on the industry or the latest videogames. Among them was Hideo Kojima himself, who began a movie reviewing column on the February 1997 titled Kojima Cinema, which lasted for 23 issues. This first installment features a review of the Sylvester Stallone movie Daylight. If the reception for this one turns out to be overwhelmingly positive, I might translate more of Kojima’s reviews in the future (and possibly any other interesting article in the magazine that catches my attention).

Special thanks to the people at Gaming Alexandria for providing the scans.

Grand Opening of Kojima Cinema

Hello! I’m Hideo Kojima from Konami and I will be serializing an article starting from this issue. The editorial department told me “write essays about movies” and I immediately replied “if it’s about movies, leave it to me!” But then I thought about it seriously and wondered if was alright to write articles about movies in a magazine titled Game Hihyō [Game Criticism], which discusses videogames seriously, but I accepted their offer anyway since it gave me a pretext to watch more movies.

Love for Movies

I was told to pick a title freely, so I considered “Letters from Ebisu: The Sequel” after Kenji Eno’s column that used to be published in this magazine (since our companies are both located in Ebisu), as well as  “Ebisu Mail” (after Ebisu Beer) among others, but ultimately I went with “Kojima Cinema” since it was about movie reviews. I want to express my thoughts and impressions of my favorite movies and movies that I watched recently, regardless of whether they’re old and new, as well as write about Game Theory as a game auteur from the movie generation. Naturally, I also want to talk about the latest game I’m developing while it’s happening. With that said, I hope you enjoy your stay at Kojima Cinema.

Daylight, a movie to watch on Christmas Eve while smothered by your partner.

Since it premiered on the same day in Japan and the United States, I was able to watched Daylight without any prior knowledge. For better or worse, it’s a very conventional 1970′s style disaster movie. It feels like a tunnel version of Poseidon Adventure, as it depicts the tenacity and discords of people trying to survive under the extreme situation of being trapped inside a sealed underwater tunnel. The fact that it has Sylvester Stallone in the role of Gene Hackman is quite a problem. I’ll explain later why. While the explosions and collapsing scenes inside the tunnel that make use of digital special effects are a spectacle to behold, I would say the core of the movie is the human drama. The expendable characters that only exists to liven up the drama are not noticeable here and script, which distributes death equality, is somber but realistic. Particularly the resignation of the characters who realized they couldn’t be saved and their unfashionable lines before dying felt more documentary-like than cinematic. On the other hand, the plot is too light and although the tunnel is filled with poisonous gas, everyone is breathing normally and there is no sense of heat despite the characters being on the side of the flames, so there’s an overall lack of realism. I didn’t get the sense of oxygen shortage, entrapment and temperature that the movie was aiming for.

Stallone and the invisible enemy inside the tunnel

The biggest miscalculation of this movie is probably the casting of Stallone. Even though they were trying to make a human drama, Stallone is of course going to be Stallone.

That reckless and warlike mobility of him and his one-armed pull-ups are still alive! Especially in the second half of the movie, his thirst for (first) blood powers up! When a new problem (danger) arises, Stallone seems to be very joyful! It’s like he’s fighting an invisible enemy (an Enemy Zero) by himself. Conversely, putting such a character in a screenplay that goes against his type feels quite fresh. There is a scene where Stallone’s character, after risking his life and going to the place of crisis alone, gets coldly berated “why did you come here alone”, and there is another scene where he tries to lifts a car with his monstrous strength, but is unable to. It’s a reality that only the actor who played John Rambo could pull off.

P.S. It is recommended that you watch this movie during the daytime in an underground low-ceiling theater in an oxygen-free state with a full crowd. Once you leave the theater, you will truly appreciate Daylight.

Disaster & War Movies

Perhaps it’s an influence of the collapse of the Cold War structure, but lately Hollywood has been producing many disaster (kaijū) films lately such as Daybreak and Independence Day. Perhaps it’s a plan to depict drama only from the human side by making a powerful and overwhelming force (enemy) appear, such as a giant monster, aliens or a tornado, but this makes it very convenient to stand on the author’s side. All the bad things are monsters (or disasters) and every measure against them is justified. Since there is no need to come up with circumstances for the enemy’s side, it’s pretty easy to depict a valiant fighting hero. It also makes it easy to invite tears and project sympathy when the good guys win. It’s not so easy when it comes to depict a conflict between people. Even if one side were aliens, if they have a personality, it becomes a situation in which either side could be just or evil. That’s the difference between a war movie and a disaster movie.

Rewarding Good and Punishing Evil in the Game World

Ever since the days of Space Invaders, every game (including RPGs) has been made following this disaster movie template (of rewarding good and punishing evil). The enemy is always a one-sided invader or destroyer. “One day, invaders came from space.” “Suddenly monsters came from hell. A hero now stands up against those who sought to destroy mankind.” The player is clearly fighting for good and the enemy is an absolute evil that must be excluded. This formula leads to fundamental goodwill of every game. The act of defeating the enemy to proceed has become the foundation of shoot-’em-ups and action games. If you allow compassion to the enemy, then there wouldn’t be any game. “The enemy is evil, therefore he must eliminated!” That’s how games are now. Nevertheless, Metal Gear Solid won’t be using this formula. Although the theme is anti-war, it must be somehow established as a game. This part of MGS is difficult. It’s a dead end like an underground tunnel, a state of groping in the dark... But this is the theme and challenge of MGS. Perhaps one day I’ll find the Daylight within MGS.

Source

Game Hihyō Vol. 13 (February 1997)

[jonashctor]

that was NOT a freekick but you do you referee😊

[soyouthinkyoucansleep]

WeaPo have had a rough year

Yes, they’ve been hermits on social media for a while. But they deserve it. They had an extremely rough 2018, physically and emotionally.

Details below the cut

1. They came into 2018 recovering from injuries. I don’t even know how Kaitlyn physically skated at IDF with a displaced rib. There’s a bunch of layback positions in their free dance that would have been excruciating with an injury like that

2. Then we have nationals, which was a rollercoaster in itself. Falling on twizzles and ending up 4th after the SD, when you are supposed to be challenging for the podium at the Olympics would have been devastating mentally. But they came back with an amazing free dance and almost ended up with the silver. 

3. Next we have the Olympics, which we now know more about how they (at least Kaitlyn) felt. Not being included in the team event, when they’ve contributed so much to Canadian Ice Dance over the last 4 years was devastating for them. Whether they deserved to go is beyond the point. They represented Canada at every non-Olympic team event since 2013, including WTT 2013, which Kaitlyn did on a recently healed broken leg. They had a rough season, but have consistently produced a good free dance. Being told you weren’t going to be a part of something like that, and watching people who you’ve literally grown up with win a gold medal together was tough for them. 

4. Then the individual event came. After dealing with the emotions of the team event, they placed 7th, with scores lower than what they’ve received previously. And they skated clean. There’s that feeling of hopelessness that comes when no matter what you try, you don’t succeed. That feeling sucks. I’ve been there.

5. WeaPo decided to continue on to worlds. They have mentioned on multiple occasions that they were physically and mentally exhausted at this point. They felt that they couldn’t do it. There was doubt. But they decided to go ahead...because “Whatever it takes” 

6. Then we get to worlds, a high point in their season, as they take bronze. They get criticized for this too, because they edged Cappellini and Lanotte to take this medal. C/L were retiring after this event, were older than WeaPo, and skating in their hometown. Fuck it, they even trained at the arena where Worlds was held.  Part of you would feel bad for the Italians. 

7. We’ve only reached April at his point and WeaPo are probably exhausted. They have a little downtime to themselves before SOI. They take a trip to Northern Canada, and go dogsledding. They have an epiphany and realized why they love skating.

