#elie blabla

[wordsofelie]

i have not forgotten this, i’m just waiting for the right moment to start writing. i really don’t want to rush it and around christmas i’ll have more time to give to my tumblr page, so i might start around that time, i hope you understand :)

🌸And I will wait for you (a thousand springs, a lifetime)

Kageyama Tobio x f!reader

Summary : “Senpai,” Kageyama calls you. “Keep an eye on me, watch me. I’ll win everything. I’ll make it to the Olympics. I’ll get gold.” You smile with your eyes closed, wrinkles forming above your cheeks. “I will.”

or, when you’re convinced that kageyama tobio is the definition of right person, wrong time.

Content Warnings: Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Time skip & Manga Spoilers

Chapters: to come

Words count: to come

[kira-nerys-rocks]

Torri Higginson in TekWar - TekInjustice (1994)

[shummashum]

Klaus Goldstein Ch12 [1~5]

Previously on Ch11! Liz, who successfully completed her first class, finally confirmed her feelings to Klaus after a series of events! But the flags pile up too much

and now it's Amel's turn again I gotta say, I'm a bit tired of this dorm scene with her because it's just a series of identical scenes Amel acts like a mere supporting character well she is indeed a supporting character, but she is so unattractive as a character. she doesn't have any noticeable personality at all all she does is tell love stories, give relationship advice, and lament with envy when she sees Liz winning her love. of course I know the character Amel exists as a device to lead that kind of story, but… you know

Anyway, Liz told Amel everything that had happened between her and Klaus.

balance, huh all she did was nothing but clowning ← are you meaning like that or what

Anway, as they were laughing and talking like that…

eh what's up

it'll be Klaus… right? well if this flow continues, the probability of anyone other than Klaus appearing is low

but Goldstein is not exclusive to Klaus! what if the visitor was Eli plot-twist

So she quickly changed her clothes and headed to the front.

no reversal why wasn't it Eli no fun~~ anyway what brings you here

whut right now? but who summoned you guys

huh it's not polite do they know what time is it now? Prefects are not their employees, and our S6 comrades have no obligation to follow the order just because they were called tell the Ministry fuck off

and they're asking for that at this late hour it's fucking rude calling them out in the middle of the night without any notice… this happens frequently within the Ministry, huh? well that's why they confidently do this to outsiders too fuck you Ministry I don't think I need to be polite to you

After hearing this news, Liz quietly muttered that she had a bad feeling.

hah no I'm fucking not that bunch of sick bastards

+1 flag accumulation simultaneously, +1 rudeness you're saying like this and you expected she looked you as a perfect gentleman where is your conscience

Anyway, they headed to the Headmaster's office while holding hands.

Just then? oh I know, it's Zeus he'll be yelling like an elementary school kid caught his friend calling another kid of the opposite sex by his or her first name

anyway if S6 comrades found out Liz and Klaus were dating: Al will smile brightly when hiding his feelings Cae will smile as if he knew all the events that happened and tease her Hiro will just watch all of this with "that certain overtime and bullshit blabla look" I can see it

oh… it really was Zeus (and Hiro)

but they didn't notice anything at all? huh,,,,,,

Anyway they arrived at the office.

so are they going to take charge of it from now on? okay let's hand over the investigative authority to them, it was their duty in the first place

hah I summon you. I don't give a shit about the time. You must come here tomorrow morning no mather what. ← this is……… why? is all social life like this? I really don't like it,,,

oh?

I… thought he would complain about the same thing as me? and what the fuck is right foot it's right hand, you damn idiot…… you need to take elementary school vocabulary class again

little heavy? little??? I bet the Ministry contacted the Prefects at this hour because they was so excited about finding a doormat to hand over the work to

Well Remb allowed Hiro to accompany them, and so the Prefects, Hiro, and Remb headed to the Ministry.

[shigarakifucker]

do you have time to discuss our names

Your name is absolutely wonderful and I couldn’t agree with it more.

[wordsofelie]

moon

much unlike the sun, your heart stays buried in your chest, not out on your sleeve. you're both more similar than you think, in that you care. the way you show it contrasts, though. love doesn't have to materialistic, loud, or bold. acts of service and kind words are love, too. listening is love. people gravitate to you, but they mightn't be quite sure why; something about your gentleness, your sweetness, draws them to you. you don't make love known, but that doesn't mean it isn't - your loved ones would never doubt it. you spend so much time caring for others; when will you care for yourself? don't say you don't need it. you give so much of yourself, but don't get enough back. don't underestimate your worth like that, moon. you're worth more than you know. the sun may light up the day, but you light up the night. don't forget that.

—

really wasn’t expecting that but I’m glad I did this quizz🫶🏻

let me assign you a nature aesthetic and also maybe psychoanalyse you in the process by mammamya on uquiz

[basuritabasura]

con la eli teniamos la cuenta de instagram de un gil llamado byron, y el se hacia el canchero con niñitas de 14 me da tanta rabia les decía q iba a salir a tomar y blabla y q mentira mas grande si el aweonao no tiene plata ni pa tomar la micro. una de ellas le dejo de hablar pq él le dijo q nunca habria igualdad entre mujeres y hombres, entonces yo me hice la tonta jjjjj y le dije si aun hablaba con ella y me dijo no esa weona esta loca es feminazi jjjjjjjjj. tambien se rie de su hermano ancap y él es aceleracionista no sé ni por qué mierda lo desbloquee pero bueno ya encontrare una excusa para pelear con el y bloquearlo lo odio profundamente

[scottstiles]

clarz

replied to your post

“hi divvy! i know you are MAD right now, so don't answer this until you...”

