#her diamond mind is pretty neat

[fr3akinthecorner]

why can't u love me the way ur supposed to? you're supposed to do everything to help your mommy excuse me? daddy doesn't need help i don't even have a mother ok so fuck me back then! i'm making all of your clothes i tjoight mt st helens was? he's a bad guy don't talk to him why? bc he's obsessed with your body it's like really scary do u believe him? it's mt st helens yes i believe him but why should i care? god! ur always asking us that question well no she is never working ever again except for being a fan fiction writer thank god tumblr wants to pay her family some extra money ok so the magee crest says u must call it's phone number the magee crest is an honor and a privilege please use it wisely why did i get it? for your hard work hey the hawaiian daddy fucking codes want to turn on now! theve never turned off jesus christ said they will feed her every holiday she has no class!.yes she does irs lava magma she is the perfect girl ok so cjanhee apologizes and says that your diary is very interesting wait a second this is her diary? not a manga? yes! ok so what the fuck are we doing she must always have a cell phone lava mcgee wants to fuck her now keeho says hahaha that she made that manga character up first! no way?! it's the manson family we don't want to scare u bur rhe brides of horror are locked out of your universe she said that she knew u were south korean hey! daddy is south korean too ok daddy do u believe me? thay u are too? no I don't ok well I did something and you're filipina and thia not mixed ok good ok so no she still.looks mixed! no she doesn't! she looks like she is from hawaii well we want her to know that William shakespeare took.her put of romeo with romeo eterni but thay she still can't see the sun for 28 yrs dear god.who did that? keeho what?! I was mad at her u are crazy! lock him away! never! he is romeo ok so not by birth but yes I am romeo and it's interesting you're getting so good at sex yes she is! that's my baby but I don't like her I hate her that's because you're buddha oh ok so it will pass? no you're fuxking buddha pk ao what so I so? call off the nonsense BDO they have done nothing doe u ok ahes getting tired stop

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Tabito Karasu has been in love with you for almost as long as he can remember. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like you have any intentions of reciprocating, considering you’ve only ever seen him as a child — and, more importantly, as your best friend’s little brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Part Two | Otoya Version

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Total Word Count: 41.6k

Content Warnings: reader is older than karasu (by like two years so it’s nbd but it exists), no blue lock au, bratty baby karasu, jealous karasu, slow burn, childhood friends, i have no idea how to write kids just deal w it, karasu’s older sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘karasu’s older sister’ the entire time), reader gets drunk at one point, karasu the goat of pining, yukimiya and otoya mentions ⁉️

A/N: yes this is inspired by the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious but has barely anything to do with it. yes this is probably the longest karasu fic you will ever read as of its publishing date (word count is not a typo it fr is that long). yes reader and karasu are fuck ass little kids for half of the fic. i have nothing to say for myself except that i love karasu so much and i cannot be stopped…also tumblr is an opp so i had to split this into two parts EEK i’m sorry!!

In a sea of bright, patterned umbrellas, only one was dark and plain. It was wide, the practical sort, all but dwarfing the girl who held it as she hurried along to the covered entrance of the school, her shoulders hunched against the wind and her steps brisk. You thought that she seemed small for your age, like a particularly strong breeze might blow her away entirely, and strangely gloomy, though this might’ve been an effect of the weather and not her personality.

Your own umbrella was cheery, a pink-striped thing that announced its presence in a most domineering way and clashed with the shades of orange and teal and green around it. You had found it pretty when your parents had given it to you, but now you were much more taken with the sole matte black one that wove in and out of the crowd, the clear raindrops resting on it like diamonds.

By the time you were past the cherry trees lining the parking lot, you had lost the girl and her black umbrella alike. It should’ve been impossible, considering what an anomaly it was, but then again that color was like a shadow, blending in unless one looked for it very carefully, and sometimes even then.

You would’ve worried, but you had bigger problems to be preoccupied with — namely, it was your first day of elementary school, and you had no idea what to expect. Setting the girl out of your mind, you used your free hand to fiddle with the name tag on your breast pocket, ducking under the roof before closing your umbrella and shaking the excess water off of it. Then you scurried after an older student who seemed like they knew where they were going, following them until you found yourself in a corridor you recognized from the tour you had taken with your parents prior to the start of the year.

In the classroom, there was a shelf where you could put your wet umbrellas in neat rows. You didn’t see any rhyme or reason to how they had been arranged, except that everyone had avoided putting theirs beside the dull, dark umbrella that you had admired. Glancing around at the rest of your classmates, who had already grouped themselves into loose clusters based on their seats, you set your umbrella beside the black one. For some reason, the pink stripes at that angle resembled frowns; you found it suitable, then, that those two were the only ones on that shelf. They seemed to go together, depressed and angry in turn.

Although you had not seen the girl’s face, you recognized her immediately. She sat apart from everyone else, her spindly limbs held close to her body, her heart-shaped face dominated by a pair of sapphire eyes, hair like an oil spill pulled into a high ponytail that cascaded down her back like tail-feathers. At first glance, she was unassuming, and at second she was entirely off-putting, but you were contrarian enough to take a third, and it was only then that you realized she was actually magnetic in a way, her lips pulled into a serene smile, her irises lively and brows high with interest.

“Hello,” you said, taking the seat beside her. “I’m Y/N L/N.”

It was the radical thing, what you had done in willingly isolating yourself from the others, but you found that you had no interest in those shallow peers of yours, who had not bothered to look at a person three times and see the truth of their being. This girl, with her black umbrella and her keen gaze and her bird-like countenance, was the only one in the entire room you wanted to befriend.

“Are you talking to me?” she said. Her accent was more pronounced than yours, which resembled the one of your Tokyo-born parents’ far more than it did the rougher cadences that most people in the region spoke with. The boisterousness of her voice contrasted sharply with her frail appearance, though to charming effect, and it warmed you to her even more.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Karasu,” she said. “Yayoi Karasu. Good to meet you, too, L/N.”

Karasu. She was a crow, and as pretty and sharp as one, too. It was more fitting of a name than it ought to be, and you nodded, because your childish mind liked when things made sense, could be categorized into labeled boxes. Black umbrella. Blue eyes. Crow-wing hair. Yayoi Karasu.

“Let’s be friends,” you said, and maybe it was a blunt, straightforward request, but she did not seem to mind it.

“You want to be friends with me?” she said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you said. She shrugged, bony shoulders brushing against her earlobes from the jerky motion.

“Don’t know. Just doesn’t seem like the others want to,” she said.

“The others are stupid. They’ll feel bad about it later, but by then we won’t need them,” you said.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s be friends, L/N.”

“If we’re friends, then you can call me Y/N,” you said.

She grinned, wide and gleaming. “Only if you call me Yayoi. Just Yayoi.”

When you got home that night, the first thing you did was race to the living room, where your mother was sitting, knitting needles stationary in her hands as she watched a drama.

“Mama!” you said, jumping onto the sofa beside her, tugging on her sleeve until she paused her show and looked at you. “Mama, I made a friend today.”

“Did you? How exciting! What’s their name?” she said.

“Yayoi Karasu, but she said I can just say Yayoi ’cause we’re friends,” you said.

“That’s wonderful,” your mother said. “Do you want to have Yayoi over sometime?”

“Hm, yes, I think so,” you said, already envisioning how fun it would be to play with her outside of school. You supposed you didn’t know much about what she liked to do, but you doubted it was anything you wouldn’t also enjoy, so there wouldn’t be a problem. There couldn’t be — the two of you were friends, and there were never problems between friends.

Within two weeks came an invitation, made before you could extend your own. The Karasu family wanted you to come over, and though your parents wished they had asked first, they did not mind that you were going, especially considering how elated you were when you relayed the news.

It was a short walk to Yayoi’s house, or perhaps it was that you were so excited which shortened the distance; either way, it hardly took any time at all before you and your mother were at their doorstep. You hid behind her leg when she knocked, suddenly timid, although you had no reason to be.

The woman who answered the door resembled Yayoi greatly, though she was fuller and taller and exuded an air of great confidence. She could only be Yayoi’s mother, and you wondered if this was the kind of person Yayoi would grow up to be.

“Are you Mrs. Karasu?” your mother said. The woman nodded, gesturing you into the home invitingly.

“Yes! You must be Mrs. L/N — Y/N’s mother?” she said.

“That’s right. Y/N, please say hello to Mrs. Karasu,” your mother said.

“Hello, Mrs. Karasu,” you said, your voice catching in the back of your throat. She had the same voice as Yayoi, the same exuberance to her words and geniality to her tone, but coming from her, it was almost intimidating.

“Yayoi should be in the playroom — down that hallway, the first door on your left. I’m surprised she didn’t come to the door to greet you; your visit is all she’s been able to talk about for the entire week,” Mrs. Karasu said.

“Y/N, too,” your mother said affectionately. You left them to speak in the kitchen, darting in the direction Mrs. Karasu had indicated, ducking into an appealingly decorated playroom.

The walls were painted pale yellow, and there were colorful bins stacked in the corners, labels written on them in black marker which detailed what their contents were. There was no sign of Yayoi, but in the center of the room, surrounded by a rainbow of blocks, was a little boy holding a model train in his hands.

He had the same hair as Yayoi, though while hers was sleek and flat, his stuck up every which way, a bitter warning to those who might’ve tried to tame it. His cheeks were rounder than hers, and his eyes were darker, the same deep shade as mulberry stains, but there was undeniably a resemblance between the two.

Though he was quite taken by the train he was playing with, he looked up when you opened the door to the room, and then he cocked his head, thick eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Do you know where Yayoi is?” you tried, hoping he could understand you. He was obviously younger than you and Yayoi, though you were unsure by how much — a year? Two?

“Ya-yi?” he repeated, stumbling over her name endearingly.

“Yes, Yayoi,” you said. “Where is she?”

He hummed in a whimsical way which clearly meant he had no clue, and then he raised his hand with the toy in it, beaming at you.

“D’you like my train?” he said.

“Yeah, it’s a cool color,” you said, not wanting to hurt his feelings. As an only child, this sort of interaction was out of your realm of expertise, but for some reason, you had an urge to try your best.

“My favorite,” he said. “Light blue.”

“That’s a good favorite,” you said. “So. Are you Yayoi’s little brother?”

“Yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I’m Tabito. Who are you? Ya-yi’s friend?”

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “Yayoi’s friend from school.”

“Y/N!” he said, like your name was the greatest word he had ever learned. “Let’s play trains! Can you play trains with me? Can we please play trains?”

You frowned. You needed to find Yayoi, but it wasn’t like you could wander around their house aimlessly, and Mrs. Karasu knew you were in the playroom, so your best course of action was staying put until your friend found you. Then, if that was the case, there was really no harm in obliging him, even if you weren’t an avid train enthusiast.

“Sure, alright,” you said, sitting down across from him and holding your hand out. “Give me one.”

He blinked at you. “Get your own.”

“I don’t know where you keep them, so I can’t,” you said.

“Then, um, then you can build, okay?” he said, piling blocks into your waiting hands. “Make a bridge. Do you know what a bridge is?”

“Yes?” you said. He seemed delighted by this, his entire face glowing from the simple affirmation; eager to keep his spirits high, you pointed at a point on the carpet. “Can I build it here?”

“Um…okay,” he said. It didn’t seem like he was particularly keen on the notion, but you were out of ideas at that point, so you just shrugged and began to stack the blocks into something resembling the bridges you had driven past on trips to your grandparents’ respective homes in Tokyo.

Tabito was too busy rolling the trains around the playroom to supervise your attempts at construction, so you were left to your own devices, designing it in the way you saw fit. Right when you had deemed the structure finished and turned to ask him if he liked it, the door to the playroom slammed open and Yayoi bounced in, hugging a hamper to her chest.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, I went to get all of my toys from my room, but then I had to go to the bathroom, so that’s why I’m late,” she said.

“It’s okay,” you said.

“Ya-yi!” Tabito said. “You’re playing with your upstairs toys? Can I also?”

“No way!” Yayoi said, hiding the hamper behind her. “Go somewhere else and leave Y/N and I alone!”

His lower lip trembled, and then, though he had been so happy only moments earlier, he broke into wailing sobs, causing Yayoi to groan and face-palm. Within seconds, Mrs. Karasu had burst into the room, looking around and only calming when she realized you were all alright, or at the least uninjured.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“I told Tabito to leave Y/N and I alone and he just started crying!” Yayoi said.

“You should be nicer to your younger brother,” her mother reprimanded her, hands on her hips. “He’s still little. It’s up to you to be the bigger person in these kinds of disagreements.”

“I don’t wanna! He’s annoying! Can’t you take him away? We want to play with our toys now!” Yayoi said.

Tabito cried harder at this, hiccuping as Mrs. Karasu swept him into her arms with a sigh.

“Now, now, Tabito, don’t be upset,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe his teary cheeks. “Let’s go watch TV and let your sister play with her friend.”

“Okay!” he said, the tantrum dissipating as quickly as it had come. He rested his chin on his mother’s shoulder, waving a small hand at you as he and Mrs. Karasu rounded the corner, leaving you and Yayoi to play on your own.

“Finally,” Yayoi said. “Little brothers are the worst.”

“He made me build a bridge for his trains,” you said, pointing at your attempt at architecture. Yayoi giggled.

“That looks nothing like a bridge,” she said.

“I did my best,” you said. “How old is he?”

“He’s four,” she said. “And a total pain.”

“Really?” you said. Setting aside the fit he had had when Yayoi had demanded he leave, he hadn’t seemed like anything but a typical and cute little kid.

“You don’t get it because you don’t have to live with him, but he’s the worst,” she said. “And my mom always takes his side, too! It’s super unfair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Don’t you have any siblings?” she said.

“No, I’m an only child,” you said.

“Ah, that makes sense,” she said. “Anyways. Sorry you had to play with him.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said. “I didn’t mind.”

“Huh. Whatever; do you want to see my favorite stuffed animals?” she said.

“Sure!” you said. She dumped the contents of the hamper on the floor, and thus began your playdate, which mostly consisted of her introducing her toys to you and you clapping appropriately.

You were fairly certain Yayoi was a good friend — in fact, you supposed you could even call her your best friend, though you didn’t have many others who could’ve taken the position, so it was as much by default as it was out of any perceived loyalty. Even still, it was true that she was someone you were genuinely fond of, and who was genuinely fond of you in return, so the title was earned and not just awarded at random.

It was nice being with Yayoi. As you came to learn, she was more practical than gloomy and more shy than off-putting. Once those initial guards came down, she was as affable as anyone, or maybe even more so. Your prediction came true in another sense; now that your classmates, too, saw the truth of yours and Yayoi’s personalities, they began to seek you out in droves, trying to befriend you both, to bring you into their folds and mix you into their exclusive groups.

The two of you entertained these attempts, of course — neither of you were loners at heart, and indeed felt quite at ease amidst throngs of people — but in the end, you never strayed far from each other. It was a known fact that you and her were best friends, that where one of you went, the other would not be far behind, and so your peers quickly decided to go for a sort of joint-befriending strategy.

“L/N, Karasu, do you guys want to come to the park with us this weekend? My mom’s bringing snacks and stuff,” one of your classmates asked you. You had advanced a grade since you had all met for the first time, so in theory all of you had known one another for at least a year at this point, but all you could recall of the short, stocky boy was that his name was something like Akamine or Arakawa.

Typically, Yayoi would glance at you for confirmation, but today she rapidly nodded her head at the boy. Akamine? Arakawa? You wished that he would introduce himself so you were spared the embarrassment of asking.

“We’d love to, Aoyama. Thank you for inviting us,” she said. Aoyama. You had been astoundingly off the mark; silently thanking Yayoi, who had no doubt picked up on your struggle if not your distaste, you grunted.

“Sure,” you said. You had no great desire to go, not when this Saturday was supposed to be the first fair day after a week of rain. You’d rather spend it doing something of your own choosing, not playing in a park with people you hardly knew. But Yayoi was going, so you would, too, dutifully and without much complaint. “Though we’ll have to ask our parents first.”

It was just a formality. Neither Yayoi’s parents nor yours ever denied you from frolicking about with your school-friends, as long as you had done everything you needed to at home. In Yayoi’s case, it was that they were happy that she was coming out of her shell so rapidly, and for you, it was because your parents found it difficult to say no to you when you were their only and most beloved child.

As your mother’s weather app had predicted, there was sunlight on Saturday — gray and watery, to be sure, but it held fast in its patch of sky, its small corner of periwinkle which contrasted with the silvery lavender of the looming thunderheads threatening another storm in the near future.

You arrived at the park before Yayoi, and so you pretended to be famished, looking through the snacks that Aoyama’s mother had brought while you waited for her to come.

When she did, it was with an expression not too dissimilar to the clouds on the horizon on her face and a set of small fingers squeezed in between hers, their owner struggling to keep up with her furious, stomping pace.

“You brought Tabito?” you said when she reached where you were waiting. Her younger brother stood at her side, wearing a dark blue raincoat and a pair of black mittens, though it wasn’t that cold out. Someone — you could only assume his mother — had attempted to comb his hair back into something resembling a neat style, but they had mostly been unsuccessful, for it had not been tamed any.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Yayoi said, shooting the oblivious boy a dark glare. “My mom made me. According to her, it’s good for siblings to play together.”

“Look, Y/N,” Tabito said, pulling on your sleeve to get your attention and then opening his mouth wide, revealing a gaping hole in the row of his pearly upper teeth. “I lost my first tooth!”

“Did you throw it in the air?” you said.

“Of course,” he said, very self-importantly and more than a little derisively, as if you had been a fool to suggest otherwise.

“Good job,” you said. He was in his last year of kindergarten, and so he would soon join you and Yayoi at your school, which meant he was eager to learn everything he could from you in order to prepare for the momentous leap. This meant that there was not a person in the world who was a better listener than him; given, of course, that one was prepared to entertain his multitude of questions and did not find the curiosity to be a nuisance.

“Yayoi, can we go on the swings?” he said. He had, in the time you had known the two of them, accustomed himself to saying her name properly, though this was only a small consolation to the irritable Yayoi, who would rather he not say her name at all.

“Maybe later,” she said. “Right now, Y/N and I are going to play with our friends, but after that, we can go on the swings, okay? You just sit here and don’t get into trouble for a bit.”

For a moment, it seemed like he would argue, but around Tabito, Yayoi became a much bossier and more tyrannical version of herself, a version whose commands were impossible to deny, and so he only nodded.

“Come back quickly so we can swing,” he said beseechingly. Yayoi ruffled his hair, undoing her mother’s efforts entirely, and then she jutted her chin out in the direction of your classmates.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” she said.

“Do you think he’ll be okay if we just leave him there?” you said as you both walked towards where everyone was gathering on the slides.

“Yes, it’s not an issue,” she said. “He’ll be mopey for a bit, but that’s just the way of things. It’s his fault for getting upset when I said he couldn’t come with me and involving our mom in it! If he wanted to swing, he should’ve just waited until tomorrow when I said the two of us could go by ourselves instead of insisting he wanted to come today and see all of my friends.”

“Aw,” you said. “It’s kind of sweet that he wanted to meet your friends.”

“Try stupid,” she said. “Do you think any of them, besides you, will really be nice to him? It would’ve been better if he just stayed at home, but I didn’t want my mom to get mad at me.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Well, you would know better, so don’t take me too seriously.”

“I wish we could swap places,” she said. “I’d love to be an only child, and obviously you want a younger brother, so it would make everyone happy if we could trade roles, don’t you think?”

“You’d be sad if you didn’t have a sibling,” you said. “It’s a little bit lonely sometimes.”

“Seriously, you can have Tabito if you want,” she scoffed. “You’ll change your mind soon enough.”

She got carried away in a conversation with Aoyama after that. He was only too happy to oblige, although a needling sensation on the back of your neck alerted you to the fact that he was gazing at you all the while. You paid him no mind, though, preferring to observe everyone as they mingled about, waiting to see if anyone you could manage to tolerate would manifest.

Aoyama and his ilk were the sort of boneheaded future sports players that you least preferred. Normally, you were more outgoing than this, but in a group where you were so glaringly out of place, you withdrew into yourself, shrinking like a violet away from their brashness, which lacked a necessary amiability that would’ve made them far more approachable.

At one point, in an attempt to avoid Aoyama and his frequent stares, you glanced over your shoulder, pretending like you were checking on Tabito out of some sisterly duty. As an extension of Yayoi, it only made sense that you’d feel that same protective instinct for him, so no one questioned it when you muttered a quick farewell and made a beeline for where he was sitting.

Somehow, he had managed to stay in one place on the bench, his hands folded in his lap and his legs kicking in the air as he looked out at Yayoi forlornly. For some reason, he reminded you of a kitten which had been abandoned by its owner, so you stopped before him and poked him on the forehead to get his attention.

“Tabito,” you said. “Do you still want to go on the swings?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Is Yayoi coming?”

“Not yet,” you said. “But we can go together if you want.”

“You don’t want to play with your friends?” he said, hopping down from the bench and following you towards the swings anyways.

“Not really,” you said. “I’m only close with Yayoi anyways, and she’s busy with Aoyama at the moment.”

“Oh,” he said. It was an utterance filled with wisdom, or maybe that was just the impression he was trying to give off. Yet you earnestly believed at that moment that, despite his age, he understood what you meant when you said that, so you chose to think that it was the former.

“Do you need help getting on the swing?” you said when you reached the swing set.

“No, I can do it!” he said. “Watch, watch!”

He executed an inexplicable series of maneuvers that you could neither replicate nor even fathom, but somehow it ended up with him sitting squarely on the swing, his pale-knuckled hands gripping the chains tightly.

“Wow,” you said. “That was cool. Are you ready?”

“Yup!” he said. You pushed his back lightly, sending him soaring into the air, and the two of you continued in that manner for a while. It was meditative in a way; your mind was blank and the world was silent, save for the whistling of the wind. You didn’t have to care about what your annoying classmates would say next, or whether they were named Akamine or Arakawa or Aoyama or whatever.

If Tabito was your little brother, you’d take him to the playground every single day, and you’d push him on the swing for as long as he wanted. You were overcome with a sickening wave of jealousy for Yayoi, who could’ve done that but never did, and you wondered if this was how she felt towards you. Was it really that no one could ever just be satisfied with what they had? If you had been born with a sibling, would you have detested them as surely as Yayoi did Tabito?

There was another roll of thunder, louder and nearer this time than the last. A fat droplet of rain landed on your nose, and when Tabito next came closer to you, you caught him so that he would stop.

“What happened?” he said. “I want to keep swinging.”

“It looks like it’s about to start raining earlier than we thought,” you said. There was another droplet of rain, and then another, and another, in quicker and quicker succession until there was a verifiable deluge coming down. Tabito slid off of the swing, his left hand in your right as he pulled the hood of his raincoat up.