8. Next comes SOI, where like always, where they’re touring with the gold medal team. That’s probably rubbing salt on a half-healed wound but they continue their humble ways anyway.

9. Somewhere around this time, they decided they still want to compete, at least another season. But they presented with an opportunity to join TTYCT. They initially say no, because they want to compete. The initial cast is announced. After SOI, they realized the group of skaters are special, and they want to join them. They decide to balance training and touring, which sound terrifyingly exhausting. 

10. They go to Kazakhstan and hear Denis Ten skate to SOS d'un terrien en détresse. This is it...this is their Free Dance music for the season. They go to Michigan to get it choreographed.

11. Less than a week later, their rollercoaster 2018 hits rock fucking bottom, when their close friend Denis Ten is murdered in Kazakhstan, over god damn car mirrors. They take this hard. When you are in your 20s, you don’t expect friends to die. You think you have a lifetime ahead with them. But then you suddenly don’t. 

12. To make things worse, they have a free dance created to music that they got from Denis. They were about to thank him for the idea. They decided to continue with this free dance, but in dedication to him. Day in, day out, they train a free dance that directly reminds them of a lost friend. We can only imagine how challenging that is emotionally. There are going to be good days, and there are going to be bad days. 

13. They make their season debut at ACI. It goes well, the judges respond well to both programs, and we all cry over their free dance. They literally go straight from Oakville to Montreal for TTYCT rehearsals. Begin WeaPo are nomads.

14. They travel across the country on a bus for TTYCT. They balance training for the rest of the season with performing, training at whatever ice rinks they can find in both the U.S. and Canada. They train at West Edmonton Mall, Minnesota, take a trip to Michigan in between, whatever they can. TTYCT seems tiring enough, but they add training on to it. 

15. The POV podcast comes out in the middle of TTYCT. Speaking out about emotions and mental states is taboo in the world of sports–nobody does that. But Kaitlyn does. She is 100% honest and open about how she felt about the team event. But she blames no one but herself for that. Kaitlyn keeps her humility despite the disappointment. Nevertheless, cue the hate once more. 

16. They finish TTYCT, and go back to training for a bit. Keep in mind they are still training this free dance dedicated to their lost friend. Emotional rollercoaster by itself. They’ve also got this larger fan base that they aren’t used to. More people are watching what they do. 

17. The small “break” ends and they go to Japan for XOI. If they aren’t tired by now, they aren’t human. 

18. They come back to the states and continue training for the rest of the season. On top of the emotional rollercoaster that is training their free dance, they’re probably dealing with nerves and pressure of maintaining their world medalist status. Add the emotions of confusion and doubt about their future. They’re almost 30 and 32. There isn’t much time left in a competitive career at that age, traditionally. But this is what they’ve been doing since 17 and 19. They don’t know anything else. 

So yes, WeaPo have been hermits. They’re probably exhausted. This probably isn’t even a complete list of what happened in 2018 for them. They are excited and anxious and nervous for 2019. It’s totally normal, considering how fucking up and down 2018 was for them. I just hope they have a great 2019 and come out of the year happy and healthy. Because it’s what they deserve. It’s what everyone deserves 

[negare-boshi]

HQ!! Secret Santa: Daisuga for Becca

Ho, ho, ho! @sugakoush Merry Christmas! This is a whole lot of Daisuga fluff with just a small spoon of angsty angst because I don’t know how to write things otherwise. Nevertheless, I hope you like it and you enjoy it! 

// this was organized by @haikyuusecretsanta​ // my main blog: @ellehletoile​

Title: Home Sweet Home Pairing: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi Word count: 8K Rating: G  Potential Trigger Warnings: Fluff overdose.

// AO3 link //

(I do apologise for any and all of the grammar mistakes this could contain!)

HOME SWEET HOME

The problem was the smell.

Of course there were other factors that had brought Daichi to this point in life, in which he wasn’t sure why he was gritting his teeth to the point of splinter. But when he lay on his bed with a frown and a heavy hollowness on his chest, the only thing that stood out was the damn smell.

The other things didn’t stood out as much, because the pile of reasons Daichi felt as heavy as he felt light weren’t as tangible. They weren’t around all the time, they were just pieces here and there: Suga wearing an awful arpon his mom gave him on Christmas and smirking at Daichi with a spoon at hand. Daichi trying to fight for his right to hold the TV’s control and winning, although Suga chose what they were watching, because Daichi was weak. The waves of companionship when Daichi got back from work, exhausted and tired and somehow lonely, and Suga being there on his computer. Like a candle in the middle of a storm, a lighthouse bringing Daichi back home.

Those made of Daichi’s chest a weird, confused mess of giggles and clenched lungs that gave him problems to breathe more times than not, but only when he was actively thinking of them. Daichi could close his eyes and breathe deeply and the memories of his hard, choking crush would dissolve for a little bit.

That is, if it weren’t for the damn smell. That soft lemon scent Suga had bought when they moved in, the mix of flowery soap they washed their clothes with, the small and yet unique tint of fresh air and leather Daichi had discovered belonged to Suga himself. It was like a film surrounding the oxygen of the apartment, and no matter where Daichi sat or lay or step on, it was always there.

Daichi’d started to call that smell home, and every time the thought crossed his mind he’d freeze mid step, suddenly hit by the realisation of his own overwhelming emotions.

Gods, he had it hard. Hard enough to blush when Suga came out of the shower, the mist of the hot water smelling of his shampoo and his clean body and it wasn’t even about Suga being naked under that towel every dang time, no. It was about Daichi stopping suddenly and willingly, watching blankly into nothingness, letting the breeze fill every particle of their apartment with Suga’s essence. As if Suga weren’t already everywhere.

It seemed impossible for a crush, —an infatuation, a yearning so huge Daichi couldn’t even put a name on it,— to last this long, and yet, here they were. Almost three years of housemates and Daichi’s feelings didn’t look like they’d cool off anytime soon.

“Daichi, I got us dinner.” Daichi had to blink thrice to the entrance, where Suga was fighting against his rain boots with his tongue between his lips. “It’s sushi.”

“Are we celebrating?” Daichi had to clear his throat, the tight knot of unexpressed want as choking as it was welcome. At least the distraction would keep him from staring way too long.

Suga smiled. Daichi’s heart did a backflip, a tango step and then fell on the ground with dramatic exaggeration. Still pretending to be dead it beat like a horse raising free through an infinite field, and it wasn’t until Suga got into the kitchen and started unpacking their dinner that it calmed enough for Daichi to go help him.

“So?”

“Not really celebrating.” Suga smirked up at him and Daichi smiled back, because one didn’t just watched Suga with that expression without answering it somehow. The urge to lean forward and kiss that smile was like silk on Daichi’s mouth. Suga’s eyes flickered with something, and Daichi teared his gaze away, suddenly shy. “I had a really nice day at work. Thought we could enjoy a fancy, —don’t look at me like that, it’s cheap—, shared dinner so the day finishes as good as it’s gone.”

“I’m glad you had a nice day.” Daichi beamed, chest and cheeks filled with warmth and joy. Hearing Suga’d had a good day brightened his, and Daichi fell another step into the deep pit of unrequited love. “You were able to pass that project you were working on?”

Suga’s smile could light up Japan on its whole.

“Yes! My new partner and I made it through this morning, and it was great! I’m really excited about it. The next months are gonna be pretty insane, so…” Suga shrugged, the soft line of his shoulders raising gracefully. Daichi wanted to reach for his neck and inhale the smell that had branded his mind and his soul, but instead he let his smile turn into something tenderer and softer. Suga’s own smile changed in sync, matching Daichi’s. “I thought we could have a good dinner together, ‘cause I don’t know when we’ll be able to do this again.”