thanks so much for answering this! tbh i love the fact that you're religious and that you clearly love it so much. i went to a very catholic college, so that kind of thoughtful and deep connection with religion and tradition is important to me, and i love seeing it in other people. it's an important part of who you are! and part of the reason i asked is because you mentioned disliking the performance thing in your initial post, and i really connect with that. when i was growing up, the church i went to was pretty plain and traditional (despite very liberal politics and interpretations of scripture.) most of the other people i knew who went to church were evangelical and/or southern baptist, and i always disliked that their churches had like, full rock bands at services, and poppy contemporary melodies to "hymns." i understand that they're trying to make church fun, but it always made me suspicious and felt disingenuous.                  i don't think religious services should be a chore, certainly, but i also don't think that they should be "fun" in that way. that's not the purpose of religion. i don't think religion should become more like entertainment or performance, because it's supposed to be a space that's completely different from the rest of the world. it makes it feel less holy to me. so i definitely relate to how you feel there. also, how did you end up feeling about the service in the moment? (and i'd love to hear about the ma'apilim sometime)                                            

SORRY I DIDN’T ANSWER THESE BEFORE CUZ I REALLY WANTED TO BUT PROCRASTINATION IS MY MIDDLE NAME (jk it’s tzviya but try saying that ten times fast. or just one time. slow.)

HERE WE GO:

1- i love finding other people who feel close to their religion, no matter what it is. i remember in teacher’s college i just naturally gravitated to the only catholic girls in my classes i guess simply because i enjoyed talking to them? we weren’t there learning to teach religion, but i’m always fascinated by what other people feel about it. i’ve found myself thinking on more than one occasion that i feel more comfortable with people who have that side to themselves, like me, rather than people who don’t interact/think about/believe in any of that kinda stuff. (im being purposefully vague because it’s a huge generalization, but nonetheless true-ish for me, i often find myself sharing much more common ground with palestinian muslims, for example, than a french canadian montrealer). i guess especially because religion is not something i consider a defining trait of mine, and im just in constant evolution with respect to that. judaism is so much more than just a belief in god or a practice of the rituals and commandments.

2- how fascinating to find someone in my age bracket who feels the same way about music in prayer. my problem has always been that i LOVE music, and its so personal and emotional that i DO see it fitting seamlessly with prayer but... it’s the setting that has always bothered me. it just never felt right for me in a synagogue. like you said, it’s just a different space. i don’t know about church and ‘making it fun’ but i definitely can imagine plenty of religions use music to draw in otherwise disinterested people who find prayer “boring” or pointless. music is awesome! i just wish people could feel the music in their soul as a separate entity from external music, like from an instrument. idk i guess i just really love singing XD and i wish it wasn’t always a performance or a competition of voices, because i think prayer should be personal. even if it’s between a community, its still voices connecting to each other. i’m reminded of Hannah’s prayer, in the book of Samuel (the prophet- his mother), she’s at the temple on one of the annual pilgrimages with her family and she’s depressed because she doesn’t have any children and her husband’s other wife just keeps popping out babies left and right. so she goes to be alone somewhere in the temple, and she’s weeping and praying to god for a child. Eli, the high priest, comes in and sees her shaking and moving her lips real fast so he goes, “hey, you shouldn’t be drinking in here” and she’s like “im not drunk, i’m praying”. so that’s the first place we read about a person actually praying, and not out loud. this was like a huge revelation to the priest cuz clearly he’d never seen that before, and now the tradition has become to pray like hannah. (as an aside, if u ever see the propaganda videos made by the nazis, they use footage of synagogues to show how loony tunes those jews are with their muttering and their rocking back and forth). cuz like, prayer is supposed to be out loud? ahaha anyway i forgot where i was going with this but... oh ya, okay, so prayer didn’t really exist (as we know it, in judaism- and therefore christianity/islam/western monotheism) until that point- it was all about the sacrifices. and the temple ritual was replete with music and instruments like the shofar, timbrels, lutes, blabla other ancient instruments. but since then, we’ve been meant to use our voices alone. so says tradition, i guess.

3- so i did go to services on yom kippur (kol nidre) but not at my shul. i went with my sister to the chabad house near my parents, and it was....not great. but it was compounded by a lot of factors- i got a wicked cold the day or two before, so my nose was running a marathon and i was coughing like a 90yr old with emphysema. i got my period that morning so i was on an extra steep emotional rollercoaster that i just somehow could barely control. so we sat on the other side of the mechitzah (the separation barrier between men and women), the rabbi/cantor stood at the head in the middle so we could all see, and we all prayed out loud, no hush on the women’s side or anything (pretty typical from what i remember of camp/school prayer services). but of course the tunes were not quite what i’m used to, and there was a bit of annoying stuff that just irks me as a perfectionist (like they use a lot of yiddish pronunciation of the hebrew words, injecting a bunch of oy oy oys and ahoyhoyhoys in random places, in fact i leaned over to my sister at one point and was like ‘did ned flanders write this nigun (tune)?’), but altogether i guess it was better than watching an orchestra perform the prayer? idk it was pretty bad, on an emotional level, but not in hindsight. im very good at ruining things for myself through sheer stubbornness. i must have embarrassed my sister just by existing next to her, poor girl, she really wanted me to like it. i’m glad it’s over, and hopefully by next year ill be back in nyc or some other city so i wont have to worry about it.

