#it was such a great broadcast i definitely need to listen to it again sometime

[scottishoctopus]

Just wanted to say that I adore your blog, it brings a smile to my face whenever I see your posts! You seem like a really cool person and so I was wondering - would you be interested in becoming mutuals? <3 Asking as a seagull because I'm shy. *flies away*

Thank you and for your lovely words! I'm very happy to know that you enjoy my posts so much, that brings a smile onto my face! :D

Sure thing we could become mutuals! Just send a message my way, don't worry I'm not intimidating or grumpy like Davy Jones!

*insert scene of Davy grumbling bitterly in the background*

[aitaikimochi]

My Hero Academia DRAWING SMASH Exhibition Master Thread + Audio Guide Summary Translation!

1) All My Hero Academia DRAWING SMASH Tweets and Info 2) Horikoshi’s Interview about the Exhibition 3) Pre-Order MHA Exhibition Merchandise

FULL AUDIO GUIDE SUMMARY TRANSLATION: 1) Welcome Message 2) Roaring Sports Festival 3) The Test 4) My Hero Academia School Briefs 5) ULTRA HEROES 6) WANTED VILLAINS 7) ONE FOR ALL 8) ONE’S JUSTICE 9) Ending Credits

TRACK 1: WELCOME MESSAGE

All Might introduces and welcomes us to the My Hero Academia DRAWING SMASH Exhibition. Deku is also there and says that while listening to this audio guide, please don’t stop movnig as you will hold up the line and flow of traffic. He explains that the Exhibition is split into many different areas, and there’s tons of hand-drawn panels by Horikoshi-sensei on display too. There is also a section in the Exhibition that focuses on the anime too! All Might tells Deku that there’s a section dedicated to All Might himself, and Deku gets super excited and turns to Bakugou and says, “Kacchan, did you hear that? Uh Kacchan? Where are you?” Deku tries looking for Bakugou, but Aizawa comes and tells Deku to move along the line.

TRACK 2: ROARING SPORTS FESTIVAL

Ochako waves at Deku and says, “over here, Deku!” Deku goes to where she’s standing and looks at the different manga panels from the Sports Festival. He says thanks to Ochako, Tokoyami, and Hatsume, they were able to win that fight in the Sports Festival. Ochako sees her fight with Bakugou and says he was too strong, but she really wanted to win that fight for her Mom and Dad. Deku tells her it’s okay because she definitely tried her best. Ochako gets a bit flustered at this. Bakugou then passes by and asks, “Who did their best? No matter how many times I fight Deku, I’d obviously always win. But if Deku maybe was a bit more buff, he could PERHAPS put up a fight.” Ochako exclaims, “WOAH! Bakugou praised him! It’s definitely going to snow tomorrow.” Bakugou tells her to shut up.

Deku sees the next panel, which is the fight between himself and Todoroki. Ochako excitedly recites the line Deku said to Todoroki, which was the “It’s your power isn’t it!?” line. Deku gets embarrassed and tells her to stop. Todoroki thanks Deku and says it’s because of him that he remembered why exactly he wanted to be a hero in the first place. Bakugou yells at them for being sappy and gross. They then turn their attention to the panels featuring the fight between Todoroki and Bakugou. Deku said Todoroki performed really well, but Bakugou’s Howitzer Impact move was super strong. Bakugou yells that he doesn’t want to be reminded of his unwarranted victory from that fight. Todoroki apologizes.

Ochako says that Bakugou’s poor performance made his image look really bad since it was broadcasted on national television, but Bakugou says he could care less. Todoroki says he’s sorry he didn’t fight his best as he was troubled during that fight, but his head is clear now. Todoroki says he will be a proper hero. Deku says he wants to be like All Might. Bakugou says he wants to surpass All Might. Aizawa then comes and tells the group to move along as they are holding up the line.

TRACK 3: THE TEST

Deku explains that after the Sports Festival, the Hero Class went on internships with Pro Heroes. Todoroki mentions that during this time, the villains started to make moves in society, such as when they encountered Stain. Deku then goes on to say that after the Stain encounter, their class went to do the Forest Training during the Summer. Ochako remarks that Bakugou got kidnapped during this training period, and Bakugou tells her to shut up. Todoroki then explains that he, Iida, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Midoriya went to save him. Bakugou continues to tell everyone to shut up. Deku then says he’s glad they were successful in saving Bakugou, all thanks to Kirishima. Bakugou says, “I told you guys to stop talking about this!”

Deku then talks about the next moment in the timeline, which was the Provisional License Exam. Ochako said she trained so hard using her Zero Gravity quirk that just thinking about it now makes her want to throw up. Deku says that even though it was really difficult to train for the exam, the training did help him master using the Shoot Style with his legs as well. Todoroki mentions that the move Midoriya came up with using his feet was very strong, and Deku said that he also got used to it. Deku thanks Hatsume for making the costume and shoes for him.

Ochako says the Provisional License Exam this year in particular was difficult as the passing rate was abysmally low. She asks Bakugou if the Provisional License Exam was difficult, and Bakugou says “shut up don’t remind me.” Todoroki then says, “Yeah, it must have sucked to fail the Provisional License Exam” and Bakugou says, “What the hell- you failed too!” Deku tells them all to calm down. He says that Bakugou’s team did well in the first exam thanks to Kaminari’s new technique made possible by the point shooter gear he got from Hatsume. Bakugou once again tells everyone to shut up.

Todoroki recalls that their entire class did well in the first round, but he personally messed up in the second round, which caused him to fail the exam. Bakugou mocks him and says “what a loser, failing the exam” and Ochako says “but you failed too.” Bakugou yells “SHUT THE HELL UP!!!”

TRACK 4: MY HERO ACADEMIA SCHOOL BRIEFS

This entire track is a recap of various events that happened at U.A. Academy on campus. Deku starts off by saying he was so nervous when he first started school at U.A. but was thankful that he was able to make friends with Iida and Ochako so quickly. Bakugou scoffs and says, “isn’t it because you just didn’t have any friends in middle school?” Deku nervously says, “I think I had a few friends…!” Todoroki asks Deku why he didn’t deny it though.

Ochako remembers that Aizawa first asked the class to test their quirks, and Aizawa comes in and says he did that because he wanted to see their potential. Deku gets nervous and wonders if Aizawa came up to them because they were holding up the line, but Aizawa said he didn’t even say anything.

Todoroki said being part of the Hero Class meant that they had tons of different types of classes, and it was sometimes quite confusing. Ochako says even though it was difficult, it was still fun, such as when they had to decide on their hero names. Bakugou scoffs and says, “Stupid Deku actually chose his Hero Name as ‘Deku’ the hell? Did he finally lose it?” Deku rebutts and says, “But I actually like that as my Hero name!” Bakugou asks Deku, “What’s so good about that name?” Deku then asks Bakugou if he had decided on a hero name yet, and Bakugou says, “Nah, I’m not gonna tell you.” Deku replies, “What, why not?”

Aizawa reminisces and says that Deku and Bakugou fought really well against All Might during the Final Exam. Bakugou said he did that so he could win against All Might. If it wasn’t for that why would he team up with Deku? Bakugou then yells, “Stupid Deku! I’m gonna Kill you!” and Deku gets confused as to why he’s saying this. Ochako mentions that saying stuff like that would definitely get them cut from all Hero interviews, and Todoroki mentions that they should be careful about what they say.

Bakugou gets mad and says he’s going to kill all three of them, and Deku asks, “so now you’re targeting 3 people!?”

Aizawa reprimands them and Deku apologizes, promising that he won’t argue anymore. Aizawa keeps a firm stance to Bakugou too. He tells Bakugou that heroes need to use their quirks to save people, not kill them. Bakugou says it wasn’t like he was actually going to do that, he’s not that kind of person.

All Might steps in and says they should put this behind them. He suggests that they should just go and see the other stuff in the Exhibition together in the U.A. area. He sees that there’s a section made just for Mineta. Deku says, “Wow it’s full of Mineta scenes!” Ochako looks at it and says, “Oh, how nice” and Bakugou says, “hmph, it’s just a place to show off an animal.” Todoroki asks Bakugou if he’s jealous that Mineta has the spotlight, and Bakugou says, “Ha! As if!!”

All might sees the Cultural Festival area and says, “Oh! This is the time when U.A. Academy held the Cultural Festival!” Ochako mentions that it was really fun. All might says Class A performed with both a band and a dance team. Deku mentions that during the Cultural Festival, the whole school gets together to create activities and open stands around the campus, and it’s not just the Hero Class but the General and Economics classes also join in too. All Might asks who’s idea was it to do the dance for Class A? Deku says it was Todoroki’s idea. Todoroki said he just thought it would be nice to have something that everyone can participate and have fun, and Deku says it was a great idea.

Ochako says everyone was able to participate in it too. Deku mentions Jirou was the one in charge of leading the band, Ashido was in charge of the dance team. Todoroki said they did well using their quirks to create a great performance. Ochako says she didn’t expect Bakugou to actually participate and play the drums for them, and she recites his line, “Let’s kill ‘em with sound!” Bakugou scoffs at her and Todoroki asks Bakugou, “why do you get angry when people praise you?” Bakugou replies, “What the hell are you even talking about!?”

Todoroki goes on to say that Jirou’s performance during the song was really great. Bakugou yells at hiim to stop changing the subject!

All Might asks if Deku enjoyed the Cultural Festival. He answers that it was really fun, and seeing people outside of their class was awesome, such as Eri as well. Deku mentions that they were able to finally let her smile, and that made him so happy. Aizawa also agrees.

All Might says it’s important for heroes to bring smiles to people’s faces. He tells them to never forget that. Deku says, “Of course, All Might!” Aizawa says to Deku that he’s stopping in line again. Deku apologizes, and All Might asks them to hurry along down the line.

TRACK 5: ULTRA HEROES

This track plays in the area where you see all the Hero panels. The heroes on display are Mirko, Bakugou, Ochako, Deku, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor, Amajiki, Kirishima, Mirio, and Nejire. Ochako says, “woah, there’s so many heroes!” Deku gets excited and sees the first Hero, Mirko. He goes on a ramble saying she’s ranked #5 in the Hero Ranking, her quirk is using her bunny abilities. He says that Mirko has not only a ton of male fans, but female fans as well. Bakugou snickers at Deku and exclaims, “you’re such a Hero nerd!”

Ochako mentions that the next Hero after Mirko is Bakugou. Deku introduces Bakugou, saying “This is Bakugou Katsuki. He’s enrolled in U.A. Academy and sits in Seat #17 in Class A. He has a hero name, but he won’t tell him…”

Bakugou gets angry. Todoroki then continues and says, “His quirk is explosions by using nitroglycerin that he emits from his hands.”

Bakugou tells them to shut up.

Todoroki ignores Bakugou and continues with, “His personality is…”

Bakugou screams, “SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!”

And Todoroki finishes with, “…like that.”

Ochako then sees herself and says, “Oh it’s me!!” She explains her quirk and how she can cause anything to float if she touches then, but if she puts her fingers together, she can release the zero gravity as well. Bakugou then mentions that she also throws up if she uses her quirk too much. Ochako gets embarrassed and says that he really did not need to say that!

Deku says they should go on to the next person, which is him. He introduces himself as Midoriya Izuku, and his hero name is Deku. He whispers, “My quirk is…One For All…Please read the manga to find out more about it…” Todoroki asks Deku why he’s whispering, and Deku gets nervous and says, “Oh, it’s nothing at all!”