“Tabito!” It was Yayoi, running towards you and shouting frantically. “Y/N!”

“Yayoi, we should go!” you said as she skidded to a stop in the mulch bed of the swing set. She nodded, her eyelashes already clumping together, water trickling down her forehead. Grabbing Tabito’s other hand, she used her arm to cover her head, and you mirrored her actions, though it didn’t do much in the way of keeping you dry.

“My house is closer!” she shouted over another crack of thunder. All of you took off at a sprint, splashing through rapidly forming puddles without abandon as you raced towards her house, dragging Tabito along with you.

There was a sort of euphoria to it, and indeed you were all laughing as you went, despite the terror you felt with every new stroke of lightning. Tabito made sure to bring down his feet extra hard in the puddles, much to yours and Yayoi’s collective chagrin, as you were continuously sprayed with mud from his actions, but it was hard to tell him to stop when he was enjoying himself so thoroughly.

The three of you collapsed in the Karasus’ foyer right before the drumming beat of the rain increased even more, locking the door behind you and gasping for breath as you recovered from the exhausting run, Tabito sprawled atop Yayoi and your head leaning against her shoulder.

“I’m glad we’re all alright,” Yayoi said, hugging her brother tightly. He squirmed in her embrace, which only prompted her to squeeze him tighter until he yelled in protest.

“You three are a mess!” Mrs. Karasu said. Either the shutting of the door or Tabito’s shout had summoned her; regardless, she looked down at the set of you in fond disapproval, tugging you all to your feet. “By the time I’m done calling Y/N’s parents and letting them know where she is, I expect all of you to be washed up and in fresh clothes!”

You all exchanged glances before running up the stairs, shoving each other out of the way as you went, none of you wanting to be the last one to follow her directives, leaving behind wet footprints on the carpet wherever you stepped.

The next year, Tabito started primary school. For the most part, he walked to and from the building with you and Yayoi, holding onto his sister’s hand and listening to your conversations, frequently peppering his own interjections in. Every Wednesday, though, Yayoi had badminton club meetings, and you had art club, so he was left to walk by himself. Conversely, on Thursdays, he had soccer club — he was one of the youngest members, but he had been playing for two years at that point and could not fathom not joining the school team — which meant that you and Yayoi could dawdle as you wanted, walking at your own paces instead of the erratic one that Tabito often set.

That Wednesday, you were approached by Aoyama, who was a fellow member of the art club. He had neither the skill nor the aptitude for it, his paintings messy, the strokes of his calligraphy thick and runny, but no one could say he wasn’t determined. More than anyone in the entire club, he really tried his hardest, which was likely the sole reason he hadn’t yet been kicked out.

“Hey, L/N,” he said, jamming himself in between you and Yayoi as you walked to your afternoon classes. You sighed, having never found him agreeable despite how persistent he was. Yayoi gave him a dirty look; whatever friendliness she had had for him last year had long since vanished, replaced with the same disdain you held.

“Yes, Aoyama?” you said.

“Did you see art club’s canceled today?” he said.

“No, I didn’t. I haven’t had the chance to check the bulletin board. Did it say why?” you said.

“The teacher’s sick,” he said.

“I hope she gets better soon,” you said.

“Me, too,” he said. “I love the art club.”

“You sure do,” Yayoi said under her breath, earning an appreciative snicker from you and a perplexed look from Aoyama. She was privy to everything that happened in the art club courtesy of you; in exchange, she kept you updated about the goings-on of the badminton club, though these stories were decidedly less amusing, owing to the fact that most of the badminton club members were too dedicated to the sport to waste time with anything foolish enough to be entertaining.

Aoyama was bad at telling when he was unwanted, but even he could not deny that his presence was not required, and furthermore was an active impediment to your day. With a mumbled goodbye, he sped up so that he could reach your classroom before you and Yayoi, finally leaving you be once more.

“He’s so weird,” you said.

“Right?” Yayoi said. “Totally crazy. At least he was kind of helpful this time and only let you know that you don’t have art club today.”

“True, I was kind of scared he’d try to invite us to hang out with him again,” you said with a shudder. The corners of her eyes crinkled in sympathy.

“I think his birthday’s coming up. Do you think we’ll get invited to the party?” she said.

“I don’t know. Probably not. Girls and boys don’t go to each other’s birthday parties,” you said. “He might, though. It seems like he thinks we’re friends.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she said. “Are you just going to go home after school, then?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I have anything else to do,” you said. “Want me to walk with Tabito?”

“He’ll be alright if you don’t, but if you want to go that way, then it wouldn’t hurt,” she said. There were two routes you could take to get home from the school; one passed by the Karasu house, and the other was slightly shorter but in a different direction. Technically, you could’ve taken the second route today, but you didn’t mind walking for an extra minute or so to help out.

“Sure, I can do that. Do you think he’ll wait in the usual spot?” you said.

“Probably not. It’s not like he knows your meeting was canceled,” she reasoned. “But you should be able to catch up to him pretty quickly. He’s kind of distractible.”

It was true. Though he was a quick walker, Tabito was prone to stopping and staring at things which only he noticed, so it was hard to actually get to places in a reasonable time with him. That fact, combined with your comparatively longer strides, meant that even if he didn’t explicitly wait for you, you’d almost surely be able to walk most of the way home with him.

Students rolled out like an orderly tide the moment the bell rang, a veritable ocean of pressed shirts and dark shoes and jostling bags. Without an agreed-upon meeting point, it was impossible to find a person in the throng, and indeed you did not even attempt it, merely weaving through until the crowd began to thin as everyone dispersed, heading in different directions towards their respective homes and after-school activities.

It took you longer than you expected to find Tabito. He was standing in a patch of grass along the side of the road, his chin tilted up as he stared at a bird in wonder; it was so quintessentially him that you did not realize at first that something was wrong.

“Tabito!” you said cheerfully, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. “My art club meeting got canceled, so we can walk back — did something happen?”

The jewel-like shade of his irises threw the rosy rims around his eyes into further relief. His dark lashes were bunched together with wetness, and his cheeks were puffy. Though he fought it, his lower lip trembled, and he sniffed when he noticed you frowning.

“No,” he said.

“Obviously, something did,” you said matter-of-factly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” he mumbled.

“You can tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t make fun of you or anything,” you said. He shrugged stubbornly, shifting from foot to foot, gripping the straps of his backpack in his fists. You tried to think of what could’ve upset him. “Did you get yelled at in class?”

“No,” he said.

“Did you get in a fight with one of your friends?” you said.

“No,” he said.

“Hm. Has someone been messing with you?” you said. He was silent, but you knew you must’ve hit the mark because his cool facade — which was already terribly maintained in the first place — crumbled away entirely, his face falling and a small hiccup escaping him. “Oh, I see. You should’ve said something to Yayoi and I. Who is it? I'll yell at them.”

“It won’t help if you do,” he said quietly. “It’s better to just ignore them. I mean, it’s an average problem, so don’t make a big deal about it. They’ll probably go away after a while.”

“But it isn’t fair for you to have to deal with that on your own,” you said. “It’s not like it’s your fault. People like that just pick on whoever they have the chance to pick on. There’s those kinds of kids in my grade, too. Like you said, it’s common, but that doesn’t mean you have to accept it.”

“If you say something, it’ll just be worse the next time,” he said. “They’ll go away if I don’t pay attention to them. It’s not like I even care what they say. It doesn’t matter to me.”

When you pretended to look at the road, he brought up his forearm, rubbing his sleeve against his eyes in the moment where there was no one to notice. You saw it, but you did not bring it up, recognizing that it was something he’d rather not discuss.

“Alright,” you said as you set out towards his house. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“But if you change your mind, or if you’re ever having another problem, I hope you know I don’t mind helping,” you said. “Think of me as another Yayoi.”

“You’re not like Yayoi,” he said.

“Well, no, of course not,” you said. “I can be like an older sister for you, though, the way she is. Do you get it now?”

“I don’t want you to be an older sister for me,” he said crossly, kicking a piece of stray gravel across the road. “And I won’t have any other problems.”

The only way to tame his unruly hair was with wax, which made it as stiff as a board and completely impossible for you and Yayoi to ruffle it the way you used to. You had to settle for poking him in the cheek; considering it irritated him no less, it was a worthy substitute.

“Are you trying to be all grown up just because you’re in elementary school now? You’re still a little kid, so no need to act tough,” you said.

“I’m not a little kid!” he whined.

“Sure,” you said.

“I’m not! I’m only two years younger than you, it’s not a lot!” he insisted. You grinned at him.

“It is a lot. You just started elementary school, and this is my third year here. That means I’m way more experienced than you, so you should look up to me,” you said.

He folded his arms across his chest, grumbling something to himself that he wouldn’t dare vocalize to you, all thoughts of whoever had been bothering him earlier vanished. Maybe it wasn’t the best method of cheering him up, but though his mood had not improved, at least it had changed. That was the best you could do, so as he held onto your hand while you crossed the street, you congratulated yourself on the small victory.

As Tabito continued through primary school, two things became evident: one, he was uncannily smart, his eerily observant nature lending itself to a genuine academic prowess that one could consider exceptional, and two, because of his pride in this ability, he refused to ask anyone for assistance, no matter how hard he was struggling.

“It’s so dumb,” Yayoi told you one day at recess, scrubbing at a graphite stain that someone else had left on her desk. “He’s totally lost with long division, but whenever my parents or I offer to help him, he gets super mad at us. Even my grandma tried! Although she doesn’t really remember much about mathematics, so I don’t know what the point was there…”

“He’s always been the independent type, though,” you said. “It’s not a surprise.”

“It’ll be a surprise when he does terribly on his next test,” she said. “Considering how things have been going as of late and how badly he’s been doing on his homework assignments.”

You swept stray eraser bits littering the floor into a neat pile and then gathered them in a dustpan, pouring them into the trashcan Yayoi had dragged over for your convenience, thinking this over.

“I can try helping him,” you said. “You have badminton club today, right? So it’ll just be us two walking home. I can ask him if he wants me to explain it.”

Unlike the previous year, when both of your clubs had met on the same day, Yayoi’s badminton club meetings were now held on Thursdays. This was because the previous club supervisor had stepped down, and the sole teacher willing to fill the vacancy was only free on that day.

“Good luck with that,” Yayoi said.

“Tabito’s my buddy,” you said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

Likely due to your closeness with Yayoi — you had been each other’s best friends for going on four years now, after all — you had built up some kind of relationship with her little brother, who was usually present whenever you went to see her. Most of the time it felt like he was your sibling, too, and certainly he was one of the few kids his age that you could tolerate without looking down on too much.

“Yayoi mentioned you’ve been having some trouble with long division,” you said that afternoon. It was a pleasant day, the vast blue of the sky unmarred by clouds, except for a few which were so fleecy and eggshell-pale that almost no one could be offended by them. The season was spring, and soon it would be unbearably hot, but for now, it was lovely and breezy and you were content with things as they were.

“She’s making it up,” Tabito said.

“Really? That’s great,” you said. “I always found long division super difficult. I had to have my parents explain it to me a few times before I got it.”

He eyed you warily. “You did? I thought you were good at school. Yayoi always says you’re the smartest person in your class.”

“I don’t know about being the smartest person in the class or anything, but I’m pretty good at school, yeah,” you said. “I mean, I always get full marks on my exams, don’t I? That’s because I don’t feel shy about asking for help when I need it. Isn’t it better to deal with problems when they first happen? Because if you wait too long, you’ll only get more and more lost; then, you’ll need even more help than if you had just gotten it out of the way at the start.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“If you don’t want Yayoi or your parents to help you, then I don’t mind doing it. We finished cleaning early in recess, so we got our homework done then, and my parents won’t mind if I stay at your house for a little bit,” you said.

“Okay!” he said eagerly. You were taken aback; you had fully believed that he’d take more convincing than just that, but here he was, as excited as anything, all but rejuvenated at the prospect. Perhaps it really was that relieving to be given the permission to ask for help as well as a method to receive it. “After you help me, can we play together?”

You didn’t necessarily want to play with him, but he said it with such wide, shimmery eyes that you could not help nodding in agreement. You weren’t quite sure what playing with him entailed, but you doubted it would be anything difficult, and you supposed you didn’t have much else to do that afternoon, so it wasn’t as if it was some great sacrifice.

Tabito and Yayoi’s grandmother was the only other one who was home at that time, so you and Tabito spread out your things on the dining table without worry, taking out pencils and graph paper so that you could discuss the issue at hand.

“What part are you having difficulty with?” you said.

“Um,” he said. You waited, but he only twirled his pencil in one hand, training his gaze on the blank sheet of paper.

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t explain it,” you said. “I won’t make fun of you.”

“You promise?” he said.

“Yes, I promise,” you said.

“All of it,” he said. “The teacher explained it too quickly.”

“That’s okay,” you said kindly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, I’ll show you, and if it’s too fast, then tell me so I know to slow down.”

Thankfully, he was quick on the uptake, and within a few minutes, he was able to complete the practice problems on his homework without any hassle or intervention from you. You were glad to see the ease with which he approached the things he had been struggling with only moments previously, finding that his success was also yours, in a way.

He continued working until his entire sheet was filled out, and then he snapped the book shut and shoved it back in his bag. You did the same, clearing the table of the mess you had made and packing your own bag with your supplies.

“You didn’t forget that you’re going to play with me, right?” he said. You put your folder into the back pocket of your backpack and shook your head.

“No, but I don’t want the table to be disorderly if your parents come back from work early or if your grandmother needs it for something,” you said. He seemed suspicious, snatching your bag from you once he could tell that you were finished putting everything into it.

“I’ll put it with mine,” he informed you. “You can take it once we’re done playing.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, bemused. He ran up the stairs, a backpack hanging off of each arm, and returned with the same speed he had left with, a net in his hands. You gave him a confused look at the odd choice in toys. “What’s that for?”

“It’s springtime, so we can catch bugs,” he said, unlatching the back door. You made a face, having no interest in bugs, but you had said that you’d play with him already, so with a sigh, you traipsed out into the Karasus’ backyard with him.

Fortunately, Tabito was pretty flexible with his definition of playing. He wandered around, capturing bugs and bringing them to you so you could see, but for the most part he left you to sit under one of their flowering trees, leaning against the trunk and closing your eyes in something that was not quite sleep but was very close to it.

The blossoms perfumed the air so that it was sweet and fresh, and the shadows of the tree-boughs were lacy and delicate on your face. Petals fell into your hair and against your skin, and a soft wind murmured through the grass, swearing a million hushed things to you, things that you could only decipher at this edge of consciousness.

You realized dreamily that it had been quite some time since you had been jostled awake by Tabito, who up until that point had been quite steadily displaying his catches — which were mostly of the mundane, garden variety — to you with great flourish. Wondering what he was doing, you fluttered your eyes open, only to find him standing a few steps in front of you, his net loose at his side, wearing an expression of awe the likes of which you had never seen on anyone before, least of all him. When you opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, he shook his head rapidly.

“Shh,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll scare it.”

“What?” you said. “Scare what?”

“Oh, no,” he said as his statement came true, the butterfly which had been resting on your nose taking wing at the sound of your voice. You gasped, for you had thought the brush of its legs to be nothing but flowers shaken loose from their branches, and your hand flew to your face, fingers grazing over where it had been sitting only moments previously.

The butterfly had wings the same blue-violet color as Tabito’s eyes, framed with black and interspersed with pale spots. It floated away lazily and easily, dipping back towards you once before disappearing into the sky for good, flying somewhere far out of your reach. You both watched it go in silence — for some reason, it didn’t feel right to speak in that moment, as if you would interrupt something very sacred and precious if you did.

“That was a great purple emperor,” he said after a while. “Sasakia Charonda. It’s the national butterfly of Japan.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” you said, your heart racing, though you had no clue why.

“They usually stay up high,” he said. “That’s what the book Yayoi gave me said. Apparently, they only come down if they’re looking for food.”

“What do they like to eat?” you said. Insects were his interest at the moment; he jumped from topic to topic, reading as much as he could about one subject and then moving on to another when he grew bored. Yayoi found it frustrating when he began to talk about whatever he was fixated on at the moment, but you liked to indulge him when you could. After all, you would give anything to have someone who would listen to you, but if you could not have that, then you would at least like to be that person for another. For him.

“Sap and nectar and fruit juice, I think,” he said. “They prefer sweet things.”

You smiled. “It must have found me sweet, then, for it to have stayed there for so long.”

You couldn’t understand why, but his cheeks turned pink like the flowers blooming overhead, and then he spun on his heel and stormed inside without further response, leaving you to look back up at the sky and wonder if you’d ever see that butterfly again.

At twelve years old, you and Yayoi graduated elementary school alongside the rest of your peers. It was the biggest moment of your lives up until that point, a cause of terror as much as celebration. Junior high would be an entirely different experience than the one you had grown accustomed to, and the only consolation was that you both were attending the same one, so you would have each other’s company through the transition and beyond.

The graduation ceremony was short, with the principal giving a speech and then leading the parents in a round of applause for your achievements. Your mother and father sat beside Yayoi’s; Tabito was there, too, in between his grandmother and a man who bore a resemblance to your classmate Aoyama.

Tabito was ten now, and he was entirely contrary, doing the exact opposite of whatever he was told. It was especially so when the one telling him to do something was a person he was related to — namely, Yayoi, who frequently gave up and begged you to boss him around for her instead. He was less reluctant to follow your commands, though this might’ve been because you phrased them more as requests than anything.

He had not mentioned it outright, but given his amenability as of late, you sensed that he’d miss you and Yayoi once you began to attend junior high. It’d mean he was left alone, after all, left alone where once he had had you two as his companions. He was old enough now that you did not worry as much — if anyone tried to bother him the way they had when he was younger, you were assured that he’d manage them without breaking a sweat, but still, just because he did not need you and did not acknowledge it did not mean that he did not want you there.

His bored expression vanished when he met your eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting as he raised his hand in a shy wave. You could not wave back, not when you were supposed to maintain your composure onstage, but you dipped your chin ever-so-slightly in acknowledgement, scrunching your nose at him when you were sure your teacher was not looking.

As soon as the ceremony was completed, you filed off of the stage to meet your families outside. The moment your principal dismissed you, you took off towards your parents, leaping into your mother’s arms with a squeal.

“You did it!” she said.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” your father said, the lines of his face deepening from the force of his grin. “We’re so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe it,” you said. “Yayoi and I are going to go to middle school next year.”

“Both of you are going to do amazing,” your mother said.

“That’s for certain,” your father agreed. “Did you want to go talk to the Karasus? I’m sure that boy of theirs wants to say hi.”

They exchanged one of those looks that you were frustratingly aware of but could never interpret, and then they ushered you towards where Yayoi was standing with her family.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Karasu said when she noticed you. “Wonderful job, honey. We’re all so happy that you and Yayoi are going to continue to go to school together!”

“It’s true, we were just talking about it,” Mr. Karasu said. “It’s a lucky thing.”

“Isn’t it? And lucky for us, too, I’d say,” your father said. Mr. Karasu chuckled, slapping your father on the back in agreement. Thanks to you and Yayoi, your parents had become close, and indeed your fathers often claimed that they were each other’s ‘only friends.’ They were as glad as you were that you would not be split apart. After all, you doubted they could handle meeting new people and befriending them after so long together.

Your parents began to reminisce over the days when you and Yayoi were younger, and when you looked for Yayoi, you saw that she was talking to her grandmother, who she had always been close with. This left you to glance around in search of someone else to speak with yourself, though unfortunately, you soon came to the realization that there were not so many options.

“Y/N.” It was Tabito standing in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the pavement periodically, far more interested in the plumes of dust it created than anything, his head inclined towards his feet instead of at you. “Good job.”

“Thanks!” you said, glad to have a conversation partner. “It’ll be you, soon. Just two years! Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to the same junior high school as you, though.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “Even if you did, it would only be for one year, and then we’d be graduating again. You should make the choice based on what’s right for you, not where Yayoi and I are.”

“What happens if you and Yayoi don’t go to high school together?” he said.

“Why are you already thinking about us going to high school? That’s so far away,” you said.

“I just wanna know,” he said. “Will you stop being friends with her?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “I’d have no reason to. Besides, if that happens, we’ll already have been friends for over nine years. It’s hard to abandon someone you’ve known for that long. Why do you ask? Are you worried that you’ll lose your friends when you graduate? You shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Yayoi,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You try to act all cool, but you’re actually a really caring little brother, you know,” you said. “It’s sweet of you to worry about her, but it’ll take a lot more than attending different schools to break us apart, and even if something like that happens, she’ll easily make more friends, so it’s no cause to stress.”

“That’s not—”

“L/N, hey!”

Whatever Tabito was going to say was cut off by the arrival of your fellow art club member, Aoyama. He grabbed you in a hug before you could react, squeezing you in a vice grip that was impossible to escape from. You patted him on the back awkwardly until he let you go, though his fingers remained on your upper arms and he stayed leaning close to you.

“Hey, Aoyama,” you said. “Congrats on graduating.”

“You, too,” he said. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Yayoi’s little brother,” you said. Aoyama squinted at Tabito before nodding.

“I can see it — there’s definitely a resemblance. Hi, little Karasu! I’m Aoyama. I’ve been in the same class as your older sister and L/N here for the past few years,” he said. The way he introduced himself made it seem as if the three of you were particularly close, but indeed, other than your weekly art club meetings, neither you nor Yayoi had interacted much with the boy in the past couple of years.

“Hi,” Tabito said stiffly.

“He’s two years younger than us,” you added, in an attempt to smooth over Tabito’s surliness.

“That’s it?” Aoyama said. “He looks so small.”

“I’m not small!” Tabito said, but considering how much shorter he was than you and Aoyama, it wasn’t that convincing. He must’ve realized this, as his face grew red and his shoulders dropped, his lips drawing into a childish pout.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” Aoyama said. “Yayoi’s pretty tiny, too.”

“Well, it was good to see you, Aoyama,” you said, sensing that the conversation might take a turn for the worse very soon. “We should probably get back to our families, so…”

“No problem! See you next year?” he said.

You had forgotten that Aoyama, too, would be attending the same junior high as you and Yayoi, along with a handful of your other classmates. Nodding slightly and placing a hand on Tabito’s shoulder to steer him towards Yayoi, you waved at Aoyama.

“See you next year! Let’s go, Tabito,” you said.

There was a sullen quality to the stomp of his feet, but until Aoyama was out of earshot, he did not say anything to explain it. The moment the boy was gone, though, Tabito was whirling to face you, looking up at you plaintively.