4- MA’APILIM!!!!! okay so this was my absolute favoritest thing as a kid and i can’t wait to describe it to you. one night in camp, every summer, the counselors and cits would wake us up at like 3am by barging into our cabins chanting (screaming, really) “MA’APILIM, MA’APILIM BEH-MASSAD, BEH-MASSAD. MATCHIL HALAYLA MATCHIL HALAYLA BEH-MASSAD, BEH-MASSAD.” which translates to : “ma’apilim at massad (the name of my camp) starts tonight.” i’m singing it in my head as i type XD. so they’d be screaming and we’d be tumbling bleary eyed out of bed to grab our socks and sweatshirts and run over to the flagpole (keep in mind i was 8 when i first experienced this, and we’ve had kids as young as 6 at camp). once we had all gathered in line with our bunkmates, the counselors and cits put on a little “skit”.

basically they acted like they were nazis and jews, and did a little skit of some basic bad holocaust stuff (don’t ask me to remember the exact details we’re talkin at least 20 years since i last did this) to scare the pants off of us. kids would always cry already at this point from the shouting. we’d all kinda follow into this “play” (sorry idk what else to call it), and marched over to the gym where we watched a fake hanging on the stage. they literally. hanged someone. in front of us. a fake noose, of course, duh, i remember my counselor showing it to me, but traumatizing to say the least (i still remember the name of the counselor they “hanged”- not sure this ever happened more than once but ill never forget it).

then we’d all hustle down to the waterfront, again “playing” the role of holocaust victims/survivors after these little “skits” had sort of put us in the headspace, and we play along, imagining we’d just experienced these things and were now running from it. it was terrifying and exhilarating as a small child, and an even more unbelievably emotional thrill ride as i got older and became pseudo-obsessed with holocaust lit and facts in general in my life (it never did go away but everything changes with age). ANYWAYS so down at the waterfront we got a speech from another counselor playing a member of the haganah (the main jewish defense force in palestine leading up to independence, which ben gurion later turned into the IDF). sidebar for a little history: in the 40s the yishuv (jewish agency) and the haganah began a mission called aliyah bet, “the second immigration,” an illegal smuggling operation to bring refugees from the holocaust into palestine under the noses of the british, since almost all countries in the world had barred their doors to jewish immigration from europe (a high level member of the canadian government is famously recorded as having answered, when asked how many jews they should let in, that “none is too many”). volunteer seamen from the US and canada and other countries crossed the ocean on cargo ships hastily refurbished to fit hundreds of people, picking up thousands of refugees in europe to smuggle them onto the beaches of haifa and tel aviv. paul newman has a lovely half nekid scene of this in the movie Exodus when he jumps off the ship in the middle of the night and swims up onto the beach- one of my fave movies ever and pretty much the story of aliyah bet (albeit with tremendous hollywood embellishment and only mild accuracy). these refugees who became illegal immigrants (caught or not) were known as “ma’apilim”- the root of the word is to “climb” or to “rise up”, and is found in the bible referring to the israelites who were still eager to enter the land even after the negative report of the spies.

okay so basically this was the idea. we were “playing” these illegal immigrants who had just escaped the holocaust, and were now facing another threat in the form of the british who were doing their best to keep them out of palestine. k so we’re down at the waterfront. all the kids get divided into small groups of about 10 or so, with one or two counselors at the helm to be our “haganah operatives” and guides to the end. what end, you say? so the camp is spread out into 2 areas, the main camp where the younger kids cabins were, and the dining hall and the gym and the waterfront, etc. then there’s a road in the middle of the camp, and beyond it a hill leading up to the senior cabins and some sports fields at the top. the goal was for each group to make it through camp to the top of the hill without getting caught by the “british,” played by the cits who were roaming around camp.

idk if i have to describe camp further for people who don’t know the concept, but basically we’re all in the middle of the damn woods with nothing around us for miles except the lake and the camps on the other side of it or down the road. ill never forget my first ma’apilim (tbh most of my description is from then, which is why its so fuzzy cuz these memories are 20+ years old), i was so lucky to get the tripper as our group leader (the tripper is the “nature dude” in camp, the survivalist ;). he immediately led us underneath the gym (which of course was just insane to my small mind... UNDER the gym??) to plan our route and give us instructions. we organized a roll call and signals, we practiced walking in a single file line silently and dropping to the ground on his signal. we smeared dirt on our faces for camo in the woods. it was *mason voice* intense. k so then as you can guess, we snuck our way up the hill through the woods. sometimes we’d encounter other groups, once in awhile i remember getting caught by a cit, and they’d take all or some of us to the “jail” on the basketball court” where we’d have to wait for a jailbreak (idk how that worked but it did, i remember it happening but not in any detail). a famous prison break that DID happen was at acre prison in 1947 when the irgun (another paramilitary jewish group) blew up the prison and broke out 28 of their members and 214 arab prisoners. if im not mistaken they briefly refer to it in exodus by recreating a prison break. exciting times. ANYWAYS fuck im such a tangential bitch sorry XD, by the end of the night we’d all make it to the top- “jerusalem”- and we’d have hot chocolate and say morning prayers as the sun rose over the hill. 

i feel like my description is a little lacking, but hopefully u get the basic picture. ma’apilim wasn;t even the heaviest part of camp- that was tisha b’av- the fast day when we commemorate the destruction of the temple and every other traumatic destructive event the jewish people have gone thru. that night they’d prepare the camp with candles in sand filled paper bags lining all the paths. after dinner we’d walk with our bunks on the path and watch little skits in different parts of camp- scenes from these moments in jewish history, like the holocaust, pogroms in europe, the spanish inquisition, terror attacks in israel, etc. after walking the path we’d all convene back at the waterfront, where they’d set out a small reconstructed “temple” on a makeshift raft in the lake, and a banner on the beach that said “yizkor”- remember. then they’d light both on fire and we’d sit and watch them burn while singing appropriately somber songs like eli eli, by hannah senesz. after that we’d go back to the gym and lie on the floor in small groups huddled around candles. we’d listen as some people chanted the book of eicha (lamentations), and would slowly fall asleep (depending on our age, of course). anyone that was still up after that was over got to stay in the gym if they wanted to watch exodus- a 4 hour movie. the next day we’d fast all day (only those who wanted- 13 y/o +) and treated it basically like shabbat- no regular activities.

