#her actions are the epitome of hideous

[darlingod]

I can’t believe Taryn betrayed Jude even after the whole Undersea shit went down. Your sister was tortured everyday for a over month, you saw all of what it did to her, and you still decide to hurt her even further? As if she hasn’t already gone through enough??

And to do it only to potentially be the most favored by their father?

Taryn: When Jude goes low, I bring her lower

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Jackunzel Month

Day 15 - Red Riding Hood

***

AKXNBAUDOV I’M SO HYPED FOR THIS PROMPT Y’ALL YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW

So Amanda freaking Seyfried, also known as the epitome of live-action Rapunzel casting options, was IN a Red Riding Hood movie adaptation in like 2011, and the main couple in that movie like??? Highkey has Jackunzel energy??? That uhhhh maybe definitely inspired this angstfic I wrote in large part XD

Also I couldn’t NOT include a picture of Amanda Seyfried from the movie in the moodboard because COME ON

Well anyways, I started writing this fanfic, and halfway through was like “oh this is kinda dark and fucked up” and then. Kept writing anyways XD Y’ALL C’MERE FOR ALL YOUR JACKUNZEL ANGST NEEDS, I GOTCHU

One-shot preview is under the cut! Go read the rest on my fanfiction.net, Infrared-Ultraviolet! I’m very proud of this absolutely shamelessly edgy angstfest :’) Uhhhhh slight CW for body horror and gore in the later parts, though. I kinda went ham on the dark shit ^^; There’s a happy ending though, I promise!!! My children have suffered enough in canon.

Moodboard pic credits available upon request!

***

“Rapunzel, I need to ask a favor.”

A shadow flitted over the pages of Rapunzel’s book, temporarily blocking the light streaming in the bay window. She looked up to see her mother, the woman’s expression troubled.

As Arianna settled down into the sunny, cushioned reading nook, Rapunzel heaved a sigh. She slipped in a small bookmark and pushed the book aside. “What is it, Mother?”

“I’m sorry.” Arianna bit her lip, not quite meeting her daughter’s eyes. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t, really,” Rapunzel lied. Although she would just as soon have finished her story than have to deal with whatever this was, she always made time to help her mother. Arianna worked so hard for her, and Rapunzel had always felt she needed to honor it.

“I—I need you to deliver something, sweetie.”

Rapunzel raised her eyebrows, wondering why this was phrased like such a grave undertaking.

She ran errands for Arianna all the time. She was always more than happy to go into town and shop for clothes or books, or pick up fresh food and trimmed flowers at the nearest market. Of course, she rarely delivered things, but it didn’t seem like too difficult a task.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Who to?”

“Mother Gothel, on the path through the woods.”

Oh. Rapunzel stiffened.

“Mother Gothel? The wi—”

“Don’t call her that.” Arianna cut her off, eyes hardening. “She’s not—she doesn’t do dark magic. She’s just a little eccentric is all.”

Rapunzel had heard the rumors about Mother Gothel, holed away in a dilapidated little cottage in one of the darker parts of the forest. Her home was at the end of a long, overgrown trail that rarely got a full dose of sunlight. It was anyone’s guess why she chose to isolate herself from the rest of the town, or why she didn’t try to move out of such a dangerous spot. The woods were unforgiving enough that Rapunzel had trouble imagining anyone braving the heart of it without some kind of self-defense magic.

The forest had a reputation. Go too deep in, and you’d be claimed as a part of it…in the most brutal and visceral way possible, no less. There were plenty of records of villagers disappearing over the years, wandering into the tall pines and never coming back out.

It would be easy to dismiss as the work of particularly aggressive bears and mountain lions, if not for the stories of grimy, harried townsfolk coming out of the forest with their clothes in shreds. They often stumbled into town on moonlit nights, raving on and on about wolf attacks. They claimed they saw friends and family and lovers bitten by hideous, lupine creatures, transforming into monsters right before their very eyes.

She shuddered. The tales were common enough that the forest had become known for its…lycanthrope problem, to put it lightly.  Rapunzel and her parents lived near the village edge themselves, but the long shadows of trees only loomed over their roof from one side.

As for Mother Gothel, Rapunzel had seen her in town a few times. The old woman seemed normal enough—friendly, charismatic, a tad overdramatic and loud, but nothing Rapunzel would give a second glance.

Mother Gothel had a strange aura about her, though. When she chatted up Rapunzel, something always seemed off. Maybe it was that she was a little condescending, phrasing things like Rapunzel was stupid when asking about her family, her home, her friends. Not that the conversations ever went on more than a few minutes.

She also tended to reach out and touch Rapunzel’s hair when she was taking to her, always marveling at how beautiful it was. Rapunzel wasn’t sure she liked that.

Regardless of all that, Arianna’s request was still odd.

Rapunzel pressed her back into a throw pillow. “Why do we need to deliver her something, Mother?”

“It’s complicated.” Arianna wouldn’t meet her eyes again, and Rapunzel’s frown deepened.

“What’s going on?”

“Long story.”

“Tell me, then. If you want me to go on some long trek through the woods, then I at least want to know why.” Rapunzel crossed her arms and pouted defiantly.

“Okay.” Arianna pulled her knees up onto the bay window cushion, hugging them to her chest. She smiled wanly. “Well…did you know your father and I used to be Gothel’s neighbors?”

“What, really?” Rapunzel’s eyes widened in surprise. “So she didn’t always live in that run-down cottage?”

Arianna laughed. “No, no. She was next door to us for a number of years. Your father and I were—well, not friends with her, I suppose, but we were cordial enough. She intimidated us, to be honest. She always had the most lush, beautiful gardens. Frederick and I used to joke she must enchant her flowers for them to grow that high.”

Rapunzel raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you were intimidated by?”

“Quality horticulture isn’t easy, you know!” Arianna reached out and swatted her arm, and Rapunzel laughed.

Her mother’s expression grew serious as she continued. “The truth is that our family owes her a debt. Because of something that happened a long time ago.”

“Really?” Rapunzel couldn’t imagine what a creepy lady who lived in the middle of the woods could possibly be holding over her parents, but her past apparently had as many plot twists as the book she put down earlier.

Arianna heaved a heavy sigh. “When I was pregnant with you, I got sick. Your father and I weren’t sure what the illness was, or what to do about it. The doctor was perplexed. All I know for sure is that I felt awful, and for whatever reason, my cravings were worse than usual.” She laughed dryly.

“I remember I kept wanting…vegetables. Strange choice, I know, when something like cookies would make more sense, but for whatever reason I just couldn’t get enough salad.”

Rapunzel couldn’t help but chuckle, imagining a rotund Arianna Corona cramming kale and spinach into her mouth with reckless abandon. It was an odd thing to yearn for, Rapunzel would admit.

“Anyhow, one morning I woke up wanting lettuce more than anything. It was—well, it felt like so far to the market, and Gothel was out, and her lettuce patch was overflowing—there was no way she could have eaten all of it. Not to mention she also had way too many of this one type of yellow lily as well, and Frederick heard you can make a truly incredible stew with the roots.”

Rapunzel’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. “So you stole some.”

Her mother’s eyes swam with guilt. “I know it was wrong. We thought she wouldn’t miss one flower and one head of lettuce. Frederick made a soup from it, and it was the best I’ve ever had. But then…”

Arianna paused, fingers working in the fabric of a cushion. “Gothel came knocking the next day. Turned out she kept better track of her produce than we thought. She was furious. Said we owed her a favor. Frederick tried to apologize, but she wouldn’t have it. I remember she moved about a month later and plucked the garden dry before she left.”

“What happened with the sickness?” Rapunzel asked.

Arianna smiled mysteriously. “I felt better after drinking that strange soup. Maybe there was some magic in it after all. I gave birth to you not long after, powers and all.”

Arianna ruffled her daughter’s golden hair affectionately. Blushing, Rapunzel looked away.

Not many knew about her gift. She kept it a secret from the other townspeople, worrying they would look at her like a freak—or worse, an asset to be used. Her parents were some of the few who knew she had magic.

And Jackson Overland had, too.

Jackson Overland had been a grubby sort of boy, always running through the mud and swinging around trees with his shepherd’s crook and getting them both into all sorts of trouble. He wasn’t the sort of company her parents particularly approved of. Nonetheless, he had been her best friend, and one of the few people she would trust with anything.

Before he…

Rapunzel’s heart clenched with grief.

Both Jack and his little sister Emma had been lost to the ice the previous winter. They were skating on a pond in the forest when it unexpectedly caved, plunging them into frigid water. Rapunzel still remembered how loud she screamed when she went looking for them and found a gaping hole in the ice, piecing together what had happened.

From what she heard, their bodies were never found—not even when the pond thawed in the spring. In all honesty, she preferred it that way.

She shuddered, imagining Jack’s frozen, lifeless face peeking up through the water, brown eyes staring emptily at nothing.

“Sweetie?”

Rapunzel returned to the present, shoving away the image. “So we owe Mother Gothel a favor?”

“Yes.” Arianna leaned back against a pillow in the windowsill, sighing again. “I ran into her in the marketplace the other day, and she asked if you could deliver her some vegetables. She wanted the same ones we took from her, all those years ago. To make it even, I suppose.”

Something in Rapunzel’s skin began to crawl. “Mother…why does she want me to deliver the vegetables?”

Arianna gave her an apologetic look. “She’s an odd woman. It’s possible that since my pregnancy cravings were what brought about the whole issue, she figures it’s only fair that the um…result of all that return what was originally hers. Strange line of thinking, I know. But that’s what she requested.”

Rapunzel’s fingers dug into the cushion, sudden annoyance gripping her. “That’s not fair! I didn’t ask you and Father to steal from her! Why should I have to be the one to make it up to her?”