Deku sees that next up is Todoroki. Ochako introduces Todoroki and says “his full name is Todoroki Shouto, anad his hero name is just like his first name, Shouto!” Todoroki explains his quirk, and Deku says he has a truly impressive quirk since he can combine them together to create awesome attacks. Todoroki says he still needs to polish his quirk, and Ochako mentions he’s a very stoic person.

The next hero is Hawks, and Deku gets excited, saying “Oh it’s the winged hero Hawks!” Deku goes on to ramble details about Hawks, such as him being Rank #2 on the Hero Ranking Billboard, his quirk is using his feathers, but he keeps going on and Ochako says, “Ahh, maybe we should move on to the next one!”

Next up is Endeavor. Todoroki explains that Endeavor’s Quirk is called “Hell Flame.” He can emit fire at extremely high temperatures, but if he overuses his quirk, he gets burned instead. Deku says on that note, Todoroki’s quirk is better than his father’s since he can use the ice part to cool himself down. Todoroki muses that perhaps he does have an advantage over his Father.

The next Hero in line is Amajiki Tamaki. Deku introduces him as part of U.A. Academy’s Big 3. His hero name is Sun Eater. His quirk is transforming parts of his body into animals, and he can do this by eating food of that animal. Ochako explains further that if he eats takoyaki, he can use octopus arms, if he eats fried chicken, he can use the chickens legs. She then goes off saying, “tuna, beef, fish roe, mochi…” Todoroki asks if she just suddenly started rambling on about food because she just wants to eat those food, and Ochako says “I’m hungry…”

Deku sees that the next hero is Kirishima. He asks Bakugou to introduce Kirishima since they’re friends. Bakugou says, “What do you mean friends? He’s just my lackey!” Deku says, “Err…okay, Kirishima Eijirou, Hero name Red Riot. His quirk is Hardening.” Bakugou then scoffs saying, “He’s just an idiot who gets hard, that’s all!” Ochako comments, saying, “Well, you don’t need to be shy about it!” Bakugou then yells, “I’m not being shy!”

Todoroki moves the conversation along and mentions that the next Hero is Mirio-senpai. Deku introduces Mirio’s hero name as Lemillion and mentions his quirk allows him to go through things. Ochako says that according to Aizawa-sensei, Mirio is the closest to being the same rank as the Number 1 Hero. Bakugou grumbles and says, “No, I’M the one who’s going to be Number 1!” Ochako says, “Right…of course you are…” and Bakugou gets furious, saying, “YOU DARE MAKE FUN OF ME!?”

Ochako notices that the next Hero is Nejire Hado. She introduces her and says her Hero name is Nejire-chan. Ochako explains how her quirk works, and Deku remarks that Nejire can also use it to fly. Ochako adds that Nejire also won the U.A. Beauty Contest during the Cultural Festival.

Todoroki says after seeing all the Heroes lined up like this, everyone truly has amazing quirks. Bakugou says they’re all underlings compared to him though. Ochako says, “Right…of course…” and Bakugou explodes once again, asking,  “What the hell, are you making fun of me?” and Ochako repeats, “right…of course” to which Bakugou curses. Deku says to the group, “We really should be moving down the line now…”

TRACK 6: WANTED VILLAINS

Aizawa asks All Might to look at the new data he pulled up on the computer about the League of Villains. The first villain they look at is the various Nomu. The file says that the Nomus are injected with quirks that are stolen or enhanced from either themselves or other people. The next villain is Stain, who Aizawa mentions killed many heroes that he deemed unfit to be a Hero. His quirk is being able to control people by drinking their blood. All Might says the next villain in the file is Gigantomachia. Aizawa mentions that aside from being able to make his body gigantic, not much is known about Gigantomachia’s quirk. What they do know is that he works for All For One.

The villain after that is Twice with a quirk that allows him to multiply hiimself.

All Might mentions that the next villain file is Shigaraki. Aizawa says he’s the current leader for the League of Villains. His quirk is the formidable disintegration quirk that can disintegrate anything that he touches with five fingers. Next up is Dabi. Aizawa mentions that his quirk is unknown but he has been seen using blue fire. Aizawa remembers fighting against Dabi during the Forest Training, and he saw that blue fire.

All Might pulls up Toga’s file afterwards. Aizawa mentions that she can turn into anyone if she has even just a sip of their blood. The villain after her is Mr. Compress, who is able to compress and decompress things or people. He can also use it on multiple objects at the same time.

The villain after Twice is Re Destro, who is the leader of the Meta Liberation Army. Aizawa says that his quirk is stress, which he builds up to release immense power.

All Might then opens All For One’s file. Aizawa says that they really don’t know anything about his quirk. The villain after him is the Doctor, who also has an unknown quirk. They do have information that the Doctor is the one in charge of creating the gruesome Nomu and High End Nomu too.

All Might mentions the League of Villains is probably plotting something even though he fought All For One and sent many of them to Tartarus. Aizawa said they must be scheming something since if the incident with the High End nomu is any indication. All Might says even if the League of Villains is on the move, the Heroes will not lose to them.

TRACK 7: ONE FOR ALL

Track 7 is a monologue by All Might. It plays in the All Might section of the Exhibition where manga panels of All Might are on display as well as a ton of decoration with All Might on the walls as well.

All might says that in order to create a society where people can freely smile and feel safe, it was necessary to have a Symbol of Peace. He wanted to be a pillar where people can depend on and smile when they see him. All Might says he inherited One For All to do just that. He is the 8th successor of One For All, and all previous One For All holders and he worked together to try to defeat All For One. However, even if they lose their lives in the fight against All For One, their hope still passes onto their successors.

They need to be Symbols of Peace for the people. All Might says he wants to be the person who can bring smiles to people’s faces. No matter what happens, he needs to keep on smiling. Those who are able to keep smiling are the strongest. That’s why he smiles.

He says that Young Midoriya and he were both quirkless. But after meeting Midoriya and seeing the strong willpower that he possessed, he knew that he had to mentor him to be his successor. All Might says to Midoriya, “Everything, from One For All to my own feelings in my heart, I entrust them all to you. Young Midoriya, you’re next.”

TRACK 8: ONE’S JUSTICE

Track 8 plays in the room where there’s panels leading up to the Paranormal Liberation War Arc. All Might starts off the audio track by explaining the big war between the Villains and the Pro-Heroes, which the U.A. Academy heroes in training also participated in. Endeavor, Miruko, and Eraserhead were dispatched to the lair of the Villains where Shigaraki unfortunately awoken as well. Once he woke up, he began destroying people and things one after another. However, the Heroes did not waver and fought back to villains while protecting the civilians.

What the villains want is to create a new world without heroes.

What Shigaraki wants is to destroy everything.

What Midoriya wants is to protect everyone with a smile.

What Bakugou wants is to be the best hero and not lose to anyone.

What All Might wishes is if Young Midoriya and Young Bakugou can work together and acknowledge each other, they can both become who they want to be.

To save and win, to win and save.

All Might says if they are able to do this, they can become the Strongest Heroes.

Deku then exclaims, “Go forward, Midoriya Izuku! Use the power All Might entrusted in you to save people. I will save and win!”

Bakugou then says, “I will win and save! That’s Bakugou Katsukis’ way of life on the path to become the Number One Hero!”

All Might ends the track with the line, “To destroy the word or to save it. One For All’s successor Midoriya Izuku fights head on with All For One’s successor, Shigaraki Tomura.”

TRACK 9: END CREDITS

All Might says he’s come to send us off and thank us for visiting the exhibition! Deku also says thanks for coming. Ochako asks if we had fun? Todoroki says they were able to relive a bunch of different moments at this exhibition. He says he is thankful for it, and Deku agrees. Ochako asks Bakugou how was the exhibition? Bakugou says screw this- they should all go back inside and just focus on everything Bakugou related, forget about the Villains or anyone else. Todoroki says, “Well, if we do that we’ll need to reserve tickets again so…”

Aizawa asks All Might to do the closing message. All Might thanks us again for visiting, but things don’t just end here! The world of My Hero Academia will only keep getting bigger and bigger! Deku hopes that we can always cheer them on.

All Might then leads everyone in saying “GO BEYOND, PLUS ULTRA!!!”

Deku says to us, “Let’s meet again soon, everyone!” He then turns to All Might saying, “That’s good right? Oh, oh crap I still need to get in line to buy the limited edition goods only sold at the Exhibition! Wait let me go line up ahhh!” and scurries off.

All Might then laughs and says “as expected of the headstrong Young Midoriya!”

[matwith1t]

A/N: A part two!! As much as I love angst…I couldn’t leave the first part like that 🥴 You don’t have to read the first part to understand this fic, but you’ll definitely catch some little call backs!! If you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it all!! I hope you’re all having a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening !

Summary: Nearly a year since the break up with Mat, your life slowly started to revert back to life before him. But all of that progress goes away when you keep crossing paths.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: swearing, drinking // WC: 15K // Angst & Fluff

With the sun shining down, and no clouds in the sky to cover up its hard rays, it felt a bit warmer than the usual October day in New York. It was neither an excruciating humid day like the summers, nor a brutally frigid winter day. It just felt…average. But something in the air made the average day feel abnormal.

Maybe forgetting to set your alarm, and rushing to get ready, had something to do with why you felt on edge. Or maybe it had something to do with finding a crinkled polaroid picture of you and Mat––him laughing and you looking up at him––that you found in your sock drawer last night.

Maybe it was the picture.

But you definitely knew your sour mood could be traced back to this morning––seven minutes ago to be exact––when you ordered a coffee and the barista informed you that they were out of an ingredient for the drink you wanted.

“It’s not that bad,” your friend, Kennady, came up to stand beside you after she finished ordering her drink, “Worse things could happen.”

With a deep breath through your nose, you crossed your arms over your chest, “I know…”

And you knew things could be worse. There had been days in the past ten months that were definitely worse than a coffee shop being out of an ingredient to send you into a spiral. But this minute detail in the beginning of your day felt too mundane compared to everything you had felt in the past. And for some reason, it bothered you more than it should have.

Was it a sign that you were getting over him?

With a quiet laugh to yourself and a slight shake of your head at that thought, you quickly buried the idea. Not a chance, you thought to yourself.

When a barista called out your name for your americano, you politely excused yourself around other customers until you got to the counter. With a tight smile, and a small thanks, you picked up your coffee and went over to a little station where you could fix the drink to your liking.

You were in the middle of opening a sugar packet when you heard someone questionably call out your name.

It was an accent you hadn’t heard in quite sometime…A friendly French-Canadian accent that always reassured you of Mat’s feelings whenever he wasn’t in the room. After all, it’s what any best friend would do.

Not expecting to run into anyone during your little outing, your hand jerked back in surprise––sugar flying out of the packet––as you spun around in shock.

“Oh, I––Wow, Tito––I’m so sorry,” you tried to laugh, tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as you met his blue eyes, but you hadn’t seen him––or a picture of him––since you unfollowed him on every social media platform you had him on.

Like every time you found yourself in his presence, he smiled, “Don’t worry about it, really,” he brushed off the sugar from his sweatshirt, “Shouldn't have snuck up on you.”

You shook your head and waved him off, a ball of anxiety slowly brewing in the pit of your stomach. Because you knew if Tito was here, then Mat would be too. The two of them always traveled in a pair; you learned that they were a package deal early on in your relationship. And you could pray all you wanted that Tito was on a solo coffee run, but by his freshly showered look and Islanders athletic wear…You knew he had just come from a practice.