MAN did i get some wild shit imprinted on me from camp!! but i don’t regret one second. i only wish other people could have the experience i did, but i dont even know if they still do that there. they probably do, but this old lady has no excuses to step foot in a summer camp anymore :(

as a completely coincidental aside and not at all as a self promo, idk if u knew this but i’ve been working on a documentary for over a year now and this whole thing is a major part of the plot. i interviewed a lady who was a passenger on the exodus, and about 4 or 5 people who were volunteers from montreal/new york/new jersey/toronto that picked up and smuggled the refugees. the stories are incredible. i just hope the rest of the world will get to hear it from their mouths one day. all we need is 100k to finish the film XD

[verrederouge]

Winestatics

A la carte de nos blablas ce soir… 

Planches : 12/20 donc ok c’est bon mais classique et rien d’exceptionnel

Vins choisis : 12,5/20 pour mes choix

Accueil : 11/20, c’est trop froid pour moi, pas adepte de ces petites machines qui plaisent à d’autres... D’ailleurs les écrans tactiles faisant office de “caviste-conseil” n’étaient pas mis à jour... Vu le concept, ce genre de détail refroidit, glagla.

Global : 12,5/20 pour cette adresse… intéressante pour animer un atelier de dégustation mais on est pas dans l’esprit d’un bar à vins comme on les aime ici : moins “automato-mécanique” et plus “chaleureux-merci-patron-pour-tes-conseils”...

Avis aux curieux, allez tester...

Leyla Tayba

Elie Elie

[regcsuu]

nem bírom

nem bírom nem akarok emlékezni rá nem akarom hogy fájjon nem akarok sírni nem akarom így érezni magam,de szeretem és elhagyott majdnem 2 év után csak úgy, ő már nem szeret és nem akarok reménykedni de még mindig azt képzelem hogy majd holnap ír vagy felhív részegen és megint rendbe hozunk mindent és megint boldog leszek, de most érzem hogy nem így lesz és fáj és napok óta csak sírok és nem bírok enni nem bírok aludni senki nem érdemli azt amin most keresztül megyek és tudom hogy van sok másik fiú és fiatal vagyok és blabla de nekem ő volt az egyetlen, ő volt az első igazi szerelmem ő volt aki megtanította hogy milyen ha szeretnek, megmutatta hogy milyen jó is lehet a szex, kitartottunk egymás mellett majdnem 2 évig pedig rengetegszer probléma volt és most csak így már nem szeret már nem bírja velem.tudom hogy sokmindenben hibáztam és ő is és mindkettőnknek változnunk kellett de én azthittem hogy már jó úton haladunk. mindent neki akartam elmondani és elis mondtam sokmindent csak neki és már nincs és nem is fog visszajönn nem fog már keresni nem fog hívni nem fogja már aztmondani hogy szeretlek baba..egyedül maradtam a tőle kapott plüss állatok között ezzel az elhagyott szar érzéssel és haragudni akarok rá de nem megy mert szeretem még mindig és emiatt magamra haragszom és minden miatt amit elrontottam.én vele terveztem a jövőm és azthittem ő is velem hogy majd együtt fogunk élni lesz 2 kutyusunk aztán később 2 gyerekünk egy fiú és egy lány és minden reggel mellette ébredek és minden este összebújva tvzünk aztán szeretkezünk és alszunk és hétvégente kerti partit tartunk vagy csak kettesben elmegyünk valahova de ez már nem lesz így és nem tudom hogy bárki más elő tudja e majd hozni ezeket az érzéseket mert most egyáltalán nem hiszem és nem hiszek a szerelemben pedig mindig is hittem hogy megtaláltam az igazit és tényleg vele leszek és az utolsó pár napban változott az egész igaz hogy veszekedtünk előtte is de máskor is volt már ilyen és pár napja még hívott este és mondta hogy mennyire hiányzom és szeret én meg mindent elrontottam azzal hogy elmondtam neki mit gondol az anyám és utána ment tönkre minden és ha nem mondom el lehet még mindig együtt lennénk.. de nem vagyunk

[rachel-bloom]

clare edwards, elena gilbert, tyler lockwood

send me a character & I’ll answer the following about them!

elena gilbert:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff (honestly i’m terrible w sorting ppl to hogwarts houses so i’m not gonna try lmao) best quality: if we overlook s4-6 she sees the good in people, is always there for her friendsworst quality: she acted pretty ugly when she turned, like she slutshamed caroline altho d*mon raped her, she was pretty selfish and didn’t gaf about her friends, her only concern was d*mon.. like i remember that line w stefan while he was drowning “i got the summer of my dreams. i got to fall in love” blabla like wtf shut the fuck up, also the sucking damon’s face while stefan was in the next room & could hear everything. basically the sirebond stripped her of every good trait she ever had and all she was back then is damon’s puppetship them with: stefanbrotp them with: caroline x bonnieneeds to stay away from: d3mon salvatore the rapist misc. thoughts: i think people give her unnecessary hate and are slutshaming her. yes she acted shitty but all of this resulted out of the sirebond, over having no agency, no free will. she became someone she didn’t want to be. but then there are things like where she refused to apologize to caroline for calling her neurotic vampire blood sucking control freak or whatever because it would interfere with her guilt process, so yes as a vampire she was pretty self absorbed.

tyler lockwood

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff (honestly i’m terrible w sorting ppl to hogwarts houses so i’m not gonna try lmao) best quality: i mean tbh he had one of the best character developments on the show and it pisses me off that he gets overlooked so quickly. in the beginning he almost raped vicky and after a couple of seasons he became a selfless dude. worst quality: idk..... i was never really that invested in tyler but i guess his s1 jerky jock sideship them with: carolinebrotp them with: mattneeds to stay away from: no one? idk misc. thoughts: bitter that barely anyone payed attention to the fact that he was leaving after s6 since he got so overshadowed by nina. i mean both actors have had their moments, but ......n inas acting was so dry sometimes and trevino just fucks me up everytime tbh

clare edwards

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff (honestly i’m terrible w sorting ppl to hogwarts houses so i’m not gonna try lmao) best quality: that she works hard for her dreams tbh like that internship she was so into it and put her heart and soul into it, also i love her writing skills like wasn’t she the one with the vampire fiction or something? also her heart and character? like when adam told her he was trans she didn’t gaf like she’s so open minded and just loves peopleworst quality: it kind of bugged me how she reacted to the new marriage of her mom, i mean i get it it’s hard when a new man comes into your mum’s life and your life is all messed up and she was all like “what about me?” i mean yeah she should have talked w clare about this but this is about her mom’s happiness, sometime soon she would be out of the house going to university or something and her mum??? she deserves to have someone who makes her happy ship them with: eli brotp them with: alli needs to stay away from: drew ??? idk that was all sorts of wrong  misc. thoughts: her visual change from s5 on was amazing lol the first time i saw pictures of her later self i needed a minute to realize this was actually her 

[wordsofelie]

what do you think of neighbours to lovers with pro gamer / youtuber kenma & f!reader and the relationship starts on bad terms because she’s unable to sleep for nights because her bedroom wall is next to his gaming room??