“Do you think I’m small?” he demanded. It seemed his pride, which he guarded so fiercely, had been wounded by Aoyama’s comment. Even if you found it silly, it wasn’t unreasonable when you thought about it, so you did not make fun of him.

“Of course, right now you are,” you said. “It’s only natural. Eventually, you’ll grow, and then you won’t be.”

“I’ll be super tall when I’m an adult,” he said. “Taller than that guy.”

“Aoyama?” you said.

“Whatever his name is,” he said. “I’ll be taller than him, and — and — and better at soccer, too!”

“He doesn’t play soccer, so you’re already better than him at it,” you said. “Even if he did, though, I bet you wouldn’t have to try to beat him. You’re really good.”

He grunted. “Thanks.”

Though he tried to disguise it, it was obvious that he was pleased by the compliment. There was a spring to his step and a sparkle to his eyes as you rejoined your families, and you knew that you had once again succeeded in cheering him up, as you often took it upon yourself to do.

During your next summer term break, Yayoi insisted on going to the pool with you. She had heard that the next unit in your Physical Education class was going to be swimming, so even though you had not been assigned the practice as a requirement, she wanted to take advantage of your natural aptitude at the activity and get some time in so that she wasn’t behind.

“What’s your secret?” she nagged you as you, she, and Tabito walked towards your junior high school’s main building. Because of the swimming club, the pool was left open year-round, and even outside of practices, members of the student body were allowed to utilize the pool for their own reasons. Tabito wasn’t a student, but since he was with you and Yayoi, there was a high likelihood that nobody would even notice; besides, hardly anyone ever used the pool at this hour, so all in all there wouldn’t be any issues.

“Secret to what?” you said.

“Being so good at swimming! I can’t believe you didn’t join the club,” she said.

“It’s just something I like doing for fun. If I had to do it for the school club, I’d probably end up hating it,” you said. “Anyways, I don’t know. There’s no secret to it. I just get in the water and do what the teachers tell us to.”

Even in elementary school, you had been given rudimentary swim lessons as a part of your Physical Education class, but middle school would take those lessons to a far more brutal extent, at least according to Yayoi’s sources from the badminton club. You weren’t worried, but whatever information she had heard from her upperclassmen had terrified her enough that she was convinced you needed to spend every spare minute you had in the water.

“That’s what I do, but it looks so much easier when you do it,” she said, scanning her student card and motioning for you and Tabito to follow her through the open door.

“I don’t know. Things always look easier when you’re watching another person do them,” you said. “I’m sure it’s just as hard for me as it is for you.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Do you like swimming, Tabito?” you said, taking off your shirt and pants, adjusting the straps of your bathing suit, which had twisted on the way to the pool. He had remained oddly quiet the entire time that you and Yayoi had been talking, which was out of character, considering he had been the one to insist on coming with you two.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I haven’t done it much before, so I don’t know.”

“Tabito’s afraid of the water,” Yayoi said. “He always cries when we go to the beach.”

“I don’t! Stop making things up, Yayoi,” he said. She snickered, already halfway down the stairs leading to the shallow end, the water licking around her thighs as she flopped backwards into the pool. As you had predicted, there was no one else there, so you had the entire area to yourselves, allowing you to be less focused in your efforts. Yayoi floated down the lane on her back, not even bothering to kick, her dark hair fanning out in a curtain around her waist, looking akin to a pair of unfurled wings fluttering in the wind.

“You so do,” she said. “I don’t know why you begged to come with us. I bet you won’t even go in the water, you chicken.”

“I am not a chicken!” he snapped, trailing after you like a shadow as you made your way over to the deep end.

“You definitely are,” Yayoi said. “Chicken, chicken!”

“Come on, Yayoi, that’s enough,” you said, stretching your arms and preparing to dive in. “It’s okay. He doesn’t have to swim if he doesn’t want to. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of the water, especially not given that he’s still in primary school.”

Tabito puffed his cheeks out. “I’m not scared of the water. Only babies are, and I’m not a baby. I’m gonna swim just like you.”

“How about we do it together, then?” you bargained. Although Yayoi liked to tease Tabito, she would not lie or make things up solely to bully him, which meant that he really was frightened of the water. And if that was the case, then it’d be foolish of you to leave him alone, especially if he couldn’t even swim, the way she had been hinting he could not.

“That sounds good,” he said. You took his hand in between yours, interlocking your fingers with his tightly, so there was no chance that he’d accidentally let go, and then you leapt into the pool, pulling him after you. He let out a shriek at the suddenness, but then you hit the water and he was cut off by the cold temperature and the tangy, burning taste of chlorine.

A rush of bubbles surrounded you, the coruscating clear-blue obscuring your vision, but even before they could burst away into nothingness, you were pushing off the pool floor, dragging Tabito behind you until you reached the surface and he could gasp for breath.

His legs wrapped around your waist as your own churned the water, treading it to keep the both of you afloat, and his fingers clawed at your shoulders, digging them into your skin hard enough to bruise. When he tucked his cheek to your pulse, you noticed that his breaths were coming in harsh, short pants, his entire frame trembling against yours.

“Tabito,” you said gently. “You’ll have to let go so I can swim to the shallow end.”

“I can’t,” he said. “If I let go, I’ll drown.”

“If you don’t let go, we’ll both drown,” you said. “I’m not strong enough to keep treading water forever, and I don’t think Yayoi could save us both if it came to it.”

You weren’t worried yet, but it was true that at some point, you’d get tired, and then you’d be in trouble. Yet you also knew you had to be soft, for it seemed his fear was far more paralyzing than you had anticipated, and if he began to genuinely panic, then he might accidentally drown you both.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his face hidden in the hollow of your collarbone. “I am scared.”

“I know,” you said, using one hand to stroke along his bony spine, the other swishing back and forth to assist your efforts in staying above the surface. “But sometimes, you still have to do things, even when you’re afraid.”

“I can’t do it, though,” he sniffed. “I can’t at all.”

“Is everything okay?” Yayoi shouted from the shallow end.

“It’s fine!” you called back, knowing that Tabito might rather drown than let her know of this weakness. “Tabito, listen, I’m not going to let you go. Even if you let go of me, I won’t do the same. Do you trust me when I say that?”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“Then prove it and leave me,” you said.

Slowly, almost painstakingly, he removed his arms from around you and drew his legs back. For the briefest moment, he was floating by himself, but before he could begin to flail around out of fear, you grabbed his arm, taking him along beside you as you swam to the shallow end where Yayoi was waiting.

As soon as he was able to stand, Tabito sprinted out of the pool, splashing up the stairs, shivering as he made a beeline for where his towel was waiting. You and Yayoi watched as he flopped into one of the chairs, curling up and draping the towel over his shoulders.

“Well, I guess he spent more time in the water than I expected,” Yayoi allowed. “That was a surprise.”

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders, which had tightened from the burden you had carried along the length of the pool. “He’s braver than you give him credit for.”

“Maybe around you,” Yayoi said. “I think he just wants to impress you, since you’re older and cooler.”

“It could be,” you said. “Though I doubt it. He’s known me for too long to think of me as worthy of impressing. It’s probably just because I’m nicer to him than you.”

“That’s just because you don’t see him every day. Trust me, if you did, you’d be even meaner than me. I’m told I’m quite patient,” she said. You flicked water at her.

“Our resident saint, Yayoi Karasu,” you said. She flicked water back at you with a mock-scowl.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, and then it was an all out war as the two of you endeavored to soak the other, forgetting about anything more important than the newfound game and the happiness it brought you.

When it finally came time for Tabito to graduate elementary school, there was a sort of melancholy in the air, though by all rights it should’ve been an exciting time. You had been asked to come to the ceremony by Yayoi, though she had confessed that it had been her brother who had actually wanted you there but was too shy to ask directly, and almost as soon as you sat down, you were aware of that feeling settled over all of the Karasus, even Tabito himself, though he was so far away on the stage.

Perhaps for their parents and grandmother, it was because their youngest was at this milestone. Never again would they have a child in elementary school; now, both of the siblings were older, nearer to adulthood than anything, but you doubted that that fact was congruent with the images they held of them as helpless infants. Even for you, it was peculiar to see Tabito standing on that stage when you still at times thought of him as that four year old boy who played with trains, so you assumed the effect was tenfold for his parents and grandmother, who had raised him since birth.

You weren’t so sure that it was the same for Yayoi, who had a different sort of glumness about her. She was sad for another reason, and as the principal droned on about the class’s achievements, you leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“What’s got you down?” you said.

“I’m not down,” she muttered. She would’ve fooled any other person, but you were not any other person, so you only elbowed her in the side.

“Yayoi,” you said under your breath in a sing-song voice. “Are you sad about Tabito graduating?”

“Why would I be sad about that?” she said.

“You tell me,” you said.

“It’s just hard to wrap my head around,” she said. “I always complain about him following me around and bothering me, but it’s just hitting me now that he probably won’t do that very much anymore. He’s going to go to a different middle school and make friends and want nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” you reassured her. “He’ll be less annoying about it, but he won’t just abandon you, at least not before you do the same to him. He’s bad at letting go of things unless you force him to.”

“I’d never abandon him,” she said.

“It’s not that you’d abandon him, but just think about it. In four years we’ll be headed to university, and he’ll still be in high school. Isn’t that kind of like you leaving him first?” you said.

“I don’t want to think about that,” she said after a minute.

“I get it,” you said. “It’s weird for me as well. Not him, but what if you and I don’t go to the same high school or university? What will I do without you?”

The changing of the seasons was what weighed on Yayoi, and consequently, on you. Tabito’s graduation was a reminder that the years did not stop for anyone, that you were all growing older with every passing day, and that one day things would not be so simple, the way they were right now. Of course, that day was far away, but then again, there had been a time when the day that Tabito left primary school, too, had been far away, and yet here you were, arriving upon it so soon.

The end of the ceremony was familiar to you, but this time you were on the opposite side, standing amongst the parents as they waited for their children to join them. You stood on your tiptoes, peering over Mr. Karasu’s shoulder in an attempt to spot Tabito when he came out. There wasn’t anyone else in his class who you knew; you had gone solely for him, and so it was only he who you searched for, counting the heads until he appeared.

He was one of the last ones to come out, talking to a few of his friends, though they all peeled off in different directions as they grew closer to you. Finally, by the time he reached the area where you, his parents, grandmother, and Yayoi were waiting, he was by himself, his hands shoved in his pockets as he braced himself for your reactions.

“Come here, Tabito,” his grandmother said, embracing him as tightly as she could given her frail body. “You’ve worked so hard, my grandson. You deserve everything good that’s bound to come your way.”

“Thank you, grandmother,” he said. There was this one thing about him — no matter how he acted around his peers, no one could ever say that he disrespected his elders, which was not always the case with those his age.

“How do you feel? You’re officially a middle schooler now!” Mr. Karasu said once his grandmother had let him go.

“Good,” he said. He was obviously squirmy and embarrassed at everyone’s attention being focused on him, so his mother only kissed him atop the head before releasing him to speak with you and Yayoi.

“Good going, Tabito,” Yayoi said, offering him her hand. He shook it firmly, much more at ease now that it was just the three of you. It was so typical as to be normal, despite the less-than-ordinary circumstances of the meeting, so it was impossible for any of you to be awkward.

“Thanks, Yayoi,” he said. She scoffed, making a big show of wiping her hand against her pants, which Tabito only rolled his eyes at.

“Whatever. Don’t forget that I’m going to a better junior high school than you, okay?” she said.

“It’s not my fault that your school’s soccer club sucks!” he said. “I’d have gone there if I could’ve.”

“More like you couldn’t get in,” she said. “Because you’re super stupid. I can’t believe you even managed to graduate in the first place. In fact, I only even congratulated you because I was so surprised by that fact.”

“Stupid? You’re the stupid one!” Tabito said.

“Nuh-uh, you didn’t even understand long division until Y/N explained it to you!” Yayoi said.

“That’s the only thing I was ever confused by, and I understood it as soon as she told me how to!” he said.

“Well, that just means Y/N’s a good teacher. It has nothing to do with how smart you are,” she said. You laughed.

“To be sure, I’m a good teacher, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. It’s his graduation, so we should be nice to him for today, don’t you think, Yayoi?” you said. She pouted.

“Just for today, I guess,” she said. “Fine. You’re not that stupid, Tabito.”

“You’re not that stupid, either,” he said. Coming from them, this was actually a stunning declaration of fraternal love, and you were taken aback that you had inspired it. However, upon further consideration, you supposed everyone was feeling sentimental by that point, so it wasn’t too hard to tease out.

“How far is your new school?” you asked him in an attempt to change the subject.

“Pretty far,” he said. “They have the best soccer club in the area, though, so it only makes sense for me to go there.”

“Are you going to have to try out?” you said.

“Of course. It’s not a guarantee I’ll get to play at all, especially in my first year, but just the fact that the chance is there is enough,” he said.

“That’s intense,” you said. You had stayed with the art club all throughout middle school, and though it was conducted with the same stringency as the sports clubs, there wasn’t as much of a competitive aspect to it. Anyone who wanted to join was allowed to, as long as they abided by the rules and regulations of the club, and such concepts as ‘trying-out’ were foreign to you outside of the stories Yayoi told you about her misadventures with badminton.

“It’s how it is in all sports clubs,” he said.

“True,” Yayoi said. “Remember my first year in the badminton club? It’ll be like that, only to a greater extent, since his school is known for soccer, so the club will be way more popular.”

“I don’t know how you guys do it. I could never; having to try out and possibly being denied the chance to do something I love would stress me out way too much,” you said. “But hey, Tabito, when you do get in — because I’m sure you will — invite us to your games so we can cheer you on, alright?”

“You’d really want to watch me?” he said.

“Why not?” you said. “I’m sure it’d be fun.”

“Eh,” Yayoi said. “Don’t be too sure. The games are kinda boring, to tell you the truth.”

“Nobody said you had to come!” Tabito said, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

“It’s not like I’d leave Y/N to suffer on her own just because she wants to be a supportive older-sister-figure. Obviously, I’d go,” she said.

“Aw, you’re the best, Yayoi,” you said.

“I try,” she said.

“Although, it’s kind of crazy that you’d go to support me but not him, when he’s the one actually related to you,” you pointed out.

“That’s because I like you more,” she said. “Not too crazy.”

“What happened to being nice to him on his graduation day?” you reminded her.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. “It had to be said, though.”

“Whatever,” Tabito said. “I don’t care if you’re there or not.”

“Wow, I see how it is,” she said.

“Just keep me posted,” you said. “As long as I’m not busy, I’ll go for sure.”

“I’ll tell you the moment I make the team. You’ll be the first person to know,” he said.

“Not even our parents?” Yayoi said.

“Obviously I wasn’t counting them!”

Either he was more talented than he let on, or more determined than the rest of his classmates, but regardless, mere months after the next school year began, you picked up a phone call that came from Yayoi’s phone but was made by another person entirely.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hello, Y/N? It’s Tabito. I’m using Yayoi’s phone to call you because I don’t have one of my own,” he said.

“Hi, Tabito. What’s up?” you said, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you filled out a worksheet for your science class.

“I made it onto the soccer team,” he said. The tone was casual, but there was energy brimming behind it, so you knew he was likely rocking back and forth on his heels in excitement.

“No way! As just a first year?” you said.

“Yeah, I’m the youngest member of the team. The others are all second and third years,” he said.

“That’s amazing! I knew you could do it,” you said.

“I was pretty nervous, but I just did the best I could at tryouts, and I guess they thought I fit in well with the team,” he said.

“Of course you do,” you said.

“So,” he said. “Our first game is in two weeks. On Saturday. Are you busy that day?”

“I don’t think so. I’m usually free on Saturdays, especially if I’m good about doing my homework on time,” you said.

“Will you come?” he said, spitting it out like it was something boiling and acidic on his tongue.

“To your game? Yeah, I already promised I would, didn’t I? Just send me the address and I’ll be there,” you said.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “See you later. And seriously, you should be proud of yourself. Getting into the club at your age is awesome.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll have Yayoi send you the address so you can meet her there. Um, but only if you want to.”

“I do want to,” you assured him. “Promise. Bye, Tabito.”

The day of the game was brisk and windy, almost like winter but not quite as punishing — the kind of weather where you could still just as easily grow too hot as too cold. All of the trees lining the street were bursting with colors other than the typical viridian, their leaves glimmering in the afternoon sunlight like ruby-studded crowns of gold which cascaded through the air with every passing breeze. There was a hint of loneliness in the piles of browning foliage littering the sidewalk, which meant that, in short, it was Tabito’s favorite kind of day. You hoped that it was a good omen for his first game.

Yayoi was waiting for you by the bottom of the bleachers, playing with the frayed ends of the pale blue scarf wrapped around her neck. She was wearing a cable-knit sweater, a pair of jeans that were loose around her ankles, and once-white shoes which had long ago been ruined by purple ink and too much free time.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said. She glanced up at you and then smiled slightly in greeting.

“No worries, you’re not late at all. I just came early because I walked with Tabito and he had to be here in time to warm up,” she said.

“If you get here so early every time, then I can see why you get bored of watching his games,” you said.

“I guess maybe that’s on me,” she allowed. “Where do you want to sit? If we’re closer to the field, we can see better, but there’s a greater chance we’ll get hit by a stray ball.”

“How about three rows back? That should be enough of a buffer that we don’t get hurt, but we’ll be able to see everything that happens,” you said.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

The metal benches were icy when you first sat on them, and you pulled your cardigan tighter around you to ward away the chill which seeped through your entire body from the point of contact. Yayoi, who was nearly as observant as her brother, offered you her scarf when she noticed, but you shook your head in a silent rejection.

The two of you talked about random, mindless things while you waited for the game to begin — how your classes were going, the latest gossip at your school, which high schools you were planning to apply for, and other such topics. They were the same subjects you went over every time you hung out, and for a moment you forgot that you had another purpose for meeting beyond just enjoying one another’s company.

Then the referee blew the whistle, effectively cutting off your conversation and bringing the impending game back to your collective attention. The gathered spectators, who were mostly parents and other students that attended Tabito’s junior high school, broke into applause as the teams took the field for the kickoff. You did the same, though both you and Yayoi made sure to applaud extra hard when Tabito jogged up with the others.

“Do you know what position he plays?” you said.

“Back in elementary school, he was the striker, but I doubt they’d give that role to a first year,” she said. “He’ll have to work up to it, I’m sure. He’s probably in the midfield for now.”

“I don’t really know what that means,” you admittedly sheepishly.

“I guess you could think of midfielders as the in-between men? Before, he was on pure offense, so his job was to stay up and score whenever possible, and then of course there’s players who prefer to be on defense, which means they aim to stop the opposite team from making goals. Midfielders have to be fluid, though, since they’re responsible for the middle portion of the field — ah, hence the name. Depending on who has the ball, they have to either go on offense or stay back on defense, which means they need to be equally as skilled at both,” she said.

“But then why would they put an inexperienced player in such a spot?” you said.

“It’s a pretty forgiving position, surprisingly. If you mess up as a midfielder, you have a buffer of offensive and defensive players on either side of you, so it’s likely that someone will be able to recover for the error, but if you’re up on top at offense or near the goal on defense, then there’s no one beyond you, so mistakes are more costly,” she explained.

“I get it now,” you said. “Sorry if that was a dumb thing to be asking so many questions about.”

“Not at all,” she said. “It can be confusing, especially when you don’t know much about the game. You should ask Tabito to explain everything to you if you plan on becoming a soccer fan; he can go on and on about it. My knowledge is pretty surface level and also entirely dependent on whatever he’s told me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said.

“Ooh, look, they’re starting!” Yayoi said, pointing at the field, where indeed the game had exploded into action, players darting back and forth, shoving one another aside as they reached for the ball. As she had predicted, Tabito stayed towards the middle of the field, surveying the players fighting over the ball, and though he wasn’t anywhere near the thick of things, you found yourself far more interested in him than the others.

What did he see when he was on the field? It was something you’d never really get to understand. What was it like in the heat of a match, where every single movement was the difference between win or lose — in essence, between life or death? You wondered what kind of person he became when he played soccer, if it was the sort of experience that changed one’s character or if you were just ascribing fantastical aspects to it because you couldn’t live through it yourself.

The game went on at a breakneck speed, and frequently, by the time you asked Yayoi what was happening, the play had ended and a new strategy had already been implemented. It was difficult to keep up with but no less exciting for your lack of comprehension, and at least it was easy to keep track of the score, for the goals needed no explanation.

By the time that the second half was all but over, the score was tied. You thought about asking Yayoi what’d happen if it ended like that, but based on the way she was leaning forward in her seat and biting her nails, you doubted it was anything good.

Entirely by chance or perhaps by choice, the ball rolled to a stop at Tabito’s feet. For the entire game, he had been flitting around the action, never cutting in despite how he must’ve ached to, and now he was being given a chance to prove himself, a chance to change the course of the match entirely. Your heart pounded, though nowhere near as fiercely as his own must’ve, and somehow your hand sought out Yayoi’s, the racing pulse in your wrist crushing against hers, which was equally as quick.

In the moment that the side of Tabito’s foot brushed against the ball, there was a rebirth which occurred. He came alive in an instant, like a hawk which had finally swooped upon its prey, talons digging into a tender neck and rending through the soft flesh, wings spreading in an ominous shadow over the unassuming creature that he was bound to devour.

The other team did not stand a chance. He cut through them in a way that almost felt mocking, slamming his hands against their chests to push them away, keeping them at an arm’s length as he flew past, his eyes constantly scanning the area around him, trusting his feet to take care of the ball, which stayed by him with the loyalty of a hound. It was a terrible and yet beautiful thing to take in, the cruelty of his play-style; you could not reconcile it with the sweet boy you knew, yet neither could you tear your eyes away from that sly, vicious force as it darkened the field.

His goal was punctuated with the whistle of the game’s end. For a moment, he stood there alone, staring at the ball rolling out of the net, sending up sprays of turf when it bounced against the ground, and then he was tackled by his teammates, all of whom were shouting praises as they piled atop him.

“I can’t believe he scored the winning goal!” Yayoi said, tugging you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go congratulate him!”

“Are we allowed to?” you said.

“Mm, not if this was an actual game, but considering it was just a practice match between two middle schools, no one will care,” she said, vaulting over the short fence separating the field from the seating area and helping you do the same.

“If you say so,” you said.

All of the players were congregated by their coach, who was delivering an inspirational speech about their teamwork and how wonderful they were, so you and Yayoi hung back until they were dismissed. After that, you snuck up on Tabito, who was taking off his cleats, and Yayoi thumped him on the back.

“Boo!” she said. He squealed, and it was a high-pitched, girlish sound which had Yayoi cackling with laughter as she squished his cheeks together in one hand.

“Yayoi!” he said, though his voice was muffled, his mouth resembling a fish’s. “Let go of me!”