“It’s okay,” you closed the lid on your americano, forgetting all about adding sugar or creamer in it, “How’re you?”

“I’ve been good,” He smiled, eyes glancing down to your foot tapping against the hardwood floor, “Yeah, just busy playing a lot of…Hockey.” His voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, as if he thought hockey might still be a sore spot for you.

And in a way, it was.

Tito cleared his throat, “And you?” He politely turned the question to you, “How…How’s the job?”

Relieved he didn’t ask you how you’ve been, you smiled softly, “It’s really great, I’ve had a lot more time to concentrate on it.” You looked over his shoulder to see if you could see Mat anywhere in the coffee shop, “I’ve been given more responsibilities.”

“That’s great to hear,” Tito sounded genuine, “I don’t want to hold you up, but it was really great to see you.”

Tito had always been very emotionally intelligent with identifying others feelings, and you had no doubt he picked up on your uneasiness.

You offered him a smile, “It was good to see––“

“Did you grab my coffee?”

The smile dropped from your face and instead of feeling the anxiety in your stomach churn, you felt nauseous.

Tito looked at Mat with the same hung open mouth and wide eyes that you had. Mat came up next to him so nonchalantly––so casually––as if he didn’t know he was in front of the person whose heart he knowingly wrecked nearly a year ago.

Still unable to form a sentence, Tito’s eyes briefly glanced over at you, standing frozen, “Yeah I––yeah.”

As if Mat sensed some tension in the air, he followed Tito’s vision. He had to do a double take, seemingly not trusting his vision that you were right in front of him. And in an instant, just like you and Tito, his eyes slightly widened and his mouth hung open. You knew that he was thinking the same thing as you…that you had gone nearly ten months of living in the same city and had not run into each other once.

But now that streak was broken.

Your breathing stopped as you looked at him for the first time since that unfortunate day in December where the air felt a little colder than the rest of the month.

As usual during the season, he was clean shaven, but you saw a few small pimples littered on his chin. He looked more tired than usual, but had a slight glow to his skin from a recent shower. The ends of his hair flicked out under his baseball hat, just above his ear. You always used to tell him how cute those flecks of hair looked as he tried to push them behind his ear.

But the one thing that made your heart shatter was the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was the navy blue Islanders sweatshirt from a few seasons ago that you had found stuffed away in the back of your closet last year.

The one you broke down into as your mother held you.

The one that Kennady took away when she saw that you still held on to it after you said you’d donate it. It caused quite the argument between the two of you…You wanted to keep the sweatshirt because––while it was delusional for you to think––maybe Mat would notice it was missing, then he would reach out, and you would talk again. Kennady didn’t think that was very healthy and said she would pass it along to Tito.

And pass it along she had.

With a shaky breath, and one last look at the man who you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with, you spun around with your coffee and walked away.

You had only gotten a few steps away when you felt a burning hand catch onto your elbow, “Y/N…”

His hand hadn’t left your elbow, and you stood stiff in the middle of the coffee shop,“I have somewhere to be,” you said to him without turning around.

“Can we talk?”

His voice was barely audible––a plea––a whisper that should’ve easily been lost in the chaos of the coffee shop, but whenever he was around, all you did was solely pay attention to him.

You gulped, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Not here,” he was quick to follow up, knowing he shouldn’t be this lucky to get this much time with you, “I just––I want––How’re you?”

With an irritated sigh through your nostrils, and clenched jaw, you spun around to face him. Half of you melted at his wide and pleading eyes, a mix of uncertainty and care, but the other half of you wanted to leave him standing alone without an answer; much like he did with you when he broke your heart.

“Do you need something?”

He looked taken aback by your bluntness, “I…” Nervously, he took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, “I scored a hat trick last week.”

You despised the way your heart fluttered with pride at his accomplishment.

Instead of focusing on the unconventional feeling of your heart soaring with pride, but simultaneously feeling crushed in his presence, you tried your best to respond with a monotone voice.

“So, a start to a good season?”

Again, he looked confused at your short phrases and general disinterest in what he had to say, “We…Yeah, looks like a good season. Last season was good too..” His eyes briefly left yours to look at your slightly shaking hand that was holding the coffee cup, “Did you…Have you caught any games?”

“I don’t watch hockey anymore.”

Unlike his sentences that wavered with doubt, your sentences were sharp and unremorseful.

But you knew your stoic demeanor came closer to breaking with every second you stood in front of him. It had been ten months since the break up, you should be fine, you kept telling yourself. But seeing him and not being able to mutter an inside joke under your breath and hear him gently laugh, not being able to reach across the inches between you two and give his hand a squeeze, and not being able to muster up the smallest of smiles in front of the one person who could coax a smile out of you with just their presence…You felt the exhaustion catch up to you.

And like everyone else who asked if you watched any hockey lately, he looked stunned at your answer. Because when you were together, you never missed a game. While you weren’t always physically at a game; you either kept up with it by following social media updates, watching it on television, or listening to the radio broadcasts of the game while walking to the subway or in a cab.

“You…You don’t watch hockey?”

You could’ve given him the long answer. How you unfollowed everyone and everything related to Islanders hockey, blocked every variation of the Islanders team name from social media to keep any news from popping up, muted his name on Twitter, deleted the NHL app, and if you were at a restaurant with friends and a television had a hockey game on, you always requested to sit at the furthest table away from the game.

Instead, you shook your head, “No.”

The longer you stood in front of him, the more you felt your composure slip. You didn't like feeling out of control of a situation, and standing so close to him only reminded you of what you didn’t have anymore.

“I have to go.”

But again, he took a step forward and tried to stop you from leaving, “Please, can we just––”

If only he had fought this hard ten months ago to keep your relationship alive; you wouldn’t be running away and he wouldn’t be begging for a basic conversation.

You could feel the tears well up behind your eyes and the familiar sting as you shrugged off his touch, “Mat, I really can’t do this right now––”

“It doesn’t have to be now––”

“Mathew,” Kennady’s harsh voice ripped through Mat’s desperate one.

His arm fell to his side, accepting defeat, as he kept his pleading eyes on your frame, “Ken, hey––”

“We’re late for something,” she took the shaking coffee cup from your hand and looped an arm around your bicep, “We’re leaving.”

And with her direct tone, and guidance of turning you around to exit the coffee shop, she kept a strong hold on your arm for support. Your breathing became more irregular, because out of all the coffee shops in the area, how did you manage to run into him. Maybe you were meant to run into him…Maybe it was the universe’s way of telling you that maybe you should talk to him.

“Don’t turn around,” Kennady whispered in your ear as you came up to the door, “I know you want to, but don’t.”

The first tear fell when she opened the door and you so badly wanted to get one last look at him. One more look at the one person you would still love no matter how much time passed. The second tear fell when you were waiting for the light to change at a crosswalk, as Kennady whispered encouraging words. The third tear fell when the two of you made it to a park and sat down on a bench.

She handed your coffee back to you, “You did great,” and gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze, “So great.”

You tried to take a sip of coffee, but your hand shook too much. You tried to swallow down the scratchiness at the back of your throat, but it only came back stronger, “Why…” Another single tear fell as your voice cracked, “Why wouldn’t you let me turn around?”

She offered you a sympathetic smile, “Because I know how much you still love him.”

A small pathetic laugh escaped your lips at her honest answer, and you tried your best to mirror her smile, but it was as everything had just caught up to you. You had felt his comforting touch on you again. Heard his soothing voice again. You were with him again.

With how persistent he was to talk with you, it felt like he wanted to be with you.

The tears welling up in your eyes caused your eyebrows to pull together as you cupped a hand to your mouth and over your nose. Slowly, you leaned your head onto Kennady’s shoulder as she placed a comforting arm around your shoulders that shook slightly.

––––

The next time you saw Mat was another coincidence.

You were in the living room of a house in Garden City, softly chatting with friends in the corner, when a sudden roar of cheers from the front of the house interrupted your conversation. You and your friends laughed it off as more drunk antics of other guests, but then you heard his name.

“The person who absolutely crushed tonight’s game and that we’re forever grateful is an Islander; Mat Barzal!”

More cheers of agreement.

The plastic of the red solo cup in your hand easily cracked under your grip.

Deep breath in, he won’t come into this room…Deep breath out, who does he even know here…Deep breath in, did he come alone…Deep breath out, or was he here with teammates since it was after a game…Deep breath in––Oh my God, Tito just walked in.

He caught your eye immediately, and just like at the coffee shop, his eyes widened along with yours. But unlike the coffee shop, he didn’t come over to greet you. Instead, he offered you a slight nod of his head and turned around on his heel. Vaguely, you heard him speak over the music and talk of the party, but all your ears could pick up was ‘let’s go to the kitchen…’

A sigh of relief passed through your lips as you felt your shoulders relax. The small group you had been part of for the better portion of the night all gave you knowing looks, eyebrows raised high.

“I’m alright,” You took a sip of your drink. None of them looked convinced, Kennady specifically, but you stifled out a laugh before you took another, much longer, sip of your drink, “Really! I’m alright. It’s been over a year…” You gulped and locked eyes with Kennady, “I’m alright.”

She didn’t look convinced, but restarted the previous conversation, diverting the attention away from you.

It was January, three months since you saw Mat at the coffee shop, and you were fine. At least you thought you were capable of not breaking down in front of him. While you still were without much––if any––closure after your relationship ended, seeing him at the coffee shop felt like turning a page. Not necessarily a whole chapter, but just enough to start feeling a little better.

You both lived around the same area and still had a few mutual friends. To think you would never see him ever again would be foolish, so you had to make the best of this situation. Although, part of you hoped not to run into him ever again.

There had been times where you overhead a ‘Barzy’ or a ‘Beau,’ an Islanders chant, or someone complimenting Mat on his goals of the game. But for the most part, it felt as if he wasn’t there. You enjoyed the rest of the night, but a few hours later, his laugh caught your ear and you saw him tilt his head back from your peripheral vision.

You hadn’t even realized he was in the same room.

Progress, you smiled into your red solo cup as you went to take a drink, small steps of progress.

But your tiny smile disappeared when you saw you were all out of alcohol. With a frown, you quietly excused yourself from your group and walked into the kitchen. You waved at people you recognized, and felt great up until this point of the night. With every genuine smile you offered a friend, they returned it with a sympathetic smile, assuming you were overcompensating happiness by being in the same place with your ex-boyfriend.

And in turn, it caused doubts to float through your mind.

Were you really feeling alright being so close in proximity to him? Were you really starting to feel the process of mending your broken heart, or were you lying to yourself? Would you break down if he were to cross paths with him?

Repeating your breathing exercise from earlier, you calmed yourself down as you weaved through more people to get to the kitchen. You weren’t sure if you wanted to have the same drink, or something different, so you stood still for a few moments debating in your head. You were far from coming to a decision, but when you heard a familiar voice say your name, you quickly came to a decision that you needed to be sober.

You spun around and came face to face with Mat.

Unlike the athletic wear you saw him in the last time, he was currently dressed in a white button up shirt tucked into a pair of navy slacks. The top two buttons of his shirt undone, his sleeves cuffed up, and a small wisp of hair rested against the side of his forehead.

You felt your heart erratically beat against your ribcage as you stood in front of him. He looked as if he didn’t expect you to turn around for him, and the two of you stood in silence. His brain failed at forming a thought, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

“You got a haircut.”