[wordsofelie]

random fact but i imagined this story when i was in tokyo 6 months ago but i only started writing it a few days ago, i guess now that i’m in paris i felt inspired

🌌The stars he left in the sky

Oikawa x f!reader

Part II:🎋The footprints he etched on the earth (coming soon)

Summary: The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you fall in love with Oikawa Tooru, only to have your heart collapse into his orbit.

Content warnings: angst, high school & time skip setting, manga spoilers, swearing

Words count: 4.5k

You shouldn’t have been impressed by stars. After all, they were just distant objects burning quietly in the void, destined to explode in silence. Yet, every time you looked at them, a feeling of greatness gripped you.

But they were out of reach. You knew that. You would never touch them; they were bound to the laws of science. You had known this since childhood.

And it made sense, really. Stars exist on a scale far beyond your own. So why did you ever think you could change that? Why did you let yourself believe you could stand beside one? Naivety had swept you up, convincing you that proximity was possible. But no matter how far you stretched your arm in their direction, they remained a universe away. And so did he.

You met Oikawa Tooru during your second year of high school, a time when everything seemed to fall into place for you. You were diligent, sharp, and unassuming—the perfect daughter, the good student, the nice friend. Life was predictable and neatly organised. You weren’t really popular in school, didn’t really care about romance and boyfriends. You just had a normal life, and you were fine with it. But that’s precisely why you found it strange when he, the infamous volleyball captain and your senpai, started taking an interest in you.

Your eyes met his for the first time when you went to the third years floor to discuss a club matter with someone from his class. He got up from his chair the second you called for your clubmate’s name.

“She’s not here. Should I deliver a message for you, chibi-chan?” He spoke.

You found the nickname weird but tried not to look flustered by it.

“I…yes. Thanks, I guess.” And you handed him a paper, he looked at it with attention.

“You’re in the baking club, huh?” He read on the paper, “would you bake me milk bread someday?”

You tried to ignore the pressure coming from his classmates glaring at you, “Sure, if you want, Oikawa-senpai.”

Before you could leave the classroom, he asked for your name because “it’s only fair since you already know me.” And his charming smile made your ears warm.

After that, he often came across you. He always made sure to linger on you when you walked past by in the corridors, fasten his pace to reach you on your way to school (leaving Iwaizumi on his own, not that it disturbed the outside hitter).

And you found yourself looking for him more. You wanted to see him everyday. And little by little, it made your heart beat loud in your chest.

“Hello there, chibi-chan. Mind if I join?” he sat next to you one afternoon in the library and leaned over your shoulder. “What’s that book?” he asked.

“I’m preparing for the university exams,” you replied.

“Even though you’re in your second year? You’re so cool,” he said, his lips turning into a smile.

“What about you senpai. Are you planning to go to university?”

You bet he would. Oikawa Tooru wasn’t only pretty and athletic, he was smart and studious. He could get accepted in the best schools; get the highest scores in everything he would do.

“Me? Nah, I’m going to be the best setter in the world.”

In the world. Those words should have been your first warning, but the glow of his confidence made you blind to how far his dreams really stretched. He was bright, made of light. You were attracted by him the way meteorites are pulled into an orbit. There was nothing you could do about it anymore, you couldn’t look away from him. So when he asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks later as he walked you home—“Even though it’s my last year and volleyball’s my priority, I promise I’ll take care of you. If you’ll have me, of course”—you didn’t hesitate and said yes, under the starry night.

Oikawa Tooru was the kind of boyfriend who made you believe in true love.

Every morning, he was there waiting for you in front of your house, his scarf loose around his neck, cheeks pink from the cold. On bitter winter days, he let you slip your frozen fingers into his coat pockets, teasing you about how small they were. For your birthday, he somehow convinced—or maybe, forced—Iwaizumi into helping him bake chocolates for you.

The taste wasn’t too bad, but you told him that next time you would teach him how to bake proper chocolate biscuits. You liked to hear him talk about his passion, and in return, you talked about yours.

When you sat together in his room for what you insisted were “homework sessions and nothing else,” his hands inevitably found their way to your hair. He would twirl strands around his fingers, brushing it with the same precision he used to set a ball. It would always end up in heated kisses sessions.

You gave back in your own way. You never missed a game—not even practice matches—always in the stands. Your cheers were never as loud as his fangirls, but it was always your voice he heard first. At lunch, you peeled fruits for him, offering slices in a delicate handkerchief. He didn’t even like apples, but when you held one out with that quiet smile of yours, he couldn’t refuse.

He liked your baking, though it was never enough sweet for his taste. The first time he tried your chocolate mousse, he stuck out his tongue and wrinkled his nose.

“Heh… Too bitter,” he told you.

“Oi! Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi growled. “Say thank you, it probably took hours to make.”

“Oops, thank you chibi-chan.”

Matsukawa looked at you with a detached look, “don’t mind the guy, he always puts two spoons of sugar in his hot cacao.”

“Matsuuu!” Oikawa whined, “I’m sure everybody does that, right?”

“You’re gonna dye of hyperglycaemia someday.”