Those words strung something in Daichi. It was filthy and heavy and it tasted fool, and it probably showed on his tugged lips because Suga send his way an apologetic smile in return. “Yeah, sorry. I promise it’s only for a little while.”

“It’s totally okay.” Daichi patted his arm, trying to break the odd tension on his shoulder, but only making it worse. Suga arched an eyebrow, aware of the awkwardness of Daichi’s actions, and Daichi found himself laughing shallowly. “I’m serious. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise to me.”

“But it’s our rule,” Suga pointed out slowly, as if testing Daichi. Daichi didn’t want to react to him, but his shoulders stiffened at the choice of words. “I like having dinner with you every night.”

“Oh, come on, Suga. Don’t be dramatic.” Trying to run away from Suga’s sharp gaze, Daichi turned around and took the sushi containers. “It’s not gonna be that long, and anyway, you’re entitled to have your life. Why would I complain?”

Yeah, Daichi, why would you.

Daichi wanted to complain.

But he didn’t.

Daichi wanted to crawl into Suga’s bed every night and wait for him and snuggle against his body and then fall asleep knowing at least they had that.

But he didn’t.

What he did was cook. What he did was prepare Suga bentos and buy him coffee and energy drinks he left around with post-its.

I hope you have a good day.

Don’t forget to eat.

Take care today and take an umbrella; it’s gonna rain.

I washed your clothes.

Be safe going back home tonight; and eat!

Daichi never wrote, I miss you, but he felt it was unnecessary. If Suga hadn’t realised through Daichi’s dumb post-its and his stupid caring tips, then it was pointless to tell him anyway.

Daichi held it together the first three weeks, because he was an adult and he had restrain and because his mind understood what his heart failed to see: Suga was, under no circumstances, forced to humour Daichi by sharing the small free time he had with him, if he even had free time at all. Daichi’s brain got the memo.

His heart didn’t.

At the end of the first month Daichi was so desperate for a bit of Suga he actually started delaying his own sleep, on the hopes he’d catch Suga when he got home back from work, each day later than the day before. The fact he could barely stay awake past twelve was bad, but it was even worse to wake up every morning with a blanket that smelled like Suga and with no trace of Suga on their damn apartment.

Daichi was going insane. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have work, because he did. But Daichi’s workday ended at six, leaving him with a ton of hours he had to fill out of his own apartment because, damn his sharp nose, he couldn’t spend more time in a house where Suga was so present in his absence.

That’s when the complaints started.

“It’s just—” Daichi frowned down at his beer, Kuroo and Bokuto both watching him in silent attention. “He’s never there anymore.”

“Well,” Kuroo chewed softly, as if Daichi would break if he spoke a bit louder. “You guys aren’t together. You can’t actually ask him to stay more.”

“That’s not what I want and of course I won’t say a thing.”

“Or you could,” Bokuto hummed as if his own thoughts were now just falling into his hands and he were seeing them for the first time. “I mean, you could tell him how you feel.”

Daichi blushed. He blushed so hard he actually saw the skin on the back of his hands get shamefully red. Kuroo chuckled, obviously delighted by Daichi’s unspoken crush. Bokuto just smiled kindly at him.

“I won’t.”

“You could tell him as a friend. I tell Kuroo all the time when I wanna hang out more.”

“You always tell me you wanna hang out more,” Kuroo retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s because you never wanna hang out.”

Daichi’s stomach lightened at their quivering, known and safe land he was happy to step on. He was ashamed of his own complaints, of his own emotions. The project Suga was working on had been the most important of his career so far, and Daichi resented himself for not being able to show him the support he deserved. The support Daichi was eager to give him, but too petty to actually express.

“Anyway,” Kuroo hit Bokuto’s arm, who gaped at him, offended. “You okay?”

“It just sucks,” Daichi mustered, because as much as he hated feeling like this, he hated even more to swallow his own emotions. He wanted to smile and play it off, and he did, the small times he crossed words with Suga. But in Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s company he couldn’t bring himself to lie. He didn’t want to. “It sucks even more because I’m not able to tell him how I feel. And I never will.”

“Well, Drama Queen, chill.” Kuroo pushed the beer into Daichi’s hands. “Just get over these months and we will talk again about you confessing your beautiful, teen-ish crush when Suga’s back into a normal, living human’s schedule.”

Some weeks later, Daichi got home past twelve. Kuroo had gotten tickets for a techno concert, and although it wasn’t really Daichi’s sort of music, it had been nice to go out and get wasted and dance and sweat his desperation out.

For a little while Daichi’d been able to actually forget his heart was numb and pinning.

The lights told Daichi something was wrong as soon as he stepped inside, Suga’s working shoes thrown on the side of the entrance step.

“Suga?”

Daichi rushed through the corridor till the couch, where Suga was lying pale and shivery. Even from the distance Daichi could see sweat covering his silky skin, and he didn’t need to put his hand on Suga’s forehead to know he had a fever.

He did anyway.

“Daichi?”

“Hey,” Daichi said softly, going on his knees beside Suga. “What happened? Did you take something?”

“I’m just tired.” Suga tried to smile, but his chipped lips couldn’t shape it properly. “I’ve been working a bit too much, I think.”

“You think.” Daichi could hear the sharp edge of his voice. He didn’t want to be mad. He wasn’t even mad at Suga, but worry had its claws on his throat and his lungs, and Daichi couldn’t think properly. “You are barely home, you barely eat and you barely sleep. You always get here late and wake up earlier than me. And I go for a run every morning at six thirty.”

Suga blinked at him, his glassy eyes unfocused and feverish and Daichi felt like a dickhead, admonishing a sick person. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s ‘kay.” Suga did smile this time, soft and a bit shaky, but a smile nonetheless. Daichi’s breath caught on his lungs and he had to use iron restrain to stop himself from kissing him. “It’s nice to see you so worried you actually get mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I know.”

Daichi sighed loudly and, thoughtless, caressed Suga’s cheek. He pretended he was washing the sweat there, checking his temperature, but he was sure the way his eyes avoided Suga’s hazy ones was telling enough. “I’m gonna go to the conbini to buy you some medicine.”

“Don’t leave me yet.”

What a low hit. Daichi huffed soundly, pissed at his own weakness, and Suga snuggled onto the pillow, pushing his face closer to Daichi’s. “Thanks for all the food and things you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome.” Daichi fell on his side and let his temple rest near Suga’s hands. Suga watched down at him, that peaceful smile still playing on his lips. “You really should take something for that fever. And drink water.”

“I did drink.” Suga inhaled deeply, and Daichi had the impression he was inhaling him. Daichi couldn’t help himself when he rose his hand and caressed the skin of Suga’s jaw. “I think I just need to sleep. Your hand feels nice.”

Daichi ignored that last bit.

“You should take tomorrow off. I don’t even remember the last time you had a day off.”

Suga made a noncommittal sound and closed his eyes, sighing a deep, happy breath. It gave Daichi the impression of a baby cat, content and safe, finally able to fall asleep on its bed. Daichi’s mind was a mess of wants and words that burnt his tongue, and because he had missed Suga and his unmistakable scent, he let his hand take the wet locks of hair away from his forehead.

“Daichi,” Suga whispered softly, already asleep. Daichi smiled at him and caressed his warm skin again and before he did something really stupid, he stood up and went to the conbini.

He knew Suga wouldn’t do the sensible thing and stay home the next day, so he bought him some lemon drinks and more medicine than necessary and put it all in the table.