Arianna winced at her harsh tone, and Rapunzel felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t normally speak so sharply, but she couldn’t push down the bubbling fear rising in her.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “You know I’m usually happy to help when I can. I just—I’m afraid, Mother. I’ve never gone that deep into the woods before. I mean, Jack and I used to go exploring, but never that far. And now I’ll be alone. What if I run into…” She trailed off, stomach clenching.

“Ah.” Arianna’s tone softened. “You’re worried about werewolves.”

Rapunzel nodded.

“I have just the thing for that.” Arianna stood up, giving Rapunzel’s shoulder a friendly pat. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the front room.

The roiling in Rapunzel’s stomach didn’t cease. Whatever her mother was fetching, she doubted it would shake the anxiety of a pointy-eared, bushy-tailed shape trailing her in the shadows, saliva dripping from its great jaw.

Arianna returned a few minutes later with a wicker basket in one hand and a long, bright red cloak in the other.

“Wear this,” Arianna said, handing her the cape. “It signifies you’re under the protection of the Axers.”

Rapunzel frowned. “The Axers?”

“Werewolf hunters. They roam the forest collecting firewood for the town and protecting travelers and explorers from wolf attacks. The cloak is supposed to be a warning sign—a lycanthrope sees that shade of red, and they know they can’t hurt you without risking a hatchet in the chest. I suspect the color is striking enough that they still remember what it meant from when they were human: Stay away.”

Rapunzel shivered again. It was an unsettling thought, imagining the vicious wolves who prowled beneath the dark trees as once having been people. Just like her, just like Arianna.

She took the bright cloak, running her fingers across the silky, blood-red fabric. “So if I wear this…I’ll be safe?”

Arianna nodded emphatically. “Yes. I promise.”

Rapunzel relaxed. That was one thing she had unquestionably gotten from her mother—they both kept their promises.

Perhaps she’d be all right.

“What about Mother Gothel?” she asked uneasily. “Do I have to do anything when I get to her place?”

Arianna shook her head. “Just knock on her door, let her see it’s you, hand off the basket, and be on your way. You don’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want.”

The blonde girl considered. Maybe if she speed-walked, she could be done with the whole affair in less than a morning.

“Please, Rapunzel?” As she hesitated, her mother gazed at her with pleading in her big green eyes—the eyes that reflected her own in a way too close for comfort.

“Fine. Fine, Mother.” Like she could ever say no to that face. “I’ll go.”

***

Rapunzel’s boots crunched against the dirt, hands tightly gripping the basket’s handle. It was only just past midday, but the shadows of tall trees slicing across the path were still a little too dark for her tastes.

She hadn’t strayed from the path. She’d kept an eye on the summer sky, ever a crystal-clear blue. She wasn’t about to lose focus and get lost in the forest, and not notice before deep green leaves completely blocked out the sun.

She wasn’t scared. Being scared was for little girls, not independent and self-reliant 17-year-olds. She was, however, beginning to get the slightest bit annoyed. This whole excursion was taking significantly longer than she planned, and her book back home wasn’t going to read itself. She was also, perhaps, growing a little tense. Not afraid, but tense.

The darkness stretching away under the trees and the anticipation of having to face Gothel in all of her unnerving strangeness was certainly not helping.

Rapunzel cracked open the lid of the basket and glanced down, hoping the smell of the fresh-baked cookies on top would relax her. She made them as a means of placating Gothel, if needed—a way to suck up to the woman long enough to cause a distraction, allowing Rapunzel to quietly take her leave.

Admittedly she had snuck a couple cookies on her trek. Only to keep her energy up, she kept telling herself.

“Hey, you.”

Rapunzel looked up and started.

While she was preoccupied with her baked goods, a massive white wolf had slithered out of the forest. He now sat on the path in front of her, blocking the way.

Her hands trembled as she put two and two together.

He had to be the one who spoke to her. There was no one else around.

Werewolf.

She hadn’t imagined a beast known for its untamed ferociousness would still be capable of human speech, but today was full of surprises, apparently.

Swallowing, she took a step back. “Hi.”

“Where are you off to?” The wolf took a couple paces forward, cocking his head to the side.

“Um…making a delivery to Mother Gothel,” Rapunzel said nervously. “At the end of the path.”

The creature stepped forward, studying her with a pair of striking, icy-blue eyes. He raised his snout, sniffing the air a few times. Rapunzel stiffened.

“Something smells good,” he said. “You make cookies?”

An odd feeling stirred in her as the wolf stepped closer. His voice was rough and gravelly, more canine growl than words, and yet…

Something about it sounded eerily familiar. There was an odd twinkle in those icy eyes, too—one that Rapunzel could swear she’d seen somewhere before.

Creepy.

Not something to mull over, she told herself. She was face-to-face with one of the most infamous terrors of the forest. Not getting eaten should probably take priority over getting to the bottom of why it made her stomach tighten when the wolf tipped his head again and raised his tail up almost…playfully.

It was a strange sensation. Almost a sort of yearning, but for what she couldn’t tell.

No matter. No reason to let her guard down.

“Yes, I have cookies,” she said carefully.

“Magical? They smell too good to be regular cookies.”

Despite herself, Rapunzel laughed. “No, nothing magical in here. I did just bake them this morning, though. You want one?”

Maybe a sweet snack would appease the beast, and she could be on her way.

The wolf sat, wrinkling his nose in what looked like amusement. “Can’t eat chocolate.”

“They’re sugar, actually,” she offered.

His eyes brightened. “Oh, yeah, then that would be great.” 

She reached into the basket, pulling out a pink-dusted cookie and tossing it at the wolf. He leaped gleefully into the air, quickly snapping up the baked good in his massive jaws.

Rapunzel started walking again, skirting around the munching wolf. To her dismay, the creature followed her down the path, keeping perfect pace as he chewed. 

She grabbed a handful of red cloak, squeezing it so hard her knuckle turned white.

“Don’t try anything,” she said, making her voice as steely as she could. “I’m sure there are Axers nearby.”

“What, you think I want to maul you or something?” The wolf asked around a mouthful of cookie.

Rapunzel didn’t answer, avoiding his bright blue stare. He swallowed and let out a snort.

“I’m not an idiot. I don’t want to get sliced in half. It’s just that I don’t see a lot of travelers on this path. Maybe a guy gets lonely out here, and wouldn’t mind a little company from time to time.”

She stopped, giving him a confused look. “Aren’t there other werewolves?”

“Sure, but it’s not the same.” The wolf looked like he tried to shrug, and wasn’t quite successful with his non-human shoulders. “Sometimes you want to see a little of what’s going on back in the human world.”

They studied each other, both seeming to not quite know what to make of the situation.

The wolf certainly didn’t seem like a brutish, bloodthirsty beast to Rapunzel. They were having a civil enough conversation.

“Isn’t the human world—well, aren’t they your prey now?” Rapunzel asked suspiciously. “The townspeople always warned me about werewolves. Said they only care about filling their bellies.”

Something flashed through the wolf’s eyes. Almost…sadness.

“And you trust them?” 

Rapunzel nodded. “They’re my neighbors. My friends. Of course I do.”

“Sometimes people say that kind of thing to make you scared of whatever you don’t understand. I’m sure some of them mean well, but a lot of your villager friends don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”

Rapunzel scoffed. “Easy for you to say. You can get meals out of people thinking like that.”

She thought she saw the wolf wince, but she could have imagined it. He bounded up in front of her, turning to look right into her eyes.

“This…Gothel. Do you trust her?”

Rapunzel shrugged. “Mother sent me to see her alone, and she wouldn’t if she believed Gothel was dangerous. If my mother trusts her, so do I.”

The wolf sighed. “You really should be more careful who you put your trust in. People often aren’t what they seem.”

“Yeah…like you.” Rapunzel took a step back, frowning. “I think I’m already telling you too much. Why are you so concerned with me, anyway?”

She wanted to slap herself. Familiarity be damned, it had been stupid to trust a wolf.

“Just giving some friendly advice,” he replied evenly. He started to back away toward the treeline, keeping his blue gaze fixed on her. “Naiveté is kind of a sad way to go. You have to watch your back out here. There’s plenty of monsters who’d just as soon use you for their own ends, Rapunzel. Sometimes when you’re that eager to see the best in everyone, you don’t realize how knee-deep in a mess you are until it’s too late.”

“Wait.” Rapunzel froze, the full weight of the wolf’s words dropping on her. “How do you know my name?”

He gave her one last sorrowful look. “I know a lot of things about you, Zellie. It’s—it’s all safe with me, but it won’t be with everyone. You take care of yourself out there.”

The wolf turned, and the last of the fluffy white tail vanished into the shadows of the trees. Rapunzel was left staring after him for several moments, feeling hollow.

[kiegem]

﹥ Insecure s/o

"anyways, can I ask for a head canon for Kenma, Atsumu and Bokuto for an insecure fem s/o and she says "I wish I was pretty like her" or "i wish i have their body" stuff like that in front of them?" - anon

⥅Genre ━ fluff, comfort, fem!

⥅Characters ━ Kenma Kozume, Atsumu Miya, and Bokuto Koutarou

⥅Warnings ━ comparing and self-doubt.

⥅Authors n: Thanks for the req! (edited 08.12.21)

K E N M A – K O Z U M E

I'm sure Kenma would notice straight quickly since he's a sharp observer, and he'd question you right away. He would not, however, push you to speak. Making you feel uneasy is a major no-no for him.

If you tell him, he will do his best to help you, despite the fact that he isn't particularly good at it.

You and Kenma were lounging on the sofa today, he playing his Nintendo and you looking through Instagram. When you first launched the app, you saw a photo of an idol you adore. She was talented, kind, and attractive.

You gazed at her portrait, quietly comparing yourself to her, thinking to yourself, "How can someone be so gorgeous when I look like this?"

And kenma was the first to notice. He saw what was going on right away and realized he needed to do something to enhance your self-esteem. Isn't it correct that he'd never allow his cherished significant other feel insecure? “Y/n, do you have anything bugging you...?” He paused his game and turned to face you.