“I can’t bear to! My baby brother, the hero of the match,” Yayoi said. “It’s unbelievable. As exciting as if I was the one to score the winning goal.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t,” he said, using his shoulder to get her off of him so he could tie the laces of his sneakers.

“Wow, way to take away from my fun,” she said. “And here I was, trying to be proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he said. “What did you think, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, two of Tabito’s older teammates, one of whom was wearing a captain’s armband, appeared behind him. They were probably your age, towering over little Tabito, with handsome faces and the beginnings of sleek muscles swelling in their arms and legs.

“Hi,” the captain said to you. “You’re super pretty.”

You had never been approached so boldly, and certainly not by anyone so good-looking. Your cheeks warmed, and you fought back a smile.

“Hi,” you said. “Thanks. You played really well.”

You couldn’t quite remember how he had played, actually, for you had spent most of the game looking at Tabito, but you assumed it wouldn’t hurt for you to compliment him back, and mentioning the game was a safe enough way to do so. He seemed to appreciate it, laughing loudly, though you hadn’t said anything particularly funny.

“I’m glad you thought so!” he said. “We tried out a new strategy, and we weren’t sure it’d work, but thanks to Tabito here, it ended up for the best.”

“That’s great,” you said, directing your words to both of them, though the other teammate, who seemed to be less outgoing than his captain, was too busy staring at Yayoi to notice.

“How d’you know this shrimp, anyways?” the captain said, throwing an arm around the disgruntled Tabito’s shoulders. Tabito’s expression, which had already soured with the captain’s arrival, only warped more at the friendly display, his lip curling like he had tasted spoiled milk.

“He’s my little brother, and she’s my best friend,” Yayoi offered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“We came to support him at his first game!” you said. “He’s been super excited about getting the chance to play, so there was no way we couldn’t come.”

“As far as first years go, he’s definitely one of the best. I’m confident he’ll be taking my spot once he’s old enough for it,” the captain said. “I can’t name a single kid his age who’s as talented or hardworking.”

“He gets it from his older sister,” Yayoi joked. The captain grinned at her.

“I’m sure he does,” he said. “Look, I’m going to be plain with you: my friend and I were wondering if we could get your numbers and maybe—”

“We have to go now,” Tabito said, cutting off the captain, who gave him a surprised look. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he crossed his arms at you and Yayoi. “My mom will get mad at us if we’re late.”

“No, she won’t,” Yayoi said, furrowing her brow. “Since when has she cared about how late we are getting home?”

“Yes, she will!” he insisted. “She told me before we left that we have to be back before sunset or else we’ll be in big trouble.”

The captain raised his hands in the air. “No worries. Come to another game and we can catch up then, alright? There’s no point in risking getting in trouble.”

“Sure, that sounds cool,” you said.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

“Yeah, nice meeting you,” the other teammate echoed, speaking for the first time, his face immediately turning bright red when Yayoi glanced at him.

“See you around,” she said. You thought that you heard the boy squeak, but you couldn’t quite tell. “Alright, Tabito, let’s go, then. Since apparently we’ll be in such big trouble if we’re not on time. Whatever that means.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was implied in the rise and fall of her voice. Tabito ignored her, trotting off towards the exit, forcing you both to follow after him without further delay.

Once you were all on the road towards the Karasu household, Yayoi pulled out her phone, holding it out to her younger brother threateningly.

“I’m going to call mom, and if it turns out you were lying, I’m — I’m — I’m going to be really upset! You made us miss out on a chance to get dates, so if you were just making stuff up, then I’ll kill you for sure!” she said, speeding ahead of you so she could talk uninterrupted. Tabito shifted closer to you, a small frown on his face, not bothering to respond to Yayoi’s threat. You waited for him to say something; he confided in you often, expressing things to you which he dared not discuss with his sister, and you did not doubt that he would take advantage of the moment of solitude to speak his mind to you.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said after a moment of walking at your side.

“Tell you what?” you said.

“What you thought,” he said. “You told the captain he played well, but what about me?”

“I assumed it would be a given,” you said. “Of course, naturally I thought you were wonderful, Tabito. You were the best player out there.”

“Better than the captain?” he said. You beckoned him closer, cupping your hands around his ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whispered. He nodded eagerly. “I don’t really know how the captain played. I just said that he was good to be nice to him, as he was nice to me, but the truth is that even when you didn’t have the ball, I couldn’t help but watch you the entire time.”

“Really?” he said.

“Really,” you said, nodding at him quite seriously. “I came to support you, didn’t I? Why would I bother with the other players?”

Any traces of his earlier vexation vanished in an instant. As you had suspected, he had been upset that you and Yayoi had ignored him in favor of the charming older players when he had been the one to invite you in the first place. Thankfully, he was easy to read and easier to placate, and anyways he never held grudges for very long, so he quickly cheered as if he had never been angry at all.

“Y/N, can I ask you one more thing before Yayoi comes back?” he said, looking over at his sister, who was speaking quite furiously to who you could only imagine was their mother.

“You can always ask me anything,” you said. “Go ahead.”

“Your phone number,” he said.

“What about it?” you said, puzzled. He avoided your eyes, kicking apart a pile of leaves and gazing at them as they plumed into the air.

“I want it,” he said. You gave him an amused look.

“You don’t even have a phone, Tabito. What would you do with my number?” you said.

“I’ll remember it,” he said, picking up a leaf and tearing it apart into many small pieces.

“Is that so?” you said. It was a ridiculous request, and you doubted he’d be able to follow through on that kind of promise, but you figured there was no harm in telling him. So you listed off the digits of your phone number, slowly and carefully, as he nodded along and told you he really would never forget them.

“Tabito!” Yayoi shrieked, sprinting towards you two at full pace. Tabito yelped and hid behind you as his sister, who was hardly ever so intimidating, came closer and closer, her countenance dark and a malevolent aura rolling off of her in waves. “Explain yourself, punk! Why’d mom tell me she said nothing like the crap you were spouting earlier? What’s the big idea, huh?”

“Oh, it’s alright, Yayoi,” you said. “I’m sure it was weird for him to watch his own teammates flirting with his older sister and her friend. That has to be some kind of murky territory or something. What if it didn’t work out and then they bullied him because of that? I don’t blame him for trying to get out of the situation.”

She huffed. “You’re lucky Y/N’s here. One day she won’t be there to defend you, and then you’ll really be sorry!”

Tabito stood on his tiptoes to peek over your shoulder and stuck his tongue out at her. Scowling, she returned the gesture in kind, blowing a raspberry at him before grabbing your hand and yanking you away with her.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s leave this loser to walk by himself.”

You chuckled and freed your hand from her grasp, which was a Herculean feat given that she had a grip made of iron, and then you looped your arm through her own.

“Alright, Yayoi,” you said. “Let’s do that.”

Later that night, as you wrapped up the last of your homework for the weekend, your cell phone lit up with an incoming call. Setting down your pencil, you picked up the phone and saw it was from the Karasus’ home phone — which was odd, because ever since Yayoi had gotten a cellphone of her own, she had called you from that, so it had been quite some time since you had seen that particular contact pop up.

“Hi, Yayoi,” you said. “Did your phone die or something?”

There was a pause. Then: “This isn’t Yayoi. It’s Tabito. I told you I’d remember your number.”

“Tabito?” you said. “Well, good job with that.”

“I wrote it down as soon as I got home,” he said. “Once I get my own phone, I’ll make you my first contact.”

“Me? Not your parents or Yayoi? Or one of your other friends from school?” you said, snickering. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I want it to be you.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. Maybe in some way, your friendship with Yayoi had transferred to him; after all, you had been the first number she inputted once she got a new phone, and you were also the first person she gave her personal number to, so maybe that kind of tradition had stayed with him and, in a typical sibling manner, became something he wanted to replicate. “You do that, then. And you can text me directly when you have games so I can come to them.”

“Actually, I also wanted to tell you that you don’t have to watch any more games where I’m not doing anything. When I’m in high school and I’m the captain of a really good team, then you can come,” he said.

“I don’t mind if you’re not doing much. The game today was fun. I got to hang out with Yayoi and meet your teammates,” you said.

“I don’t want you there anymore, so don’t come!” he said.

“Goodness. I won’t, then,” you said. “But that means you really have to work hard, because even if you invite me, I’ll only attend if you’re the captain of the team.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be a way better captain than the one I have right now.”

“Sure,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said, hanging up, finding a great humor in his competitive mindset, which even reared its head against his own captain, who he was meant to respect above all else.

Somehow, by chance or by fate, both you and Yayoi had the same top high school, and furthermore, you both received offers of admission despite how selective it was. The only other person from your middle school who was accepted was Aoyama, which you only knew because he told you one day during art club.

Both his artistic skills and his appearance had improved markedly since the two of you had first met; though he had never managed to master calligraphy or watercolor painting, he had discovered a talent for making scenes come alive with the use of a simple pencil. It was admirable, that with solely shades of gray he was able elicit images of color, and as he had grown older, he had also mellowed into someone you did not mind speaking to, so when you discovered that he was going to high school with you and Yayoi, you were surprised to find that you were actually a little happy about that fact.

Despite his obvious aptitude for sports — he was tall and sturdily built, with long limbs and a wide torso — he had denied every athletic club which attempted to recruit him, staying loyal to the art club despite how hard he had to work at keeping up with the rest of you. And because you and he had been in the same club for years upon years and the same school for longer, you supposed that it was inevitable for some kind of relationship to blossom between the two of you, which was why it was all but a foregone conclusion when he asked you out, the winter of your first year of high school.

It wasn’t the most romantic proposal. In fact, it was rushed and harried and fumbling, altogether messy and unplanned, but endearing in a way. You had been walking home from an art club meeting when you passed by the park where he had had a birthday party, so many years ago, and then he was pulling you over to the slides and sitting you down at the foot of one. You were motionless as he paced back and forth, trying to muster up the courage and the words to say to you, and then finally he just spat it out, all in a jumble. Will you go out with me?

You saw no reason to say no, so you said yes. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and his lips were cold like the weather, but you did not complain, because he could not help it. And then he sprinted off and left you sitting there, at the edge of the red plastic slide in that desolate playground, the wind pushing the empty swings the way you had once pushed Tabito.

Aoyama was a fine boyfriend, or at least you thought he was; you had no experience with any others, so of course you could not say for certain, but in your opinion, he did as well of a job as he could be expected to. He held your hand when you walked together and took you on dates and kissed you in private — never in public, though, because you hated the idea, even if he would’ve liked to very much.

“I don’t get what your problem is,” you said, pressing a button on your controller to send a red shell flying. It connected with Yayoi’s character, and your own avatar, Princess Daisy, pumped her fist in celebration as you shot past the dismayed Rosalina.

“Don’t have one,” she said, shaking her remote in a futile effort to reawaken Rosalina. The character remained stunned for a second more before rejoining the race.

“Every time I bring up Aoyama, you stop talking and get all standoffish,” you said. “You obviously do have a problem. Is it because I keep talking about my boyfriend? I’m sorry if I’ve been doing that. I don’t want to be one of those people.”

“You don’t talk about him a ton,” she said, using a power up to speed through a shortcut, ramming your character out of the way to snag first place at the last minute.

“Okay, but something about him annoys you. What is it? I can’t fix a problem if I don’t even know it exists,” you said.

There was a set of thudding footsteps, and then Tabito, freshly showered from a game, peeked his head into the living room, batting his eyelashes at you in an attempt to seem sweet and innocent.

“Are you guys playing Mario Kart?” he said.

“What’s it to you?” Yayoi said.

“I want to, too,” he said. “Can I?”

“We were kind of talking about something,” you said. You weren’t sure if Yayoi would discuss the subject in front of her little brother, but it had been bothering you for long enough that you wanted to get things out in the open once and for all.

“It’s fine,” Yayoi said. “You can play with us. Just don’t be a pain.”

This was an absolute role reversal, and Tabito must’ve picked up on that, but he did not mention it, only plodding over to the TV and connecting his own set of controllers before settling on the floor in front of you, leaning back on your legs instead of attempting to squish between his sister and the armrest of the small couch.

“Are you seriously going to be Waluigi again?” you asked him with some disdain, wrinkling your nose as he selected his typical character.

“He’s my favorite,” he said.

“Gross,” you said. “But back to the original topic, Yayoi, don’t think you’re getting out of things just because Tabito’s here. You still have to explain what’s up.”

“Did something happen?” Tabito said as you selected a cup at random and the first race began.

“No,” Yayoi said.

“Yes,” you said, at exactly the same time.

“…Okay, then,” Tabito said.

“It’s about Aoyama,” Yayoi said. “Her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he said.

“It feels like Yayoi has some issues with him, but she won’t tell me what those issues are, exactly,” you said.

“Is he a bad boyfriend?” Tabito said.

“I don’t think so,” you said. “No, he’s perfectly alright.”

“Look, I don’t have anything against Aoyama. I liked him, all of the way back in first grade, so obviously I don’t have a problem with him,” she said.

“Is that it?” you said. “I didn’t even realize you had a crush on him at all.”

“No, why would I care about a crush from when I was so young? To be honest, I just don’t think he deserves you,” she said.

“Why not?” you said.

“That’s my duty as your best friend,” she said. “To me, you’re the most amazing person ever, so how could someone like Aoyama ever be worthy of dating you? Besides, it doesn’t seem like you like him very much.”

“What are you talking about? Obviously, I like him, or I wouldn’t be going out with him,” you said.

“You should break up with him if you don’t like him,” Tabito suggested.

“I do like him, and I’m not breaking up with him,” you said. “Yayoi, why would you say something like that?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Forget about it. Maybe I was just seeing things. If you say that you like him, then you definitely do.”

“Right,” you said.

“What’s so great about him, anyways?” Tabito said, shifting so that he could be more comfortable. “For you to want to date him. Why do you like him? Does he even do anything of note?”

You snorted. “Not everyone’s a soccer ace like you, Tabito. Aoyama could’ve been an athlete, but he’s stayed in the art club with me since elementary school. That’s a long time; it would’ve been impossible for me not to grow fond of him over the years, and by the time he worked up the nerve to ask me out officially, I suppose I was fond enough to say yes.”

“That’s stupid,” Tabito said. For emphasis, he released a blue shell, which hit you right before you crossed the finish line. “Anyone could join the art club, and you’ve known other people longer than you’ve known him. That’s not enough of a reason to date somebody.”

“Rude,” you said, kneeing him in the head playfully, for you had come in fourth due to his intervention. “You know, you don’t really need a reason to date someone. You can date them just because. Maybe it’s true that hanging out with you two is more fun than being with Aoyama, but isn’t it normal to get along better with your friends? And especially when the relationship is so fresh. We’re still getting to know one another right now.”

“That’s fair,” Yayoi said. “Don’t expect me to be outright hospitable with him or anything, but for your sake, I’ll be polite. As long as he knows that I’ll make sure he regrets hurting you, if ever he does.”

“I’ll pass the message along,” you said.

“And you have to like me — us more,” Tabito added. “You’ve known us longer, so you have to like us better.”

“I’ll always like you better,” you said, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Already, his face was losing that round quality from his youth; you expected it’d be entirely gone soon, and you mourned the imminent loss of his doll-like appearance, vowing to adore it for as long as it remained.

Surprisingly, he did not slap your hand away. He only hummed in pleased agreement, and that was that. The conversation was finished, and it was the last any of you spoke about the matter for quite some time.

High school flew by faster than you had anticipated, certainly far faster than middle school had, though they were the exact same length. You divided your time between your club activities, studying for exams, hanging out with Yayoi as well as your other friends, and going on dates with Aoyama, so you hardly had a moment in which you could be bored. You almost missed the feeling of lethargy and inertia you had at least experienced once or twice in junior high, but yet you could not bear to give any of those aspects of your life up, so you managed the demanding schedule as best as you could and somehow made it work.

As he had attended a different middle school than you and Yayoi, so, too, did Tabito attend a separate high school. He chose it because their soccer club was well-known, but when he was in his first year, he was scouted to join the youth team of the prestigious J1 League football club Bambi Osaka, so it ended up mattering little. When he had reached such a point, why would he concern himself with school soccer clubs? There was no higher peak that he could reach with them than the one he already had achieved, especially not at his age.

It was rare for someone so young to consistently give such excellent performances. After all, he had been chosen as a starter for his junior high team as only a first year, albeit as a midfielder instead of his preferred position as a striker, and now, at the beginning of his high school career, he had already been selected to play for Bambi Osaka. Even Yayoi had to admit that her little brother had something to him — she claimed it to be an intrinsic talent, for that meant she had a chance at inheriting it as well, but Tabito was far more modest than she and always countered these declarations, arguing that it was nothing more than constant practice.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m not that good,” he told you one day, when you were watching one of Yayoi’s badminton matches together. You were sitting on his black camping chair; he had offered to you and sat on the ground instead of making you do so, though you had never complained about it.

“There’s no way you’re not,” you said. “Ask anyone, and they’ll agree with me.”

“It’s true,” he said, shrugging like it was a fact he had accepted long ago and which consequently did not bother him anymore. “Some people are handed everything, but I’m not like that. I’m not a prodigy in any sense of the word. It’s easy to seem talented when you only pick on a person’s weak spots.”

You rested your hand on his shoulder. He was taller now, and growing more by the day, so you no longer had to lean down very far to do so, though he was on the ground and you were not. Exhaling through his nose, he bent his neck so his cheek could rest on your fingers, which were perpetually cold and must’ve felt nice in the summery heat of the midafternoon.

“If you seem like you’re talented, then you really must be,” you said. “I don’t think faking things like that is as simple as you believe it to be.”

“It’s simpler than you think,” he said. “Anyways, please don’t bring it up again. I just wanted one person to know the truth of who I am.”

“And it had to be me?” you said. You couldn’t see him smile, but you felt his cheeks grow fuller as his mouth curved into the wry smirk he donned more often than not nowadays.

“Of course, it had to be you,” he affirmed. “Who else would it be?”

Who, indeed? In some ways, you were as close with her little brother as you were with Yayoi herself, though it was a different kind of relationship there. As an only child, you supposed that all-consuming affection must’ve been what one felt for a younger sibling, so you put it down to that. After all, you had known Tabito for long enough that he could probably be considered your brother as well as Yayoi’s, so what else would it be? And the way he treated you was how he would’ve treated Yayoi if she were gentler with him, so although it was definitely preferential, you never saw anything wrong with it nor felt any need to correct his loving behavior.

The end of entrance exams, which was the culmination of the many months of hellish work that you had all put in, came with bittersweet news. For the first time, you, Yayoi, and Aoyama would split ways, each of you accepted to different universities. Those two, whose steady presences at your side you took all but for granted, had paths which diverged from yours, and you wondered if ever they would converge again.

Your path took you to Tokyo, to the exact university that your parents had met at. They wept when they found out, for though they loved where they were now, their hearts still beat for the bustling city where they had spent so much of their lives.

Your only consolation was that Yayoi, too, was going to the capital city. She would attend a different school, and thus would live in a different part of the megalopolis than you would, so the distance between you would not be small, exactly, but at least it was manageable. At least your paths would not be so separate. The same could not be said for Aoyama, who was going to Kyoto for university. You would be hours apart, and as the date of your graduation grew ever nearer, this took a toll on your relationship.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, exactly the kind of celebration that was shown in movies. The choir sang your school’s anthem and the president of the school board personally handed you each your diplomas; everyone was dressed in their best clothes, and the click-clack of heels against wood echoed around the hall as students and parents alike bustled about, congratulating one another and wiping away tears at another milestone crossed.

As always, as ever, your parents were sitting with the Karasus. You knew because you sought them out when it was your turn to receive your diploma. At first, they were impossible to find in the crowd, but then, like a miracle, you saw Tabito in the back, towards the left entrance, his pensive expression vanishing the moment he realized you were looking at him. Just as he had when you had graduated elementary school, he grinned at you, and then he waved, but unlike back then, he wasn’t at all shy about it. Also unlike then, you beamed at him with no care for propriety, cameras flashing in your eyes as you clutched your diploma in front of you with one hand and used the other to wave enthusiastically back.

“What a sweet photo,” your father said when all of you rendezvoused after the official ceremony, showing you his phone. The picture was of you on stage, your face radiant with delight, your arm raised mid-wave, the gold lettering on your diploma legible thanks to the power of the zoom on his camera. “You’re so beautiful, dear. I can’t believe you’re so grown up already.”

“She’ll always be our baby,” your mother said, not even attempting to disguise the tears wetting the shadows under her eyes.

“Can we get a picture with our two graduates?” Mrs. Karasu said.

“That’s a great idea,” your father said. “It’s so special that the two of you started school together, and now you’ve graduated side by side.”

“It only happens in the movies,” Mr. Karasu said, taking a pack of tissues out of his pocket and blowing his nose with a great honk. “And yet we have an example right here in front of us. Go on, girls, get together.”

You and Yayoi did not need to be told twice, pressing your shoulders together, so close that they rose and fell in tandem. You fancied that if one was to listen to your heartbeats at that moment, they would’ve been keeping the same rhythm, for you had lived more of your lives together than not, and so even your most basic systems were familiar with one another.

“How about one of Yayoi and Tabito?” Mr. Karasu said. “Let the L/Ns take a couple with Y/N, too.”

Your parents took turns posing with you and taking photos before your father flagged down a random classmate of yours, entreating the confused boy to take a picture of the three of you together. You could already envision exactly where they were going to hang that particular shot — in the living room, framed by something gaudy and likely near the vase of false, ever-blooming flowers your mother kept on one of the tables.

The Karasus were still taking family photos, for there were quite a few more of them than there were of you, so you decided to take the moment to look for Aoyama, who had been separated from you and Yayoi in the rush of people leaving the ceremony hall. It would be nice to take a picture or two with him, too, after all.

It was not hard to find him, not given how tall he was — in the crowd, there were few who were taller, and of those few, only the lanky Tabito was one you recognized. His mother greeted you exuberantly; she had always loved you, perhaps even more than her son did, and she immediately pushed the two of you together so that she could take a million photographs which she promised she would send to you at the earliest possible convenience.

“Do you ever think that this might be the last time we’re like this?” Aoyama said, his hand resting on your hip, a politician’s grin on his square face. You hummed in agreement.

“It is the last time we’ll be like this,” you said. “You’ll be off to Kyoto soon, and I’ll go to Tokyo sooner.”

“That’s true,” he said. “We should savor it, then. While we can.”

You knew what he was hinting at, but now was not the time to consider it. Now, you were meant to be happy, so you mirrored that smile of his and posed with him as if nothing was wrong, unsure of whether, in two weeks’ time, you’d be able to look at those particular photos at all.