The post-it read, Take this and take care and don’t you dare faint or die. I made you food, so try to survive until you can go back to a normal person’s existence. Daichi.

There was a thick, scratched black mark right before Daichi signed with his name. It was unreadable, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what word was hidden underneath.

Suga went back to a normal human’s schedule three months later with a smile as big as the sun, too many kilos thinner and his hair longer.

He also brought a boyfriend with him.

Daichi would have given his life and his soul to go back to those agonizing months when at least he could pretend there was hope at the end of the tunnel.

Daichi’s mood was awful and tiring and it had gotten so bad he couldn’t even stand himself. Mornings were the worst, because Daichi woke up with a knot on his stomach and vile on his throat, a wordless fear perfectly painted on the image of Suga and his damn boyfriend playing lovebirds in his kitchen.

It’s not as if that had ever happened. At least not in real life, anyway. But Daichi’s subconscious was, surprisingly, creative and thorough, and it had provided Daichi with a long list of nightmares he didn’t even want to consider. And they all had the same setting: Daichi, hopeful, crashing on Suga and his unknown lover being so obviously caring for each other it felt like a stab on his chest.

Since Suga announced a week after he’d gone back to a regular work schedule he had a boyfriend, and after the first night of nightmares, Daichi now stepped out of his room as if he were walking on mined land.

The muffled sound of the TV welcomed him when he made his way to the kitchen, the morning news throwing light into the living room. He could hear Suga hum a song while he prepared breakfast, his bare back as alluring as it was appalling. Daichi didn’t want to see the small marks of his freckles all over his skin, constellations he could see but wasn’t allowed to discover.

He felt like a man staring at the sky with no hope of ever reaching it.

“Daichi!” Suga beamed at him, the red mark of his pillow still on his cheek. “Good morning. You’re up late today.”

Daichi shrugged, not sure how words worked now that he was blinded by Suga and his perfect skin and his oh so missed company. “I went out with Kuroo after work.”

“Oh, right.” Suga turned around again, the light tone of his voice as carefree as it was fake. Daichi didn’t give it a second thought and stepped forward to reach for his mug right in time for Suga to lean back, as if he were about to talk to Daichi.

They stilled for a second too long, Daichi’s raised arm caging Suga in his chest. Daichi could feel Suga’s heat coming through his shirt, speeding up his already malfunctioning heart. Suga’s smell invaded his nostrils and his mouth, and Daichi licked his lips as if Suga’s presence were caressing them.

“Ah, sorry,” Daichi mustered, hoarse, and stepped sideways as Suga made a strangled sound and stepped forward, his hips crashing against the counter. Daichi couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He filled his mug with more coffee than he needed and made his way into the living room, where he felt safe and alone and he could pretend his heart wasn’t racing to death.

He wasn’t sure if the distance made it easier or harder to breathe, but at least Daichi’s eyes weren’t glued to a pale, naked back and a neck he had dreamed of more times than he should.

“Daichi,” Suga called him after a minute, his own mug in hand. There was an underlying tension on his frown when Daichi looked back at him. “Is it okay if my boyfriend comes today?”

The coffee turned into acid in Daichi’s stomach. The word boyfriend always sounded full of intent and meaning when Suga said it, but now it was a direct blow to his jaw. Daichi wanted to throw up, but instead he put a tight smile on his lips and nodded, slowly falling apart. “Of course. This is your home too.”

Daichi didn’t sleep in his bed that night, but that didn’t keep him from imagining Suga sleeping in his.

The nightmares were the worst when they came that evening, and Daichi swore he could feel his soul tear apart, shattered at the sight of Suga with someone else.

“You’re whimpering.”

“And it’s annoying.”

Daichi wanted to tell them they were annoying, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mean and lie. He had spent every weekend for a month in Kuroo’s house, taking over his couch and whining about his life. Daichi felt awful at how low he’d fallen. He could even feel his shoulders bend forward, as if they were unable to carry him anymore.

“I know,” Daichi agreed with gritted teeth. “I can’t help it.”

“Just leave that apartment, for god’s sake.” Kuroo threw him a bag of chips and Daichi was too miserable to catch it on time. It hit his face with a loud thud, and Bokuto laughed until he choked. “You’re practically living here anyway. You can stay in my couch until you find a new place, if that’s what you need.”

“Or you could just go and whimper at Suga,” Bokuto added, taking the chips out of Daichi’s hands.

“That’s stupid and unhelpful.”

“I’m serious.” Kuroo sat on the floor, dismissing Bokuto’s complain when he snatched the chips from him. “You need to decide what you do. Or you die pinning over Suga, or you move forward.”

It sounded so easy. It was easy, according to the simplicity of Kuroo’s words. Just step out of that apartment and find happiness again. But it was impossible to even fathom happiness in a world where Suga wasn’t in his life. It was the smell, and the late nights, and how Suga made fun of Daichi when they watched scary movies and then Daichi could barely sleep for a week. It was the shared food and the shared laughs and the fact Daichi couldn’t recall a safer place than being with Suga. After almost three years, Daichi’s heart and Daichi’s life had shaped around Suga’s existence, and just thinking about building a new one where he wasn’t there felt choking and wrong.

“So you’d rather die pinning,” Bokuto said, reading his thoughts.

Daichi didn’t have strength to deny it. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“I think ‘s actually pretty simple.” Bokuto kicked Kuroo and grabbed the chips back. “Nothing will change if you stay silent.”

“I don’t want things to change. That’s precisely the problem here.” Daichi frowned at Bokuto, the shadowed gaze of his sharp eyes cutting and scary. Daichi hated when Bokuto looked at him like that, as if he could see the world in a light Daichi would never be able to understand.

“I think Suga is in love with you,” Bokuto added, and Daichi’s world stopped suddenly on its tracks.

It was nice and light and for a second Daichi breathed with such freedom it was terrifying.

“Yeah, of course, that’s why he has a boyfriend now.” Daichi could hear the venom on his voice.

Bokuto rolled his eyes. “Imagine this. You’ve been living together for three years, and you’re sort of into each other. But you never do anything, or give the impression you actually want things to move forward because, duh, you just said yourself you don’t want things to change.” Daichi felt his chest constrict. Bokuto’s words were sharp but caring, and maybe because of that they hurt the most. “So the guy maybe has a thing for you, but you won’t act on it, you won’t even think of it, so he moves forward. Because life doesn’t stop just ‘cause you’re in love.”

“Bo…” Kuroo murmured, resting his feet on Bokuto’s shin. “That’s so deep and helpful.”

“I’m a master of love.”

“And yet forever single,” Kuroo continued, and Bokuto grew crimson. He turned around and kicked Kuroo again, coaxing a loud yelp out of him.

“Shut up! I was trying to make a point here.” Bokuto threw a pillow at Kuroo just to let him know what a dickhead he was, and turned his attention back to Daichi, who felt shaken and cold. “It’s okay if you want to live your life without stepping forward, but you can’t expect him to stay content with that.”

“I want to step forward,” Daichi answered, his voice trembling and his face as pale as he felt sick. “I want him.”

“But do you want to be with him?”

The question lingered. When Daichi tried to answer, he choked on it.

“That only works if Suga’s in love with me,” Daichi managed to spit out. “If he isn’t, then me saying something will only break what we have now.”

“If you say nothing, you’ll never know.”

“Suga’s not in love with me.”

But from that point on, Daichi couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He thought about it at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner. He thought about it when he was on the shower, when Suga was on the shower. He thought about it when he came back home and found Suga on the couch, glasses down his nose, on the edge of the sit and about to fall, because he was too into the book he was reading.