The setter pouted and he hid his face into the crook of your neck, “help me, I’m being bullied.”

Everyone laughed, expect for your boyfriend who pretended to be hurt and Hanamaki who was trying to find the definition of “hyperglycaemia” in his biology book.

You didn’t bake him much after that. It’s not that you didn’t want to but rather you were scared it wouldn’t meet its liking, and you had to focus on your studies anyway. You needed to be great for him so he would be proud to tell the world you’re his girlfriend.

When he failed to make it to Nationals, your eyes held no pity—only love and respect. That was the moment he realised how rare you were.

At first, you both kept your relationship quiet.

“That’s how you know she’s different,” Makki had said.

“All the other girls would be screaming from the rooftops,” Matsukawa added.

Oikawa only smiled. You were special. So special. But he only truly understood how special when it was too late.

After high school, his world shifted.

Even though losing at the semi-finals had been a heavy pain, Oikawa never allowed himself to feel down on failure, or at least he didn’t show it. His dreams reached far beyond high school volleyball, beyond Japan itself. So, when he created the opportunity to train in Argentina under his hero, José Blanco, he didn’t think twice. Even if it meant leaving his family and Iwaizumi behind.

Should he have felt guilty when you promised to get a part-time job to save for visits, while a quiet voice in his mind whispered that he hadn’t thought of you at all when making his decision? Maybe. But when you asked if long-distance was okay, he still said yes.

It was the second warning you ignored.

You had never been like Iwaizumi Hajime, you were not able to read between the lines the way he did, or to decipher what Oikawa hid behind his pretty face, so you trusted him.

You believed it would be alright. Your first love would last (but every seventeen-year-old would think so; it is an incredibly naive time to fall in love).

The day he boarded the plane for San Juan, you started your final year of high school.

“Tell me when you get there,” you said, forcing a smile to hide the sadness, “and send me plenty of pictures. Call me every day.”

“I will,” he answered. “Go on now, or you’ll miss your entrance ceremony.”

Move on, he should have said instead.

Distance, it turned out, was more than just eighteen thousand kilometres. It was in every missed call, every half-hearted apology, every time zone that stood between you.

The “plenty” of pictures you had asked for became sparse, dwindling to nothing. One day, you learned he had cut his hair short through a post on Instagram. He didn’t even tell you. You cried all night.

Oikawa was amazing. Articles were written about him, fans started queuing outside arenas just to catch a glimpse of him, coaches from all around the world praised his sets. And each time you read something about him, you remembered. Remembered his brightness, his light. Remembered he was a universe away, out of your reach.

You were a mere object; he was a beautiful star.

And that reality hit you in the face on a May evening, a year after he left.

You had planned to talk but the phone call came late at night. You tried to picture him, somewhere in his room, the sun coming through his window, where it was the moon on your side of the world. Maybe his face was glowing faintly from his phone screen, maybe he had dark circles under his eyes like he often had when he trained too much. Maybe his brown curls were falling on his face. He probably looked handsome anyway.

“Will you come for Christmas?” you asked at some point during the call.

He paused. Too long.

“I’ll try,” Oikawa said, his voice sounded polished but there was something brittle beneath his words. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, after your exams.”

“Do you promise you’ll call?” You hated how childish your voice came out, but you were desperate to have him on the phone. You wanted him to the first you would hear after your exam.

“Promise,” he said. And though his tone softened with a warmth coming from an impossible distance, you doubted.

When the exam ended the next day, you waited for his call.

He will call, you repeated a few times in your head. He promised.

But as the evening turned into night, your phone remained silent in your pocket. After what felt like longer than the exam itself, you started walking, though you didn’t know where you were going.

You only stopped at some point in front of a shop. It was the smell that drew you in.

It was a little pâtisserie tucked between two tall buildings. Inside, it was warm and so you sat somewhere by the window. It was oddly comforting.

You weren’t hungry, you didn’t even know why you were here, yet, when the waitress asked what you wanted to eat, you found the courage, somewhere deep in your gut, to order something.

“What would you recommend?”

“Try the black chocolate cake,” she said. “It’s my favourite.”

You didn’t regret the choice, and the first bite melted on your tongue, it was rich and bittersweet. For the first time in hours, if not in days, you felt good.

When you stood by the door, on impulse, you asked, “Is it hard? Becoming a pastry chef? Running a shop like this?”

The woman smiled, “it’s hard work,” she said. “But it’s worth it.”

What if it was worth it for you as well?

Your phone finally rang just past midnight.

“Hey,” Oikawa’s voice came through. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Are you okay? How was your exam?”

You hesitated before saying. “It was fine.”

You could have told him in details how it went, what exercise you found hard, which ones were easy, but somehow, you found yourself losing the will to do so.

“Is everything okay?”

“You promised you would call.”

You heard his mouth opening and closing a few times, “I know and I’m really sorry. Training went longer than expected and since I became the starting setter, I really need to put more effort into work.”

You stayed silent, to be honest, you didn’t even know what to say. Should you have gotten mad? Gotten sad?

He was the one to continue the conversation.

“Listen, I won’t go home for Christmas.” He finally admitted with a long sigh.

You stopped breathing. You couldn’t move. In this moment, you were convinced that if someone looked into your heart, they would find nothing but broken pieces, “Why?”

“I’ve been offered to play for the National Team here. But I need to apply to become a citizen first and the appointment with the embassy is around Christmas.”

“I’m not going to university,” you informed.

There was a long silence again. Oikawa was probably waiting for your disappointment or congratulations. But neither of those things left your mouth, “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you said and your voice started trembling slightly, “I’ve decided to become a pastry chef.”

“But… you’re so smart. You’ve always talked about university. I mean, baking is nice but that’s just your hobby, right?”

The words hit like a slap, and something inside you snapped. “My hobby?” You repeated his word. “I’ve been baking for I don’t know how many years. That’s the only thing that truly makes me happy and you call it a hobby? Of all people, I thought you would understand what it’s like to pursue a dream. But of course you wouldn’t even know this was my dream, heh? You’ve never really paid attention to me anyway.”