At some point while you were you were with Aoyama, Tabito appeared, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood a respectful distance away from Aoyama’s mother, and it was only when you stepped away from your boyfriend and left him to his family that he hesitantly approached you.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” you said. “How’d you manage to find me? There’s so much going on.”

“You’re pretty hard to miss,” he said. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t bother with explaining himself. “You’re probably all photographed-out, but if you don’t mind…can we also take one? I don’t want you to forget that I came, too.”

“You only came for Yayoi,” you teased him. “It’ll hurt my feelings less if I don’t remember you were here at all.”

“I came for you, too!” he said earnestly, showing you both of his hands to prove he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back. “Really, I did.”

“So you would’ve come even if Yayoi wasn’t graduating, too?” you said.

“If you invited me, I would’ve,” he said. “I’d even skip soccer practice for it.”

“Wow, you hold me in higher regard than soccer practice? I feel like you’ve bestowed some great honor upon me,” you said. “That’s worthy of a picture, I’d say.”

You handed your phone to a nearby classmate of yours, a pretty girl who you had sat by in your Maths class. She understood quickly what you were asking of her, accepting the phone and waiting for you to get in position.

“Say, L/N, I thought you were dating Aoyama?” she said as Tabito wrapped an arm around your waist and you leaned against his side.

“I am?” you said, confused at why she had brought it up. She furrowed her brow, taking a couple of photos before giving you your phone back to ensure you approved of them.

“Who’s this, then?” she said, nodding towards Tabito. “He’s awfully cute.”

“Huh? Oh, he’s just Yayoi’s brother, it’s not like that!” you said. “But he is so cute, isn’t he? He reminds me of a baby version of Yayoi. It makes me nostalgic sometimes.”

“Yayoi…ah, Karasu! I had Modern Literature with her,” she said, snapping her fingers in recognition. “Wow. I didn’t realize she had a brother. Sorry for making a weird assumption about the two of you! I guess you’ve known one another for a while, so it makes sense that you’d be close.”

“Exactly,” you said, confused about how she had even arrived at such a conclusion in the first place when there was nothing between the two of you to hint at a relationship that was anything but platonic or familial. “Hey, thanks so much! These are awesome.”

“Anytime!” she said. “So, Karasu’s little brother. How old are you, exactly?”

“Um…” Tabito glanced over at you for help, creeping imperceptibly closer as if you were some last line of defense between him and the curious girl.

“He just finished his first year,” you said, taking pity on him and answering. The girl wrinkled her nose.

“So you’re barely a second year? Ah, that’s a bit young for me at the moment. Maybe in a little while, yeah? Call me once you’re in college and then we can talk,” she said, winking at him and fluttering her fingers in a wave before vanishing in the crowd.

You tried very hard not to laugh, but when you turned and saw Tabito’s bewildered expression, you could not help it. When he realized you were laughing at him, he turned a vermillion shade that only he was capable of becoming.

“I’m — I’m sorry she said that. I wouldn’t have agreed with her if I knew she was calling you cute in that way,” you gasped out. “Oh, my poor Tabito. I really didn’t expect that at all, or I would’ve asked Aoyama to stay and take our photos instead.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’d like it — um, I’d like it better if you thought of me as cute like that instead of like a baby.”

“But you are a baby,” you cooed.

“I am not!” he said. It was another rendition of the same argument you both had had in the past, and though calling this particular example an argument was certainly a stretch, you did not want to sully the night with even a joking disagreement. So instead of refuting his childish rebuttal, you embraced him tightly.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you said. “You know I have no siblings of my own, but unlike most with that affliction, I am lucky enough to have met Yayoi, and through her gained a brother of my own.”

He shoved you off of him with a grumble. “I’m not your brother, either.”

“Alright,” you said, raising your hands in the air. “You’re not a baby, and you’re not my brother. Anything else?”

“No,” he said. “Let’s go back to our families. Your parents were looking for you. I think they all want to get dinner together.”

“Lead the way, then,” you said. “I call sitting next to you.”

He glanced at you shyly. “Okay. I don’t think you’ll have much competition there, though, so you don’t have to call it.”

“I just want to be certain. These are the final few weeks I’ll get to see you, aren’t they? I’ll miss you while I’m gone, so I have to stick to you like glue for as long as we have left,” you said, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulders for emphasis.

“Yes,” he said, bending his elbow so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, which dangled loosely by his collarbone. “Stick to me. Until the day you have to leave for good, stay by my side.”

The month in between graduation and the beginning of university was a whirlwind of receiving congratulations from random relatives, packing to move into your new apartment, and visiting your friends from high school, who you might not see for many months or perhaps ever again, now that you were all going in your separate directions.

More than anywhere else, you spent your hours at the Karasu residence. You never did anything particularly special, and neither did you bring up the ever-nearing date of yours and Yayoi’s departures; when the three of you were together — for Tabito insisted on accompanying you no matter how much Yayoi protested — you pretended like it was a normal break, like at the beginning of April you’d all once again return to your respective high schools and things would be exactly as they always had been.

You’d go to your favorite restaurants or run to ice cream shops late at night, laughing and teasing another as you licked at your cones and wandered around the streets. Sometimes you’d all go to the playground and pretend like you were children, sliding down slides that were only twice the length of your bodies and climbing across monkey bars with your feet brushing against the mulch. You’d sit on the swings and make Tabito push you as payback for the many times you had done so for him when he was younger, though he never viewed it as a punishment, and Yayoi would build castles in the sandpit, the grains digging into her skin and standing out in bright red patterns against her pale knees. Other days, if it was raining or any of you were particularly tired, you’d play video games, Tabito laying against your legs as he always did and Yayoi perched on the armrest like a gargoyle.

It was simple and wonderful and easy, but the same could not be said for your relationship with Aoyama. There was a tension between you both which had never been there before, and though he had claimed at graduation that he wanted to savor the last few weeks of your time together, you found yourself thinking more and more frequently that you wished you had ended things when you were still happy with one another.

You fought with him about random things, so irritable were you with one another. He accused you of spending all of your time with Yayoi, even though you’d be so close to her once the next year began, and ignoring him completely. You bit back with ten times the force, telling him plainly that you loved her first, and that even though you’d be nearer to her than him, the two of you would still be apart in a way you never had been, not since you both were six years old. And what of Tabito? What of the boy you had known since he was so young, that boy you had grown up alongside? You would leave him behind for good, and you could not bear the thought.

But in turn, this only angered him further. You like him, Aoyama accused you. You like him more than you like me. You weren’t sure how to respond to this. Of course you liked Tabito more than you liked Aoyama. You liked him more than you liked just about anybody, excepting his sister. Yet when Aoyama said it, it didn’t seem as innocuous as you knew it to be. It was the same thing that that girl from your math class had brought up, that there was something else between you and Tabito. You found it so distasteful that your words turned to poison.

You can’t say that, you’d snap, over and over, however fruitless it always was. He’s a kid. You can’t say that.

Aoyama would laugh bitterly, burying his face in his hands. Sometimes, he’d seem so tired and hollow and sick of it all that you’d regret it, regret whatever had happened between you two that had made you end up like this, but then he’d look up at you again and you’d know that this was the inevitable outcome.

It’s only two years. He’d remind you of that fact every time, and what could you say? It was the truth, and the same thing Tabito always insisted to your deaf ears. Two years or maybe less. 

It’s different, you’d huff when you could not think of anything else. Aoyama would sigh and then one of you would apologize: sometimes you, sometimes him. After that you’d kiss, and things would settle into a distorted version of your old comfort, but each time you ran through that fight or one that was similar, it became a little more difficult and your relationship fractured a little more.

There was no one great mistake. You couldn’t pick out a single moment when everything went wrong, when one of you committed a grave and unforgivable sin. It was just the accumulation of many small grievances, the stress of both of your impending moves as well as the knowledge that the end for you both was near, that blew up into an enormous fight, the kind of confrontation that was only frightening when it was finally over.

You both shouted about everything and yet nothing. The relationship, in its best days, had never had anything worth complaining about, and so it was difficult to find something to genuinely be upset over. He insisted you were cheating on him, or that, if you were not already, you soon would. You spat insults at him that you were not proud of, calling him controlling and cruel and stupid, even if he wasn’t really any of these things, and definitely not in the great quantity you insinuated he was.

I joined the art club for you. That was the last thing he said, when it was officially over and your fist was clenched around the doorknob. I could’ve been a national champion at any sport. Soccer or basketball or baseball or whatever. I could’ve been great, but I stayed in the goddamn art club because I wanted to be with you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, stepping onto his doorstep, the rage leaving you in a minute, replaced by a deep sense of shame, but also, peculiarly, of freedom. Do you wish you had made a different choice now? Now that it’s come to this, I mean.

He laughed bitterly. Nah. Somehow, I can’t seem to regret it.

A lump formed in your throat, but bravely and surely, you swallowed it back. If you cried now, then you were afraid you’d never leave him. I see. Well, good luck in Kyoto.

Good luck with wherever your life takes you, he said. Tell Yayoi I said the same to her. 

I will, you promised.

Tell that brother of hers, too, he said. And tell him you love him while you’re at it.

There was no merit in responding to that final statement, which was as much an assertion of his perceived correctness as it was a heartfelt attempt at reconciliation. So you turned around, allowing your tears to fall when you heard the door shut behind you, the streetlights guiding your way home as you cried silently to yourself.

You never did see him again. It was probably for the best, anyways. A few days later, you were off to Tokyo, with an entire life ahead of you — a life that had no longer had a place for the dalliances of your past.

You and Yayoi, as well as your parents, took the train to Tokyo together. Tabito stayed at home with his grandmother, though he bemoaned the turn of events; he was about to start his second year of high school, though, so how could he justify tagging along? He did come to the station, however, pretending to be nonchalant and ever-so-cool, like he didn’t care one bit that you and Yayoi were leaving for good.

“I hope you’re not considering a career in the film industry, Tabito,” you said. The three of you were sitting on a bench together, yours and Yayoi’s suitcases at your feet, your parents waiting in line at the window to receive your tickets.

“Why not?” he said stiffly.

“You’re horrible at acting,” you said, your arms going around his firm bicep, your forehead pressing to the curve of his shoulder. “It’s okay for you to be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he said, his voice a dull, trained monotone.

“I am,” you said. “We’re not going to be like this again for a while. Not ever, in one sense of the word. I think it’s natural to be sad about that.”

“Hmph,” Yayoi said, from Tabito’s other side. She was like her brother, but with marginally more of an aptitude at theatrics. Still, there was a curious sheen to her eyes, a dampness to the typically fiery irises. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you said. “Things will be different no matter what. I don’t think it’s a bad development, but it’s a true one. We’ll — we’ll be apart, Yayoi, and we’ll have to take taxis to visit each other instead of being close enough to walk.”

“You’ll still be able to visit each other,” Tabito said, his face stoic but his voice trembling. “I won’t even get that. I’ll be hours away and all alone.”

“You have your friends and your soccer team,” you said.

“They’re not you,” he said. You weren’t sure if he meant it for the both of you or you alone. Selfishly, you wished for it to be the latter, though you could not say why and had no claim to him for it to be the case. “Nobody could ever be you.”

“If our mom got pregnant again, someone could be like us,” Yayoi offered with a wavering, half-hearted laugh. “You’ll have another sister then. Name her Ya-Y/N and it’ll be like we never left.”

“I’ll be older than her,” Tabito said. “She’ll be a crying, whiny baby.”

“Sounds like you’ll get along well, then,” Yayoi said. He scoffed and smacked her on the arm. She yelped in dismay and rubbed the sore spot, glaring at him all the while, which did inject some levity into the atmosphere.

Your spirits immediately plummeted once again when the train arrived with a rushing, roaring wind, coasting to a stop, the doors heaving open with a sigh. There was a looming emptiness in every car, mirroring the pit in your stomach and the jagged, frayed tears in your heart, which widened with every step you took towards the edge of the platform.

“See you around, bro,” Yayoi said, doing an elaborate handshake with Tabito. “Good luck with soccer. Call me if our parents are being annoying; I’ll talk to them. You can count on it.”

“Thanks, bro,” he said. “Stay safe in Tokyo. Maybe try to get a boyfriend or something, if you can manage it.”

“Shut up, you little twerp. I definitely can! I’m going to end up dating a model, just you wait and watch!” she said, punching him in the arm lightheartedly and then leaping onto the train without a backwards glance, leaving you and Tabito alone. Your parents were waiting inside with your luggage, and you knew Yayoi would probably be confused about why you hadn’t followed her, but for some reason, you found yourself hesitating.

“You’ll be able to get home from the station by yourself okay?” you fretted.

“Yes, of course,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving up in amusement. “Despite what you and Yayoi seem to believe, I’m not a baby, and besides, my house isn’t that far from here. It won’t be a long walk. I’ll be okay — I’ve had to do worse exercise in practice.”

“Okay, but just be careful,” you said, shifting from foot to foot uneasily, playing with your fingers. “You have people who can help you if something happens and we’re not there, right?”

“I do,” he said.

“And — and stay away from pools,” you instructed him firmly. “Because you suck at swimming and I won’t be there to look out for you anymore.”

“I would’ve done that even if you didn’t tell me to,” he said. “Quit nagging me, Y/N. It’s seriously annoying. Don’t you have to go? You’ll miss the train if you don’t hurry up.”

On cue, the train let out a warning whistle. You swallowed and then nodded, but you didn’t move. You didn’t want to leave him. That was what you realized in that very moment: it wasn’t your entire life that you cared about abandoning. There wasn’t anything much you’d miss about your hometown, and certainly nothing you’d miss more than him. Tabito, your Tabito — because he was yours in a way you were loath to share with even Yayoi, who was his actual sister, and you were suddenly so certain that it had always been so and you had just never discerned it.

“Go on,” he said after a second, nudging you towards the train. “Really, you’ll be in trouble soon.”

You thought that you should tell him, but there were not words enough to describe it, so you did not. You could not. You only forced a smile and then stepped onto the train, clutching the metal bar and facing the platform so that you could gaze at him one final time. The train whistled again, and then Tabito’s expression changed into something strict and determined as he raced forward, skidding to a stop on the painted yellow border right in front of you.

“Did something happen?” you said. He shook his head, motioning for you to come closer. Still holding onto the metal bar for balance, you brought your face to his, thinking he might want to whisper one final secret in your ear before he no longer could. Yet he did not; instead, he pressed his lips to your cheek, one of his hands holding the other carefully, so gentle despite the roughness of his calloused palms.

“Bye, Y/N,” he said. “Don’t forget me while you’re in Tokyo.”

The doors closed and the train shot off as you took a step back, too stunned to shout out a final farewell until it was too late and all you could do was watch as his waving form receded into the distance.

[love-takes-work]

Here we are in the future (merch) and it's WRONG

Hot Topic has been kinda killin' it with neat new designs on SU merch, which to me is pretty special considering how long the show has been off the air and how much I like to get new merch. :X However, the last time I was browsing their site, I decided against getting one of the designs because it's this:

Huh? "Ladies love a hero"? Where the heck did THAT come from?

It's certainly never said in the show, and it's not a sentiment that's presented by any characters, nor is it intended as a message by its creators. Not to mention that the Gems pictured technically aren't even "ladies." Who got the weird idea that "ladies love a hero" would be an appropriate thing to associate with Steven Universe?

I ended up buying a coffee mug with a bunch of SU artifacts and was dismayed to find the "ladies love a hero" phrase had somehow made it onto the otherwise canon-referential mug.

(The side I saw when I decided to get it was this:)

When it came in I showed it to my friend and asked him to find the thing on it that was "wrong." IMMEDIATELY he was like "Ladies love a hero? WHAT?"

Just kinda makes me think that instead of being designed by anyone with a passing familiarity with the show, it was thrown together by someone who thought it would look good. Who decided this?

But speaking of which, then today I saw this one:

Okay. So, seeing merch with random shit from the show splashed all over it is common with knockoffs and lazy ripoff artists, but seeing something like this in a mainstream store is puzzling. It's a somewhat confusing graphic with no message, but it's like . . .

Okay, Steven, Spinel, and Connie from the movie, versus. . . .

Amethyst with her Season 2 design, versus. . . .

Random image of Stevonnie from a single scene in a late Season 5 episode, versus. . . .

Random Greg, random Pink Diamond, versus. . . .

Garnet in what appears to be an attempt at her post-"Jailbreak"/pre-"Change Your Mind" outfit, but it's miscolored, and. . . .

Completely missing Pearl, one of the major main characters. Who puts Pink Diamond, Greg, Connie, Spinel, and Stevonnie on a shirt but forgets Pearl?

It's just kind of a mess, conceptually. A bunch of pretty pictures, several of which are stock art and a couple of which I've basically never seen on anything (so why these, why now?).

It's not uncommon for images featuring the four main characters to have character designs that couldn't have coexisted, but that doesn't bother me as much as something that just feels like it was an out-of-touch designer's google search result for Steven Universe characters.

Man, I need to be a merch consultant for this show or something. I am not much of an artist and am not a designer, but like . . . if they'd just asked ONE fan. . . .

[larxii]

Part 2 of this

I still don't know how tumblr works

Afab reader x Tennant

Warning nsfw: Fingering, cunnilingus, kissing, c*mming, some cursing, i'd say this is relatively loving sex despite the context, not proofread

"If you want to, we can go by my place and I could pay you in other ways.."

You immediately felt your anger rising. How DARE she make such an offer. But.. you went quiet, thinking about her offer. Looking over her features, her body.. she's so handsome.

"That's disgusting. How far do you live?"

Tennant was amused by this response, letting out a light chuckle and resting her hands on her hips.

"Not too far.. are you accepting my offer?"

"I have no choice."

"Yes you do, i paid you back. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't trust you, i saw those diamonds turn to dust in my hands! Who's to say the money won't either?"

You said, talking a bit too loud at that hour of the night since this little argument had gone for far too long. Tennant covered your mouth and spoke in a soft tone- God, her voice is sin.

"Hush, you wouldn't want to cause me more trouble do you? My home isn't too far"

Following a stranger who you knew had a weapon on herself to her house at night was not a smart move and you'd think being grown would automatically make you know better but right now you were thinking with your clit and not your head. Her house was small but nice, it merely had essentials which made you come to the conclusion that she may jump around cities and never stay in one place for too long. You made your way into her room and it was neat, with a nice view. Her bed looked comfortable as well.

Tennant noticed you looking around and chuckled before saying, "If you like it so much you're always welcomed to stay.."

You had to admit that you wouldn't mind staying at her place often- and if your assumption was correct it meant her place was probably not occupied half the time which was a win for you.

Tennant made her way to you, you weren't facing her and she was suprisingly quiet in approaching you. Her hands made their way to your hips, pressing you to her. She leaned down to whisper in your ear,

"Let us begin, shall we?"

Your cheeks flushed when her lips made contact with your neck, pressing soft kisses up and down your neck. A shiver running down your spine as a sudden need filled your body. Tennant was quick in undressing you, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it down your arms, caressing your waist and whispering for your permission to go further.. you only nodded in response before feeling your bra unclip and then being tossed to the floor. Tennant moved in front of you to get a good look and she smiled, leaning down to press kissed to your soft breasts then back up your throat until her mouth found your lips. You were getting lost in the feeling of all this- what happened to being mad at her for scamming you? You merely pushed those thoughts aside to keep your mind blank and for your body to focus on how her hands were touching your breasts and how good at kissing she was. Your hands found their way to her hair, pulling it out of her ponytail. So pretty, she looks so pretty with her hair down. Your fingers caressed and then gripped her hair, both of you moaned into each other's mouths. It wasn't much longer before tennant was pushing you on the bed and you eagerly laid down. Having her on top of you like this was a sight, even more when she stopped kissing and touching you to sit back right between your legs. You were going to protest but you were reminded that she never undressed- until now.. she took her jewerly out quickly but she took her time putting on a little show for you when taking her shirt and bra off. Your face turned red at the sight, and she chuckled at your state.

"It's not like you don't have boobs you know.."

"I've never looked at another woman like this before."

"I'm flattered"

Tennant then quickly took your remaining clothing off including her own- you couldn't help but blush more. Squeezing your thighs together after suddenly feeling a bit shy, but tennant spread your legs and you just looked at her. Tennant didn't have to put her fingers in you to know how wet you were but she did anyways. Her finger sliding over your sex then easily sliding inside of you- you let out a soft little gasp and she smiled.

"So wet and I didn't even get to play with you much.."

She leaned her head down between your legs, holding your thighs. You took a deep breath and decided and closed your eyes- feeling her tongue licking over your slit made you sigh. Your expression changing from calm to a a bit of a happy one when her tongue circled your clit. She was taking it slow which you loved. As the sensations got stronger your hand found its way to her head and you started caressing her hair in appreciation for how good it was feeling.

"Mmngh.. ngh.."

A flick of her tongue made you moan a little louder and her mouth went faster on your clit. She added her fingers into the mix, pushing in and out at the same pace. Wet sounds mixed with your moans filled the room.

"Oh~ ah.. f-feels so good.. h-ah.."

Tennant's fingers soon found your sweet spot and rubbed it quickly while her mouth pleasured your clit. Your back arched and your thighs squeezed her head into your crotch while your fingers held her head there as well.

"Ah- ah.. i'm-", you couldn't even finish your sentence before making a mess, releasing all over her face and mouth which she eagerly licked up but not before helping you ride out your high. Gasping for air, your legs let go of her and you laid there limply before speaking again..

.. "I... I didn't ask for your name"

Tennant chuckled, "It's Ada"

"Ada? .. is that fake too?"

"It could be. What's yours?"

"Y/N"

Tennant went ahead and trailed kisses from your clit to your neck before resting herself besides you, her fingers caressing your stomach. Tennant had done her job so there was no need for more right..? Wrong, it's her turn now. You moved closer to her and pressed a kiss to one her beauty marks, her surprised face was lovely but it quickly turned into a smug smile.

"Oh?"

"Can I please you?"

"I thought only i was going to do the pleasing tonight"

"I'm ashamed to admit you managed to charm me twice. So again, can I please you?"

"How could I refuse? Go ahead"

You smiled and kissed her other beauty mark before you caressed her body and your hands found her crotch.. your hand caressed her pussy for a few seconds before coating them in her slick to make gentle motions to her clit. You were still laying besides her just watching for any discomfort in her face. Luckily you were met with positive reactions like how her eyebrows furrowed when you picked up the pace with your hand, how her breathing sped up and how she leaned her head back and moaned softly.

"Mngh.."

While moving your thumb to give her clit attention your other 2 fingers made their way inside of her. At first it was slow but then the pace quickened. Tennant's walls tightened around your fingers and her moans only increased.

"Oh fuck.."