Since Bokuto’s mouth had put it into words, the possibility that Suga might have feelings for him never left Daichi. It was like a lullaby played at the back of his head, and the more he thought about it and the more he tried to think of other stuff, the louder it got.

“Daichi,” Suga said one friday, already on his pajamas when Daichi got home. He looked soft and safe and welcoming and Daichi almost fell to his knees. Instead, he smiled, because he didn’t know how to show his feelings otherwise. “Wanna watch a movie with me? I know it’s Friday, but—”

“Isn’t… What about your boyfriend? I thought—”

“Oh.” Suga teared his gaze away, a soft blush on his cheeks. Daichi blinked, expression blank. What a sight, and what a hit. “He has plans with his— mom,” Suga seemed amused by that fact, but Daichi didn’t give it more thought.

“It’s been awhile since we watched a movie,” Daichi said with a nod.

“I bought popcorn.”

Daichi light up at the sound of that. He went to his room and got changed, putting on the sweatpants he had discarded that morning without a thought on the bed. Loose and comfortable, Daichi caressed the soft fabric and frowned. They smelled like the soap they used, but somehow they also had attached Suga’s scent, the one Daichi would recognize anywhere.

Daichi stared at his hands on the sweatpants’ pockets, his nose almost brushing the fabric there. He needed a second to register his own actions, the fact he had just buried his nose on his leg because he could smell Suga in him.

He was losing his mind.

“Daichi! Are you ready?”

“Coming!”

Embarrassed, Daichi rushed to the living room, Suga already sat on the couch, ready and excited. He had his legs under him, a bowl of popcorns at hand and a wicked smile on his soft lips.

Daichi grimaced. “Oh no.”

“Oh, yes! It came out the other day, so we are watching the ‘70s version.”

“Why.”

“That’s how you grow some resistance.”

Daichi whimpered softly but sat anyway. “I don’t want resistance.”

Suga didn’t listen. He put the TV on and made himself comfortable, getting swallowed by the couch and brushing Daichi’s arm with his. Daichi’s skin came to life, every cell, every nerve, every beat of his heart aware of every shift of Suga’s body. The way he wiggled to push his legs in front of him, how he put the bowl between them both without looking at Daichi, how he breathed deeply and fully, as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

It was heaven. Or hell. It was hard to decide which when his skin was inflamed, his heart was beating so fast he could barely hear the TV and the smell was filling his lungs like water, drowning him.

Suga was so close, he was too close, and the urge to subtly let his weight fall on him was overtaking Daichi’s will. The movie started with Daichi’s mind caught on Suga and his pale skin, Suga and his missed smell, Suga and the fact he had a boyfriend but now that boyfriend was absent so Daichi could pretend he didn’t exist.

The movie wasn’t as scary as others they’d watched, but Daichi was bad with horror. After ten minutes, although his skin was overly aware of Suga right there, he was cold and sweaty. Fear tasted like gasoline when mixed with popcorn, so Daichi stopped eating altogether.

“Daichi.”

He shrieked. Gods, he shrieked so loud it actually quieted the sound of the movie for a second. With wide eyes, Daichi stared at the bright screen, the crawl of a blush, red and hot, already covering all his body.

At least the cold of fear was now overthrown by the heat of shame.

“Oh my god, Daichi,” the amusement in Suga’s voice was as sweet as it was dreading. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Liar.”

Suga’s laugh was a sweet, loud caress. Daichi tried to keep his pout on his mouth, but Suga’s cackle could break any man. When Suga rested his forehead on Daichi’s shoulder, trembling so hard popcorns were falling all over the couch, Daichi finally gave in. He turned around right in time to see tears fall from Suga’s eyes, his laugh shaping his lips into the most beautiful of sights. Daichi stared at him. Drank him, the tempting freckle under his eye, the pale, perfect skin, the bright joy in his eyes.

It struck Daichi how beautiful he was, how much he had missed this simple moments. A heavy layer of yearning covered Daichi’s stomach. Suga wasn’t laughing anymore, now just staring back at Daichi with his eyelashes wet and his tongue clearing the dryness on his lips.

Daichi couldn’t stare away, even if he wanted to.

They were so close Daichi could count the small dots of gold in Suga’s brown eyes. So close, if Daichi inhaled deeply enough, he could breathe every piece of Suga and keep it safe inside his chest.

I want to kiss you, Daichi didn’t say. I love you, Daichi didn’t say.

Suga leaned forward, just a bit. Daichi mimicked him, unbidden. Suga was warm and soft and looked mild and welcoming, and Daichi wanted—

A phone rang. Loud. It was Suga’s, and Daichi knew that ringtone, because he had come to hate it with all his might. It brought reality back to the dream, too.

Suga groaned, as if pissed with his boyfriend for calling him. Daichi straightened his back and with a blank expression stared at the TV. His mind was a mess, and his heart an ashen massacre.

They didn’t finish the movie.

Daichi met Suga’s boyfriend four days later, on a damn Wednesday.

—Wednesdays were banned from that point on—

It was unfair and Daichi would have believed Suga to do it on purpose had he hadn’t been so surprised to see Daichi in the couch when they got in. As if this weren’t Daichi’s home as well.

“Oh. Daichi, I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight…” Suga looked over his shoulder, where a man slightly taller than him was smiling, his handsome face an annoying sight Daichi pretended to ignore.

“I live here,” Daichi said with a flat tone. Suga tittered and Daichi bristled in answer.

“Yeah, of course you do. I thought— Anyway, Daichi, this is Oikawa. Oikawa, my flatmate, Daichi.”

Daichi resented how damnly perfect Oikawa looked, the smile on his lips soft and honest, his fair skin a tint darker than Suga’s. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally.” Even his voice was pretty. Daichi frowned at the singing tone he used for that last word. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice things, I’d hope.”

“Of course! You treated Kou–chan so nicely while we were working on the project. Right, darling?” Daichi froze, a loud ringing sound crossing his skull from side to side at that Kou-chan and that darling. Was it him, or did it sound especially sharp when Oikawa said it? Daichi’s smile widened, but inside he felt like a volcano had just exploded and was destroying every fleshed land it encountered.

“Right.” Suga’s eyes were dark and amused and there was a gleam on them Daichi didn’t usually see. It bothered him enough to stand up and turn his smile in such a fake show his facial muscles hurt. “You okay?”

Suga sounded shy and mocking and Daichi would never understand how he made it work, and why the heck it made his dumb heart drum a happy song.

“Fine. Yeah. I’m just—” he pointed to his room, and then the entrance door, and he stood there trying to decide if suffering Kuroo’s complaints would be worse than staying here and seeing them all lovey-dovey. “I’ll go… to Kuroo’s. Yeah, so you guys can have some privacy and all that.”

“Oh, Dai–chan, please don’t,” Oikawa’s singing voice was annoying and it was drilling a hole into Daichi’s reasoning. “I wouldn’t want to kick you out of your house. Right, darling?”

Suga snorted at Oikawa when he heard that last part, but hid it behind a cough that had Daichi watching him with wary and worry.

“Sure, sure. I mean, of course, Daichi, please don’t leave on our account. This is your house. We could all watch a movie or something.”

“I think not,” Daichi said before he could hold his tongue. Suga’s gaze widened, a sparkle of recognition on those beautiful eyes of his. Daichi wanted to kiss him more than ever, but the need to kick him was as strong, so he did nothing. “Kuroo’s getting used to having me anyway. So, see you later, I guess. Bye.”

Daichi was a coward but he didn’t care. It was too painful, anyway. The drum of his heart wasn’t happy any longer; it sounded like the march of horses, running towards their early deaths.