Mat’s cheeks went red as he ducked his chin into his chest, letting out a small laugh, “Yeah,” he looked up at you with the faintest of smiles, “I did.”

Silence.

He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “Uh…What’re you drinking?”

Snapping back to reality, and to why you were in the kitchen in the first place, you blinked your eyes a few times, “Water.”

“There’s some––I can, here,” Mat stumbled over his feet, like he did with his words, as he walked past you and to the fridge. You followed him toward the fridge, and watched him lean forward to grab a water from the back. You only had a few seconds to admire his side profile before he stood up straight and uncapped the water bottle for you.

“Thanks,” you uneasily said as you took the water from him, making sure you didn’t brush your fingers against his.

Mat took a deep breath, looked away from you, and ran a hand through his hair. You could now hear your heartbeat in your ears, knowing exactly what he was about to ask.

“Can we talk?”

This was exactly why you wanted water.

You took a long sip of water, and watched as Mat anxiously fiddled with his fingers. You brought the bottle away from your lips and offered him a tight lipped smile, “Not now.”

He looked like he wanted to say more; like he wanted to push you to your limits in order to get any type of reaction from you, but he knew that you wouldn’t play into that, especially in public. So he took your words as a cliffhanger––not an outright no––that you would revisit the topic of conversation he wanted to discuss.

But in actuality, you planned to dodge the conversation if he ever brought it up again.

Mat stuffed his hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels, still not knowing how to direct the conversation, even though he was the one who approached you.

As you stood in silence with Mat, little by little, you began to overthink.

It was in a kitchen where you and Mat had first met. You were at a different mutual friend’s house, but it was eerily similar to how you met the first time…talking over drinks. Except this time, there was so much history between the two of you that it was hard to find some common ground to talk about without feeling like you were walking on eggshells.

The first time you met him, you had only heard his name in passing from occasionally tuning into Islanders games or hearing your friends talk about their friend Mat. The conversation flowed easily, laughter was present nearly every minute the two of you talked, and he slowly moved toward you thinking you didn’t notice him trying.

But you noticed everything.

Like now; you noticed there was no conversation, no laughter present, and how Mat leaned slightly away from you. There were too many memories that couldn’t be forgotten. Too many nights where the two of you were at a friends house like this, but would ride home together with fingers intertwined, instead of leaving separately which would happen tonight. Too many nights where there was an extra set of clothes on his bedroom floor that looked like they belonged.

Too many feelings involved.

You wanted to believe that you were strong enough not to break down in front of him again. You wanted to think that you were alright; wanted to think that you weren’t moments away from shutting down and having your heart wrecked all over again. But you didn’t want to leave his presence just yet. You weren’t at your tipping point yet.

“You had a game tonight?”

Mat nodded his head rapidly, taking in any interaction and conversation he could get with you. He seemed to also not want to leave your presence just yet.

“It was a good game,” he easily smiled with a shrug of his shoulders.

You let out a small laugh and rolled your eyes, “Stop being modest,” if you were closer to him, and felt more comfortable, you would’ve shoved his shoulder, “People were cheering your name when you arrived.”

His eyebrows rose with excitement, “You heard all of that?”

“Now tell me how you really played,” you tilted your head back slightly to take a sip of water.

There was a smile toying on your face, but the grin on Mat’s face stretched from ear to ear, “Really fucking good,” he let out a breathy laugh, “I scored twice, had some really nice plays, a couple of assists…” his eyes held a certain gleam to them whenever he talked about hockey, something you never saw even when he talked about you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled, “That’s amazing. Only one short of another hat trick.” Both of you let out a small laugh at the attempt of your joke. There was more silence, and you could tell you were about to hit your tipping point soon, no matter how many times you scolded yourself not to cry, but you spoke up.

“If you keep playing this well I might have to watch a game.”

The way his face lit up was different than anything you had seen before, even with what you saw just seconds ago when he was talking about hockey. There was a difference in the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, his eyebrows arched in an excited way, his smile showcased all of his teeth, and there was a different spark in his eyes.

“Yeah that’s––You should,” he cleared his throat, but still had a grin on his face, “If you watch you’ll have to let me know.”

“I’ll do that––”

“Barzal!”

Both of your attentions were pulled away by the shout of his name. And when you saw that the person who called out his name held up a ping pong ball, and Mat turned his head to look at you with a small smile––one similar to the night you first met, but a little less devilish––you knew that this was your tipping point.

While it would be fun to pretend like you barely knew Mat, partner up with him for beer pong, and relive the moment how your relationship first started…It was too much.

You smiled apologetically, clenching your jaw tight to keep your chin from wobbling, “My sister texted saying she needs a little motivational talk.”

He hid his disappointment well, but you saw that spark in his eyes fade away when he nodded his head in understanding. But he still held a small smile on his face for you, “You were always the best at those.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not trusting yourself with words as memories of you motivating Mat before a game or cheering him up after a hard loss came flooding into your mind. You silently sniffled and picked your water up, “I’ll see you later, Mat.”

“Yeah…” he sounded like he was in a daydream, “See you later.”

You kept your eyes glued to the floor and texted Kennady asking if she could meet you out back, as you weaved through people. This time as you made your way through the crowd, you didn’t smile at anyone.

The first tear fell when you heard someone cheer Mat on by saying he should play basketball instead of hockey. The single tear slowly slid down your cheek as you heard his laughter echo around the house. The second tear fell as you replayed the similarities of the night you first met in your head compared to tonight. Everything almost lined up the same way, everything almost felt like that night.

Except this night…there were less smiles, more silences, and instead of your heart fluttering with butterflies because a boy you thought was cute talked to you at a party, you felt your heart drop down into your stomach like a broken elevator.

Your phone buzzed when your hand reached out to open the back door; Kennady saying she was making her way to you.

And the third tear fell when you turned your head to look back at Mat one last time.

You should’ve known he was already looking at you.

His eyebrows were pinched together in concern, head slightly tilted to the side, as he looked straight at you and mouthed “are you okay?” Sometimes you forgot that he knew you just as well as you knew him. And this moment made it clear to you that he didn’t believe the lie you told to get out of being his beer pong partner.

Your chin wobbled as you tried your best to smile––which you were sure looked more like a grimace––and you mouthed back, “I’m fine.”

You didn’t wait for him to either repeat his question or ditch the game to comfort you. And in a matter of seconds, you were out the door, the cold January air prickled your scorching hot skin, as you saw Kennady already waiting outside.

She looked up from her phone, and when she saw the deep frown on your face and silent tears falling down your cheeks, her shoulders dropped as she opened her arms. Hastily, you made a few long strides over to her and collapsed in her arms. She held you tightly as one hand trailed her finger tips up and down your spine to sooth your quiet cries.

“I––I still love him,” you hiccuped.

“I know.”

––––

January passed slowly as ever, and you didn’t see Mat for the rest of the month.

You tried to watch an Islanders game, but when the camera panned to Mat, and the announcers praised him for how amazing of a season he was having, you shut it off. You had a plan to watch the game, send him a text after, and then maybe it would lead into a conversation…but it was too soon for you. Even after over a year of not seeing him play, it was too soon.

So you tried again in the first week of February. It was an away game, and while Mat rarely ever showed it, you knew from previous experience that he was always more nervous playing those than a home game. And to hold yourself accountable to actually watch the game, you texted Mat a few hours before puck drop.

He never claimed to have any superstitions about looking at his phone before a game, but you knew he always kept it away to lessen distractions. So, after composing a few different variations of a message, you sent a small good luck tonight!! And then set your phone face down on the coffee table.

Your heart was beating more than it should have for just sending a simple text. You felt bile churning in your stomach as you buried your face into your clammy hands. It’s a text message, you scolded yourself, no need to overthink everything. But overthinking was what you did best.  

Maybe you shouldn’t have used two exclamation marks. Maybe you should’ve said your name in case he deleted your number. Maybe you shouldn’t have prematurely sent a text message, because what if you couldn’t make it through a whole game? What if your text messed up his pre-game ritual? What if he lied when he told you he wanted to know if you watched a game?

What if he changed his number and didn’t tell you?

But your phone vibrated against the coffee table, snapping you out from your inner-turmoil. And with a deep breath, you flipped it over and saw his contact name: Mathew Barzal.

And from his message, you knew that he knew it was you; Are you watching tonight?!

A small laugh escaped your lips as you sent back a simple, yeah!

Stop using exclamation marks, you scolded yourself.

But before you could overthink the one word you sent him, he responded instantly: Guess I’ll have to step up my game.

You bit your bottom lip to conceal your smile as you typed a message back to him. And for the next half hour, the two of you messaged back and forth about your days, Mat expressed his nervousness, you sent him a little motivational message, and then he said he had to go put his uniform on for warm ups.

There was still some time before puck drop, so you tried your best to busy yourself with tasks. You cleaned the kitchen, made a grocery list, and reorganized the books on your bookshelf. But no matter what you did, your thoughts circled back to Mat. And this time, you didn’t try to block them out, because you came to peace that he would always linger in the back of your mind.

He was there when you put away a mug––one that never rested evenly on a flat surface, due to a chip on the bottom, caused by Mat accidentally dropping it when hot water spilled over the top and burned his hand. There when you made the grocery list––because he would always leave it behind when you two would go to the store together. And there on your bookshelf––when you moved the hockey book he got you for your birthday.

His presence would always be tangled with yours, like a stubborn knot in a necklace that was impossible to disentangle.

You busied yourself by making tea, using the chipped mug, and turned on the game. The players were in their starting positions, and you saw Mat at the face off. Holding your breath, you said a little prayer, because you knew how nervous Mat got during a face off. He always said that he would turn the nerves into excitement to give him adrenaline, but you knew there was a tiny white lie in that.

But you watched the game, with your cup of tea to try and lessen the anxiety you felt, but it was of no use. While Mat was playing a fantastic game; you still cringed when he got smashed into the boards too rough, bounced your leg whenever he had the puck and an opposing defenseman came up on him, and shut one eye when he brought his stick back to shoot a goal.

Sixty minutes of hockey went by excruciatingly slow, but it was worth it, with the Islanders winning by two.

You shut the TV off, placed the mug on its side in the sink, and went to grab your phone off the charger. The game had not even ended fifteen minutes ago but there was a text from a Mathew Barzal on your screen.

With a deep breath, you unlocked your phone and read his message: Did the game meet your standards?

You let out a chuckle as you walked into your room while typing out your message; Nice goal.

The comment was going to inflate his ego, you could picture his wide smile and raised eyebrows in the locker room reading your message. And like how you messaged before the game, it lasted for quite some time; with Mat admitting he was more nervous with you watching, and you reassuring him he played an excellent game. When he finally had to shower, you wished him a safe ride home and he wished you a good night sleep.

While you still tossed and turned under your covers, you managed to get more sleep that night than you had in the last year.

–––

Two weeks later, Mat called you.

It was after a home game, one that the Islanders lost, and a game where Mat wracked up a few penalties. Like every hockey game of his you’d watched since you promised him that one night, he texted you not even fifteen minutes of being off the ice.

Can I call you?

You paced around in the living area of your apartment thinking of what to respond. You wanted to talk to him…You felt ready to talk to him, but there was still some hesitation. The two of you had branched out to texting each other even when there wasn’t a game scheduled, and he had yet to bring up wanting to talk about your relationship again. So part of you had an inkling he would try it over the phone if you agreed. But then there was the other part of you that knew he just wanted cheering up.

To have a little more time to psych yourself up for a phone call with him, you responded: Sure! But why don’t you shower and head home first.