“I wish I was as attractive as she is. As you stare at the photo, you admitted, "Recently, I've felt so hideous." Kenma let out a sigh. “Well, you're really appealing to me...Y/n, I adore you in every way. Please keep that in mind. ” he flushed as he fidgets with your fingers, hoping his comments weren't too invasive.

Kenma may not be the best with words, but you can clearly sense his love with the simplest gestures.

A T S U M U – M I Y A

Atsumu is completely over heels in love with his s/o, so he'll be shocked if you're self-conscious about your appearance.

He'd shower you with compliments, and he'd go out of his way to make you feel good about yourself; he's your cheerleader.

Despite the fact that he is obstinate. Please bear in mind that he respects you like a queen and would never push you.

He'd observed how you constantly seemed to stare at yourself in the mirror for hours, how your grin never reached your eyes, and how you always covered yourself. Particularly your body.

He'd had enough and felt motivated to take action. He wants you to know how much he cares about you. He lifted your chin up so he could see your eyes once you sat alongside him.

 asking, "What's wrong, babe?" You pouted as you reached for your phone, 

“I feel like I'm gaining/losing weight, and I can't help but feel uneasy whenever I see models on my feed, you know?” He was wounded when you showed him a photo of a female. You groaned and put your phone aside, saying, "I've always desire to have her body..."

“Every aspect of you is already beautiful.  You're the epitome of perfection!” He grabbed your thigh and whispered, He grinned as he said, "And I like these, but please talk to me if you ever feel insecure again."

You laugh and say, "Will do, sumu."

B O K U T O – K O U T A R O U

This kid isn't stupid; he can tell you're insecure about something, but he doesn't know what it is — you're simply too attractive.

But he wouldn't wait until you went insane before approaching you; he'd approach you whenever he had the opportunity.

The fact that you're insecure hurts him on the inside. And he wishes to comfort you in every way he can.

He genuinely cares about you.

Eventually, you and Bokuto were cuddling at his place while watching volleyball. You enjoy cuddling, but your body is refusing to comply. You've never been fond of your physical appearance.

For instance, the two goddesses, Yachi and Kiyoko. When you become close to them, you can't help but compare yourself to them. You have a sense of being left out.

You had the impression that everyone was quietly criticizing you, and you didn't like it. Strangers' looks make you want to pull yourself apart as you pass by them.

“You seem down sweet, something upsetting you?” you ask, surprised at how long you've been quiet.

“oh, sorry. But I was simply curious. Is it true that I am attractive? At the very least, am I presentable...like the other managers?” He was taken aback; you're self-conscious about your appearance, which is something he adores the most.

“Of course you are!” says Bokuto, " Please know that you are stunning from head to toe, and I consider myself lucky to have you.” He pouted and hugged you.

“Let us create our own universe so that no one can judge us! Do you think that's a good idea?” He cuddled you with a big smile on his face.

“Thanks, kou...that sounds nice.”

[fattazzcat]

TFOTA Short Review (More like Rant so if you don't agree with my opinion then that is completely understandable ❤)

ACTUALLY, IT’S A RANT SO TURN BACK AROUND BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE THE SERIES 

INTENSE RANT REVIEW

I just want to say that this book series is...uncanny and idiosyncratic in both good and bad ways.

The book series was fine with its cool looking fae because I was tired of seeing those white/tan broody, cishet and pointy-eared people (Cardan is that but I'm just going to let his tail be the exception)

The worldbuilding is fine, the plot is fine, the plottwist was a really quick turn, the pacing is fine but the trope with the love interest is not fine. The damaged, abusive, bad boy Cardan Greenbriar gets on my nerves because I didn't like the way the fandom just excuses his bad actions towards Jude (since the first book) because of his dark history.

And I don't care what letters Cardan wanted to let her read but didn't. Cardan just didn't have enough book time to work with an emotional connection with Jude except just pure...lust. I apologize but that's how it just looks like, and besides them being enemies seemed like those elementary bullies we once had but way worse and I don't like to just excuse someone's inhumane behavior because of their abused past.

Jude Duarte is written well.

But Cardan not being in the books would've been way better because no offense but Holly Black made him look like a teen who has severe mommy issues and just takes out on this physically violent girl. The dagger scene in book one did nothing to me because the way they are enemies and the way they are attracted to one another is just weird and messed up. But of course, it's still enemies to lovers because hey! They tell each other they hate each other, he tells her that she's hideous and that hey! They want to kill each other for no valid reason! 😐

This book series is not for everyone but I just hope that this kind of book series won't repeat because I'm this 👌close to burning the Cruel Princes series I have when someone says they are goals because their romance turns into violence.

Like he humiliated Jude for a decade, constantly demeans her with insults, just stands and watches while his friends try to harm her and abuse her, shoves her, slaps her, pulls her hair, and threatens her but hey! "He's a prince and he's hot and had a dramatic past so let's just ignore that uwu 😚"

Jude says so many times that he hates him but this bitch will surely break down once he tells her that he finds her attractive. And that makes sense since he has mommy and daddy issues and this girl is just touch-deprived to the bone.

Then Cardan tells her that he hates her because he can't stop thinking about her and that disgusts him. In my POV that seems like a man that finds his attraction to her disgusting then becomes the love interest. I just hope that this romanticization of relationships from men whose so-called "love" is joined by cruelty, humiliation, and hate will end after 2021 and until the Universe dies. And in my POV of Taryn justifying his actions by saying that faeries love differently than mortals and that their love is a test blah blah blah blah shut up 😐

The worse than he treats the main character the more she's enthralled by him but of course, this behavior is overlooked because of his swagger, good looks, and the fact that lusts after her. Like Jude doesn't care about whatever horrible things or actions he does towards her but as long as he finds her attractive and handsome she has complete power over her.

Their relationship throughout the series is just abusive in my POV because cruelty does not equal secret affection. Like this is the kind of boy that our mothers told us that if he pulls our hair it means that they like us and when we grow up we find out that behavior is fucking immature.

Seriously guys? But it's fine because we'll never know what it's like to have someone loathe you before now tell you that they love you even when their actions don't match up with what they say. Sounds like an abusive relationship eh? But it's alright since he's hot and he's the love interest right?

Wrong, so feel free to continue making fan arts and fanfics because I'll just keep my opinions with because everyone seems to like it and I'll probably get death threats and countless 14-year-old stans explaining to me why their love team is the epitome of YA.

Jude deserves so much better because she is so ambitious and so brave she deserved to be courted by a man that is kind, loving, compassionate, supportrtive and one thing that Cardan lacks which is MATURITY.

Anyways I apologize for promising that this will be a short rant review so I'll stop now. But I hope you get it 💛 Because I'm sick of overhyped books romanticizing things that aren't love. After all, if a man hurts you intentionally, that is not love. Abuse and love cannot coexist. Jude and Cardan just follows the cycle of abuse and I hope I'm not being delusional to be the only one who doesn't like the book series and should just dissipate like the Mortal Instruments. But if you like the book series that's good and I respect your likes babe! Like if you're a stan and you're reading this I have no grudge towards you and ily 💜

Anyways buona giornata 💛💛💛

[l-reeny-l]

Some thoughts on “Félix”

Surprisingly enough, I didn‘t hate the episode as much as I thought I would, but that’s probably just bc Chat Blanc and Miracle Queen were so disappointing I found cb kinda boring tbh

• the animation was especially hideous in this episode, Félix moved like a stickfigure and Julekas half of the room looked like it was made out of rubber. also Adriens shirt design is also on Plaggs cheese cupboard, what

• the classmates were pretty sweet in the beginning, I liked that they wanted to support Adrien and found a way to do so, without getting him in trouble. Marinette is adorable. But why were Kagami and Chloé just casually included in their group call? When did that become a thing?

Sadly, that didn’t last long, and they all pretty quickly turned on him, despite this not being the first time they had to deal with an impostor. I don’t see how the video being legit is any proof, when we’ve already had so many copycat akumas.

I also found the combination of people rather questionable, why were Max and Kim there, when they were never shown to be particularly close to Adrien and why were they hanging out at Julekas place?

• Amélie and Félix really are the epitome of lazy character designn, they literally just recoloured Emelies outfit and slapped a wig on Adrien, w h y

Their interactions were kinda cute though, Félix might be a whole ass gremlin, but he’s also mommas boy~

It just annoys me that he’s basically Lila in Adriens skin, did we really need that? This show keeps setting up villains, but never really does anything with them. We still know next to nothing about the lore and the plot just won’t move forward

• what the hell is going on with these rings? How are they special? They better not turn out to be even more magical jewellery, we have more than enough of these, and none of them get the attention the show should be giving them

and why do the Agrestes need even more drama? Haven’t we suffered enough??

• father of the year just sending not one, not two, but three akumas after his son

• how come that everyone in this universe is just ramdomly a martial arts master?? I’m willing to suspend my disbelief for characters that are actively using a miraculous, but the stunts that Natalie and Félix were pulling are just plain ridiculous.

And what is up with the akumas? You’d think that magic powers would include physical enhancement, but Natalie took them on like it was nothing.

• I don’t get why we had to reuse akumas. Why not just akumatize Félix? The set up was right there, it really wouldn’t have taken much.

• I like that someone besides Marinette actually apologized for their actions for once. The whole scene felt super staged and unnatural, but I’ll take it.

I hate this whole “you’re my favourite cousin uwu” thing tho, like we’ve never heard about these people before, this is even worse than Chloés and Adriens “friendship”

• I absolutely loved how that sneaky little fucker just snatched Gabriels ring and actually got away with it, you go bb he might just be a very bad charicature in canon, but I love fanon Félix too much to just kick him to the curb

• Ladybug just clocking “Adrien” in the face was also absolutely beautiful, I’m so proud of her

Overall this episode just felt kinda meaningless and unnecessary. Like I said, I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t good either.

[clydeseung]

Redemption.