It was later than Daichi expected when he knocked on Kuroo’s door. He might have been leaning to the side, but the amount of alcohol he had drank kept him from understanding his body’s movements properly. He knocked again with his forehead and his hand, and when seconds ticked and not even a sound came from inside the apartment, Daichi whined softly.

He almost fell face flat when the door opened with a soft click. Kuroo caught him against his chest, —his naked chest—, the mess of his sleep hair matching his black boxers.

“‘Rry.”

“What the heck, man. It’s three in the morning.”

“I know,” Daichi took a hold of Kuroo’s shoulders, trying to straighten himself, but his legs wiggled. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“If you throw up on my floor—”

Daichi didn’t throw up on the floor, but he made a pretty mess on Kuroo’s bathroom. The thought he’d have to invite Kuroo to at least a hundred dinners crossed Daichi’s clouded mind, and with his forehead against the toilet, he looked up where Kuroo was leaning on the door frame.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, more coherently this time. “I’m gonna pay you back.”

“Dude, you don’t have to pay me anything. But it’ll be nice if you got your shit together. You can’t keep coming back here every time Suga brings his boyfriend home.”

“They went straight to the bedroom today,” Daichi mustered, a heavy stone on his back making of his words a sad tangle of emotions. “I couldn’t— I think I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, that’s not something new.” Kuroo sighed deeply, his eyes scanning Daichi on his bathroom floor, tears at the corners of his red eyes, the rictus of his mouth broken and lonely and one step from shattering completely. “Daichi, my friend, you have to make a decision. And you have to make it soon. Look at you.”

Daichi whines. “I know. I know. I just— that stupid Oikawa.”

Kuroo froze mid-step when he heard the cutting of his tongue. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait a second. Oikawa. Oikawa is Suga’s boyfriend.”

“Yes.” Daichi squinted. “Wait, you know Oikawa?”

“Tall? Handsome? He has this vibe he could kill you if you actually piss him off?”

“Uhuh,” Daichi nodded absently. “Yeah.”

“Oh boy.” Kuro squated on Daichi’s side, his smirk as big as it was scary. “Daichi, you owe me your life.”

Daichi’s head was about to explode. There was a constant drum happening on his temples, getting louder and harder and more painful with each passing hit. He grunted loudly, and even that sound hurt.

“I’m dying.”

“Not yet,” Kuroo answered from his side. Daichi didn’t bother opening his eyes, the warmth of Kuroo’s body a nice blanket for his awful state. “It’s just your hangover.”

“Will I die from it?” Kuroo snorted. “What’s that annoying sound?”

“The door,” Kuroo answered unconcerned, as if this weren’t his apartment nor his business. “Suga, I’d assume.”

“Why would Suga be here?” Daichi growled, trying to turn around, but his body felt heavy and numb. Daichi couldn’t be sure if he was moving when he finally opened his eyelids half way, watching Kuroo read some papers, the glasses such a weird sight it broke Daichi’s hangover for a brief second. “I think I’m dying for real.”

“I texted Iwaizumi yesterday and told him you and I had sex.”

A long second of hard pounding went by, and Daichi couldn’t point out if the hits he was hearing were inside his head or Suga was really at the door of the apartment.

“Should I've understood anything of that sentence?”

“Probably not.” Kuroo smirked down at him, his eyes sharper framed by the glasses. “Iwaizumi is my friend from the gym. He’s currently dating a man called Oikawa, whom I believe you’re pretty acquainted with.” Daichi frowned, his headache getting worse with each of Kuroo’s words. “I assumed Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was playing fool, since I’ve seen them together and no one would ever believe they are nothing but madly in love with each other. Disgustingly cute, if you ask me.” Daichi made a noncommittal sound, totally lost with this conversation. The threads of alcohol were still hanging on his brain, and Daichi was divided between kicking Kuroo out of the bed or just let him rant it all out. “You still with me?”

Daichi huffed loudly. “Go on. I’m dying anyway.”

“So, as I expected, Iwaizumi told Oikawa I was giving you the night of your life.” The doorbell was ringing now and Daichi could swore a black hole had opened on his skull and was absorbing every bit of life he had left.

“I still fail to see how’s that making me want to die right now.”

“How impatient,” Kuroo smiled down at Daichi, the soft lift of his lips more tender than mocking. “Oikawa, as I supposed, is Suga’s friend, and he was pretending to be his boyfriend because, as Bokuto told you already, Suga’s pretty much in love with you.” Kuroo drawn his eyebrows together, deep in thought for a second. “Let’s just keep that part for ourselves, though.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell Bokuto he was right. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Right about what?”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you listening? Suga’s here, trying to tear my door down because he believes I’ve fucked you senseless.”

“I mean, you did in a way,” Daichi grunted softly, and Kuroo laughed hard enough to shake the bed. “Wait, what?” Daichi finally opened his eyes, and sat on the bed with the widen eyes of a deer about to be hit by a truck. “Suga’s here.” Kuroo nodded. “He thinks you and I had sex.” Another nod. “And you think he’s in love with me.”

“Dude, he’s been at the door for like ten minutes now. There’s no doubt he is in love with you.”

Daichi tripped on his way out of bed, a simple pair of boxers the only thing covering him when he rushed through Kuroo’s apartment till the still ringing door. Now that he was closer he could discern Suga’s muffled voice, the low threats he was aiming at Kuroo with sharp precision warming Daichi’s skin when he took the handle.

“Kuroo, open that door or I swear—˝

Daichi opened the door and Suga almost broke his nose with his fist.

“Oh, no, Daichi, sorry, I didn’t mean…” his voice wore off when Suga’s eyes caught Daichi’s naked body. His eyes roamed around his chest and his thighs and stayed there, on his underwear, as if the fabric had offended him beyond repair. “Oh. Well. I see.”

Daichi wondered if he really saw anything, or if he was mad and hurting. By how hard he was closing his hands in fists Daichi got a pretty good idea of which it was, but he couldn’t talk. His head was still throbbing and his mind was still a blank space unable to process the reasons Suga could have to be here, this early on a Sunday morning.

“I guess I should…” Suga pointed at his back, turning his body, hiding his expression. Daichi couldn’t talk, but he thanked himself when his arm reached forward and stopped Suga from leaving. “Daichi.” He sounded strangled.

“Wait. I can—”

“No, I get it. I should have… I mean, it was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?”

Daichi frowned when Suga turned back and faced him again, a red blush of anger lighting his cheeks. Daichi let go of his arm. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Kuroo,” Suga wiggled his eyebrows and laughed, dry and broken. It was the worst sound Daichi had ever heard. “You practically live here. I should have… Well, I’m an idiot and now I’m leaving.”

“I’m not with Kuroo,” Daichi said, still trying to catch every bit of information that was flying around his head. Gods, being hangover was the worst. Suga raised his eyebrows and looked at him with intent, but Daichi was too pained to bother worrying about it. “I’m not. I came here drunk and then I threw up and of course I wasn’t going to sleep with my clothes on after that.”

Suga didn’t look convinced on the least. He hummed, arms crossed, and looked at him as if by the simple power of his gaze he could see if Daichi was telling the truth.

“Please? Come in? So we can talk with some privacy.”

“Unless Kuroo has left, we won’t have privacy.”

“I heard that!” Daichi sighed at Kuroo’s amazed voice.

Suga inhaled shakily, catching Daichi’s attention. His shoulders were bent over, his nose red and his eyes hazy. There were shadows under his usually cheerful eyes, now cold and dull. Daichi wanted to pull him into his chest and hug the sadness out of him, but instead he just contented himself with a soft caress on Suga’s cold cheek.