He sent you––sounds good. I’ll call you––And you prepared yourself for Mat to take the fastest shower possible and to maybe break a few traffic laws to get back to his place.

The assumption you made turned out correct, because in just under an hour of Mat officially off the ice, there was an incoming call from a Mathew Barzal.

The phone vibrated in your hand a few times as you breathed in and out. But before his call went to your voicemail, you clicked accept, “Mat…” you started off slowly, “Hey.”

“Hi,” his voice was low as you heard his door shut. Neither one of you said anything, but you heard movements from his end. You heard him put his keys in the bowl by his front door, fling off his shoes, open another door––presumably his bedroom door––and heard the sound of blankets shifting. You imagined he was sitting on his bed, as he let out a deep sigh, “I played like shit.”

“No you didn’t,” your automatic instinct was to reassure him, “Everyone has their off days, it doesn’t mean that you’re a shit player.”

He groaned, and you heard a soft thump. You imagined he fell back on his mattress, staring up at the ceiling, “I just––Some of those calls they made on me––and how I tripped over my skates and ate shit with no one around me?” He let another deep sigh, “It was embarrassing.”

Thankfully, you had done your nighttime routine during the second period intermission. So while you listened to Mat list out all of the things he thought he had done wrong during the game, you slipped under the covers of your own bed.

“And then when I thought I scored a goal, but the puck hit the crossbar, and it came back to hit me in the face––”

“Mat, that’s an honest mistake––”

“But it was embarrassing!” He raised his voice out of irritation. And this time, you knew for a fact he wasn’t irritated with you…He was irritated at hockey, the one thing he loved most in the world. “I swear I could hear people laughing at me. And I just know that the media is going to write how I should be a better player because I was a first round draft pick and with how much money my contract is––”

“Mat,” his sentences were strung along, and you don’t think he took a single breath during his rant, so you cut him off, “You can’t always be a perfect player, but you were a first round pick for a reason. It might not have been the outcome you wanted, you played the best you could tonight.”

“But it wasn’t good enough.”

His negative self talk sounded eerily similar to the thoughts that swirled around your mind after the break up.

“How many other twenty-three year olds do you know that play professional hockey?”

“There’s Beau, Mitch Marner, Carter Hart, Matthew Tkachuk, Tyson––”

“Stop,” you harshly cut him off as you sat up in bed, taking a pillow and hugging it to your chest, “They don’t count because they’re like the one percent of people who make it to the NHL.” You tried to stress your point, “Like you, they’ve trained an insane amount to get where they are. But how many other people do that? And how many people do train for most of their life and still don’t get to play in the league you do?”

He was silent.

“The average twenty-three year old isn’t playing professional hockey,” you shut your eyes, because no matter how great of a hockey player you thought Mat was, he never had the same faith in himself, “The average person isn’t playing professional hockey. Mat, you’re an incredible player; honestly one of the best in the league right now. And it’s not just me saying that to make you feel better, just look at the Islanders stats from before and after you came along.”

Again, he stayed silent.

“You came into this league so young, but so talented. Sure, you still have things to learn, but you’re the best version of yourself you can be right now. And there’s still so much time for you to grow to be an even better player,” you let out a small breath, “It blows my mind how good you are. And some people might talk shit and say you played poorly, but if they were to be on the ice with you?”

You waited to see if he had anything to say, but when he stayed mute, you let out a soft chuckle, “If they––an average person––was on the ice with you they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Mat let out a small laugh, and you imagined that he had one hand covering his eyes as he still laid on his back on top of his duvet, “Thank you.”

Unclenching the pillow you hugged closely to your chest, you slid down your headboard, and made yourself comfortable under the covers. You laid on your side, staring out your window at the same night sky he was under, and whispered, “I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you.”

You imagined he sat up, elbows resting on his knees as he pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger, as his interest piqued, “And how’s that?”

“As someone who’s great at everything they do.”

It was silent on his end. But you expected that with how honest and instantaneous your answer came.

He cleared his throat, “Are you in bed?”

“Yeah,” you answered as you pulled the sheets up under your chin.

“I…” he let out a shaky breath, but whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t say it, “I still have to get ready for bed.”

“I won’t keep you.”

“We…” he started off slowly, and you imagined he stared at the wall in full concentration, and this time, he said half of whatever he wanted to say, “We should do this again.”

A small smile tugged the corners of your lips upward, “Talk?”

“Yeah, um, talk,” he let out a nervous laugh, and you imagined him rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “On the phone…In person…”

You reciprocated his nervous laughter, but it wasn’t the bad kind of nerves you had felt in your stomach over the last year…this feeling reminded you of the excited nerves you had when you first met him, “You must really need more motivational talks,” you joked with him. But his answer, his honest and instantaneous answer, was not a joke.

“I feel like a better person around you.”

You were the silent one now.

“I’ll let you get to sleep,” his voice was soft and light, yet he sounded like he didn’t want to let you go, “Night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Mat.”

After he hung up, you imagined he slept with a smile on his face, just like you.

–––

February might be the shortest calendar month in the year, but it felt impossibly long.

Between late night phone calls with Mat after a game and texting whenever you had a free chance at work, your nerves never disappeared. They were a mix of an excited spark with a dash of anxiety that festered in the pit of your stomach, and only intensified when you saw his contact name pop up on your phone. Yet, the more you communicated with him, the more relaxed you felt. Laughter came more easily between you two, awkward pauses were few and far between, and you smiled more.

But part of you was still hesitant that he would leave unexpectedly like he did nearly a year and a half ago.

After phone calls and texts, March was the month you saw Mat in person for the first time since January. It was in a group setting, but it was planned with the intention of seeing each other. It was a group lunch––you sat next to him––and he occasionally knocked his knee against yours. He apologized every time, but you didn’t think his movements were an accident.

March had more group outings, more texts, and a lot more phone calls randomly throughout the day.

April was a little more different.

The spring air sent a chill down your spine as you walked toward the entrance of a sports bar with Kennady and a few other friends. It was another group outing, another pre-planned meeting where you would see Mat. Weaving your way through tables and standing patrons, you finally got to the high rise table your group was at. A mix of average twenty-something year-olds and hockey players; but Mat caught your eye first.

You saw him sitting on the barstool, hands wrapped around his beer glass as his index finger anxiously tapped the sweating glass. While he softly laughed along with friends who boisterously laughed, he didn’t look too enthralled with the conversation around him. But then he picked his head up and saw you.

A wide grin slowly spread across his face as he straightened out his slumped shoulders.

Everyone greeted each other with hugs, while you settled for waving. When people took their seats, coincidentally the only open seat was next to Mat. Easily, you slid in as he slid a drink in front of you.

“When you texted saying you were almost here, I ordered you a drink,” Mat whispered with a small smile, “I hope that’s alright.”

You picked up the glass with a tight lipped smile, “Yeah, of course, thank you,” you took a sip as he let out a nervous breath through his nose. You set the glass down on the table and angled your body in the chair to face him, “How was practice?”

“Got my ass handed to me,” he let out a breathy laugh, head hanging low as he shrugged his shoulders, “It was alright.”

While Mat had played excellent hockey since you started tuning in again, the past few games were rough. He kept missing easy plays, his shots went wide, he talked back to the referees more than usual, and had more penalties called on him. From your phone calls, you knew he felt uneasy––he admitted that to you––but whenever you pressed the topic further, he brushed it under the rug.

His avoidance of communicating his feelings gave you a sense of deja vu.

You picked a french fry off his plate, “You scored a nice goal last game though, surely Barry couldn’t have beaten you down that much.”

“I just need to get out of my head,” his eyes were far off, staring off into the distance over your shoulder. You wanted to press him further, wanted to know what was causing him distress in his head, but he changed the conversation. He completely changed his demeanor with a smile, as he swatted your hand away from his plate, “Stop stealing my fries.”

As a few fries dropped from your hand, you successfully managed to keep hold of a single fry. And with a proud smile, you popped it in your mouth, “You could’ve ordered me fries, but instead you bought me a drink.”

He gently laughed next to you as he inched toward the edge of his seat, his knees knocking against yours. “Sorry.” he lied with a smile he couldn’t contain.

You raised your eyebrows and purposefully knocked your knee against his in retaliation, “No you’re not.”

He picked up a fry and threw it at you.

The night continued as it had, conversing with friends, and also going back into your own little world with Mat. Throughout the evening, while he held steady conversation with people from across the table, he occasionally knocked his knee into yours. And when you bumped him back, a smile stretched across his face as he maintained eye contact with whoever he talked to.

Everything about the night felt easy until the first hiccup happened.

You and Mat were off in your own little world again, facing each other on your barstools, knees knocking against each other, as he talked about an article that reminded him of you.

“I have to send it to you,” he shook his head with laughter, as he scrolled through his phone, “Just by the title I knew I had to show you, but wanted to wait until I saw you in person to see your reaction.”

You felt your stomach flip at his admission. He wanted to see your reaction. And based on how giddy he looked as he searched for the article to text it to you, he thought your reaction would be similar to his. He wanted to see you smile.

Your phone vibrated on the table as it lit up with his contact name; Mathew Barzal.

When you opened your phone, you let out a laugh when you saw the article populate with an image. It was definitely an article you would enjoy, and when you brought your gaze back up to Mat, a smile wide on your face, you noticed his giddy look was gone. It was replaced with a more contemplative look with his eyes locked in on your phone screen.

Your smile slowly faded away as you knocked your knee against his, “What’s up?”

He left you unanswered as he kept his stare on your phone until the screen turned black. He picked his head up to look at you, a frown on his face, “You changed my contact name,” you sat frozen in your seat, “and took away the  picture.”

His words registered with you, but all you heard was ringing in your ears.

Because yes, you changed his contact name and removed the picture of him. His name went from just Mat, with a hockey stick emoji, to his full name after the breakup. And his contact picture, one Tito took of him in lounge wear in a hotel room at an away game on the phone––talking to you––with his head tipped back in laughter, was now just MB in a gray circle.

Did he still have your contact name and picture the same in his phone?

“I––”

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugged his shoulders and tried his best to smile. But the corners of his lips barely turned upward, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his observation, so you stared at him with your lips slightly parted and eyes wide. Mat tried to show another smile, but his lips just formed a straight line. You wanted to tell him you were sorry; that you had to change those details or else you would cry whenever you looked at your phone. But you didn’t know how to verbalize that without breaking down in front of him as the painful memories of stripping Mat away from your life replayed in your mind.

This was the longest silence you sat in with him since January.

Mat slowly shifted his knees away from yours and as you continued to stare at his side profile. He joined in on a conversation with Tito and someone else, but you had no idea what they were talking about. All you thought about were Mat's forehead creases, his glossy eyes full of despair, and the frown still present on his face.

Reluctantly, you turned away from him and found yourself listening in to a different conversation, but all you could pay attention to was Mat’s slumped posture in your peripheral vision.

An hour later, another round of drinks were bought, and everyone was still having a good time with lots of laughter and smiles present. Except your smile was forced and you couldn’t hear Mat’s laugh.

But then you felt someone knock their knee against yours.

You dropped your vision down and saw Mat’s knee an inch away from yours. Thinking that this time, he knocked his knee against yours on accident, you kept quiet. But then you saw him knock his knee against yours again, with his knee resting against yours for an extra few seconds, you looked up at him.

A small hopeful smile was on Mat’s face.

Mirroring his shy smile, you ducked your chin into your chest as you felt butterflies in your stomach.