"First for a lost love," she told Komaru, trying not to lose composure in front of her trembling eyes. Her fingers pointing at the very first, vertical line on the top of her left thigh, nails almost grabbing the furrow in the flesh. She could still feel it burning, still could picture dead bodies in her mind, still could feel the overwhelming panic over realizing the existence of wounds she knew or remembered nothing about. "One for missed promises, one for unfulfilled obsessions." Toko kept talking about Genocider's murders while trying to fix their brutality with poetry and flowers, an unsure, sorrowful expression on her face. She remembers every single name of those who fell for her uncontrolled bloodthirst ㅡ every single line represented one of those innocent man who were mauled by her merciless scissors. "Have you...ever tried to look at them? I mean, once regained consciousness?" Komaru had to take her time to handle all that info before asking this one question ㅡ that would have marked the limit between humanity and insanity in Toko's past actions, to her. She tried to remind herself that even with murder being unforgivable, the murderer was still her dear friend undergoing such a painful experience she couldn't do much about by herself. "Of course I did," Toko answered, voice reduced to a little whimper, "they were horrid. Their life still battling to make a final sprint and remain in their massacred bodies, eyes wide open looking at my dumb face who would always wake up with no fucking clue of where I was, and why I had their filthy blood on my hands." Toko was visibly stuttering; she still wasn't used to empty her heart like that and it really sounded like ripping her chest open in real life. She indeed had a life worth of trauma. "So i started inflicting these to myself and you know what... O-omaru... that's the way I want them to haunt me," she continued, "with constant pain on my body, scars burning on my flesh, forever reminding me of their names everytime I look at my disgusting self. I'm a writer and so I-I w-wrote about them in a way, right...? If it doesn't make me hate myself more, it makes me kind of stronger." Komaru could feel these words filling her ears with both hope and despair. Toko Fukawa was the epitome of redemptionㅡ the image of being reborn out of deep, dark sorrow; and while all she could was taking her friend's hands away from those hideous scars, she saw a huge, unstoppable need of redeeming herself. And not so much she could do, but love her even more, and as she did so, she swore to protect this process, and keep her alive.

ㅡ

⚠️ to fully enjoy and understand the story, please make sure to check out toko's backstory!!!

hello yes. i wrote this little storytime on instagram while having a breakdown, this is the bettered and revised version. truth is: i'm suffering. a lot, lately. those who know me have a little clue about how much of a toko kin my depressed ass is and if there's anything i agree with her more, is that in times of suffering, writings and poetry flourish the most. so i poured all my heart in this little toukomaru episode, where toko really opens her heart and does what i should be doing instead, which i'm, uhm, kinda not. anyway i'm not the ultimate writing prodigy so take this as a little copying mechanism and nothing more ㅡ i'm not aiming to much anyway. i just don't want my thoughts to remain silent. sharing is, almost everytime, the answer.

full disclosure: this is about toko trying to free herself from the guilt of her alternate personality's murder, which she couldn't control. having found komaru plays a huge part in her try to better herself and overcome her past demons. enjoy :)

[abyssiniana]

«Have a Little Patience»

A Svemelle fanfic for @svenweek! I wanted to share my love for this underappreciated bean even though I’m a bit late for the event ;;;

Read it on >> AO3 << or under the cut.

The notion of time was something that very easily slipped between Sven’s fingertips, the sand in the hourglass showing palpable signs of passage in its rising levels but no footsteps whatsoever. He existed, he could think, he had needs and desires and fears, and shed a tear or two when he stubbed his toe like any healthy human being.

But time in space was a complicated matter, too slow or too fast or around dinner time, and in the enormous galactic scale, what was another loaded gun pointed at an Altean? The sense of purpose was diminished into a crushing nothingness in a reality where time was as ephemeral as life itself, a rush to get home earlier on a friday evening but the highway is never ending and the sun isn’t quite setting and you ignore the warnings about the ice on the sides of the road, keep your heavy boot on the accelerator and the road comes to an early end and you keep begging “It’s too soon, so soon, there’s so much to do--”

Now that he thought of guns, he realized, a frown darkening his Northern features - not like space had a credible “North” with associated general traits, he had to fix his vocabulary -; he never missed a shot unless he meant to, but he missed her head for more than a few inches, like, it wasn’t even close. It haunted Sven for nights in a row, but not the shot, the hell with the missed green light shot, it was her who tormented his mind. Gorgeous blanched gold in her hair and eyes of an amethyst freshly pulled from the depths of hollow agates in volcanic caves, skin pale but rosy on the cheeks and the tip of the perky nose. She was beautiful and perfect and the walking epitome of sugar, spice and everything nice but then…

Her marks.

Little crescent moons laying on top of her cheekbones, a gentle turquoise to go with her righteous attitude, determination worthy of a warrior in the eyes of a princess, delicacy and passion, simple attraction and downright want, a contradiction when Sven fought against everything her mere existence stood for.

An Altean. A sinfully, painfully, deliciously beautiful Altean.

Sven wasn’t sure of the nature of the contents the alien bartender had spilled into his glass, but whatever that lilac liquid was, it had traveled right down and hit him in a nasty spot; if he knew his intolerance well, which he did, the alcohol would be traveling right back up his throat soon enough. Nunvill more like Dumb-ville, Sven Holgersson’s hometown. Total population: one (1), en, uno, just this dimwitted nerd right here, with the buzzing neon arrow shaped sign above his head that read “THIS IS THE SOLE CITIZEN OF DUMBVILLE, THE IDIOT WHO ASKED AN ALTEAN, WHOM HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL, OUT ON A DATE”.

His forehead met the flat surface of the black counter at the intergalactic bar with a thud muted by the loud music that drowned the whole environment in this hazy cloud of induced comfort.

But time, yes, he had a point earlier. Time was an issue, much more so in space. Time zones were confusing enough back home on Earth, but with several quadrants and a multitude of gravitational pulls and people who simply did not carry a watch or share the same calendar, the blond Altean was late. Or so Sven thought. Maybe he was the one who was there too early; or maybe she wouldn’t come at all. Perhaps she was laughing with her assigned platoon, mocking the rebel fighter who had the nerve to forget his place, his ethics and morals and soldier training, for the selfish request of a pretty lady accompanying him for dinner.

Time was consuming and Sven was nursing it further away with a bad drink and broken hopes.

A pair of mutant gorillas regulated the entrance, determining if certain attendants were allowed inside - that seemed like a pretty useless or poorly done job since Sven had walked right in without being asked anything at all, the two guards excitedly discussing something in their native language. The bartender had several arms poking out of his sides, similarly to his friend Slav, only he was not nearly as chatty, thank the Lord. He offered no more than a nod at the orders and brought them back without as much as a smile, and that was as much as the customers were allowed to ask of him. That worked just fine for Sven. His exploring gaze evaluated the whole glass structure, the bubble shape of the aquarium in the center of the circular bar showcasing a pretty mermaid-like creature, her golden trinkets glistening in the faint blue glow as she danced with virtually rehearsed moves to a nearly mute rhythm, eyes like lifeless marbles. Was she even alive? Hard to tell. Almost as hard was to hear the ambiance music; unless he closed his eyes, it would be impossible to feel the theta binaural pulses, sound waves with a frequency that resonated in the theta range. It numbed the weight of his mind like some sort of auditive drug. Where was this lo-fi vibe coming from? Had he drank enough already, he would believe it was coming from inside his body rather than the embedded speakers in the limits of the area.

Why had he chosen this place anyway? The rush of the assault to an Altean commoner base allowed little time to chat with the enemy, and a pamphlet for this lousy establishment in an otherwise vacant moon was the closest thing he could grab and hold towards the girl with the excuse of an invitation.

Oh, how embarrassing it had been; were it physically possible to merge with the counter and hide his shame any further, he would, at the memory of his dumbstruck face pointing at the damn paper and then handling it to the girl with a collection of grunts because what were words when he practically brain farted in the presence of the most beautiful girl in the Universe? He hadn’t even gathered enough balls to open his mouth to speak; he didn’t ask her name nor offered his own. He simply pointed at the paper advertising the anniversary special with live music performances and and hoped she would pick up what he meant. She nodded so he assumed as much...?

You’re making an idiot of yourself, Holgersson.

Sven considered getting up to leave more than once - if he didn’t look anyone in the eye on his way out he might sell the lie that he had planned on going by himself all along and not been shamefully stood up - but when he glanced at the hooded figure who approached him, he immediately changed his mind.

In fact, his mind fuses went short-circuit and stopped working all together mid-action, as he was awkwardly half-standing up half-about-to-sit-back-down on the bar stool. It was her. She had come. He stuttered; after so long waiting, he hadn’t even thought of what to do should she actually join him.

Her dark blue cloak covered most of her face, nervous eyes glancing from side to side. He couldn’t help but to notice the bandages that covered the highest point of her cheekbones. Her marks were occult, skin reddened enough to make her beautiful eyes teary. Was she hurt?

“F-Forgive my lateness…” She whispered, as if it were a secret. As if they were a secret, but then it hit him that they really had to be. Were an Altean general to show up alone in a public bar, chances were she’d be glared to death, her presence terrifying those who were there. Certainly, she wasn’t allowed to leave her post as she pleased. Her absence could be reported to the Empress. Sven was aware that Empress Allura was nothing short of relentless when it came to underlings straying from their duties. This gorgeous Altean was taking a huge risk just for standing here, fraternizing with the enemy.

Was that why her marks were hidden?

Oh, she was breathtaking.

“I meant to appear sooner, but... There’s been a little incident.” Her face grew flustered as she fidgeted, her gestures frantic in a lack of words to explain. Sven wanted to say it was okay, that he was glad for the simple fact that he got to see her again - heck, he could die happy right about now - but his mouth hung agape, no words daring to spill through his parted lips. Her hand curled around his wrist and he was tugged towards the back of the establishment, a corridor leading to the bathrooms.