Suga’s intake was harsh and sudden and his eyes lift to lock with Daichi’s, a world of pleas Daichi had never seen before swimming in his eyes.

“Please.”

Suga nodded and stepped forward.

Kuroo gave them some privacy. Which translated in him closing the door of the bathroom and turning on his speakers, loud enough for the lady on the corner’s shop to hear his music.

It was good enough. Daichi managed to borrow some pants and a shirt, and went back to the livingroom, where Suga was pacing around.

“Suga.”

“It’s my fault,” Suga blurted out. He couldn’t look up to Daichi, but his feet stopped moving. “I brought Oikawa and I thought I was being so smart but I wasn’t.”

“I know you believe that makes sense to me,” Daichi said slowly. “But it doesn’t. If you could explain…?”

Suga blinked up at him, the soft light of the morning painting his cheeks in oranges and golds, turning him into a statue of a god, beautiful and nostalgic and breathtaking. Daichi drank from him as he hadn’t allowed himself to do since Oikawa stepped in their apartment, and it hit him with a bull’s strength, how much he’d missed him.

“Oikawa’s my fake boyfriend,” Suga admitted with a plain voice. “I asked him to play the part because I thought—” he choked on his own thoughts, and a blush rose on his already painted cheeks. “I thought you’d get jealous,” he whispered, almost mouthed. Daichi’s brain wasn’t working properly, for he took three seconds too long to understand the meaning of his words.

“What.” Daichi gaped at him. “What do you mean…”

“Come on, Daichi,” Suga snorted. “It was pretty obvious.”

“What.”

Daichi felt like a parrot, unable to say anything beyond that dumb word.

“That I’m in love with you.” Suga watched him freeze. Even his lungs stopped. Daichi couldn’t move when those words crossed his skin and filled him till he couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, Daichi, don’t tell me. You didn’t know?”

“Of course not! You never said anything!”

“If I left more clues you would have drowned on them.”

“What?” Daichi really ought to stop saying that before its meaning got lost forever. “Suga—” a sudden laugh broke from Daichi’s chest, bubbles of fire and water filling him as if he were a bottle of champagne about to burst. “Suga, I’m not especially sharp for these things.”

Suga rolled his eyes. “No kidding.”

Silence fell. It was almost a physical thing, not heavy or awkward, but filled with possibilities and expectations. They were still some meters apart, Suga’s hands tangled, Daichi’s hands at his hips. The moment lingered. Tension was growing and growing, the hint of a step, the shadow of a smile.

Their eyes never teared from each other, and by the time the moment had grown so big it was embracing them like a blanket, they were both smiling like idiots.

“You’re in love with me,” Daichi beamed.

Suga shook his head, but his lips were wearing the sweetest of smiles. “Yeah.”

“And you fake dated your friend to make me jealous.”

“As I said.”

“And I was jealous.” Suga inhaled deeply, probably filling his lungs with that truth, with Daichi’s laugh, with the moment and the pretty colors of the sun, lighting them up. “I was so jealous I couldn’t even think. Kuroo and Bokuto have been one second from murdering me. Several times.”

Suga chuckled, his hand playing with his lower lip now. It was shy and yet tempting, the unmistaken gleam of mischief in his eyes making of Daichi’s heart a stuttering mess. His glare said, how long are you gonna wait to kiss me?

“I’ve been in love with you almost since we moved together,” Daichi confessed instead. His lips were drawn into a thin line, the weight of his emotions finally being freed from their cage a relief, and a curse. There was no coming back from this. Change, as dreaded as it felt, was happening, and it was as light as it was weird. It was like walking over broken shells, but instead of cutting him, the sharp edges were building him, reshaping him. “I didn’t— I was so scared of losing what we had, I never dared saying anything. You know, the nights together, the trust, the fact you were always there. You were my… You were…”

Suga stepped closer, a ghostly movement Daichi saw and Daichi drank from with his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I was…?”

“Suga.” Daichi exhaled his name, a plea, a wish, a dream finally at his hand’s reach. Suga was close enough now for Daichi to feel the way his chest moved, his heavy breathing matching Daichi’s.

“What was I, Daichi.” The soft touch of Suga’s finger on his jaw made Daichi close his eyes. The small spot of contact felt like a supernova, a blown star growing and growing, electrifying every cell in Daichi’s body. He was burning up. “Come on,” the whisper caressed his lips, “we’ve come this far.”

Daichi’s eyes cracked open. Suga was everything he could gaze at and, unthinkingly, he mustered, “Home. You’ve been home all along.”

The kiss happened like the best things always happen, soundless and caringly, thoughtless. A soft brush of lips. They were gazing at each other because their mouths meeting with their eyes closed felt wrong and unfitting. Daichi breathed Suga, the smell of lemon, of leather, of home. Suga’s hands flatted Daichi’s sides, the warmth of his palms a brand in Daichi’s skin. It send rivers through Daichi’s system.

In answer, Daichi groaned, a stupid sound that put a blush in his cheeks and a laugh in Suga’s mouth, still glued to Daichi’s. “Home, huh,” Suga teased him, his arms circling Daichi’s neck and pushing him closer. Daichi’s hands, somehow, had found their way to Suga’s waist. Daichi wasn’t sure he could ever take them away.

Letting out a noncommittal sound against Suga’s neck, Daichi tasted his laugh through his throat. “That’s sweet.”

“Thanks,” Daichi grunted against his skin.

“Daichi.”

“What.”

Bending his back away from Daichi’s touch, Suga leaned far enough for their eyes to meet again. Although shaped with a tender smile, Suga’s lips had an edge to them, as if words he wasn’t sure of were caught in them.

“Do you want things to change?”

It was said with a heavy seriousness Daichi wasn’t prepared for. He regarded Suga with a blink, the warmth of their kiss still in his lips. Suga’s eyes had grown dark. Daichi’s fingers pressed Suga’s flesh with unconscious intent.

“I want you,” Daichi answered with honesty. “I want to be with you.”

There was a long second of Kuroo’s music breaking their peace, in which Suga watched Daichi with eyes that went from unsure, to scared, to pleased in a beat. Daichi saw it all, the small journey of his emotions, and he was prepared when Suga threw himself at him, mouth open and arms choking.

Daichi kissed him back, pushed him up, hugged him until they were out of breath by the kiss as much as the way their arms held each other.

“Take me home, Daichi.”

Daichi smiled, and kissed that plea, and then laughed because home had just acquired a bright new meaning.

[aether-staza]

•Shiro is a Japanese, soon-to-retire professional skater.

•He was known for his big fall years ago (where he lost his arm) but he was even more known for how he returned to the rink a year later with a prosthetic arm but still as graceful as before.

•After spending many fruitful years in the rink, 25 years old Takashi Shirogane felt like his time in competitive skating has come to a close. He felt the need to find a new passion and though he loved professional skating, he felt like he already gave what has to offer to the sport as a competitor.

•A few months after winning a gold medal on his very last competition and enjoying his retirement, Shiro heard news about a young skater named Keith Kogane retiring as well. The young skater all but disappeared from the public eyes entirely.

•Not being able to ignore the weird feeling in his chest, Shiro set out to America immediately.

•It wasn’t public knowledge that Shiro and Keith are actually close friends. It was not because they wanted to hide it but rather because they prefered their contact to be private.

•They met in a ballet school they were both signed into as kids back in Japan (when Keith moved there with his mom for a couple of years). Shiro was older but they sometimes have classes together and usually walk home together as well (they were surprisingly close neighbors).