“That’s not true,” his voice rose. But you didn’t let him finish.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tooru.” You tried to hold your ground even though your stomach twisted and your throat tightened. “I think we should break up.”

“What? Wait, shouldn’t we have a real conversation about it? I-I will call you tomorrow morning, alright? Try to get some sleep first.”

“No, sorry Tooru. It’s over. Good luck with volleyball.”

There was a muffled sound on the other end—a sob, barely stifled—but you ended the call before it could break you more.

The days that followed felt like a blur. He sent a few messages—apologies, explanations—but you didn’t answer.

You told your parents you wouldn’t apply for universities here in Japan, they couldn’t hide their confusion at first but supported your choice after your brother mentioned how happier you would be if you did what you really wanted.

(You made sure to bake your little brother dozens of cookies.)

You started researching schools and ended up going for the one that stood out the most: l’École Ducasse, in Paris. It felt like a long shot, but you applied anyway.

A few days later, an email arrived. You opened it with trembling hands, your heart was pounding in your chest.

You’ve been invited to attend the exam, in France.

You stared at the screen.

“I knew you could make it nee-san,” your brother grinned.

“I didn’t get in yet; I still need to pass the exams.”

“Yes, but you’re going to Paris.”

Your eyes were filled with tears, happy tears. And in a rush, you booked your ticket and began packing your bags.

For the first time in years, you felt like you were moving toward something that was truly yours.

Maybe, just maybe, life wasn’t entirely against you.

When you stepped into Paris at the age of nineteen, you didn’t imagine it would become your home for the next five years—but it did. You passed the entrance exam and began your studies. The first few months were tough. You missed Miyagi. You missed the crisp sound of cicadas in the summer, the quiet beauty of snow-draped mornings in the winter, the comforting taste of miso soup, and the warmth of home. Everything felt foreign—the dormitory walls, the sound of words, even the stars above you.

Still, you told yourself it was for the better.

Some days were great, especially when your teachers praised your work. Other days were marked by a single, damning silence—the kind that hurt more than any harsh critique. You’d lie awake at night, blaming yourself.

Who did you think you were, chasing this dream? You were no Oikawa Tooru. You didn’t have his tireless hard work or his ambition and would definitely never polish your instinct the way he polished his. You found yourself missing him more than when you broke up with him. You missed his curly bed hair, the lock that fell on his eyes when he was sweating after practice, his wink to you from the court after a powerful serve, the face of disgust he would make when you baked dark chocolate mousse.

Regrets invaded you; homesickness ached your heart.

Had you made a mistake leaving Japan? Had you walked away from your true love?

You were on the verge of giving up the next morning. Still, you decided to get up to attend the chocolate-making workshop with students from a year above you. Afterwards, you decided that you would talk to your director and move back to your hometown.

“Bonjour,” you murmured hesitantly. You were still struggling with French. You looked around the room and tried to remember the right orders of words to ask a question, “Est-ce que c’est là… I mean… Ici pour le classe de chocolat?”

Shit, you know “classe” is feminine, so what did you get it wrong? What are they going to think of you?

Your eyes fell on your feet. You were tired.

“Yes, welcome,” someone replied.

The words weren’t in French but in Japanese. You blinked, startled, and turned toward the voice. Your own language sounded familiar and foreign, and somehow, both felt like a lifeline.

“Well, well. Isn’t this Oikawa Tooru’s girl?”

It took a moment to place him—Tendou Satori. But you had not doubt it was him with his red hair, his thin silhouette and curled smile. Your ex-boyfriend would often refer to him as “Ushiwaka’s freak middle”, you had also heard, probably from Iwaizumi, that his nickname was “the Guess Monster”.

Class began, and Tendou ended up as your partner. He was just as sharp and quick-witted as you’d heard, but also kinder than you’d expected. After the session, you wanted to find a way to spend more time with him, so you came up with the excuse that you had a few questions about chocolate making, since it was his speciality. Instead of brushing you off, he asked if you wanted to come with him “somewhere nice”, you said yes. He led you through the Parisian subway, chatting the whole way, until you found yourself standing in front of a small Japanese restaurant tucked into a side street.

The owners welcomed you warmly. They were from Akita, just next to Miyagi, and when they placed full plates of oysters and steaming gyutan in front of you, you didn’t wait a second to bring your hands together in slap and with a grin (and a little drool at the corner of your mouth) exclaimed a loud “Itadakimasu.”

You shared a few beers and had zunda mochi for dessert. It tasted like home and more.

“It gets easier,” Tendou said as you walked along the Seine later. “You just need to find your own rhythm. Do you still want to give up?”

You opened your mouth in shock. You never talked to that guy before tonight, and still, he had been able to read you like an open book. You simply offered him a smile and a “of course not.”

The Friday evenings at the restaurant became a ritual, it was always followed by long walks by the water. Paris felt less overwhelming with Tendou around, you even came to believe that meeting him was a miracle. And so, slowly, you found yourself thinking less and less about Japan and about Oikawa.

One evening, as the two of you strolled, you tried to be discreet, but Satori noticed right away. He always noticed.

“You keep looking up,” he said, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

“It’s just… we don’t see the stars here. In Miyagi, they’re so clear and bright.”

“It’s because of the pollution.” He said matter-of-factly.

“But what do you do when they’re not here?”

“There’s water,” Tendou replied after a moment, he didn’t stop walking. “And trees, and buildings, and wind. They’re here and they’re close. You can touch them and feel them. Isn’t that better than stars?”

You smiled faintly, and the pain in your chest seemed to be relieved, even a little. “I was always scared of what Tooru would think of me. I thought, if I didn’t succeed, if I didn’t become something impressive, he’d stop walking beside me. I wanted to go to university to become a lawyer or an engineer just so he’d be proud. Am I weird for following my dream and breaking up with him instead?”