You kissed her cheek while your hand increased its pace until your fingers found her g-spot and all the attention went to that spot. Tennant arched her back and threw her head back.

"Mngh! H-ahh! Keep going"

And you did, until the knot in her stomach snapped and she released. She was gasping but she was so satisfied. You pulled your fingers our and kissed her again.

"Was that good?"

"You're more than just good, my lady"

Tennant wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close, the warm embrace making you both fall asleep quite easily.

....

In the morning you woke up and she wasn't there, you sighed. This was merely a hookup so it shouldn't have come as a shocker and much less a disappointment- until you heard the door open.

"Good morning my lady! I've prepared you fresh coffee, sandwiches-"

You sighed in relief and then..

"And this shiny dia-"

"That won't work on me."

[minijenn]

Fuck it time for random assorted UF ideas I had that I think are pretty neat/interesting/fun and I never got aruond to writing:

Mindful Education would have had angst for all four of our MK; Steven still reeling from Jasper, Bismuth, Rose shattering Pink Diamond, etc. Dipper is still going through it from what Bill did to Stepper in RMD, Connie is upset cause she broke that kid's arm i guess, and Mabel is feelin hella awkward bc she would have only recently accidentally revealed how she feels about Steven to him

Tied into that ^^^ we get the lyrics of Here Comes a Though tying in nicely to how each of them are feeling: "Here comes a thought that might alarm you" (Connie), What someone said and how it harmed you (Steven), Something you did that failed to be charming (Mabel), Things that you said are suddenly swarming (Dipper).

Mindful Education would have also featured appearences from every one of the MK fusions, including Stonipbel's debut! (Ok I'm done talking about Mindful Education now I promise)

The chapter Time Tangled would have essentially been a UF take on the old GF Timestuck AU. So Steven, Dipper, and Mabel would have accidentally wound up 30 years in the past, split up, with Mabel ending up with Stan back then as he's on his way to Gravity Falls, Dipper with Ford in the midst of his peak paranoia, and Steven with Rose during her peak Immense Concern About Ford. Angst ensues.

Weirdmageddon, if I were to write it now, would have a lot going on in it. Yellow and a bunch of Homeworld Gems were gonna roll in along with Bill and hiis Henchmaniacs and it was basically gonna be chaos all around.

After wandering alone as in canon during the apocalypse, Dipper would have eventually ran into Lapis, because of course; he was gonna kind of have a fear driven breakdown bc he has no idea where the hell Mabel or Steven or anyone else is and he's terrified for their lives and Lapis would have comforted him with an original lullaby bc she's his Mom we all already know this

You better believe, after meeting Gideon and hearing about all the trouble he'd caused Dipper earlier that summer, Lapis would have T posed on that 10 year old so agressively imo

She would have also joined Dipper, Soos, and Wendy in venturing into Mabel's bubble, as would have Pearl who would have joined the group at some point; one of the original things inside of the bubble would have been a fake version of Steven who's head over heels for Mabel, finally returning her affections; Pearl would have been the one to talk Mabel down from that, with the two of them sharing solidarity over being in love with someone they knew they couldn't end up having

Some of the more secondary and minor characters would have had a chance to shine thanks to Amethyst, who gathered up a group of them (consisting of Pacifica, Robbie, Lars, Sadie, Greg, maybe a few others?) and escorted them to the safety of the bunker; there, they would have found McGucket, who's been hiding out from the shitstorm outside

In the bunker, they'd all split up, and Pacifica would have found "Dipper" (the shapeshifter) frozen in one of the cryogenic pods so of course she sets him free and "he" tricks her in a gambit to escape the bunker; Amethyst sees through its ruse and fuckin obliterates that thing all over again good for her

Steven would have been captured by Yellow's forces around the same time Ford was captured by Bill (Dipper watches this happen and is unable to stop it hahaha oh no); Garnet and Connie would have teamed up to save him and Peridot would have joined them, essentially pretending to defect back to Homeworld to slip in closer to find Steven

My original plan was for Steven to actually be poofed and meet Rose inside his Gem but now that we know that's not how it works, I would have just had Connie rescue him and all of the MK and Gems regroup at the shack I suppose

There would have been a musical chapter during Weirdmageddon ala Mr. Greg. That's right, a whole chapter of original songs written by me. Fucking suffer.

My original plan was for the Gem temple to be destroyed during Weirdmageddon, thus unleashing all of the bubbled Gems inside of it, including Bismuth and Jasper (who would have somehow wound up uncorrupted idk how)

We would have gotten a lot of fusions showing up again during the big climax battle, with Stonipbel taking center stage in a fight against Yellow Diamond (set to a dramatic dueling duet); this fight would have ened with Yellow being poofed and her forces grabbing her gem and fleeing back to Homeworld

Bill would have split Stonipbel up and nearly killed all four of them until Stan pulls the same trick he does in canon and turns the tables on that fucking triangle, "killing" him (not really cause he returns in UF2 but shhhh)

You'd best believe Amethyst would have had a fucking meltdown when she finds out Stan's memories are gone and he has no idea who she is; it would probs also strike a strong cord with Steven and Dipper, reminding them of the time when Stepper went through something pretty damn similar

I would have dedicated more time to Stan getting his memories back, mostly fluffy, sweet moments building into it

With the temple destroyed and so many corrupted Gems on the lose, Steven and the Gems made plans to leave Gravity Falls to round them all up. With the warp pad also broken, they would have all gone with Greg in his van. That's basically what they'd be doing in the span of time between UF and UF2.

The epilogue would have leaned heavily into MK fluff and bonding, the four of them promising to return to Gravity Falls next summer, I would have absolutely cried while writing it.

Along with Steven, Connie, and the Gems, Lapis and Peridot would def be at the bus stop to see Dipper and Mabel off; there would be just... so many tears all around esp between the MK god

I would have included two scenes in the epilogue, one hinting at Bill retuning in UF2 and one of Yellow reforming on her ship and coming up with her Human Biowepons Operation which would eventually lead into UF2's Stonemason arc

And that's all I got maybe I'll do these for UF2 and UFF as well idk

[happyk44]

Hazel tucked her chin against her knees. Shadows were blustering around her, picking up pens and making notations on a dozen different stray papers while Pluto stared, wide-eyed, at the three monitors in front of him. His eyes never flickered away from the one in front of him, but the mouse scrolled rapidly to either side, opening spreadsheets and clacking in numbers.

She liked watching him work. It was kind of funny. For other people it was probably creepy, his dead-eyed stare, pale skin illuminated by the bright monitor in the dim office. Shadows twisted around like tertiary limbs. He barely moved anything but his fingers. Didn't speak a word.

But work was done, vacations approved, overtime denied, gem and metal requests from various gods reviewed, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

It was so neat. She wondered if this is how she looked when she reviewed Camp Jupiter's spending. She probably moved more than he did, but the wide-eyed hyperfocused stare, everything else falling to the wayside of shadows and unimportance - she was sure that existed in her. Although she was definitely more startled by sudden presences than he was.

He didn't mind her watching him. He was fully aware she was there, greeted her when she walked in and patted her head when she sat on the edge of his desk, observing.

She glanced over to the monitor. Her eyes scanned through the data. It was an update on the recent mining activity - a couple dozen souls had recently been sentenced to the mines as punishment. Production would increase. Naturally. They'd need to figure out what to prioritize in digging out. No sense in increasing production if the gems being pulled weren't in demand.

Off the top of her head, Hazel considered what she'd do. Review past requests, see what was most popular around this season, what would be most popular in the upcoming season, start on the prep for that. Maybe she'd have some people look over the current trends in jewelry. People weren't clamouring for diamonds the same way they used to be. She was pretty sure pearls were coming back into style this year. Moonstone looked close enough.

She poked Pluto with her finger. He hummed, curiously, sparing her no look, but one of the wiry shadows blustering around poked her back.

She tucked her smile behind her knees. "Do you have moonstone availability?"

"I can," he said easily. "Moonstone does require more pressure to form. And very high temperatures. I usually build it closer down to Tartarus and near the Phlegethon." The screens blurred in a piston of movement as his fingers clicked and clacked at the keyboard and deftly moved about the mousepad. "Yama has very fine moonstone beneath his earth, as well. I'm sure he'd be happy to take some of our beloathed for punishment in exchange." He tilted his face in her direction. "Do you think moonstone will be viable this period?"

Her lip bit raw in her mouth. But she relaxed and nodded. "I do. Pearls are popular this year, but expensive. And there still exists concerns over harvesting. Moonstone is a much more inexpensive substitute and, if well crafted, will be indistinguishable from the untrained eye."

His eyes held her in that same dead-eyed stare. And then they softened. A smile gently graced his face. He slid his chair closer to her and caught the back of her head, bringing her down for a gentle kiss on the head.

"Smart girl," he mused as he slid away. "I'll make a note to increase our moonstone production then."

She grinned widely and resisted the urge to wiggle in excitement. Instead, she relaxed and let herself lean into the wall. The monitors twisted ever so slightly so she could still see them at her new angle.

Maybe Pluto would take her to meet his Hindu counterpart. She considered that, herself tucked into her father's side, dressed clean but not flashy, a little businesswoman at a godly business meeting.

It was exciting to think of. Already thoughts were flowing about what she'd say to urge his "Yes" to the moonstone mining beneath his earth. Pluto had friends across all the chthonic pantheons. They thought he was interesting, and his temperance was smooth enough to handle even the most rowdy of them, but still. She wanted to prove herself in this way. Prove she was of him, the same way Nico was. That she deserved a place at their table too.

I am my father's daughter, she thought. The underground, where all the mineral wealth hides, is my world too.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 29: i only sink deeper the deeper i think

Scented Candle + "What's happened to me?"

2886 Words; Sit Still, Look Pretty

TW for forced drug use, forced helplessness, doll whump, emotional abuse

AO3 ver

“Hold still, darling.” Carrie tittered.

Dion huffed. He couldn’t even move if he wanted to; he still didn’t understand why this woman insisted on making that joke. It wasn’t funny.

Carrie finished up the eyeliner, leaning back to examine her work. “Oh, it’s coming together so nicely.” She hummed, putting away the eyeliner. She removed the headband, setting it aside and grabbing the brush. She hummed as she worked, some soft tune that Dion had never heard before meeting her but had long since grown to intimately hate. The brush was gently carded through his curls as she worked, in a way that only served to remind Dion of his mother.

Dion’s eyes pricked. He swallowed those feelings down. If he cried, it’d ruin the makeup—and while Dion would love that, Carrie wouldn’t. So he shoved the ache down as far as it would go, begging his mind to latch onto a safer topic.

The notebooks flashed in his mind. Good enough.

Dion needed to remember them, needed to keep Carrie’s past victims in his mind at all times. He had to stay strong, had to remember what awaited him.

Esperanza. Felix. Vera. Callum. Lesley. Tobias. Alicia.

Seven names. Seven notebooks.

Seven neat little graves in Carrie’s backyard.

Dion couldn’t let himself become grave number eight. He couldn’t. So even as Carrie braided back his hair, even as her touch both burned under his scalp and reminded him of his mother—

Dion wouldn’t fall for it. He wouldn’t let Carrie get to him. He wouldn’t.

Esperanza. Felix. Vera. Callum. Lesley. Tobias. Alicia.

So what if he’d lost his one good chance to escape that night? Carrie fell asleep long after he did—it was hardly a chance to escape. Just a movie night, upstairs, out of the diamond-wallpaper hellroom. So Dion hadn’t failed, or anything—he had just learned more about where he was, which would make his escape easier.

Carrie carding her hands through his hair as the movie played, humming softly under her breath, Dion leaning into her touch—

That night—that was a fluke. Dion was just tired, that night, too emotionally spent to fight Carrie’s hold. But he wouldn’t fail like that again, no way!

Esperanza. Felix. Vera. Callum. Lesley. Tobias. Alicia.

Dion repeated the names in his head, repeated their faces. His throat tightened. Carrie let go of the hair elastic, letting it snap into place at the end of his braid. She clasped her hands together, oblivious to the thoughts circling in Dion’s head. “There!”

She turned the chair so that Dion was facing the mirror, moving his braid to rest on his shoulder. The dress he was wearing was a picturesque blue sundress, with flowers made of bright yellow thread on the left shoulder strap. As Dion watched, Carrie added three flower hairpins to the braid.

He looked pretty. He looked healthy, like he wasn’t slowly losing his mind in this godawful hell. He looked like he’d come right out of a magazine themed around summer fashion—all that was missing was a bright smile.

Not that Dion would smile, even if he could. Grimace, maybe. Stick his tongue out like a child, possibly. Anything to ruin the perfect little image Carrie had so carefully built.

“I bought this dress the same day I first saw you.” Carrie commented. “Isn’t that neat? Just hours after getting this beauty and I’m finding the perfect Doll to put it on!” She smiled, bright red lips like a bloody cut around bone-white teeth. “Must have been destiny!”

Dion snorted, a low sound in his throat. It was the most he could do, really.

Carrie ignored his obvious disdain, instead gently pushing his mouth into a smile, splitting his face. She fussed around a bit, trying to get the shape just so—

She pulled away, presumably to get her camera, leaving Dion staring at the mirror. Smiling at it, like he wasn’t absolutely furious—

A sunhat landed on Dion’s head, Carrie staring into the mirror as she contemplated it. She tilted the hat this way and that, murmuring over which way would be the best way to angle the dangling blue ribbon tied. All that was missing was a convenient little breeze, and Dion really would look like he came straight from a magazine, pretty and perfect and fake.

Bile rose in the back of Dion’s throat. He was going to be sick.

Maybe that’ll show her, if you vomit all over this stupid dress, Dion thought viciously. He grabbed onto his anger and held it fast, as though it might shield him from falling apart at Carrie’s touch.

Carrie finally settled on how she wanted the hat positioned. Dion’s cheeks were starting to hurt. She smiled, dragging Dion’s chair over so that he was in front of the wallpaper. “Such a gorgeous doll.” She hummed, lifting the camera.

Click!

+=+=+=+=+

Dion curled up under the comforter, breathing slowly. The cuff around his ankle was a familiar pressure.

His throat tightened. His eyes stung, and Dion let the tears fall—there was no makeup to ruin, not now.

He stared out into the darkness, out into the hellroom that he’d grown so used to. How long had it been since he’d seen the sun? Since he’d been outside of Carrie’s house?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

Quietly, he mumbled to himself.

“Esperanza. Felix. Vera. Callum. Lesley. Tobias. Alicia.” he muttered. “Esperanza. Felix. Vera. Callum. Lesley. Tobias. Alicia.” He needed to remember them, needed to keep their names alive in his head for when he escaped.

When he escaped…

Dion’s chest ached. He missed home so badly—how long had it been? How was everyone doing? Were they missing him? Were they okay?

Dion didn’t know. He wished he could, wished he could leave this room and go home where his family was.

Esperanza. Felix. Vera. Callum. Lesley. Tobias. Alicia.

Dion would make it out. He had to.

He just wished it could be soon.

+=+=+=+=+

“This one will require a different background.” Carrie explained, lifting Dion from the chair with an arm around his back and the other under his knees. “So we’ll be using the upstairs studio!”

Dion’s heart threatened to pound his ribs to bits in his excitement. Yet at the same time, a sense of resignation blossomed in his stomach. He was on the full dose, tonight—his chances of getting away were next to nothing.

He was already all cleaned and dressed—another blue dress, this time, but instead of the pretty flower sundress it was much longer, nearly reaching Dion’s feet, with puffy white sleeves like seafoam. This dress was a darker blue—almost black—at the hem, fading up into lighter blue at the bosom. It looked like waves, much to Dion’s dismay.

(Water. Why was it always water? The curse wasn’t real, and yet Dion still felt queasy in this dress, still felt awful. At least when Carrie bathed him, shudder-inducing as that was, it was always short.

At least there was no actual water involved, this time. Probably.

Dion couldn’t put it past Carrie to find new levels of awful with every outfit.)

Up the stairs they went, through the green-striped halls and into a… sitting room? It looked like the living room, but it clearly wasn’t, lacking the TV. And the living room was down the other way.

Instead, this room had a chaise lounge as the centerpiece, with a large screen set up behind it. There were a few cabinets and shelves to the sides, but they were far enough from the lounge itself that any photos taken wouldn’t include them.

Ugh, Dion hated that he was already thinking in terms of the photos Carrie would undoubtedly take. He hated that he knew anything about Carrie’s process—hated that he knew anything about her at all.

Carrie laid him out on the lounge, arranging one of his arms to rest his hand on his forehead like he’d just fallen dramatically onto the thing. Dion snarled in the back of his throat, but Carrie was already fussing with the train of the dress and how it flowed off the edge of the lounge onto the floor.

Carrie hummed, moving over to the shelf on the left. There were candles sitting on it, though Dion couldn’t see the labels from where he was sitting. Carrie opened a drawer, pulling out a box of matches.

The candles started to burn, setting the area aglow. Dion watched as Carrie lifted one up to set on the small drawer next to the lounge, the scent wafting over to him.

It was kind of… citrusy? But also a little spicy-sweet. It was kind of familiar, the way it tickled Dion’s nose.

Carrie was still puttering around, setting up the scene for her little photoshoot. She draped a green sheet over the screen, straightening out the wrinkles and folds.

Dion’s arm was starting to hurt. The candle continued to burn, the scent sharp against Dion’s nose. It was a little lemony, too, he realized. Really familiar.

All at once, it hit him. That scent—

Dion’s eyes stung and his throat tightened. He knew that scent. That was… that was magnolia. That was the scent of his mother’s perfume. He could picture her now, coming out of the caravan after getting herself ready for the day, the scent yet to be washed away by the daily toils and struggles. He could even picture his father pressing kisses to her neck, and picking up the scent as well, until both of his parents smelled like magnolia perfume—

Dion’s breath hitched. His throat tightened. A fresh wave of homesickness washed over him, squeezing his chest. How long had it been? How long had it been since he had seen his mother’s face, heard her laugh, felt her hands carding through his hair? How long before he would ever see her again?

(What if he never saw her again? What if his last memory of her was her reminder not to dilly-dally when he walked off for the nearest payphone?)

His face was wet. His eyes burned.

At once, Carrie was on him, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Shh, shh,” She murmured gently. “There’s no need to cry, Doll. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

But Dion couldn’t stop. And he couldn’t explain, either, couldn’t tell Carrie that he was crying over a scented candle because it reminded him of home—

Not that he wanted to tell her anything. She didn’t deserve anything from him, so even if he wasn’t utterly unable to move he still wouldn’t tell her why he was crying.

(He wouldn’t be able to through the tears.)

Carrie huffed. “Really?” Her lips pursed, and her hands fell to her hips, like Dion was somehow the one in the wrong. “Dolls don’t cry, darling.” She huffed.

But Dion wasn’t a doll!

Still, Carrie persisted, even as Dion’s sobs became audible. After a while, she gave up, letting him cry and ruin his makeup.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home.

(He wasn’t certain that he ever would.)

Carrie watched, tilting her head. “Wait…” Her frown disappeared, and she made a frame with her fingers. “Oh, that might work!”

Dion sniffled. Carrie went back to fussing around with the room, then left it entirely. Dion’s sobs were the only sound in the silence, muffled by his inability to open his mouth.

He wanted to go home.

But more than that, he was tired. Eventually, he ran out of tears to cry, his eyes stinging and his throat raw. He wanted to go home. He had no idea how he’d ever accomplish that, how he’d ever get away from Carrie.

Carrie came back, the camera around her neck and a case in hand. She looked Dion over, for a moment, then smiled. “Yes! Oh, doll, I should have known you had something special up your sleeve!”

Dion wanted to vomit. He didn’t cry on purpose!

“This will look so much better, with just a few adjustments…” Carrie leaned in, opening the case and pulling something out—more makeup? “Just a few little touch-ups…” She mumbled, re-applying the lipgloss and redoing the eyeliner. “Oh, this will look so lovely!” She closed the makeup case. “Your makeup running from the tears, the tragic posing… it’s perfection!”

She stood back, lifting the camera. “Absolutely perfect, darling.”

Click!

The candles continued to burn.

+=+=+=+=+

Dion walked a circle around his room, moving purely for the sake of it. The chain attached to his ankle dragged behind him, scraping along the floor—Dion didn't care. He was too tired to care.

He had turned on the bathroom light, after the lights in the room had flicked off, if only so that he wouldn't feel like he was being swallowed alive by the darkness. The bright yellow light cut into the room through the doorway, allowing Dion to see in the gloom.

He continued to pace, restless energy buzzing in his limbs.

How long had he been here? How much longer did he have? The notebooks flashed through his mind—Esperanza, Felix, Vera, Callum, Lesley, Tobias, Alicia—he had a year and a half at the most, four months at the least. He really didn't want to be stuck here for more than a year—but would he make it out in less than four months? Could he make it out?

He didn't know. He didn't know, and that frustrated him more than anything else.

Dion passed by the vanity, only to stop. He turned towards it, looking at the mirror, looking at this reflection—

What had happened to him? Where was the death-defying acrobat, where was the confidence? The longer he stared at his reflection in the gloom, the less it looked like Dion. He could so easily picture the makeup Carrie might put on him, could so easily imagine away the signs of stress on his face. That man in the mirror—that wasn't him. That was someone else, someone who Dion could never be but was getting ever and ever closer to—

Dion wrenched his gaze away from the mirror. He resumed pacing, continuing in his lopsided circle until exhaustion dragged him to the bed.

He ended up pacing for quite a while.

+=+=+=+=+

“Thanksgiving is coming up…” Carrie hummed, digging through the wardrobe.

Dion started. But—if that was—

He’d been taken on October 3rd. If it was already close to the end of November…

Oh god. Oh god.

Dion’s breath hitched. But he was still spent from two nights prior, still too tired to summon any new tears. He’d been here for nearly two months. Two months!

The notebooks flashed through his mind. The dates—Carrie never kept a doll for less than four months, never longer than a year and a half. If Dion could trust that she’d be the same with him, then…

Then he had two more months to get out of here, minimum.

As tired as he was, Dion wanted to cry so badly right then and there. Two months, and he’d only left the hellroom twice. Two months, and he still had no idea how he was going to get out of here.

Two months, and his resolve was already slipping—

Carrie started to dress him, oblivious to Dion’s crisis. Black boots went on over dark red pants. A loose white shirt with buttons at the neckline went on next, though it was quickly covered with a stiff red button-up jacket with flared sleeves.

Carrie buttoned up the jacket with care, straightening the collar. She smiled, grabbing the headband to hold Dion’s hair back. “Hold still, doll.”

Dion huffed. Oh, how he hated her. It wasn’t funny the first time, and it wasn’t funny now. But it did yank him right out of his spiral—two months!—so, as much as he hated it, he was at least a little thankful. But not really.