•They even met on competitions before. They usually exchange polite smiles in public but often meet after the event to have dinner or something of the like.

•Keith was actually the one who stayed with Shiro for six whole months during Shiro’s physical therapy after his fall. He never left Shiro’s side back then and was only forced to leave when his manager demanded he get back to America for training that he can no longer disregard.

•Nevertheless, Shiro was thankful those six months with Keith. He was the one who really convinced Shiro to keep going despite the loss of his arm and the potential loss of his career back then.

•Those six months were hard but those months were the times when he realized that he might actually love Keith.

•Shiro never said anything though, afraid that it might ruin their friendship.

•Fast forward to the present, Keith was an excellent skater. He was talented, agile and he never won anything less than a silver medal.

•Keith loved skating as if it literally runs through the blood on his veins. He was a natural at the sport and it was Keith’s buring passion to perform and feel the adrenaline knock the wind off his chest. Shiro knew all of that so he wondered, what made Keith quit?

•After visiting Keith’s dorm and talking to his roommate Lance (who was awestruck to meet Shiro), he quickly learned that Keith went out one night saying ‘Don’t look for me’ and hasn’t returned since.

•Shiro was understandably worried but he did have an idea where Keith might be.

•Shiro found Keith in the desert shack they once escaped to when Shiro came to visit Keith long before.

•Keith didn’t expect Shiro to find him, let alone fly to America himself but for some reason he felt kind of… warm at the prospect that Shiro would do so much for him.

•Shiro spent a day at the shack (just giving a silent Keith company) before Keith sighed and decided to tell the man what he was obviously waiting for.

•Keith revealed that a year leading up to the present, he felt his passion for skating lacking and slowly dwindling. It wasn’t until Shiro annouced his retirement after winning the gold medal did Keith sort of just… snapped.

•Keith loved skating… so much that it hurt not loving it anymore and he just felt so lost. Losing one’s passion for something they loved, something they cherished their whole life, was nothing short of painful.

•Shiro looked as distraught as Keith but as he looked at the hurting young man before him, his resolve strengthened. Keith was there for him when he lost his arm, Shiro would be there for Keith when he lost his passion.

•"You haven’t lost you passion, Keith. Not yet anyway if you still feel strongly about skating like you do now.“ “Shiro…” “Let me help you. Let me help you find your missing passion for the sport we both love.”

•And just like that, Shiro became Keith’s official coach, causing a bit of a splash in the competitive skating scene.

•For months they trained, and Shiro trained Keith hard, not giving him a leeway just because they were close friends.

•Little by little, Keith forgot his worries and started to enjoy the adrenaline of the sport like he used to. Feeling more and more alive each day.

•For six months they trained and skated together. They shared a rink, dancing in sync with each other.

•It was in those six months that Keith realized he loves Shiro.

•It was also in those six months that Shiro fell deeper.

•After a particular routine, (one they did together without choreography but rather just the two of them moving to the harmony and finding themselves in each other’s arms) Keith finally kissed his coach and Shiro couldn’t remember a time when he was happier than this.

•Nine months later, Shiro finally proposed.

•Keith found his passion and Shiro found his purpose.

Fortunately, they both found love.

[ @anidragon : I hope you enjoyed this~!]

[fmdkangjun-blog]

apology. k&y

period: october 17, 2017. location: a hotel in tokyo. with: @fmdwren.

this was not how things were supposed to go down.

kangjun likes leading a simple life. of course, it’s not possible for someone to avoid complications their entire lifetime, but nevertheless, nothing major had ever come to bother him as much as this. because this no longer involved just him, but the people he loved the most, next to his grandmother. this involved seren. and this involved yoorin, who was just as important to kangjun.

throughout the entirety of the trip in japan, whenever someone brought yoorin and his relationship up kangjun’s chest would tighten up and throat go slightly dry. no, it wasn’t that he didn’t like yoorin — rather, it had been the opposite that was exactly the reason why he had agreed to their agreement in the first place. yoorin and him were friends. they were good friends, and kangjun had sympathized for the plight yoorin was stuck in; being constantly neglected by bc and never given proper opportunities to shine. as her friend, wasn’t the rule to do whatever he could to help her out? so when they had joked about fans shipping them together and them coming together to pull a huge prank and their members, he’d said yes. if there was any hesitation in his voice, kangjun was sure yoorin didn’t notice it. (kangjun reckons his acting has gotten better. it makes him somehow proud of himself, but he shakes himself a moment later. it’s not something to be pleased about in this situation.) what? it had made sense to kangjun then. it was a win-win situation for all parties. yoorin would get the attention she deserved, through the buzz from the media, they would get a good laugh out of the members falling for their joke, and kangjun would get to clear his mind of everything. it was a bad decision, and at the back of his head, he’d known that himself, but despite this, he’d nodded in consent before he’d be able to convince himself otherwise. kangjun had made the terrible assumption that this entire fiasco would help solve the problem of being unable to discern the meaning behind the butterflies that would begin to flutter violently at the pit of his stomach when he saw seren that he’d been fighting to solve the past few months now.

well, he supposes. actually, he had managed to solve it. that was why he was here now. somehow closing the door that he’d been standing in front of for so long had simply caused for a dozen more to open. and when he’d woken up in the morning to an empty bed and fragments of broken memories of the previous night all flooding back at one go, after being redirected to seren’s voicemail, the other person wearing down heavily on his mind was none other than yoorin. yoorin, who he loved and cherished. yoorin, who was one of the only people he could feel completely comfortable and safe around. yoorin, who had sent him nothing but warm smiles and bright laughter, all packaged in the form of the best friend he could ever ask for. yoorin, the girl the same age as him with the heart of an angel, who would constantly care about kangjun regardless of her own predicament. yoorin, the name had reverberated in kangjun’s mind like a mantra. i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry. yoorin, please, tell me, what should i i do now?

the euphoria of the night had worn off. now there was only the dread and guilt left to gnaw at the bottom of his chest, and a bucketful of problems to fix. kangjun didn’t even know where to start.

[ kangjun ➝ yoorin ] : Hey, meet me in the hotel’s restaurant in twenty minutes?  [ kangjun ➝ yoorin ] : I have something to talk to you about.

it takes him a full ten minutes before he presses the send button on his phone. he takes in a deep breath after he finally manages to pull himself together to do it, and combs his hair while looking in the mirror sombrely. he puts one of his nicer shirts on, and then he’s out of the door before he can lock himself in and run away from anything more. i have to do this, he decides with a sort of determination firing in his eyes. it’s commendable, but kangjun doesn’t know how long more it’ll last.

he rehearses what to say to yoorin about a million times before she arrives. i’m so sorry, i know i promised that i’d help you, but let’s stop this fake relationship act already, yoorin. the words that are supposed to come later forms the harder part, but kangjun valiantly attempts to read them through several more times anyway. when he sees the silhouette of yoorin finally approaching, however, this all goes to foil. suddenly his mind is blank, and seeing yoorin’s face, yoorin who had done nothing wrong, yoorin who had no idea what a terrible thing kangjun had done to her, causes all his carefully prepared words to fall down the drain. “hi,” he finally manages to force out. he hopes the smile on his face doesn’t look as pained as it really is. there’s a moment of agonizing silence afterwards, and kangjun hates it. yoorin and his’ conversations have never been as uncomfortable as this. kangjun wishes everything would rewind, that this stone wouldn’t have had to fall in between them. “did you.... did you have a good night?” god, what a question. it’s directed towards yoorin, but saying the sentence makes it feel as if he’s taunting himself, like his brain is disapproving of his own actions. he flashes her another weak smile. “you look refreshed this morning.”