You knocked your knee against his.

Both of your smiles brightened, and just when Mat opened his mouth to say something, someone clapped a hand on Mat’s shoulder. He looked surprised at the contact, but when you heard the TV behind your table report on the top hockey highlights of the week––with the announcer commenting on Mathew Barzal’s goal––the table erupted into obnoxious cheers. Mat’s face went beet red as he shied away from the praise his friends offered.

After the rowdiness at the table calmed down, you knocked your knee against Mat’s as he picked up his beer. He raised his eyes up to look at you, a small smile making its way onto his face as he took a sip of his drink. When he placed his glass back on the wooden table, he knocked his knee against yours.

“Why are you acting so shy,” you let out a small laugh, because in all of the time you’d known Mat, he craved the attention and praise that came with being a hockey player.

He shrugged his shoulders, tapping his fingers against the table, “The compliments get to be too much sometimes.”

You shut your eyes tight as you tilted your head back in laughter. And when you opened your eyes, Mat was looking at you with gentle eyes full of fondness, “Stop lying.”

There were still some small laughs coming from you, but when Mat took your statement literally, your laughter ceased.

“I like the compliments more when they come from you,” he said with a serious facial expression, “Your words mean the most to me.”

You looked into his eyes; ones that were full of regret as it looked like he was retracing the steps of how your relationship came to this point. How it went from two people who were so in love with each other, in the most idyllic relationship…to people who painfully avoided each other for nearly a year, people whose voices wavered with skepticism when they spoke to each other, and to people who still loved each other but didn’t know how to reconcile.

Sometimes you thought it would be easier not to know him, in turn that you could forget about the heartbreak he caused you. But that thought was always easily diminished; the love you felt when you were with him were the most joyous moments of your life that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

Well…Maybe one thing.

If you could trade those early days of happiness to fall in love with him all over again––and not experience any heartbreak––you would do it in a heartbeat.  

Mat cleared his throat, “You don’t…” he offered you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know how I felt.”

With a nod of your head, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt your throat tighten up. To alleviate some of the tension in the air, you took a sip of your drink. And when you tore your eyes away from Mat to look at the table, you saw that the table was empty, save for you and Mat.

You didn’t know the last time just the two of you sat at the same table alone.

“Where did everyone go?” You turned your head to face Mat with a tilt of your head.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I think they’re off getting more drinks.”

You chuckled and faked offense, “And they didn’t ask us what we wanted?”

Again, he shrugged his shoulders, as he turned his head over to look at the bar where everyone stood. When he turned back to look in your eyes, you could see the wheels turning behind his head as he thought.

“We could get our own drinks…” He said slowly, eyes shining full of hope as he leaned in toward you, “Somewhere else…” and the next word he added, voice dangerously low in a whisper, sent more shivers down your spine than the spring breeze, “Alone.”

It wasn’t the first time Mat took your breath away, and without thinking of any possible consequence, you nodded your head once, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at you, the signature grin on his face was contagious as you smiled back, nodding your head even more rapidly. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see where your friends were, and then when he turned back to you, he smirked, “I think we have less than thirty seconds before they come back.”

As if the two of you communicated telepathically, you jumped off the barstools at the same time and walked at a brisk pace toward the doors. Once the two of you were safely outside and at the street corner, both of you doubled over in laughter.

“Did we ditch our friends?” You looked up at Mat who clutched his stomach.

He nodded his head, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Instead of painfully remembering all the times the two of you would duck out early from a party to spend time together, you remembered them with a smile and a laugh.

Once your laughter subsided, you straightened your posture and slid your hands in to your jacket pockets, “Where to?”

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet,” he apologetically smiled, “There are some bars a few blocks down.” He suggested as he raised his wrist to look at his watch. His eyes widened slightly, “Shit, it’s late. We’ll either make it right before last call or miss it entirely.”

You stood in silence as you saw the wheels behind his head turning in thought again. It looked like he had come up with another place to walk to, but he looked uneasy as he suggested it, “There is…another place.”

Your curiosity sounded too hopeful, “Where?”

Mat looked down at his shoes, scuffing them against the pavement, before looking back up at you in uncertainty. He took a deep breath, “My apartment.”

Your eyes widened at his suggestion. 

His apartment.

The apartment where you had your last moments as a couple right before he broke up with you. Were you ready to go back? Did you want to go back? Because there was no doubt in your mind that going there would unlock more memories of when you were the happiest with Mat. But if you wanted to progress in anything––in a friendship––with Mat, you needed to get over the little fears you overdramatized in your head.

“We don’t have to,” Mat was quick to backtrack the offer of his apartment, “I know that’s where we––But I––I have drinks there. It’s not a far walk, and we won’t have to worry about getting into a place. But I understand if you don’t want to––”

“Let’s go,” you sucked in a deep breath and nodded your head the same time Mat’s eyes widened with shock, “It’ll be easier.”

“Are you sure?”

You took another deep breath and lied, “Positive.”

Mat didn’t look convinced, but he wasn't going to press you any further. So, with a nod of his head, he gestured toward the way of his apartment like you didn’t already know, “This way.”

The walk to his place wasn’t far at all, in fact, it was most likely closer than any of the bars you would definitely not make it to in time. So his apartment was a safe option as the two of you walked in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but the two of you were replaying the last time you were both in his apartment.

Once you arrived at the building, Mat waved at the doorman––whose eyes brightened at you with recognition––as he hit the up button on the elevator. The ride up was just as silent as the walk to his place, and when you stood in front of the door to his place, your palms began to sweat.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

But you stuck it through, and when Mat unlocked the door and let you in first, a wave of nostalgia hit you like a ton of bricks. Everything was the same, albeit a bit messier, but it felt almost like you were back in a home again.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come over,” Mat let out a nervous laugh as he walked past you and picked some of his belongings up that were strewn across the floor.

You waved him off, heading over to the living room area, and folded a blanket for him, “Don’t worry about it.”

You heard Mat let out an anxious deep breath as you watched him turn around and head into the kitchen. He seemed just as nervous as you. When he was out of sight, you set the unevenly folded blanket down on the ottoman and walked over to the couch. You sunk down and let out a shaky breath that you had been holding in since you walked through the front door.

You didn’t have much time to dwell in your thoughts, because you heard Mat’s footsteps, and sat up straight on the couch. He came around the other side of the couch with a beer bottle in one hand for him, and then a wine glass and a wine bottle, for you. He set his beer and wine glass down on the coffee table as he took a seat next to you.

“As your bartender for the night,” he sarcastically said as he took the wine opener and screwed it into the cork of the bottle, “I expect a very nice tip for bringing your drink to you.” You laughed at his comment to lighten the mood, but all you could focus on was the way his arms flexed when he twisted the corkscrew around a few times, “I even provided you with a whole bottle of wine just for yourself.”

You let out a small laugh, “Lucky me,” you whispered just as Mat looked up at you through his eyelashes.

He offered you a small smile, and then went back to concentrating on opening the wine. When the corkscrew was in the center of the cork, he pressed his hands down on the miniature levers, and the bottle opened with pop.

He looked up at you with a proud smile and eyebrows raised proudly, “Eh?” He asked you as he poured you a glass, “You should be impressed.”

You snorted, “That you opened a wine bottle?”

“Mhm,” Mat hummed as he handed you the glass. You offered him a smile as a thanks, as he grabbed his beer and rested an arm on the back of the couch, “And that I didn’t spill any of it.”

With a roll of your eyes, you took a sip of wine, as your mind pieced together that you were drinking your favorite type of wine. That led to a flurry of questions in your mind because why––after all this time––would he still keep your favorite bottle of wine at his place?

But Mat asked you about how your presentation at work went before you were able to bring it up.

Much like the time spent at the sports bar earlier, it was all laughter and smiles, except this time you weren’t under the scrutinizing gaze of Kennady or the hesitant glances of Tito. It was just you and Mat, alone in his apartment, as if no time had passed. With every twenty minutes that went by, it felt as if Mat would move a tiny bit closer to you. You didn’t mind at all, and when he was close enough, you knocked your knee against his.

It was well past midnight, and you were still enjoying yourself the same as you did when you first walked in. The bottle of wine was nearly empty; Mat joining in on the wine drinking after he finished his beer.

Everything about the time spent at Mat’s place felt easy until the second hiccup of the night happened.

Mat placed his empty wine glass down on the coffee table and let out a deep breath through his nose. His face looked serious; eyebrows pinched together that caused a crease to form between his eyes, mouth pressed in a straight line, with his eyes firmly concentrated on you. The look made your stomach uneasy, so you finished off the last of your wine, and sat it down next to Mat’s empty glass.

You let out an apprehensive laugh as you leaned your side into the back of the couch, just below where Mat’s hand rested, “What’s on your mind, hockey player?”

With his hand so close to your shoulder, he stretched out his fingers and lightly grazed your shoulder. He gently moved his fingertips along your shoulder blade a few times before he gulped, “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you breathed out as a chill ran down your spine.

Both of your bodies were facing each other as he moved an inch closer to you. While his fingertips withdrew from your shoulder, he knocked his knee against yours. But instead of retracting it like he had done all night, he kept his knee against yours. With another deep breath through his nostrils, he inched closer to you again, his thigh pressing against yours.

You held your breath as you stared into his yearning eyes, and like he was telling you a secret, he whispered, “Sometimes you feel like a stranger.”

Your eyes widened, stunned at his confession. You were at a loss for words, but luckily you didn’t have to respond, because he expounded upon his admission.

“And it…It’s so frustrating,” his voice was low as he maintained eye contact with you; his soft eyes full of longing stared into your wide and timid eyes as his fingertips reached back down to touch your shoulders. But instead of just staying in one place, his fingertips trailed down to your collarbone, “I know how you relax after a stressful day,” his fingers slowly moved to the side of your neck as he let out a soft chuckle, “I know how you organize a closet.” HIs fingers moved painfully slow up your neck, “I know the facial expressions you make when you’re nervous…”

You clenched your jaw, as your breathing hitched, and you slightly tilted your head to the side to give his fingers more room to wander.

Mat traced his fingers along your jawline as he leaned his face closer to you, “I know what makes you happy,” you felt his breath fan against your face as his fingers caressed your cheek, “What pisses you off.” He kept his mouth in a straight line, jaw slightly clenched, as he moved his fingers to the back of your neck, cupping your cheek. He kept quiet, the only noise in the apartment that could be heard was your own heartbeat and Mat’s breathing.

Finally, he rested his forehead against yours as he slightly brushed the tip of his nose against yours. You kept your eyes wide open in anticipation, as Mat closed his eyes for a moment. He let out a shaky breath before slowly opening his eyes to look at you with an amount of adoration you’d never seen before, “How to love you.”

“We’re friends.”

“No we’re not,” his voice was strained with irritation. But this time, the irritation in his voice wasn’t directed at either you or hockey…his irritation was at himself, “All I want is to love you again but you’re so far away.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh and muttered, “You’re a stranger who I know better than anyone else.”

You brushed your nose against his, eyes glancing down at his lips, before looking back into his wistful eyes, “I’m right here.”

With your lips parted and breath shallow; the tone of your voice hinted at what you wanted to come next.

“If I were to kiss you,” Mat’s low voice murmured as he laid out his intentions, “Would you stay?”

“Yes.”