There were several outcomes to escaping to the darkest corner of a night bar; it was either the elected spot for a heated makeout session or the perfect crime scene. His body wouldn’t be found unless someone decided to take a piss, or when the closing hours approached and the establishment owner would come to check the bathrooms to make sure the clients had all left.

Whatever the sequel to this scape, Sven was enthralled enough to accept.

Good God, she was stunning.

“D-Don’t laugh.” She made him promise as soon as they were away from prying eyes, with an adorably prominent pout - which he did, immediately, with a series of nods - before she pulled her hood off, having it rest around her shoulders. Indeed there were bandages covering the upper cheeks of her face, a bunch of tiny outbreaks of swollen, pale red bumps.

“I wanted to hide my heritage marks… should anyone recognize me… I didn’t want to cause you trouble for being seen with me! My friend lent me her cosmetic kit but then my skin became swollen and it stung a lot and it burned and now it’s like this!” She explained rapidly, the words overlapping each other in the rush, only ceasing when Sven rose his hand to touch her face, inspecting the allergy from up close, the rash confined to the area where the cosmetic had been applied. “You’re probably regretting even asking me to come… I’m sorry, I look hideous!”

No. God, no, that was not it.

He had no way with words, being the stoic-faced introvert his friends always accused him of being; thus, resorting to a more physical language, his lips came in contact with the surface of the bandages, a soft kiss placed on each, ceasing the tears that had been absorbed by the gauze. She became redder, to be quite honest, but Sven didn’t pay much of a mind to it, keeping her cute face framed by his big hands, thumbs caressing her jaw with affection.

“Never say that. You’re beautiful.”

As a young kid, Sven had this little night lamp to help him overcome the fear of the dark (it wasn't cool for boys to be afraid, Ma said at the time); and it did help him, that device made him fall in love with darkness because the cutout stars and dots on the surface of the lampshade created a small universe in the confinements of the bedroom, making it so much more immense and deep and fantastic and full of mysteries beyond the cracks on the walls or the stains on the sheets. It made him dream of being up there, bouncing from star to star, riding on a meteor or sliding on the rings of Saturn. His dream did come true, however in a more practical sense. There was no sliding off rings - if anything he'd fall through them -, he didn't ride meteors unless he had a crisp to death wish - he was close to, at times -, and the concept of bouncing off stars was less of a theme park kind of thing and more of an everyday task that involved vargas of voyage between astronomical bodies and the bounce effect was felt with gunshots, screams and scrapes in his armor. It wasn't until Sven reached the vastness of space that he realized he had never really lost his phobia; he had simply... Accepted it.

He lay back down in the rented bed of a lodging in a distant Solar System, sweat making the sheets stick to the end of his back. He thought of Earth, he thought of home, and then realized the magnitude of the distance between that little mountain house in Norway and his training in the Galaxy Garrison. He thought of Voltron and how they failed to answer the call of the Universe, petty humans who blundered the only chance, how his friends had died for nothing and his former partner strayed from good to side with his Altean heritage.

Truth was so dark, so raw, so sad. A jarring stab wound that drained the blood out of a nearly dead corpse. The Universe fell enslaved to a race of crazed mind-controllers, driven by the fake belief that peace had to be implemented in people’s minds rather than achieved through fair negotiation and common-sense. Enough blood had been spilled, ten thousand years of turmoil, death, fear, a peace-through-strength kind of permanent panic. When would the Alteans come for the two lovers who defied their rule?

Sleeping Romelle shifted in bed next to him, cuddling closer to his side, her delicate little hand resting over his abs, her cheek pressed against his bare chest. He traced a finger near her eyes, calloused fingers hovering the soft skin; the signs of allergy around her markings had disappeared so long ago - it had been close to a year since they began their occasional encounters, their I love you’s hushed by the opposing sides of the war they stood for.

In this rented bed, there was no war. No slavery. No death. Just them and their unscrupulous love, handwritten by Shakespeare with the inevitable imminence of tragedy. She had snorted at the funny name when Sven first mentioned it, her accent making it hard for the playwright’s name to roll around her tongue. He developed his point further in that conversation; they were both risking so much for the little they had, but in the universal scale of their flaming hearts it was so worth it. Love was worth withstanding anything that was sent their way.

She represented the cutout stars in the darkness, the spark of light in a world swarmed by danger, consternation and the permanent fear of being caught.

Sven had come to terms with his childish fear of the dark, but only for as long as he had the stars in Romelle’s eyes.

[bookgeekconfessions]

White Hot (Hidden Legacy #2) by Ilona Andrews

5 Stars Reviewed by Naomi 

(I know the cover is ugly. I don’t know why the cover is ugly. Don’t talk to me about the cover being ugly. DON’T JUDGE A BOOK BY IT’S COVER)

Offical Synopsis: Nevada Baylor has a unique and secret skill—she knows when people are lying—and she's used that magic (along with plain, hard work) to keep her colorful and close-knit family's detective agency afloat. But her new case pits her against the shadowy forces that almost destroyed the city of Houston once before, bringing Nevada back into contact with Connor "Mad" Rogan. Rogan is a billionaire Prime—the highest rank of magic user—and as unreadable as ever, despite Nevada's "talent." But there's no hiding the sparks between them. Now that the stakes are even higher, both professionally and personally, and their foes are unimaginably powerful, Rogan and Nevada will find that nothing burns like ice . . . 

Fantasy has become a bit of a copy game. A series like ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’  rises and suddenly there are dozens of books about lost princesses and dragons. That's what makes a series like Hidden Legacy a great find. It's unique and unlike anything currently on the market and to top it off, it's a lot of fun.

Nevada Baylor is a Truth Seeker, a kind of magic so rare that if one of the power houses of Houston or the government ever discovered her they would do anything to force her into their employ. All of her life her magic and the magic of her family members has been hidden, but when a little girl goes missing Nevada risks it all to save her. This leads Nevada to an investigation into mysterious murders and back on the path of Mad Rogan the most dangerous (and sexiest) man in Houston.

Ignore the hideous book cover, because White Hot lives up to its name. It's action packed, steamy and filled to the brim with emotion and humor. Ilona Andrews takes their flare for world building, creating unique magical communities and writing interesting well-balanced characters and puts it to this novel to their best effect.

It's funny. It's romantic. It's steamy. It's action packed...basically, it's everything. I’ve had the ARC for months and reread it every few weeks with the same level of glee.

Urban Fantasy is a genre overflowing with private investigators and detectives from different walks of life and different levels of experience. Usually, I find their detective skills to be lackluster. It's a bunch of stumbling around in the dark until the villain turns on the light and reveals themselves. Nevada is a true investigator. She goes out and finds clues, interviews people, follows leads and goes undercover when the need arises, all while fielding attacks from unknown murderers.

The villains in this installment are the epitome of evil. They have no concern for the casualties of war. They endanger children and use every avenue available to them in order to win. What's intense about these villains is that what they want to win isn't simply power, but also chaos. They want to break the very foundation of the world as they know it and that drive for anarchy makes them even more dangerous and terrifying.

Nevada is the best kind of heroine. She's smart, capable and powerful, but she knows how to ask for help and she does the right thing without being sacrificial. In a time where being a hero often means giving up everything and destroying your life, Nevada clings to her happiness and the safety of her family above all else. It makes her dynamic, complex and just a joy to read about. She also knows how to juggle her love life. She doesn't fall into Rogan and lose herself or follow his lead. She is her own person and if he wants her he'll have to prove it. Which isn't easy for him as one of the most powerful men on the planet.  He hasn't had to prove himself in years. He's already done it, but power and love are not the same things.

Ilona Andrews knows how to write the kind of romance that burrows into your brain and makes you believe in love in difficult times. It's not long monologues with flowery declarations designed to make us swoon, it's straight to the point honesty that still manages the desired effect. Rogan and Nevada's relationship got off to a rocky start in Burn For Me, but what started with animosity and distrust, evolved into a professional partnership which evolved into the stirrings of love. Unfortunately, Rogan is not your average man and Nevada refuses to settle for anything less than equal partnership and caring, so their relationship is not exactly a sure thing.

If you're a fan of Ilona Andrews you've been waiting for White Hot for years. You watched the publication date get pushed and pushed, you checked their website/blog for updates and inwardly (or if you're like me and have a platform, outwardly) you raged. I'm not one for cliches like 'worth the wait,' because I am an impatient human being and will never forgive Ilona Andrews if they starve me of their stories for this long again, but what I will go on record and say is... Ilona Andrews doesn't disappoint.

There's something about this writing team that sets off all the pleasure sensors in my brain. It's almost like a drug. Reading their books sends me into a deep euphoria, then the book ends and I topple into withdrawal. This book is the most fun I've had reading in months. Books like White Hot are why I read fantasy, it's why I spend so much time in magical worlds as opposed to my real one.

Read this book. You will not regret it.

Recommended for readers of urban fantasy, fans of Ilona Andrews and anyone who read a Burn For Me and had to endure the long wait. You won't be disappointed and the next book comes out in only a few short months!!

For more author website and goodreads page. 

[skypondcrossing]

When We Ruled the World

Part III: Fall from Grace

Sanada Genichirou was four years old when he met Yukimura Seiichi. A three part history on Sanada and Yukimura’s bond from childhood to realization. SanaYuki. AtoSana.

 When he finally found the courage to visit Yukimura in the hospital, the gentle boy had smiled and chided him for worrying about what he could not control. It made Sanada feel even worse that the other boy knew him so well to alleviate him of the worries he knew Sanada must have had but did not mention. He was torn from his self-blame to far more pressing realities however. He had not given Yukimura’s illness much thought despite Yanagi’s complicated explanations, self-assured it would be fleeting because Yukimura could never be associated with any sort of permanent weakness. This time around, he was force to take notice of the slender form, which had grown too sharp, the sweater perpetually wrapped around his shoulder though the heater was cranked up all the way and the way his grip trembled with the weight of only a hot water mug.