He didn’t pay attention as Carrie carefully applied makeup—this song and dance was long past the point of familiarity, at this point. Two months! Two months of being dolled up in this shitty little hellhole! Dion wanted to scream—

But he wanted to get slapped even less.

Carrie finished, removing the headband and moving onto his hair. She used a comb to pull it back, teasing out the ends and then pinning them in place with hairspray. She was letting it hang loose, this time, brushed back in a way that looked windswept, with just a few locks hanging forwards to frame his face. The moment she was done, she turned his chair so that he was facing the mirror—

Dion’s blood ran cold.

“See?” Carrie beamed, “Oh, I just knew you’d look lovely in red!”

Dion stared at his reflection with rising horror. At the dusky red eyeshadow and liner, at the red jacket with the folded collar—

At the bright red lipstick on his lips, the exact same shade as Carrie’s. At the bright red lipstick like a bloody cut, on his face and hers.

Carrie was already moving him away from the vanity, arranging him on his chair for her photos—

Dion was going to be sick. The image stuck in his mind, of him and her with matching red lipstick, of red red red around his eyes and on his body like so much blood, like one big danger sign—

Click!

[marshmallowprotection]

Okay but cowboy Ray watching Lila performing/working on her tasks and just loosing his mind over how graceful and pretty she looks, and how soft her hair looks, and how her outfit compliments her figure so perfectly and oh sweet heavens what if she puts on a show in front of him? Ray is flabbergasted

Or maybe he starts feeling just a tiny bit jealous over other patrons seeing her like this? He knows they're not good people after all... They are not deserving of her warmth

Idk I just think they're neat 😶

Cowboy Ray is nothing like Unknown. That is to say, on the inside, he's nothing like the man who stands tall and destroys everything in his way to make sure that they survive in Hell. The only thing that he ever cared about was cultivating life in the wasteland they called the home they were left. He studied for hours and hours to figure out the best way to get his hands on crops and plants.

Unknown was one in this situation who wanted to focus on taking down the threat.

What were they supposed to do when the threat was gone?

How would they live and how would they survive? Even if the monster was dead and far from their reach... that didn't mean that they were going to know how to live. Seven... Unknown... Ray... all of them had been in Hell since they were created. They didn't know how to do anything in this life except steal and threaten to survive.

Ray didn't like doing that. It made him feel sick. He always imagined that they would be heroes that stole from the rich and made sure the lot of them learned their lesson...but life wasn't like the stories that he had been told by Rika long ago. Life was scarier, crueler, and mean to those who had nothing and had to prove they were worth something.

Ray knows how to be a player in the game they've been thrust into.

He could be brutal, he could be merciless, and he could be crass if need be. He could burn bridges and walk in the hot dirt barefoot just as he did when he was young and dazed in the middle of the day, left by crooks who would rather see him dead than alive. Unknown said it was important to be bad to succeed.

Unfortunately, Ray had no choice but to agree, but that was the story of their life. They didn't get to decide what happened, all the adults in their life did. It wasn't like Seven was around, either. He had left to go on a hunt for information that V had left to him, and there was no way to know when he would be back.

That meant he and Unknown had to be on top of everything.

They had to play the part of two outlaws to be sure that nobody knew they were out of line. It was hard. It was stressful, and it was the one reason why Ray felt compelled to come out more. Unknown was the one that was brave and cruel, but even he had limits that hurt him to the core. Sometimes he was so tired he needed a break, and it meant it was Ray's turn to take the helm and take care of things.

That meant Ray had to check on everything that Unknown let fall to the wayside while he working double shifts. It wasn't an excuse, Ray tried to reason with himself because this meant that he could go and visit the saloon performer that owed them a debt. The sweet, and all too kind woman that had walked into danger and needed someone to show her the truth in this world. That's what Unknown said about her.

Ray didn't agree with that. A part of him wanted to shelter someone like Lila. She reminded him of the days when he was innocent and far from fear... the days when he felt lost but ultimately better not being able to know the brutal truth that Seven wanted to hide. Ignorance in this life is real bliss, that's what the crook Vanderwood had once said.

Lila was like the Cereus in the desert that had provided water and life to a desperate but lost soul. She was compassionate hope. The rose in the dessert. The diamond in the rough. The light at the end of this long tunnel. Unknown had warned him again and again that it was a dangerous game to gamble their bets on something like her, but she was perfect for it.

Nobody would've ever suspected her for a minute. It felt wrong to use her as a tool, but she had consented to help them, even though it was a debt she owed. She smiled and offered her hand to make things the right way again as if they'd ever even known a right way, and that... it was enough to make Ray believe in something. Even Unknown would say that he felt as though she was a good person. But, good people in this barren wasteland were few and far between.

Crooks and disgusting conmen would want her for the same reason all men wanted a taste of something sweet and supple. They wanted to taint something perfect to wet their palette. They wanted to ruin a gem so it was no longer shiny. They wanted to gloat and fuel a sense of pride in destroying something holy and untouched. He knew that to be the truth every time they came for intel in Jihyun's Bar.

It didn't matter who the patrons were gawking at. They all wanted to deflower the performers. Ray had overheard Zen once, the lead in the act, tell Lila that she wasn't the one on display. It was those customers who drooled and threw their money at the bar and at the body of those they could never touch that were the true reflection of the display of human depravity.

She seemed to heed his words since that day because when she stepped out on stage, her shyness faded and she smiled filled with confidence that glimmered like starlight. Her bodice clung to her chest, but it did nothing to hide swathes of freckles and sun-kissed shoulders.. cheeks... and a back. She was a vision of a world Ray dreamed of. She didn’t have to fear the sunshine or the heat. She had a chance to be more than he ever was.

Her thick curls were braided delicately but loosely enough that it gave the sense of a possible mess to come. She was leering on the edge of depravity, but close enough to her innocence that someone would want to remove the rest of it in the time it took to ask her time. Her lips were pouty and bold. Even as Ray sat in the back of the bar and watched her hips swing from left to right, she never lost that illusion of starlight.

Goodness... his face felt warm.

Lila was graceful. Her smile never fading and her hands always moving to show how far she could go. Ray’s eyes trailed across her figure, noting how perfect it was to see her wearing that outfit. She was so pretty... so bright... so sweet. She was hard to put into words but every time he tried, his throat felt tight and he felt convinced that she was the one who had stolen his heart. He couldn’t admit that, he was just another crook in her world, even if he wasn’t as bad as the rest. But, God, he wanted to be closer to her... he wanted to be so close...

Close enough to feel her breath puff against his cheek as she sprawled herself across his lap. What if she did? What if she lowered her hand to his chest and gave him a show? What would he do? He couldn’t blow his cover and let any of those men know who he was... that’s why he always lingered... but his throat felt dry and his hands twitched.

Her body was perfect. Her smile was lovely. Her song-voice reminded him of the Heavens above. She was... everything.

She was chatting amicably to a patron. She never broke character, either. She was listening intently to his words, laughing now and again, prompting with tiny nudges to hear “oh so more from this handsome, hardworking gentleman, who needs to be heard by someone who cares about his day. Oh, where would I be without someone like you coming by to make my heart flutter, sugar? I know I’m just a little girl from the East, but can you blame me for wanting to know about all you handsome men? You’re all so sweet to me, but especially, you sir.”

A mousy girl with nervous eyes transformed into a blossoming rose in front of the tavern. Ray thought she was amazing at transforming herself... she seemed to handle it with care despite any discomfort she felt. She was brave unlike him. She didn’t have the benefit of being a man with a gun who could bark orders and make others leave. She was a woman and she had to face every threat as if she was flattered and honored by disgusting remarks. She was doing that all for him and his brother.

Lila’s chest rose and fell as she leaned over to hear the man whisper something in her ear and tuck a note into her pocket. She giggled once more and kept it up with no hesitation. She was perfection. Ray’s heart thundered in his chest. It was wrong for him to think of his Cereus as anything but the sweet girl they needed to save that day. She was sweet, perfect, and just right for him. There was a big reason why God had given him a chance to save her that day, right?

She wasn’t led to the West to be defiled by disgusting crooks. They weren’t worthy of her beauty or time. If he could, he would let his finger hover above Unknown’s preferred gun, thinking nothing more of getting rid of those who Ray knew made her skin crawl. She played the game and talked the talk, but in her eyes was somebody who was disgusted with the men she had to deal with on a daily basis. She wasn’t the type to hate others, but she couldn’t hide the disdain in her heart.

Ray could see it.

He was... undeniably jealous that men could see her like this. It was a part of the game they had to play, but it didn’t mean he liked it. Nobody deserved to see her like this. She deserved better than this. She should’ve been given a chance that he never had. She needed to be protected and given anything she could want in her life. That’s why she was perfect for this task. People would sell their soul and money to get a glimpse of her bubbling laugh just one.

His brow narrowed at the looked at the crowd of men who wanted to objectify her and remove her smile. He didn’t want that. He wanted to hold her close and praise her being like she deserved. Even if he was just an outlaw with dirt on his face and blood on his hands, he wanted to praise her for being so good to him... to Seven... to Unknown... and to the cause that might free them from Hell.

I reckon if ya’ stare any fuckin’ longer, it’ll burn a hole in someone’s skull, Ray. Stop lusting after little Cereus. She’s ours already, but if ya" let any of ‘em fuckers know, they’ll nab her on purpose. Unknown’s voice hissed in a warning at the back of his head, just a reminder that Ray was never alone.

Ray sat up straight, fixing the collar around his throat, and knew that he had to behave. He couldn’t rough someone up just because he wanted to. There had to be a reason for it. Someone had to touch her the wrong way and then he could take care of it. He would destroy anyone that dared to look at her the wrong way. He could do that. He might��ve preferred to be kind and gentle, but the world had taught him he had no choice in being cruel.

At least, he could choose who to get rid.

Anyone who defiled the Cereus would pay for it. Forever. She owed everything to Ray and Unknown. She liked them... she did... she would never give anyone else the time of day. 

As Ray lifted his head to look back across the bar, he found that Lila was looking directly at him. A smile curled at the edges of her lips as she gave a little wave at him, her hand raised to her lips to blow him a kiss. He shivered as he thought of what that would feel like for real. He could be a gentleman for her, God knows it was what she needed. He would mask his anger and envy... smiling and doing a lot to protect her virtue. She didn’t need to know he was sinful.

Ray caught her ‘kiss’ and nodded back at her, hoping that she could feel the way her outlaw quivered. Unknown would’ve made her pay for that after her duty, but Ray? Ray wanted to find out what else she wanted to give him.

Anythin’ for ya’, little darlin’. I’ll do anythin’ for ya’.

[itriedwritingandhereiam]

I chimed in with a 'Haven't you people, closing the goddamn door?" ~ a miraculous fi

The skies couldn’t be brighter for the occasion. It was supposed to be rain scheduled for the afternoon but oh well, who could really trust the weather forecasting system? On the bright side, less rain meant the mood should be lighter. 

Ha.

no.

“ Hah, ” the ravenette  exhaled, staring up at the structure. ‘ This was ridiculous ’ she thought to herself as she stared down at her outfit. 

She’d spent over two months on it which was quite some time, considering the plan itself had only been formulated three months prior. She’d exchanged the original blood red coat for a much paler shaded pink, silver shoulder pieces topped all off.. The vest below her silver accentuated coat was a dull grey, frills working their way up her neck from the white dress shirt below. And finally, was a pretty silver bow-tie around her neck. She’d better get her money’s worth from these clowns.

“Alright,” she looked down at her watch, “we have two minutes to reach inside before we’re considered fashionably late,” she grinned. With a gesture of her gloved hand, her companions enthusiastically walked ahead of her, the arched doors burst open. She just hoped her heels wouldn’t kill her during her number.

“Let’s go defang a snake,”

It's a picturesque location for the ceremony. A church standing tall and proud in its grandeur. The inner walls are decorated with themed gold ribbons and roses.  With her d.i.y. cane in hand, she strutted down the main hall.

~

His leg was shaking as he stood at the altar. He’d managed to keep his shoe from making those tap-tap noises they were making before but now, he had the urge to wipe his brow as the priest was making his declarations. A piece of hair kept dangling in front of his eyes, refusing to stay slicked back like the rest of his hair and it was frustrating the hell out of him. Was it normal to feel butterflies on your big day? He didn’t do well with nausea.

Then there was his bride. His beautiful beautiful bride. Her bronze skin practically glowed as she smiled brightly at him. Her olive eyes gleamed in the light. The dress was, in his honest opinion, rather excessive. With a plunging neckline and low shoulder straps, the skirt flared outwards with a train at least seven feet dragging behind her. The entire bodice was covered in lace and intricate pearl beading, on her neck was what he would only assume was heavy, a large diamond embedded necklace, matching the flower patterned ones on her ears. Her hair was rather simplistic compared to her dress, in a neat braided bun, her veil attached to a tiara.

On the bride’s half of the benches were many faces he had yet to be acquainted with. What baffled him, was the complete absence of everyone he’d invited, (All of which accepted mind you)

The benches were barren and the present guests were becoming impatient.

Then the music started,it started off with an instrumental of strings. It echoes through the room and whispers follow. 

“Oh…well imagine,” a sweet and hushed voice sounds.

The doors burst open and a collage of colours moved forward.

“What the fuck,” his bride cursed, sneering at the scene.

 ‘ There went composure.’ he thought, ‘Though Lila had always been hot headed,’

First, two pin-striped men on stilts ducked down and entered, bowing with tipped hats and walking forward. 

“As I’m pacing the pews in a church corridor and I can't help but to hear, no I can’t help but to hear an exchange of words,” the singer continues. 

Behind the men on stilts, two girls dressed in unitards cartwheel in. Felix squinted, trying to make out their faces at the other end of the room and Kwami bless him if he was wrong. The one on the right dressed in a black an white suit with a faux fur neckline was Chloe bourgeois.

“What a beautiful wedding!” the other exclaimed.

“ What a beautiful wedding says the bridesmaid to the waiter,” the original singer continues.

“And yes, but what a shame,”

Chloe poses, “what a shame the bride’s groom is a whore,” she grinned, feigning surprise and holding a hand to her mouth. Gasps arised from the seated crowd at the foul language and blatant insult. Even Felix's eyes opened widely at the proclamation.

Three more rows of pinstriped and unitards wearing folks danced into the hall and then confetti popped. The circus act parted and there, in the centre of the chaos stood a female figure with a top hat obscuring her face.

“ I chimed in with a ‘Haven’t you people ever heard of, closing the goddamn door?” she sang.

“No, It’s much better to look at these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality,” the second ‘trapeze artist’ added, unlike Chloe her face was completely painted with red and gold. Her costume follows the scheme with red ruffles in her skirt and gold accents.

“Oh…” her bee themed counterpart cuts her off.

“ Well in fact, ” the ringmaster removed her top hat. Below, hidden by wildly curled raven hair was a familiar parisian. Even from far, it wasn’t difficult to make out her exaggerated eyeliner and red lips.

“ MARINETTE?” Lila shrieked, her expression, horror struck.

“Marinette what are you doing,” Felix growled at the same time.

Much to his aggravation, she ignored his protest and continued her lyric, “Well, we’ll look at it this way,”

“I mean technically our marriage is saved,” one of the pinstriped men stepped out of the crowd, taking the ringmaster by her hand. He wore a comedy mask, Thalia was it called? And his attire was much more formal than the others. Behind the mask was untamed blonde hair and green eyes-

Fucking Adrien Agreste.

“Well this calls for a toast! So pour the champagne,” he pulled out a bottle from seemingly nowhere.

“So pour the champagne!” the crowd of hooligans repeated.

And on command, multiple bottles appeared in the performers’ hands and popped without warning.

It sprayed everywhere.

In a moment, the bride started crying .

“Lila-” Felix tried, his hand reaching out to comfort her, but she slapped his hand away and ran. She ran off the altar and through the side exit.

But. But! To his furthered despair, a man from her side of the benches jumped over the chair and ran after her. The English man just stood there, dumbstruck and bemused. Felix just looked at the crowd of circus themed intruders and cried, “What the hell are you all doing!”

The ringmaster walked towards him, all eyes on her. Staring into his despair-filled gaze she offered a lopsided smile. Then she grabbed his hand without warning and dragged him toward the door. Without word, she placed a finger over his lips and quietly creaked the door open.

“It’s alright Lila,” the man from earlier hushed her. Felix practically fumed at the sight of the two. The man, a tall brunette with the dullest grey eyes he’d seen to date, was embracing his bride-to-be while she cried into his vest. Felix watched silently as he caressed Lila’s cheek and pulled her in for a kiss.

“What a shame the poor groom’s bride is a whore,” Marinette shook her head disappointedly.

The lovers jumped apart in surprise. 

“F-Felix?” the italian stuttered, scrambling to compose herself.

The blonde inhaled deeply and walked up to the two.

“ Felix I love you, ” he imitated.

“Fe-”

“ Felix you’re the only one for me, ” he ignored her.

“Please let me explain-”

“ Felix, Yes! OF course I’ll marry you! ” He sucked his teeth.

He stopped short in front of the stuttering green eyed snake and grabbed her hand, yanking off the ring she’d so boldly wore and walked away.

“Haven’t you people ever heard of, closing the goddamn door?” Marinette grinned at the lovers before running after Felix.

~

It took her a minute or two, but she managed to catch up with the groom. It wasn't hard to find a black-suited blonde in a park full of casually dressed people. He’d been hunched over on a wooden bench, wiping his eyes.

“Ello there,” (she cringed at her poor attempt at a British accent)

“Here to break my heart again Dupain Cheng?” he asked sarcastically.

The ravenette frowned and sat down next to him.

“Now that’s not fare, it was Chloe who called her a whore first,”

A choked laugh escaped his lips.

“I suppose so,” he hummed. Silence settled and Marinette decided to be bold. Taking off her pink coat, she draped it hopelessly over his shoulders (in retrospect, considering he was sizably larger than her, she should have known it wouldn’t fit)

Taking the coat tail, she wiped his face and-

“Goddamnit Felix you got makeup on my costume,” she cursed.

“No one told you to use it as a rag Dupain-Cheng,” he retorted. 

She flicked his head in retaliation and pouted.

“And here I was trying to comfort you, I’ll have you know I spent two all-nighters giving this coat its flare!” he hummed in response. The two stared off into the scenery. There was nothing extraordinary about it, there was dull grass and the midday sun, one or two families in picnic blankets and kids running around. Somehow, Felix’s head found its way onto Marinette’s shoulder despite her being a head shorter.

“Take a nap vanilla-cracker, it’s the on and off switch of the human body,”

With a sniffle he replied, “I just might,”

Author's note: Hi Hi! so um, I wrote this on a whim and it's not beta read AND I'm not used to posting on tumblr, you can also find this on ao3. I'd love to hear your opinions on this short fic

[villains4hire]

16, 17 (nuravity)

//Soft reminder that I track anons if I get dms over this lol.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change? //I think I would change to at least make Stella and Stolas's situation comedic rather than 'drama-based'. As Loona has physically abused Blitz more than Stella has done to Stolas on screen at this point and it may as well be played for laughs if we're really gonna go that route. Like that and just not have this narrative they're 'good people' or at least presentation when they're all trained killers, ppl like villains for being who they are, not being 'good'. It's okay to have 'upstanding qualities', but it just seems like a moot thing to do when the reality is that it's literal Hell. There are levels of varying evil yes, but they're all bad people which some you can be empathetic towards or those grossly disgusting at the end of the day with rare exceptions being genuinely 'good people' by any standards like: Charlie, Moxxie (even Moxxie kills semi-innocent people but has standards), Millie, probably a few others like maybe Vaggie and Octavia, but I dunno man. It just feels kind of weird at times as you don't have to prop up the protags over who they're opposing. As I get the whole 'good and evil' is a black and white narrative, but some things like literal murder or them playing up murdering some kid or kids for a joke in several episodes I'd say is pretty straight forward evil even if say 'the kid is a dick' or 'the crazy murderer's kids are probably brainwashed to begin with', then bc Stella tries to bitch slap her now Ex, she's the worst apparently? It's all really weird when there are things arguably more 'evil' that the protags do than who they oppose at times on screen.

Like, even from a comedic standpoint, it kinda just picks it apart as it's not to take the piss out of all of it or just be unfun, I'd rather just have them be 'bad people' and presented as such. I mean look at Overlord as anime/series, it's bad people doing terrible shit to other bad people or even worse people and that's a pretty big hit. It just feels unneeded and not as organic for me in the narrative it unintentionally paints. As you could argue it's just a comedy show, but they're attempting actual plot, actual empathy and something to grab your attention to a background story that's playing more and more out, so I think it's not really able to use that excuse anymore.

17. Instead of XYZ happening, I would have made ABC happen…

//I think I've mentioned Final Space already but uh, I'd probably would have made Lapis Lazuli a stand-alone ally rather than be a Crystal Gem and have her one thousand years of isolation do more to her mentally speaking in terms of being unwell? She would've befriended but not become part of the Crystal Gems and maybe stick around more/be present in the series with the group along with Peridot and Bismuth and not focus so much on the backstory of the creator's favorite: Pearl. Then give more attention to Amethyst who didn't get that much tbh and probably Sapphire and Ruby a lil more. As the other three such as Lapis, Bismuth and Peridot I would've preferred more involved mayhaps? Then while I get the message, I think it would've been stronger for Steven to beat White Diamond to poof her, then show mercy later on in the series when she changes, that not everyone can change, but WD decided to as Rebecca's message I get, I really do, but it felt a little weak when the 3 main Diamonds are literal imperalist entities that have caused massive suffering under their reign, but it is a kid's show so I try not to take it too seriously but just like fedangle a few neat things that might've made her message stronger/better as such a large platform that influences the minds of millions of youth while keeping her somewhat flawed vision but okay that I arguably find pretty flawed in execution.

[quinntessential-skill]

Danganronpa and Pokémon

So like, I've thought about both perspectives of this. What Pokémon/gym leader type would Danganronpa characters have, and what Ultimate Talent Pokémon characters would have? I'm just gonna list THH characters cuz why not.

Oh, also like spoilers for Danganronpa I guess so don't read ahead if like you haven't played these games. Or do, the games are kinda extremely long and painful.

Sayaka Maizono - Psychic/Fairy. Cuz like, all the "I'm psychic" things and Pop Idol is fairy type vibes. Considering both of those things, she'd probably have an ace Gardevoir.

Mukuro Ikusaba - Fighting/Dark/Steel. Mukuro is super vague in like, every way, but she's a military fighter. And she's like, evil. That's about it. With that in mind, though, she'd have an ace Tyranitar or something. Tyranitar is like, canonically super evil and can't feel pain and can't be stopped and whatnot, so that makes sense.