There was no wavering hesitation in your voice, only desire for the person in front of you who you’d spent too much time without. But Mat…Mat blinked a few times as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, staring at you as if he didn’t believe this was real life. The pull you felt toward him was stronger than any pull you felt toward anyone else. There was something in him that made him irresistible, he felt it in you as well, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Eyes closed, Mat pressed his lips against yours, desperate but chaste as you tasted the wine off him, both of you holding yourselves back for each other's sake. He rubbed his lips against yours, urging you to tip your head back. You leaned into his direction as your fingers carefully crept toward his stomach, clutching his shirt into a small fist.

The tip of his tongue peeked out in a quick stripe across your lower lip, and a strangled whimper in the back of your throat involuntarily left your lips. With his nose against your cheek, he took his hand that cupped your cheek, and ran it down your back. His palm and the tips of his fingers gliding across the expanse of your back; feeling every ridge of your spine, every bone, every dip, and every curve.

Ever so slowly, his hand trailed up your back, over your neck, as he cupped your cheek again. He deepened the kiss, tongues meeting with soft strokes, mouths hot with anticipation and need.

You had kissed Mat more times than you could count, but both of your movements were timid. While he had a hand on your cheek, his other hand laid stiff on the couch. And while your hands gripped his shirt, they weren’t physically touching him. There were so many thoughts circling your mind; how you never thought you’d be in this position again with Mat––having him want you again.

That’s when the first tear fell.

It had officially been a year and a half since your break up with Mat. A year and a half since you felt any sort of honest affection from a person. And it had only been about three months since you started to openly communicate with him again. It had taken you longer to watch a hockey game than it took for you to speak to him regularly again; longer to gain the courage to watch him skate in circles with a smile on his face because you knew he was happiest on the ice.

Happier there than he could ever be with you.

You broke away from his kiss with a sniffle.

Mat delicately pecked your lips one last time before pulling away. Your eyes were still shut tight, but you felt his burning stare on your face as his thumb wiped away the single tear from your cheek.

The second tear fell when he repeated the sentence that you didn’t know held any truth.

“You know I’d do anything for you.”

As if you were transported in time, you smelled the April air of two years ago seeping through the open car windows as Mat whispered that promise to you as he kissed your hand. But the other memory…The cruel and poignant memory that overshadowed the good memory of that sentence took over. Instead of the sweet April air, your mind fast forwarded to the month of December where the air was frigid and eliminated your relationship.

You sucked in another deep breath as you opened your eyes to get you out of the headspace of that bitter December day. Mat’s eyes were desperate––silently begging you not to go––as if he knew you were planning an escape.

“I can’t do this,” you dropped your hands from his shirt and moved away from him on the couch.

“Will you ever be ready to do this?” Mat’s voice shook, but he was withstanding from surrendering. You could now see the athlete in him––the dedication he used to train to attain all of his goals––coming out as he fought to mend your relationship, “I want to talk.”

Your hands shook just as bad as your voice, “I can’t.”

For the countless time tonight, Mat let out an irritated breath through his nostrils, “When will you be ready?”

“I don’t know.”

Mat leaned his head against the back of the couch as he rubbed his temples, “Don’t you miss this?” He turned his head to look at you, his bloodshot eyes noticeable in the dim lighting of his living room, “Don’t you miss us?”

“You broke up with me,” you reminded him as you flared your nostrils in annoyance, “You gave up on us.”

“I was confused!” Mat sat up and angled his body toward you as he threw his hands in the air, “I wanted to be with you––Still want to be with you––But something was off and I had to––”

The deja vu of Mat listing off reasons why something in the relationship wasn’t right––and how his judgement convinced himself that getting away from you would solve everything––caused bile to churn in your stomach.

You placed both hands on the cushions as you pushed yourself up, “I’m not doing this again.”

With your back to him, you itched the bridge of your nose as you sniffled away your runny nose. But even with your back to him, you could still hear the desperation and utter heartache behind his wavering voice.

“You told me I would end up alone and unloved,” you heard him inhale a shaky breath, all the confidence from his previous tone of voice gone, as he choked out his next words, “The one person who I love most in the world told me that––The person who I thought loved me––”

“I do––”

“Told me I would be unloved? That not even you could love me again if I didn’t put more effort into the right things?” You spun around on your heel to see a silent path of tears easily falling down his face, “Do you know how much that messed me up?”

“You told me I wasn’t enough,” you counteracted with just as desperate of a voice, “You told me––”

“We just didn’t see each other enough,” Mat’s words continued to cut you like a knife, “But I never said you would end up alone and––”

“Because I don’t want anyone else to love you!” your devastated tone matched his raised voice. His mouth slowly dropped open, “I loved you so much and you tore me apart.” You felt your throat tighten up, but you held back your tears as your voice cracked, “I wanted to be the last person to love you.”

Mat sat in silence on the couch as you stood a few feet away from him. Silences were never common in your relationship, but they were definitely more common now. Coming to terms in your head that he wasn’t going to say anything, you were about to turn around and make your way out of his apartment for the final time.

“Stay,” Mat stood up from the couch. His hand barely raised from his side, as if he wanted to reach out to keep you from leaving him, but his arm stayed stiff at his side, “It’s after two in the morning, I’ll take the couch and you can sleep in my bed.”

“I’m not far from here,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “I can get an Uber.”

“Then I’ll take the Uber with you to your place.”

You let out a deep breath at his persistence, “That’s unnecessary––”

“Believe it or not,” Mat started his sentence out strong, but he took a pause and let his shoulders deflate as his tone softened, “I still really care for you and don’t want you in an Uber alone this late or walking up to your place alone. So please,” you hated the way your heart melted at his words, “Stay.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about his proposal. He had a point…Ubers alone at night in New York wasn’t the most ideal situation in the world. And you knew he would hop in the car with you; he always held your safety high on his priority list.

With a defeated sigh, you nodded your head, “Okay.”

Mat let out a relieved breath, “You can…You know where everything is,” Mat awkwardly rubbed a hand behind his neck, “Everything’s the same.”

Except us, you thought to yourself.

You asked Mat if he had to get anything from his room, but he said he had some stuff stored in the spare bedroom where he would get ready for bed. And for what may be the last time, you wished each other goodnight as the two of you walked to separate ends of his apartment.

You blocked out every memory that swirled around your head as you entered his room and got ready for bed. Everything was going fine until you opened the cabinet under the sink and saw that he still had an unopened bottle of your shampoo that you always kept at his place. But you were done crying. Done crying over Mat. So you closed the cabinet, regretfully changed into one of Mat’s oversized t-shirts for pajamas, and slid under his covers.

With the sheets pulled up right under your chin, you laid on your side in a fetal position, as you stared out his window. There weren’t any stars in the sky, but instead of being in your bed and thinking about what Mat was up to when you couldn’t sleep, all you had to do was walk down the hall.

You tried everything you could to fall asleep, but none of the methods you usually used worked. Even when you stayed in separate bedrooms when Mat met your family for the first time, similarly down the hall from each other, you didn’t have any trouble sleeping like tonight. But back then, you and Mat were together in love. And this time…you and Mat were somehow still in love, but further apart than ever.

Fed up with not being able to get a decent night’s sleep in over a year, you flung the covers off and stepped out of bed, because you knew the cure to your insomnia was just a few feet away. Slowly, you opened the bedroom door and snuck out. You quietly closed the door and made your way to the living area where Mat said he was.

And in a few seconds you saw Mat, whose face was illuminated by his phone from above head as he scrolled. The single blanket he had only came up about halfway to his bare stomach.

As if he sensed another presence in the room, he turned his head. With an empathetic smile, because you imagined he had the same trouble falling asleep in this past year as well, he shut his phone off and placed it on the coffee table. Without a word, he lifted the blanket up, inviting you to sleep next to him.

You crawled in next to him, the side of your face pressed up against the crook of his neck. You let out a silent, uneven, breath as you felt his warmth spread across your body. And when he lowered the blanket, he curled a tight arm around waist, drawing shapes on your back as he held you close to him.

And the third tear fell when Mat pressed a firm kiss to your forehead and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

A year and a half of sobbing didn’t compare to the flood gates that opened up in this moment. Your senses were in overdrive, everything screamed Mat, and that one little forehead kiss paired with a simple apology tipped you over the edge. He held you tight as you cried into his chest, taking responsibility for the suffering he had put you through the past year and a half.

One of your arms was tucked under you, but your other arm was stretched across Mat’s chest as you clung to his bicep. Your shoulders violently shook as you muttered incoherent words out through choppy breaths.

You hurt me, you said. I know, he answered.

I never wanted to see you again, you said. I know, he answered.

I missed you so much, you said. I know, he answered.

I still love you, you said. And as your cries began to soften, he cradled you into his chest more as he pressed another gentle kiss to your forehead; I still love you too, he answered.

It was the first night both of you slept soundly through the night, missing all of your alarms.

–––

New York in August was unbearably hot.

Between the larger than life gray skyscrapers and dark concrete that paved the city, the heat of the sun always got trapped in the most unpleasant way. With crowded sidewalks of people pressed shoulder to shoulder, the heat attached itself to sweaty bodies. With sewers that always smelled, but reeked even worse in the summer, the heat attached itself to the polluted water.

But if you paid close enough attention, there was a certain aroma in the air that always drew people into the city. And like how the skyscrapers and concrete trapped the heat in the most unpleasant way, the sweet smell of new beginnings that New York offered trapped people in the same way.

Walking down the sidewalk, with your fingers intertwined with Mat’s, you breathed in the captivating smell of New York.

The smell of new beginnings.

“Are you nervous or is the heat getting to you,” You looked up at Mat’s side profile with a smile as you pointed out his sweaty hand.

With black sunglasses covering his eyes, he kept his head forward as he chewed on his bottom lip, “It’s your family.”

You rolled your eyes as you came to the end of the sidewalk, waiting at the corner for the light to change, “You know them already.”

“Yeah, but––”

His words were cut off when the light changed and a mass amount of people crossed the street. You tugged him along with the crowd, “No buts,” you squeezed his hand, “They still love you.”

Mat shrugged his shoulders.

He knew the pain he caused when he broke up with you. And he knew that your mom, dad, and sister all witnessed the aftermath of what he put you through. There was part of him that would never forgive himself for acting so immature, and he was still working through his insecurities. But after that night of confrontation where you slept peacefully in his arms, he promised to always be upfront with his feelings.

You had been officially back together for four months, and made changes from the first time you were in a relationship, but Mat’s nerves surrounding your family were still present.

Your sister was the first to find out that you and Mat were back together. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell her before she figured it out not even a month into your rekindled relationship. She called you out of the blue, and before you could greet her, she went straight to the point; Are you back together with Mat? You were a stuttering mess, not prepared to tell your family; You liked Tito’s most recent Instagram picture, your username came up next to the heart, and I know you unfollowed him after you weren’t with Mat.

Her sleuthing wasn’t that impressive, but you couldn’t lie to your sister. She warned you that a few more jokes would come at his expense to turn him red.

You told your mom in June. You had let it casually slip that you were going out with Mat for the day, and she was silent on the other end for a few moments. Like any mother who held their child as they openly sobbed after the end of a relationship, she was skeptical. But you reassured her that changes were made, and continue to be made, so it wouldn't end like the last time…So your relationship wouldn’t end at all.

She said as long as you were happy, she was happy.

You also told your dad in June, a week after you told your mom, because you knew she wouldn’t be able to hold onto that secret for long. It took a bit more planning and practicing on your end to tell him. You saw the way his jaw clenched and eyes full of hurt whenever he saw you cry. And when you told him, he sounded stiff, and reminded you that you were too good for him. But like your mom, you reassured him that things had changed; Mat had changed.