 Yukimura had become a more reduced presence without tennis and his health and strength. Without the ability to contribute, his voice grew smaller only to make self-deprecating comments on the burden he had become. It made Yukimura vulnerable and Sanada extremely uncomfortable. Even the other regulars noticed the way their captain was shutting himself off from the rest of the team, peering out the window instead of joining in their lighthearted conversations.

 In Yukimura’s great absence, Sanada was forced to become the leadership of Rikkai’s tennis team. Frustrated at the unexpected transition and deeply unsettled by his inability to help Yukimura’s condition, Sanada was crushed with extraordinary pressure. He dealt with it in the only way he knew how, by exerting even greater discipline on himself and the environment, finding relief in control with his actions when he felt powerless about the circumstances. For the players, he was a ruthless and oftentimes violent leader, focusing his entire energy on the one promise he made to Yukimura.

 At first he only took his anger out on Kirihara, who in the absence of Yukimura’s calming presence, began once again to terrorize the courts with his volatile tennis style. After he sent two players to the hospital, Sanada in a fit of anger backhanded the boy in front of the entire team. As Kirihara stalked off with tears of shame in his eyes, the other regulars looked at each other in shock. After that episode, the others did not regard him in the same way again. Even Kirihara was more repressed and reserved, flinching whenever Sanada raised his tone around him. Tennis practice became a deathlike drone and the law of absolute victory became cemented through corporal punishment, which Sanada himself was the strictest of advocates.

 Yukimura’s style of coaching had been insightful and guiding; he was able to coax out each players’ potential by understanding their motivations and the areas of their psychologies to tap into in order to get the best results. Sanada, in comparison was completely authoritarian. He led completely alone by his actions, carrying the entire burden of their loss, channeling that into even tougher training and punishment toward his own body. He worked through flesh to bone, displaying unintentionally to everyone the unwavering dedication he had in his love towards the captain and the raw desperation of his attempts to deal with all the pain and confusion. It was completely moving, and everybody could not help being affected.

  I’m here to see Yukimura. Can you let me know where he is?

 “He’s in the gym,” said the nurse with a knowing look.”

 “Thank you.” Sanada ignored her though he knew exactly what she was insinuating. As he neared the gym, he made sure to lighten the sounds of his footsteps.

 Making sure the other could not see him, Sanada watched his friend struggle alone, repeating the same movements until his muscles gave out. He was slowly relearning how to walk with the aid of the plastic beams to guide him. Sanada was not surprised Yukimura had managed to make so much progress in only a few weeks.

 The boy had tried to keep this training a secret, not wanting the pity of others if they saw how he exerted so much effort to do such simple things. Sanada had found out by pure coincidence when he visited him. Knowing the boys’ pride, he could only watch silently. It was hardest in the beginning. Every time Yukimura lost his balance and fell hard to the ground, Sanada had to resist his protective urge to burst in to the room and help him up. Sanada could tell he had been practicing for a while now with the beads of sweat coming down his face. Waiting until his friend took a break, accidentally nodding off in much needed slumber, Sanada gently lifted the boy from the ground. He felt awkward and out of place in the hospital as he carried the boy into his room tucking him into the covers. Unable to resist he reached out to smooth back a lock of Yukimura’s dark blue hair. Body moving as if it had a mind of its own, Sanada found his hand gently cupping his cheek as he leaned to press a fleeting kiss on the other’s forehead.

 The boy barely stirred.

 Gathering his composure, Sanada slipped out of the room, with the knowledge that he would be back tomorrow and every day that followed.  

  As time went on, even the deathlike practices had become bearable and Yukimura was opening up to him again. When Sanada pointed it out, Yukimura has told him about the surgery proposed by the doctor, which if successful would allow him to play in the nationals if all went smoothly. While Yukimura only saw full recovery on the tennis courts, all Sanada could think of was the 50% success rate.

 Rikkaidai lost to Seigaku in the Kantou Finals but the surgery had been successful. When Sanada summoned up the courage to relay the results to their captain, he had prepared himself for any punishment Yukimura would deliver. What he had not foreseen was the despair in the other boy’s eyes, composure completely surrendered. In an uncharacteristic display of anger, Yukimura snapped and threw Sanada out of the room before he would crumble.

 Though only a wall separated the two, Sanada had never felt more helpless as he did then, listening to Yukimura’s scream of agony, hands pressed against the locked door. The other members did not dare to stop him as he walked away, Yukimura’s soft sobs still ringing in their ears.

  Eventually Yukimura returned to the tennis courts, to the exasperation of his doctors. Everyone was glad, non more so than Sanada. Though the whole team practiced harder than ever under Sanada’s Spartan regime, they were not very productive. With the return of Yukimura, the spirit of the team was reignited with new vigor and hope.

 The inexplicable amount of relief Sanada felt upon seeing his best friend once again leading their team dissipated as quickly as it came. Though Yukimura was a perfect display of considerateness, there was an impenetrable distance between them, greater than even before his illness. Whereas before, Yukimura flitted in and out of Sanada’s understanding, now the boy truly buried himself only revealing to the world only the polished and impeccable façade.

 All their conversations were carried out in the respective roles of captain and vice captain. Their afterschool walks, where they could talk freely just the two of them away from the pressures of the tennis team, had completely disappeared. Still, Sanada was relentless, propositioning different ways for them to hang out together but they were always met with an endless stream of excuses.

 What hurt most was seeing Yukimura visit the flower shop with Renji right after telling Sanada he was too busy one Saturday. And Yukimura still had the time to work with Kirihara or Marui on their form before morning practices. Everyone was getting the captain’s attention like they always did. Yukimura had never been particularly close with anybody but he always held Sanada in closer regard. Now it was like Yukimura had determined to see him as just another team member.

 His frustration with this current relationship with Yukimura was what made Sanada agree recklessly when Atobe Keigo challenged him in an unofficial match.

 It felt great, viciously venting his anger in every shot, basking as his team members screamed their cheers.

 “You’re not fit to be a member of Rikkai, Atobe,” he sneered in contempt.

 The other merely smiled mysteriously before hitting his shot back, except this time, the shot left him frozen with no time to react at all.

 “That’s enough!” The soft but decisive voice of Yukimura rang out.

 “Would you like to be my partner?” asked Atobe mockingly.

 “Of course. That would be fun in an official match.” Yukimura’s smile was unfazed and Atobe was forced to retire earlier than he wanted. They both watched until Hyoutei’s captain walked out of earshot.

 “Why did you stop it?” Sanada had never felt more humiliated.

 “Because you would have lost, Genichirou.” Though Sanada knew Yukimura’s insight was usually spot-on and he was only speaking honestly, that didn’t help the sting of the implications. Sanada was not mature enough put up a false show of agreeableness and turned away from him spitefully without saying anything.

 He was surprised to hear familiar footsteps follow after him though Yukimura did not say a word.

 The sun was dropping below the horizon again and Sanada was reminded of another sunset at a much different time. Though it was less than a year ago, it felt ages. Sanada stopped and turned to face Yukimura.

 Yukimura must have noticed something in his expression. “Sanada?”

 Sanada did not answer but stepped closer to where the other stood, casting a dark shadow over him. Yukimura made no move to back away but merely looked up with impenetrable eyes.

 Maybe it was Yukimura coming after him, like he did in the old days whenever Sanada was upset. Maybe it was spell of twilight and the way the sun warmed his face with radiance. It reminded Sanada of a wooden puppet turning into human form and even his eyes seemed to lose some of its distance. Maybe it was Sanada reaching the limits of his self-restraint but he no longer wanted to hold back.

 It was just enough of a reason for him to pull Yukimura towards him, cradling him by the neck with one hand and the other in the small of his back to pull him closer. Yukimura tensed and made a small effort to pull away but Sanada held on tightly, not allowing him to get away that easily. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply.

 “Stop pushing me away.” His voice was heavy with emotion. Yukimura froze at his words, letting his arms drop to his sides from where he had been trying to force Sanada away. He cupped Yukimura’s face deliberately between his hands willing their gazes to meet. Sanada leaned forward to capture his lips, breaking the barrier so fantasy became reality at last. It was a heated, heart-rending exchange, which expressed all of Sanada’s feelings of restraint and pent up longing over the years of their friendship. Getting caught up in a surge of boldness, Sanada deepened the kiss with Yukimura, who was so dazed he could do no more than receive the onslaught of it all. Sanada held the boy tightly in place and kissed his way to the back of his neck. It was only when Sanada ran his hands down the curve of his hips did Yukimura snap back to reality and find the strength to push him away.

 Despite his flushed and unkempt appearance, Yukimura’s voice was deathly serious when he asked, “What were you thinking Sanada?”

 Sanada could see Yukimura clenching and unclenching his fists.

 “I’m sorry for startling you,” he took in a breath and stated simply, “I like you. I’ve liked you ever since we met.”

 “Genichirou,” said Yukimura in the same gentle tone he used to comfort Kirihara when the younger boy’s feelings were hurt. “We’ve been best friend since childhood. You’re mistaking the feelings.”

 He shook his head violently. “No! I know clearly what I feel for you.” Sanada looked at him, the intensity in his eyes making Yukimura shiver.

 “When we first met, I was so happy there was someone who liked tennis as much as me,” Sanada’s tone had grown unbearably tender, “The childhood me looked up to you and though I didn’t like many people, I wanted to be around you always and see you smile. You were the reason I became strong.”

 “As we grew up, we became the captains of Rikkai and more was expected of us, especially you.” He glanced over at Yukimura who was listening to his every word. “We worked harder than anyone to reach our dreams together. But when you got sick, I realized something. The team and I had always rested in the belief that you would carry us with your strength. It must have been so much pressure for you.”

 “Now, I want to be your source of strength.” Sanada walked towards Yukimura and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I love you. That has never changed. Only now I also want you in ways the childhood me didn’t know.”