Leon Kuwata - Fighting. There's not really a fitting type for sports? I guess fighting cuz like physical skills??? Maybe he'd have like a Marowak or a Lucario (who uses bone rush like in Pokken) help him practice? Or have like a Machoke/Machamp pitch it for him to hit. I don't know.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Electric/Steel. Bro, they're the coding guy. Electric and Steel are like, the only options. I know I already said Gardevoir for Sayaka, and I stand by that, but it'd be neat if Chihiro had a male Gardevoir. I guess Iron Valiant is also pretty #gender. They aren't electric or steel but they're a robot so like close enough. Fun Fact, Pokémon trainers tend to have more Pokémon of the same gender on their team, so Chihiro having more male Pokémon before/if it isn't revealed would be some funny thing to do. Uh, but their ace would probably be Togedamaru. Cute little steel-electric guy.

Mondo Owada - Dark/Fighting. Dark more likely, probably those dark Pokémon that mention "they aren't actually that bad btw" He'd have a Sableye cuz like Crazy Diamond and whatnot, but he'd have an ace Scrafty. Deliquent and all that.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Normal/Fighting. He's just super serious all the time. I say normal because man's ace is 1000% Watchhog. Bro's just so serious all the time. And normal Pokémon probably are less likely to be like, troublemakers.

Hifumi Yamada - Fairy. Look, I'm one of like 2 people who know Hifumi has more of a character than being a simp and a creep, but even then, his team would just be... Y'know. Ace would probably be Lopunny.

Celestia Ludenberg (Taeko Yasuhiro) - Psychic or Dark. Gothitelle. Besides that though, psychic Pokémon would probably be helpful for gambling, (if not illegal) and Dark is just her whole aesthetic.

Sakura Ogami - Fighting. I feel like she'd specifically have Conkeldurr. I don't know why. Ace would most likely be Medicham, though. Super strong, and super wise. Might mega evolve too.

Junko Enoshima - Dragon. Most dragon types are like, super evil, and Dark Type doesn't really suit her. She'd have Giratina if her having a legendary would be so like, logically impossible. Like, in a real world with Pokémon gods, it would not be feasible for a high schooler to catch Pokesatan. Haxorus would be her Ace, super intimidating. Or Hydreigon, that thing is canonically just pure evil.

Makoto Naegi - Normal. I don't need to elaborate on this one at all. He'd have a shiny Blissey, because Lucky.

Kyoko Kirigiri - Ghost. Maybe it'd be sort of odd to have a homicide detective have ghost buddies, maybe that'd be insensitive, but eh. They'd have a Stoutland if they didn't have ghost types for obvious reasons. Ace Chandelure because... honestly, no other ghost type fits, and I imagine as a Litwick they would be like, a lamp on a book she'd read, or something.

Aoi Asahina - Water. Probably Barraskewda ace, because Fast Fish and Swimming Pro. Veluza if Veluza was actually fast stats wise.

Byakuya Togami - Dragon. He probably, actually, most definitely, not have a single type. Dragon is very intimidating and important, so that feels most fitting for him, but he'd probably just have Pokémon that can support him. Alakazam so he can have someone near his massive intelligence, would ride like, a Charizard or something completely exaggerated/absurd. Etc.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - Psychic. He'd probably have like, Unown or something just so he seems important. He still has to canonically not be good at being a psychic, at least in my eyes. If he didn't have that restriction, Xatu. Because he does, Slowbro. Because idiot joke.

Toko Fukawa - Ghost. Because writers have ghost vibes and cause serial killer. Probably mysterious or unique Pokémon, like Sigilyph and whatnot. Ace Froslass because of lore and because Froslass canonically freezes men.

And that's that. This took longer than expected.

I'll do other Danganronpa characters soon enough, and then the other way around for Pokémon gym leaders.

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 125 Rundown

Inuyasha: So I’mma be honest I kinda tuned a good deal of this episode out while watching it because this one’s really predictable. I remember watching this one the first time because this is the big one where Kagome finally admits she loves Inuyasha which everyone and their brother has known for like sixty episodes, like the movie that has them kiss comes way before this so this confession is basically meaningless at this point in the series but it’s still a milestone I guess. The Baby is still trying to fuck with Kagome’s emotions and forces her into enough introspection to force the confession, telling her it’s normal to be jealous and bitter because that’s the human heart which is ironic since HE’S a human heart. But Kagome finds the strength to purify their attempts to control her and come to terms with her feelings while also admitting despite some intrusive thoughts she doesn’t have any real ill will despite her natural jealousy which is kind of neat, lots of magical macguffins react to Kagome because she’s pure of heart or whatever but I think this is what they mean, that it’s not that she’s without flaw but she’s always compassionate and bears no hatred in her convictions, would’ve still be down for an Evil Kagome arc but it is what it is. Anyway Inuyasha busts through and the baby puts up a barrier to monologue long enough to tell Miroku that he’s technically Naraku’s heart but not the loving Kikyo part that was just all dead weight so he’s basically all the nihilism and cynicism without the horny on main thing that got Onigumo into trouble. But yeah, the day is saved cause Kagura’s not about to 1v4 the main group while holding a baby and Kanna’s not allowed to do anything until the end so yeah, Baby’s gotta take a nap cause groping Kagome’s tits tired him out but we’ve essentially gotten nowhere.

Yu Yu Hakusho: I actually had to look up the timeline for when this arc aired compared to when Diamond is Unbreakable was written because the vibes are just so similar and there IS some overlap so idk what that means but I’ve connected the dots, I’ve connected them. But yeah Yusuke and company have to scout the city for the barrier breaker squad and other various Stand Users, so Yusuke and Genkai take the two red shirt Stand Users to scout the town and Kurama, Kuwabara, Botan and Taboo Kid try to find the center of the hole which… of course isn’t above ground. I mean Yusuke firing Spirit Guns over and over until he makes a crater might get you there but shonen heroes never take the ‘bust through the wall’ Kool Aid Man approach because the villains have a lovely array of sequentially ranked mooks in a labyrinth waiting for you and it’d be a shame to waste it. Meanwhile Yusuke’s group finds a random Stand User that can read minds and Yusuke bullies him by just being too deadass strong to be fucked with even if you read his mind (there’s a little loophole shenanigans here with the mind reading but it’s fine, the effect is Yusuke’s basically a demigod at this point and a telepathic Stand User isn’t going to stop him). They use this guy to do a sweep of the city for anyone thinking about murder or opening a demon portal, luckily Sensui just happens to pass by and his brain is just ‘murdermurdermurdermurder’ on a constant loop so they peg him pretty quick but because Sensui is totally not Yoshikage Kira and seeing his face isn’t allowed, the dude gets taken out by a pencil eraser chucked from the next zip code with the speed of a bullet. The funny thing is the telepath tells them the code names of all of Sensui’s seven associates even though Sensui was way out of range when telling it to Sniper and said he was ‘rehersing a speech’ which is really fucking funny because it means Sensui is thinking about his evil monologues for his underlings like way ahead of time and was mentally preparing it and that’s why they now know the titles of each enemy Stand User. Also they’re in the hospital now for that episode everyone loves with the Doctor and the crazy animation next time and everyone’s just shocked Yusuke had the restraint to not chase after Sensui right away and they’re like ‘oh shit has Yusuke actually grown as a character?’ and Yusuke’s like ‘well kinda but also this guy’s aura is twisted and curvy so I really didn’t wanna fuck around with the dude right this second’.

Fate/Apocrypha: So we’re still in Jack’s coma dream and she’s tortured Atalante into submission with a child mob while Jeanne’s like ‘wait a minute I know this shithole, we’re in England’and there’s a lot of navelgazing and jumpy editing here but what I THINK is what they’re trying to get across is that Jack as a Servant is an amalgamation of lost children that died in poverty after being cast off by society and I don’t know HOW exactly that intersects with all the murders since Base Jack does seem to have technically existed and actually been the murderer but it may not have been idk. Anyway Jeanne finds the child mob and is like ‘okay time to go Anakin Skywalker on these kids’ and Atalante shows up and is like ‘holy shit bro aren’t you Catholic isn’t murdering children bad?’ and she’s like ‘Yes I’m Catholic but these are ghost kids so fuck off’ both Atalante and Sieg are kinda not happy with this answer but the kids are all ‘oh, we get to die? Sweet’ and as much as I’d have liked to see Jeanne rip a bloody flag through a horde of children to really seal the trauma they try to convey with this moment she just kinda… says a prayer and the kids die in a glowy light, like they don’t even make it visually clear that Jeanne killed them except for everyone shouting that she did. I mean I get the basic idea that Jeanne was healing the wounded souls that made up Jack and Atalante wanted to help them live rather than help them die but they treat this like Jeanne just waded through orphan guts and Sieg is traumatized and that is not what just happened, like this is supposed to be Sieg’s big ‘man the world kinda sucks’ moment and it’s basically a Konso from Bleach. Also just kinda wondering how Atalante’s philosophy works like when do you stop being a kid and she stops caring whether you live or die, like is it 18 or 16 like when does she say fuck off I don’t love you anymore and if she got her wish would all kids just stay kids forever or would all adults turn into kids? Idk her philosophy just doesn’t make much sense if you treat children as growing humans instead of static ageless characters.  

Speed Grapher: So we get a decent shot of Suitengu’s plan in action here as his goons enjoy the vast wealth the plan has made and they use Saiga’s photograph of Kagura as the Goddess for the branding of their new cosmetics line that’s been laced with Euphoria because nothing says cosmetics like a dead-eyed hypnotized fifteen year old in fetish gear silently judging you. While all this is going on turns out Saiga and Kagura have been living together for a bit, Saiga working as a fisherman to get passage to international waters so he and Kagura can drop off the map because yeah, Suitengu basically owns the government so fighting probably isn’t worth it, might as well go live on an island somewhere with the like two years Kagura has left to live. Though they’re scooped up by the coast guard and it turns out the armed foreigners are NOT Suitengu’s group despite a red herring of him finding out where they are but they’re actually with Saiga’s doctor friend who now has a sponsor in the form of a journalist turned politician that is using a small country’s embassy to host Saiga and Kagura to testify to take down Suitengu (and the Prime Minister backing him that will probably help this guy’s chance at getting office but that’s just a side note no worries) Saiga and this dude do some regular boxing for a bit and it’s pretty cool to just watch a brawl happen. Saiga’s understandably kinda hesitant to let Kagura just be thrown into a media circus especially with how her condition keeps getting worse There is a pretty funny scene where Kagura tries to pull the ‘hey I can’t sleep lemme come to your room’ and Saiga lets her in and fucking leaves, like she’s like ‘I can’t sleep if you don’t get in bed with me’ and he’s just like ‘then don’t sleep’ and dips out of that cliché real fast it’s hilarious, like it has ‘then perish’ energy. Turns out Kagura is somehow still exhausted, the tumor’s prolly not doing her any favors there and Saiga’s doctor budy says she’ll be fine but there’s this scummy dude that wants to get Kagura to a regular hospital and get a sample of her that exaggerates her condition and spills the beans that Saiga will go blind without treatment to kind of try to force their hand in the whole testifying thing. Like admittedly this dude is definitely an asshole and probably on Suitengu’s side but he’s barely lying, Saiga will go blind if not die from the Euphoria Factor and Kagura’s condition is terminal, I don’t think anyone’s told her how bad it is yet so scummy dude may have a point in telling her.

[theonemarvelousness]

RSA Student Ideas (you can take just let me see)

so my rsa ideas are:

a madam mim character (student or teacher) that's a shapeshifter with wild lilac hair and crazy eyes - probably a freshie/sophomore and is endless trouble [could be friends with our resident rsa cat boy]

a prince eric boy from the Sunshine Lands, I think he might be a descendant of the mermaid princess. Black hair, green eyes. Probably in a sports club that involves water. Can talk to sea creatures really well. Probably an ACTUAL prince. Incredibly charming to sea creatures except cephlopods.

a prince phillip boy (our silver foil, because Silver = Aurora tyvm); brow hair, brown eyes, very alert, driven, decisive, and little critters steal his stuff ALL the time, so he ends up spending his free time parkouring to get his stuff back (they love his shoes, hat, and coat the most). Probably also an actual prince. Bonus: Actually Silver's older brother. Silver got sold to Lilia in exchange for his life as a baby. Either not-identical twins or he's a year older. Was born sickly, cured with fae magic.

a prince adam/beast-based character that's THEIR Gym teacher that's all about both the strength of the mind and body together to be the ULTIMATE SORCERER. "You need both brains and brawn for magic." Married. Wife runs a book store in the village! <3

an aladdin boy, dark hair, dark eyes, sneaky, smaller side--always has food on him without exception. Good at subjects that basically help him survive, from a poorer background but very talented in magic. Diamond in the rogue. Charming smile ;0

CINDERELLA boy BUT HE'S PROFESSOR TREIN'S STEPSON FROM HIS SECOND MARRIAGE and his mom's DEAD. HATES HIS STEP-DAD. Blames him for her untimely death (either sickness or a car crash). Very personable, perfect upper-classman. Junior. Cleanly and neat as can be. Good friends with Neige.

an arthur either teacher or maybe even janitor, sandy blond w/ dark eyes--skinny, rail-thin. If a teacher, probably history--if a janitor, literally the advice-giver of the school with fantastical stories of his time as Headmaster Ambrose's student.

So while Neige is Snow White based, obviously, but I wish we knew more about Neige, so clearly in my HC the Cinderlla-boy who I might just call Cinder??? I like Cinder--they're both sophomores. Same class. 10/10.

An alice boy, blond hair, blue-eyed, wears a headband or bandanna that's black. Usually daydreaming the day away. Not great grades, but hobbies include: reading, exploring, and getting lost. Loves gardening as a hobby and is excellent at tea parties.

A Tiana boy from the Port o' Bliss who's family runs a famous restaurant chain. He's EXTREMELY talented in cooking, singing, and has a can-do, work-hard attitude. He's not really worried about his romantic future but he very much motivated for his future. He loves his family very much, and misses his now-dead dad but aspires to the most famous chef in the Port like him. A good meal solves most problems, and if that didn't solve it then you have to figure something else out.

A Charlotte boy from the Port o' Bliss that is the Tiana boy's BEST FRIEND EVER. They're childhood friends and they're always hanging out. Charlotte-boy here isn't the best at cooking, but he loves helping his bestie in any way he can. Very good at chopping vegetables. Amazing taste-buds, can critique food well. He's pretty smart, but his dream is to inherit the family business, find the prettiest bride, and have a BUNCH O' BABIES. MAN BUN!

Judge Frollo is probably a member of the Board of Education in this world and the WORST.

An Icabod Crane teacher that's super scatter brained but has such a large knowledge of plants, animals, and potions that once you get him focused. Scares easy.

[chaolie]

I'm a bit bored so here, an AU idea I've had for quite a while! It's essentially a zombie apocalypse AU, but with a twist involving some Gods trying to interfere! It does get long, so most of it is under the cut! Oh yeah, this also ended up Fundy-centric, but at this point is anyone even surprised?

Please keep in mind that I kinda left this summary on a cliffhanger, and it's a very angsty and painful one! It includes a death, so don't read if you don't think you can handle that right now!

So, we start with a somewhat modern setting. Most characters (Excluding Phil and all the Gods) live in the same city and have relatively normal lives. Phil lives a bit further from the city but stays in contact with his family, and the Gods have a couple of their own dimensions to reside in.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a zombie outbreak starts just a few cities away, and the news about it doesn't spread nearly fast enough. That's the first time the Gods step in.

Unfortunately, they're unable to stop the apocalypse. They never quite held that kind of power, and the world ending really threw them off, the best they could do would be to help just a few people... so they do just that.

Every single God chooses one person they want to support. They get to give them a "blessing", so essentially an advantage, and can help them in other ways too. They also make a "bet" to see whose mortal can survive the longest, but only one of them takes it seriously. Now, the Gods and their choices are:

Death decided to help Phil. She used to come down to Earth sometimes before, so they knew each other, and the choice was easy for her. She gave him wings to help him avoid dangers and find his family.

XD, the god of creation, chose Dream. Except, he had no idea what he was doing, no knowledge about mortals, and misunderstood Dream's situation. The gift he gave to Dream? Pretty neat! Any and all of his injuries will heal as long as he still has the will to keep going! The way he made sure Dream would keep going? Lies. Hope this doesn't have any horrible consequences :D

Foolish, the god of life, chose Eret. They were good friends before the world ended, so it made sense to help them! With Foolish's blessing, Eret can now find their other missing friends! It's not very accurate and they can use it once a day, but they can check which direction someone is in! Unfortunately, something weird happened with their eyes when they received the gift... but hey, at least they can see in the dark now, too!

Drista, the goddess of chaos, decided to help Tommy. She knew him from some of her visits to Earth, and he didn't seem to mind her chaos-related powers before, so she figured he'd be fine with whatever she'd offer him. He more or less was, so now he will just randomly get some items every once in a while. They tend to be useful, though!

Bad, the god of darkness, chose Skeppy. Before the apocalypse forced him to stay in the Gods' dimensions, he'd spend like 75% of his time on Earth, with Skeppy, so of course he had to help him! To protect him from any bites, he made his skin diamond!

Here's a tricky one. Overseers. Their "godhood" is a bit complicated (PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THEM.), but in the end, they got to pick a single mortal together. They picked Jack. They didn't know him before or anything, he just seemed kinda neat. Since they still lack the power of other Gods, they could only offer him what they were "gods" of, so "strong will" and "persistence". It's not much, but hey, it's still a free advantage!

Now, you might be wondering. How the HELL is this Fundy-centric, he has not been mentioned once, what are you even doing?? Well, let me tell you more about him!

He is probably the last person alive in the city and he is absolutely alone. He spends weeks looking for someone, anyone- But everyone else fled from the city while they could. He can't find his friends, he can't find his boyfriend (yes I'm bringing fwt into this.), not even his father! He does start to slowly lose hope...

Then boom! He suddenly runs into Ranboo, who accidentally stumbled back into the city and got separated from his group! After getting him to safety, Fundy learns that actually a huge chunk of their friend group is alive and camping outside of the city. They head there the next opportunity they get.

Now Fundy's finally a part of a group! They have 7 people in total - him, Ranboo, Tubbo, Niki, Jack, Eret, and Hbomb! That also means that they have 2 people chosen by Gods in their group, so what could go wrong?

Things go wrong when they decide to head north, to another city. They hope to find supplies, survivors, or maybe even a zombie-free zone? Who knows, maybe they got the news about the apocalypse and got time to prepare?

Most of them might find out, but Fundy doesn't get that luxury. Sadly, he gets bitten halfway to the city, and the Gods told their champions what a bite means. In order to make this less painful for everyone, Fundy volunteers to leave the group and walk in a different direction.

He walks west, and after a few days, while he's barely standing, he comes across a ruined city. He wanders its streets, and it's strangely empty, strangely quiet... it's still not long before he runs into a single zombie. Before it can get him, he runs into one more thing. A person. Dream.

At first, they're both overjoyed! They found each other again! After all this time! It's so great that Dream doesn't really care how impossible this is, according to what XD told him. But when he tells Fundy about his power, about how even bites can't get him, things turn... sad. Fundy's not immune to bites, and it's too late to try anything. They can spend like a day together, sure, but after that?

They do spend that day together, catching up and ignoring the doom looming over Fundy. Unfortunately, they can't just put off death, and soon enough, the bite gets the best of him. On top of that, the pain and heartbreak of that make Dream's power more or less useless. Uh oh.

...Aaand I'm ending the summary here because it's 3 am, but you best believe the story doesn't end like this. I am dragging the fox fuck out of the afterlife whether he likes it or not, and you bet I'm going to be a bit extra about it, too! I'm just not sure if anyone is remotely interested in what I just wrote here.

If you are, please ask questions. I WANT to elaborate on almost everything here!! Ask about the characters, their groups, the gods, about what happens next!! If you ask nicely, I might even show some doodles I made for this AU a while back? So please don't hesitate from asking!

(Anon is on if you're shy btw)

[ohheyitsokay]

Home

this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

<<

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

-

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

-

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

-

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

-

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

-

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

<<

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[adobe-outdesign]

What's your opinion on Diancie and Mega Diancie? And any opinions/thoughts on why Diancie looks similar to Diantha, the champion of the Kalos region?

I'd chalk Diantha up to just being coincidence, personally. The dress and necklace combo isn't at all uncommon, and the only other similarities are the hair (hers doesn't even have Diancie's "pigtails"), and maybeee those things on her back if you count those as the things on Diancie's shoulders. The names are also coincidence, as they're not similar in Japanese.

As for the 'mons themselves, I do want to point out how weird it is that Carbink doesn't evolve into Diancie. How is Carbinks "sudden transformation/mutation" different than an evolution? The only thing I can think of is that not every Carbink can evolve, but you could've worked that into the games by making it so that only ones with perfect IVs could evolve into Diancie or something. At least then it wouldn't be an event-only Pokemon.

With that aside, Diancie is pretty good, if not a little over-designed. The diamond theme is easy to understand and I like the colors here a lot; the light pink has good contrast with the dark grey areas and the white keeps the pink from being too overbearing. It's also neat the lower body is just a giant hunk of rock, rather than having standard humanoid legs. The round shape of the "dress" also compliments the ears well, and I like the red eyes a lot more than the standard white anime eyes you'd expect.

I do think that some of the elements are a little extraneous, however. Like the yellow bits--what are those, teeth? And having the gigantic forehead gem awkwardly cover the eyes while also including the other crystals on the head just feels like a bit too much. Similarly, the one on the chest could've been a bit smaller, especially because it's smacking into its chin right now. I also would've liked to either just have the lower body just be rock, or have smaller crystals throughout, as the giant singular one doesn't add much. None of these are huge problems mind you, but they do make things feel more cluttered than they need to be.

Mega Diancie is a really good mega, in that it's a simple, logical continuation of Diancie that does what it needs to and still reads clearly. I love the way the rock half is now all crystals, and the chandelier theme is a nice touch. The overall shape is nice and complimented by the two ribbons on the side. Overall, a good follow-up.

With that said, it does suffer from the same problems as Diancie does, arguably more so due to how many elements are on it already. Once again, the yellow bits are completely unneeded, the forehead gem and chest gems are a bit too large, and you don't really need the crystals at the end of the ribbons. I actually popped this into Photoshop and did a very quick and sloppy edit to show what I mean (original on left, edit on right; click for large):

(Side note, the more I look at it the more I dislike the shape of the forehead diamond in general; I think a spiky "crown" that matches the bottom half would've actually been the best way to do it. Also, the inside dress is fine being white but I liked the dark grey contrast here.)

Aside from some clutter however, these are both pretty solid mythicals, and I like the overall look and theme of them.