Tendou glanced at you, then grinned suddenly. “See that rat?”

Startled, you followed his gaze to a fat, black rat scurrying across the cobblestones.

“Most people hate them. Think they’re dirty and gross. But no matter what, rats keep doing their thing. People try to chase them away, kill them even, but they always come back.”

“Are you comparing me to a rat?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Rats are cute.”

“Not the ones in Paris.”

“Fair.”

You both laughed, the regrets eased.

“What I mean is,” Tendou said, almost turning serious, “there’s something you’re meant to be. It’s up to you to figure it out. But once you do, you’ll always be drawn to it. Your cakes are amazing. I think you’ve already found your path. So, stop worrying about whether that loser would have been proud of you or not.”

“He’s not a loser,” you said instinctively.

“Come on. It’s just between you and me. I know you want to say it.”

“Well…” You hesitated, “maybe he is a loser.”

“You can say it louder.”

You turned toward the Seine, cupped your hands around your mouth, and shouted, “OIKAWA TOORU IS A LOSER!”

Tendou burst out laughing again, and so did you.

That night, you went back to your dorm and, perhaps because you felt a pang of guilt, you sent Oikawa a text (because he really was not a loser, you were simply a bit heartbroken). You attached a photo of yourself in your chef’s uniform, smiling brightly.

“If you ever come to Paris, you can visit my school. We have a restaurant, and I’ll bake you milk bread.” you wrote, “I’m happy here. I hope you’re happy too.”

He replied quickly. “You’re so cool!!!(*´◡`*)” A moment later, he sent a picture of himself on a mountain peak, lying in the snow. “This was in Patagonia a few weeks ago… I got high on coca leaves. It’s supposed to help with nausea. It didn’t for me >﹏< But I’m glad to know you’re happy. I’m happy too.”

You laughed quietly at his message. You wanted to tell him more; that it was hard, and that you cried a lot, you almost wrote it down. You imagined him answering that it had been hard for him too, working even more than in high school, learning a new language, fitting in a complete different society. The two of you, maybe, weren’t so different after all. But you decided to keep those thoughts to yourself.

“Do you have one of those big white hats, like the real chefs?” he texted.

You scrolled through your photos. There was one selfie with Tendou where you were both grinning, wearing tall chef’s hats, you sent it. “This one?”

A few seconds passed before he called you.

“First Iwa-chan, now you? Traitor,” he accused. You knew he was pouting on the other side of the phone as he told you about Iwaizumi and Ushijima meeting in California. You asked for updates on his childhood friend. The call stretched on, two or three hours, his afternoon overlapping your late night.

“Shit, I have to go to my physiotherapy session. You know for my knee. I’m good though,” he added quickly. He suddenly remembered the old times in high school when you scolded him for not going to the doctor even though his knee hurt or when he forgot to apply the anti-inflammatory cream. “But I prefer when you’re the one putting it chibi-chan.” (he would always get you to do it).

“Tooru… thank you. I mean, for everything you taught me. Talent really blooms when you let it.”

This was a moment you knew you’d always remember. It was like an in-between, a raw instant and it made you feel like your universe was finally meeting his.

Stars were distant objects burning quietly in the void, destined to explode in silence.

However, they don’t explode to disappear, no, they create something new. They die and then, they are born again.

“And thank you”, he said, his voice softer now. “For teaching me to believe in myself.”

You never asked what he meant by that. Maybe he said it out of politeness. Maybe he truly meant it. Either way, you wanted to keep those words in the back of your mind forever.

Years passed, and your hard work paid off. You got an internship which turned into a permanent position at the prestigious Ritz in Paris.

Eventually, life pushed you to London. You climbed the ranks and carved out a name for yourself.

One day, Oikawa walked through the doors of your workplace in the UK, always so charming but more confident than when you met him. He was visiting from Argentina, he explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to drop by unannounced. You made him a chocolate mousse (you didn’t forget to add two extra spoons of sugar in it.)

Tendou, meanwhile, often took the train to visit you. You would always go out in the city to try the best pastries and rank them (it would usually end up with a stomach ache). He never stayed too long, but his visits would brighten your days.

You loved Europe, deeply, it had a special place in your heart now, but maybe it was time to go back, you found yourself thinking one day. Not because you’ve failed here, but because you missed Japan—its sounds, its tastes, its skies.

When you returned home, you noticed how brightly the stars in Miyagi shone, but you knew there was one, on the other side of the ocean, that shone even brighter.

Slowly, you stopped searching for stars above you. You began to think that what you have here on earth is enough. Perhaps what you’ve been seeking all this time isn’t a thousand kilometres away or in some distant universe. Maybe it’s real. Maybe it’s closer than you imagined.

Maybe it’s already within reach.

And one day, it might find its way to you (but that’s another story).

author notes: this will be the first part of a 2 parts story. i really enjoyed writing it so i might post the second part before i start writing ‘and i will wait for you (a thousand springs, a lifetime)’, my apologies 🫣

btw as a non-english native speaker i found it really challenging to write in the past tense, so i really hope the grammar and stuff is consistent, please tell me if you see mistakes <3

lots of love

Elie

[wordsofelie]

omg kuroo is turning 30 today

[wordsofelie]

i’ve been thinking about literature major akaashi for the past days, it’s driving me insane 🥹

[wordsofelie]

work has been hectic for the past 2/3 weeks so i don’t take the time to write during my free time, and the result: stress. like not because I’m pressuring myself to post often, but rather because i know it’s just so peaceful & stress relieving for me and so I feel the need to write but i’m too tired because of work :( does that even make sense??

[wordsofelie]

i’m pleased to announce that i’ve just finished writing the story with oikawa, should i post it??

can you smell the two short stories that will come after the kageyama fic ?? 👀

(it will be a 2 parts story, one is very angsty and the other very fluffy, wanna guess which is which?)