Yukimura’s expression crumpled completely as if Sanada had caused him unbearable pain. Turning away, his voice was completely steady when he whispered. “I don’t love you.”

 “I will never love you the way you do me.”

 A long silence met his words.

 Ten years since he’s met Yukimura. Ten years since he’s loved him. 520 weeks of practices and training, and their dedication to build a legacy which will live on long past them. 3,640 days of watching each other grow up in the sunrise and sun fall. Too many to count for the hours and minutes of observing Yukimura in awe, relishing in his well deserved successes, drowning in his struggles and despairs, dreaming of him reciprocating this love, crushing defeat when reality breaks, resisting hard at the bonds of these painful feelings, and failing always to his smiles and laughter.

 Sanada swallowed and all it takes is one second to break all his ill-conceived illusions. He begins to walk away and wonders why he does not feel any pain. He receives his answer he feels his entire body is numb. The air is thick with humidity, suppressive like the rolling heat of summer and Sanada cannot feel his heavy bones. By the second he grows more desperate. He feels suffocated and wishes he were underground in the cold dark Earth.

 “Sana-“ The familiar voice pierces through the numbing haze. Sanada takes the opportunity to leave and does not look behind. His footsteps do not slow even when he hears his name carried by the wind.

  Tennis practice was a tense and uncomfortable affair after then. Though everyone knew something had happened between the captain and vice captain, no one dared say a word to the both of them. Whenever, Kirihara tried to bring it up, Renji would give him a reprimanding look and smoothly changed the subject.

 Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, Renji managed to track down Sanada one day on his way home after practice.

 “What happened to you and Yukimura?” Sanada stays silent and his expression betrays nothing. He takes perverse pride in this newfound accomplishment.

 Renji sighed exasperatedly, “Look, I’ve known Yukimura even longer than you. Though he’s polite and kind to everybody, he rarely gets close to anyone. You are the only one close enough for him to let down his guard. When you are like this, he is entirely alone.” The words made Sanada pause in his footsteps.

 “And you hold Yukimura dearer than anybody. I’m sure whatever happened can be worked out.”

 “It’s not that simple, Renji. Yukimura love the image of me he knows. He takes comfort in my stability, my loyalty, my unwavering and safe friendship,” Sanada practically sneered at the word. “But that’s not what I want and when he finally saw my true desires beneath it all, he didn’t want any part of it.”

 “Sanada…” Renji’s voice was regretful.

 “Disgusting, isn’t it? I hate myself for the delusions.” He laughed mirthlessly.

 “Sanada, you can’t expect to keep this torrent of feelings locked up forever. It will drive anyone crazy.”

 “Rikkai monsters!” At this moment, Atobe suddenly interrupted their reveries and in a surreal display of ostentatiousness, stepped out in full suit from his limo. “How about a ride?”

 “Why not?” Happy to put off the future for a bit more, Sanada readily strode over.

 “Sanada! If Yukimura finds out, he will be furious. And right before nationals too.”

 “I don’t care,” it felt good to shrug off the responsibilities expected of him as vice captain and undyingly loyal best friend. With that he slammed the door shut. He pushed Renji’s disapproving look out of his mind and turned to Atobe, who was watching him intently as if studying an extremely rare species.

 “What?” He felt a little disconcerted.

 “Oh, just thinking to myself how much I like you like this.”

 “Like what?” Atobe chose not to answer the question.

“Hmm you have beautifully genuine eyes Sanada. They reveal every thought that crosses your mind. That’s why you wear that hat isn’t it? To put up a barrier.”

 “Maybe, who knows? More importantly, what do you want?”

 “Isn’t it too late to ask now that you’re in the car?” Atobe said in a light tone. Sanada explained he got in because he didn’t want to hear Renji’s chiding anymore.

 “Look, everybody knows you are devoted to your captain. But I also know he has never once responded to you. With rumors that both of you were having some troubles, the opportunist in me had to try my luck.” Sanada didn’t even feel hurt by the way Atobe straightforwardly laid out the situation. He liked the way Atobe was direct about what he wanted, unlike the confusion of subtext, which colored his bond with Yukimura. “ I’m not asking for your complete love and devotion, only a chance. Maybe you’ll even learn to like something else better.”

 Sanada considered for a moment. “I’ll agree but with conditions. Don’t let this interfere with tennis and don’t take it too seriously.” Atobe laughed and was delighted.

 They ended up watching tango at a ludicrously upper class theater. Still, Sanada was enjoying himself, to his surprise. In fact the other boy was a witty conversationalist and he found himself genuinely enjoying the talk about classical history, a subject they both had interest in.

 They begin meeting weekly afterwards, sometimes even more and Atobe was true to his word. Every week they went to a new show or party. It was like Sanada entered a part of world previous closed off to him, wholly unfamiliar but not uninteresting. Sanada truly grew found of the other boy’s company but Atobe was still not completely satisfied. Sanada brought it up when they were taking in a walk around the Tokyo bay. Atobe had rented the park for a day so there were no others besides them.

 “What’s wrong Atobe?”

 “Sanada, do you find me attractive?” If it were not for his dead serious tone, Sanada may have questioned the sincerity of his question. Despite Atobe’s great show of self confidence, Sanada also knew most of that was a part of the persona people expected of him and there were things even he felt insecure about.

 “Sure I do,” he said simply.

 “We’ve been on ten date now and you haven’t even tried to touch me. At first I thought you were just a prude but now—”

 “You think I’m not attracted to you” He finished his sentence. Sanada’s mouth twitched before he burst out laughing at the absurdity of the scenario.

 “It’s not funny!” But even Atobe could not help being affected by Sanada’s booming laughter. The laughter died in his throat when he saw Sanada gaze at him in a way he had never done before. He stepped back a little only to hit the bench with the back of his knees and fall back onto the hard surface. Two arms landed on either side of his head, trapping him beneath a piercing gaze.

 “Is this better?” Sanada asked in a husky tone.

 “Much.” Atobe felt his throat dry. Looking up at him beneath a seductive gaze, he reached up to kiss Sanada fully on the lips. The lip lock was intense and left little to the imagination.

 “Le’s go back to my mansion,” he shot Sanada a heated gaze, taking him by the hand.

 “Atobe” He pulled back for a moment. “Everything I said before. That still stands.” Sanada’s voice was stern but not unkind.

 “Idiot, you think too much.”

 Sex with Atobe was like dancing a tango, an exhilarating and passionate affair. Atobe had no hesitation as he came onto him like there was nothing else the boy wanted better. Sanada could tell by the adoration in his eyes, as Atobe kissed down the length of his body that he were not entirely honest about treating this as a casual affair. Still, Sanada did not have the high morals to put an end to it and so they fell deeper into the messy affair.

 Atobe had a strong and graceful build whereas Yukimura was slender, more willowy. Atobe’s skin carried the scent of salt and musk while Yukimura always smelt like the flowers after the rain. Atobe’s hair was sleek, perfected coiffed. Yukimura’s was soft and fell in loose waves. Atobe’s grey eyes smoldered with lust and desire whereas Yukimura’s gaze had always been soft and carefully restrained. They were different in nearly every aspect. And as he whispered Atobe’s name, reaching climax within the deepest depths of the other boy’s body, he could not help thinking of those differences.

 The exhausted boy beneath him buried into his chest and quickly fell into a deep and dreamless slumber. Sanada pulled the blankets over them, knowing it was going to be another sleepless night.

It did not take long for the word about Atobe and Sanada’s relationship to spread throughout the districts. For one, Atobe was not the typical Japanese man and flaunted their relationship every chance he had with flowers and lavish presents delivered to school. For another, it was nearly impossible for Sanada to cover up the marks of their love making when his team was in the locker rooms.

 The first time Kirihara had noticed, his eyes grew so impossibly wide, Renji had to take him aside and educate him on the topics of early development.

 Sanada was not blind and realized the motivation behind Atobe’s obvious markings were to send a message to the team and especially Yukimura. However it was Renji who was most disapproving. He was unwilling to even be in the same room as Sanada for more than a few minutes. Shocked by the broken relationship of the “inseparable Troika”, the whole team entered the nationals in low morals. Plagued by loneliness s and frustration, Sanada found comfort from the person who was the root of such troubles.

 “Mind if I sit here?” asked Yukimura with a familiar smile. Sanada had taken to eating outside in the schoolyard, away from the chatter and distraction of everyone else.

 “Sure” he said gruffly. It was the first time they were speaking alone since what happened that fateful day. The other boy sat down next to him.

 “How are you?” Yukimura asked with a hint of hesitation.

 “I’m fine,” Sanada lied through his teeth.  

 “I’m happy to hear that.” A pause. “Sanada please remember that Renji and I are still your friends. Nothing changes that.”

 “I doubt Renji will agree.”

 “He’s only angry that you walked away from him. He really missed you,” he added thoughtfully.

 “You have too much faith,” said Sanada. “You’ll be disappointed if you keep this up.” They both knew the topic was not about Renji any more.

 Sanada started suddenly, “Aren’t you going to ask?”  Yukimura does not ask for clarification. There was no need for pretense between the two of them.

 “Do you not mind in the slightest that I fucked Atobe so soon after confessing to you?” Yukimura flinched at his coarse language.

 “Your relationship with Atobe is none of my concerns.” His eyes glimmered coldly like carved gems.

 “No I suppose not, I mean nothing more to you than a means to an end.” Sanada knew his words were unfair but he could not help himself from hurling them.

 “I’ll still play my best, don’t worry. You’re not the only person who want to win the national championship title.” Though his heart pounded painfully, he felt a hollow sort of satisfaction upon seeing the pain flash across Yukimura’s face. He stormed off without a second glance back. Only later would he realize that Yukimura never answered his question.

  So divided the three of them were, Sanada was unsurprised at the outcome of the third national championship. What surprised him the most was that it had been Yukimura’s loss, which decided the final outcome. Once again, Sanada could not do anything as he watched the other fall from grace, not yet fully recovered and consumed by his own steadily growing feelings of worthlessness, which had taken root after his illness.

 Unwilling to be shaken off again like before—when Yukimura collapsed—Sanada even broke his promise to keep a strictly captain-vice captain relationship with the other.

 “Yukimura! You can still win this!” He screamed with emotion. Shaken out of his reverie, the other fixed him with a look to show he understood.

 Barely managing to return Ryoma’s split shot, Yukimura could not get in position in time for the return.

 “Echizen Ryoma, 6 games to 4” The stands exploded in applause. It was over. Rikkaidai would not succeed in its bid for a third consecutive win.

Keeping a facade of cool indifference, Sanada struggled to ignore the gaping feeling in his stomach as he told Kirihara off for bursting into tears. He handed a towel to Yukimura in a gesture of reconciliation. The other boy accepted more than readily, giving him a sweet smile in return. Renji joined them by the side. And though nothing was really resolved, the three of them were friends again, realizing anything else would require too much effort.

 The three of them would continue playing tennis in high school and dominate every court they stepped foot in. Yukimura, once again, became the high school tennis team captain, building an even more formidable team than the one they had.

 Three years passed by quickly, too quickly. And yet some things were still the same. Time had softened all of them, rounding out the harsh edges, which had once caused so much pain. Sanada and Atobe were still together and everyone had become so accustomed to the two of them they do not remember a time it was otherwise.

 Before they knew it, they were receiving their diplomas from Rikkaidai’s high school principle. All Sanada remembers is a flurry of tears and embraces all around him as he realized something very important was changing and the significance of which he could not truly comprehend yet.

 “Cheers! Here’s to the real world,” said Yagyuu. People all around started clinking glasses together in celebration. The Rikkai tennis team had gathered together at a local Izakaya to celebrate the graduation of the best tennis team in the school’s history.

 “Not fair, Senpai’s are all leaving me behind,” croaked Kirihara, struggling to fight back tears. The years of development had Kirihara into a polished and formidable tennis player. And he had never lacked heart. Yukimura knew he would fill in his role as captain more than adequately.

 “Oh yeah, I forgot you weren’t a senior. Take care of the other little ones Akaya, won’t you,” said Marui, nonchalantly. Kirihara gave him a death glare and popped his bubble so it exploded all over his face. Meanwhile the Troika was watching the rest of the team in quite amusement.

 “I really will miss all this,” said Renji quietly.

 “Won’t you play in college at all?” asked Yukimura.

 “Probably not, I will be too busy with school.” It was not too surprising. With graduation looming, most people had to make hard decisions about the courses of their lives. Renji’s decision was to set aside tennis for his academic career. For Sanada, there was no question. Offers had come in from multiple colleges all offering full tuition and a prestigious position on their first division tennis team.

 “Sanada, you never told us. Which college did you decide on?” Renji asked. The other boy shifted uncomfortably. Atobe had proposed they play abroad in Europe. They were both good enough to play pro and skip university. Sanada had wanted to shoot him down immediately. Europe was so far away from Japan from Yukimura and everything he knew all his life. After much convincing from Atobe, he promised to think about it.

 “Actually, I was thinking about playing pro.”

 “That’s amazing. You’ll do really great.” Yukimura smiled at him with such pride and happiness, making it that much harder to bear. Renji and Yukimura both congratulated him wholeheartedly. They knew it had always been his dream.

 “You better tell me when your first game is. I’ll definitely come watch,” said Yukimura, nudging him playfully.

 “Well, that would be near impossible.” Renji and Yukimura shared a startled glance.

 “Why?”

 “It will be abroad I’ll be competing all over the world.” Renji frowned.

 “Why all over? Why not start in Japan? It’s your home.”

 “It was a program Atobe and I were considering. Everything is covered and we’ll have best in class coaches and training programs.”  Renji’s faced turned dark at the mention of Hyoutei’s captain. Yukimura fiddled with his cup in silence.

 “I see. When will you be back?” asked Renji coldly.

 “Not for at least two years.” The cup clattered noisily on the table but the rest of the team was too caught up in the celebrations to notice.

 “Two years! What about your friends and family? Your life can’t revolve around Atobe.” Renji made no move to shield his displeasure.

 “It’s not all about Atobe. It’s about tennis.” Sanada snapped. The last thing he wanted to deal with is Renji’s disapproval with his choices and, most of all, his choice of boyfriend.

 “Say something,” Renji prodded Yukimura.

 The boy swallowed long and hard before beginning, “I think it’s a great idea Sanada. You’ve always loved tennis so this is really the best opportunity.” Sanada’s heart sunk in his chest.

 “Thank you,” he managed to say. Defeated, Renji pushed his drink away and went outside.

 “Renji,” Yukimura called after him.

 “Don’t mind him. He’s only like this because he’ll miss you.” The rest of the night passed by emptying the unending cups of sake on his table.

 Yukimura could barely support the bigger boy, exerting all his effort to bring the other into his house. His parents had politely vacated the residence, knowing it was the last time Yukimura would be able to spend quality with his team and friends after graduation.

 “Come on, Sanada. Bedroom. This way.” They managed to stumble their way through without injury. However, as they entered the room, Sanada tripped on the corner of the door, and landed in a heap of disheveled limbs on top of the other boy.

 “Ouch,” said Yukimura rubbing at his head, which had thudded hard again the floor.

 “Can you get off me? You’re kind of heavy, Sanada.” Unable to hold back anymore, Yukimura burst into soft chuckles. It was not every day you Rikkaidai’s star player drunk and uncoordinated flailing all around like this.

 Sanada most definitely did not get off. He had a serious expression as he peered almost cross-eyed in concentration into Yukimura’s face.

 “Sanada?” The atmosphere had become charged with tension. He did not respond. Instead Sanada’s expressions softened into one of wistful sadness.

 “Will you miss me?” He whispered so gently Yukimura barely made out what he was saying. The words struck a painful place in Yukimura’s heart and he found his heart throbbing painfully. In a drunken trance, Sanada towered over the other boy so their faces were barely an inch apart. Suddenly Sanada dropped his head into the other’s chest. Yukimura sat up slowly, gently cradling the other towards him in warm embrace, fingers brushing through his hair.

 Soothed by the gentle treatment, Sanada drifted into a dreamless sleep only to forget all he had said by morning. Yukimura continued to hold the other close to him, an unreadable expression on his face.

 Renji leaned against the wall of the Dojo training center, cursing himself and his two best friends inwardly. He watched Sanada practice the movements with his sword with the utmost precision and accuracy as his tennis.

 Finally, the other stopped. He wiped a droplet of sweat off his face with his shoulder. Renji kicked off the wall and walked over.

 “Nice practice there.” He said nonchalantly.

 “Renji? What are you doing here?” The other could tell by the tone in his voice he was tense over something.

 “On a plan that is highly likely to be fruitless.” Sanada raised an eyebrow. Renji let out a sigh.

 “Don’t go to the European program.” He said finally. Sanada narrowed his eyes.

 “I’m going. My mind is already made. I’ve said that very clear.” His voice was the epitome of resolve.

 “Listen to yourself. You’ve only made the choice after Yukimura said it was a good idea. Could you really leave the person, whom you have centered your life on?”

 “That may be true, but the little I can do I will. Even if I never get over my feelings, I still have the freedom to leave it all behind.”

 “With who? Atobe Keigo?” Yanagi made his disapproval clear.

 “Yes,” Sanada defended his boyfriend, “Why do you hate him so much anyways?”

 “Because though he’s arrogant, he’s insightful enough to know when to intervene and play opportunist.”

“What are you talking about?” Even after all these years, Sanada could not understand Renji’s cryptic references when he spoke like this.

 “Have you ever wondered why Seiichi was so distant with everyone, especially you, the year he fell sick?” Sanada had tried hard to keep those unhappy memories buried.  

 “I thought it was because I did not lead us to victory at the Kantou championships. He lost his trust in me”

 “Seiichi blames himself for that more than anyone else. He felt tremendous guilt for the pressure he placed on you after his illness. He saw the way you struggled to hold everything together, the desperate measures you resorted to just to keep your promise to him.”

 “Both of you are very similar. Incredibly strong and incredibly self-reliant,” Yanagi said with a touch of fondness.

 “I don’t understand.”

 “When you got with Atobe, any other friend, no matter the relationship, would have felt heavily betrayed.” Sanada’s mind raced and his heart leapt in his throat. “But Yukimura was always encouraging because he wanted to know you could be happy apart from him.”

 “I knew,” Renji injected emphatically, “Heck, even Atobe knew the only way he got with you was because Yukimura wanted it to help you.”

 “Exactly, he felt burdened by me.” Sanada thought he had hardened himself from the sensitivity but coming to the realization that the one he loved set him up with someone else twisted something deep within him. “That day I kissed him, he told me he could never love me like that.”

 “You’re wrong. Seiichi loves you. Not as a brother. More than a friend. He loves you the way you love him. That is why he wants to provide the path with the least amount of trouble for you, even if it hurts him more than anything.” Renji was speaking but the words were like noise without sound.

 “Have you wondered why he’s not told us what he’ll do after graduation? Any player with half his talent would have had his pick of sponsorships to play pro.” Renji had become curious half way through senior year, wondering why Yukimura refused to let them know a single detail about what he would do after graduation. He finally understood after getting past security to access the notes on his profiles from the sponsorship companies.

 “He was born with a ticking time bomb. The time he has is limited. Any second, he may suffer a relapse. Because of his condition, most sponsors would not take even a second glance at him. Relapse could mean a permanent paralysis or even—,” Renji’s throat closed up suddenly. The unspoken words were understood. Sanada reflected on his past conversations with Yukimura and how he had always managed to remain cryptic in responses for plans of the future.

 Before he knew it, he was dashing out the door, Renji’s indecipherable shouts ringing in his ears.