He reminded you that he never liked Mat that much to begin with.

When you and Mat reached the restaurant you were set to meet your family at, Mat opened the door for you. A breeze of air conditioning and the smell of clean air brought you out of your thoughts.

"Your dad’s already glaring at me and we’re not at the table yet.”

You let out a laugh and rested your forehead against Mat’s bicep briefly as you looked up at him with a smile, “Don’t worry, I talked to him plenty before this and told him to be on his best behavior.”

Mat took his sunglasses off, and as he stared down at you, you finally caught a look at his hazel eyes that shined bright with admiration for you, “Surprisingly, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

You dropped his hand and elbowed him at his sarcastic comment.

“Finally, you’re here,” your sister was the first one up from her seat to greet you with a hug.

You hugged her back tightly, “We’re on time, you guys got here early.”

She held you at arms length away and gave you a knowing look saying that of course they were going to show up early. It was the re-meeting the boyfriend lunch. She slightly gazed over your shoulder at Mat, who was politely talking with your mom, and you rolled your eyes silently telling her he was more nervous than the first time. She deviously smirked.

With a stiff handshake and a curt, Mathew, from your dad, you knew Mat felt as if he was drowning.

Appetizers and a bottle of wine were ordered for the table before you and Mat were present, so they arrived shortly after the two of you were seated next to each other. Like the first time Mat was around your family, he sat with perfect posture as he rapidly tapped his index finger against his thigh.

You discreetly scooted your chair closer to his.

Mat had just finished his first glass of water when your mom brought up hockey, “How did this season go, Mat?”

“It went well,” he answered as he took the water pitcher from the center of the table and poured himself another glass, “There were a few times we went up and down in ranking, but all in all, it was a strong season.”

“I watched a few highlights,” your dad said after he finished swallowing an appetizer, “You played well, especially towards the end of the season.”

Mat shyly smiled, his eyes glancing at you, because toward the end of the season was when you started communicating more, “Yeah, the end of the season was the best.”

You knocked your knee against Mat’s.

“And almost made it to the Cup again,” your dad shook his head with a light smile, “How’s the team looking this season?”

Mat took a sip of water, “We’re looking good. A few changes to the roster, but all for the best.” He fiddled with the white cloth napkin on his lap, “If you guys––I don’t know the next time you’re in town, but just let me know if you want to go to a game.” Mat smiled at your dad, and then turned to your mom, “I know my family wants to come down for a game.”

Your mom’s eyes lit up, “Oh, that would be wonderful!”

“Thanks, Mat,” your dad easily smiled, “I appreciate that.”

Mat shrugged his shoulders, a smile slowly growing on his face as your dad called him by his nickname, “I know how much you all like hockey, might as well use me for what I’m good for.”

Your parents laughed at his comment right as the waiter came up to take everyone’s order for their main course. You, Mat, and your sister had ordered, so your parents weren’t paying attention to your little trio.

“So, Mat,” your sister stretched out the lone vowel in his name, “Looks like you won the girl back before your franchise could win the Stanley Cup.”

Your eyes widened at her bluntness. It was always hard for a team to be so close to clinching that championship title––and well deserved praise as they lifted the Cup above their heads––only for it to be ripped away from them. And for the Islanders to be in that position another year, losing in the final round, it only aided in more salt to the wound.  

Mat’s face still turned red at her unapologetic comment, but he recovered quickly, and wasn’t nearly as blindsided by her words like he was the first time. Instead, Mat offered your sister an easy smile, as he quickly made eye contact with you. His smile widened, “I think I won something better.”

Mat knocked his knee against yours.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #26

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Opera-phile

I had a hobby that I couldn’t tell anyone about. People like me were no rare breed.

Amongst the hobbies I had heard about from my friends until now, the one that made me think “this might be a bit hard to tell someone” the most was that keeping ice cream lids when they finished eating it. They said they would write down the date on each lid and store them in one of those clear files sold at 100-yen shops. They could only eat ice cream on special days when they were little, and they still couldn’t get over the habit of that time. The face of the person who had told me about this seemed simply satisfied in some way. Regardless, this may not have been something so difficult to say because it was revealed at a drinking party.

Now. Bringing the topic back to me.

If you were living alone in a foreign land called Sri Lanka, you could do whatever you wanted. I could get up at any time, eat whatever I felt like, study the things I enjoyed and go wherever I wanted with my Three-Wheeler. I didn’t have much, but the prices were cheap. My culinary repertoire was also noticeably increasing. Even if I danced alone in my room, no one would be watching. No, my dear dog ​​Jirou would stare at me with a bit of a strange look, but there were times when he’d eventually jump up and down and start dancing with me. Even if I listened to music at a loud volume, the same went for my neighbors.

Therefore, I was now thinking that maybe my stopper had come off a little.

I had bought the CD in Colombo, the real capital of Sri Lanka. As one would expect of the biggest shop in the country, they sold a lot of things that were unlikely to be available in Kandy.

The jacket featured a black-haired woman with a spellbound face, both of her arms outstretched. It was an opera CD with twelve songs.

I went back and forth in my room, shouting, “ah~, ah~”. What an opera was? No, I did know. It was traditional singing style – something like a musical, in which singers such as tenor, paritone, soprano and alto would perform along with a play. But something about them that diverged a bit from musicals was that the words used were old, the melodies weren’t excitable, and they were mainly either Italian or French, I believed.

I had no choice but admit it at this point. I liked opera.

Nakata Seigi had the words “I’m in love with opera” floating about in his head. I was driven by an urge to scream “gyaaah” and make said words disappear, but on the CD jacket, Maria Callas was making a spellbound face as usual, and that made me happy. I had purchased this CD after much hesitation over buying this or buying that. There was no way I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still...

Somewhere in my head, I recognized this as something embarrassing.

My dear boss was always telling me to think rationally at such times. He told me that whenever I thought my mind was moving in absurd ways, it always happened that there was some sort of timid development in me, which I either hadn’t noticed or, even if I did notice it, I’d ignore it – but once I understood it, it would stop being absurd.

Why would opera be embarrassing in the first place?

How I had come to like opera? The trigger was the radio. When I was staying at a hotel for a while back in Tokyo, I tended to feel down because I had nothing to do other than study, so I’d sometimes listen to the radio broadcast at the hotel while devoting myself to physics and English.

The singing voice I heard at that time was – how should I put it? – tremendously wonderful.

I couldn’t think that it was the voice of someone from the same world as myself. Someone was singing in a place just a few ways away, and as I listened to it, my body felt like my body was airily floating up – it was that kind of voice. I didn’t have any preferences for either male or female, and if anything, I liked both. The title of the song being streamed was written in the hotel’s guidebook, so I went to a video streaming site and searched for the same song by other singers and the songs that came before and after said piece. Faust. Madama Butterfly. Otello. Rigoletto. The Magic Flute. Don Giovanni. Whenever an opera song was used on a TV show, i became able to at least tell which prelude it was from.

And this passion hadn’t cooled down even now that some time had passed since then.

I walked around the room again, shouting, “Uuuh, uuuh”. Jirou energetically followed me from behind. It was almost as if he meant to say, “It’s fun to go a stroll even inside a room, huh, owner?”. Sorry but it’s not like I’m taking you on a walk, I thought, yet Jirou couldn’t care less, letting out a sweet voice as I held him up and rocked him, and then running off to the yard as if he had gotten excited. Just as I felt relieved, thinking about what a cute fella he was, I found myself imagining something. I could see myself at the drinking party, talking about how I liked opera. The reaction I pictured was an explosion of laughter.

“‘Opera’, you say. What’s up with that? It’s that thing where fat people raise their voices like crazy, right? You like that? Why? No way, Nakata, didn’t you just want to have a rich people hobby just ‘cause you’ve well-off these days? Like, those that feel like you’re superior. That’s exactly what opera is. Okay, I get it, but that ain’t very interesting, so how about we change the topic?”

It gave me chills.

I wasn’t creeped out by how people might talk about my hobbies. However, it was painful to have the whole genre of opera, which had saved me back when I was put in a spot like a light reaching out from the sky, be judged by people who didn’t even know the difference between Callas and Pavarotti and not be able to defend them. I had to protect what was important to me. Or else, it would get damaged. I wasn’t referring to the long-standing form of art that had been cultivated for hundreds of years. I meant my own heart. That was painful to me.

Yeah, I was somewhat aware that this wasn’t an “embarrassment”. But I was scared.

I was low-key terrified of having people pointing their fingers at me from behind with words such as “eccentric”, “weirdo” or “pretentious” for having a preference that was different from other people’s – and something that I seriously liked, no less.

With a deep breath, I took the CD’s vinyl cover. Unlike Japanese CDs, there was none of those convenient little ears that made the cover come off when you pulled it. I slowly cut it with a pair of scissors, set it on a nostalgic stereo radio and played it while referring to the table of track numbers on the backside.

Just from the intro, I already knew who was singing and what song it was.

Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”. It was a song from an opera called “Norma”, and the meaning of it was “chaste goddess”.

What it made me reminisce to was a seriously horrible time, when I had to prepare for my death to a certain extent. Whenever this song played in the hotel’s radio program, which repeated itself over and over, this song would connect me with paradise, telling me that I didn’t need to worry about trivial matters, so I was able to leave it all aside and relax. It was that kind of song. Without a doubt, my biggest and best saver was that beautiful jeweler, but from the sidelines, opera had definitely helped me keep my sanity.

That was amazing.

I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that this form of art, which couldn’t be classified as mainstream at all in Japan and probably overseas as well, had maintained its thread of life across the centuries. It had saved me. Would the CD sales be of any help to it? Thankfully, I had some money to spend and was probably able to buy a set of all-track CDs per month. Would that be a form of repayment of any kind? It would be great if so, I thought wholeheartedly.

“Casta Diva” wasn’t too long a piece. With a voice that sounded like it was vanishing, the song ended. For whatever reason, it made me feel like crying, no matter how many times I had listened to it. It was too beautiful. It was an impossible speculation, but if Richard turned into a song, I felt that his form would change into something very close to this one.

Once I finished listening to the track, the “aaah”s and “uuuh”s had disappeared from my head. I liked opera. Opera turned into my strength. So I wanted to cherish it.

Even if someone ridiculed me for it, the problem was with the person, not with me or with opera. And my precious, beautiful shopkeeper had stated that “no discriminating other people based on their preferences” was one of the main principles of Etranger. What was I going to do by discriminating myself?

I was going to keep buying opera CDs from now on too, I swore proudly to my heart, yet secretly decided not to write about it in my blog or talk to Richard about it. Not because it was embarrassing. But rather because I had the gut feeling that I couldn’t predict what would happen in the end if I told him.

On that day, I was busy with preparations for cooking. First Saul-san, and then Richard would come to Kandy to hear the reports about the progress of my studies. It was also like a test. But I hadn’t studied half-assedly enough to chicken out at that. Above all, thanks to the negotiations in Ratnapura, I was conscious that my eyes were well-trained, if I could say so myself.

If it didn’t go well even with this, that was fine. I was happy to find new challenges. Lots of things became easier once I started feeling that studying was fun.

And since they were coming over, they wouldn’t get angry if I prepared a bit of a feast. More than anything, being able to cook a few people’s share in this house had me overjoyed. After all, I was basically living alone, so just how many times had I found delicious-looking and cheap food but had to tearfully give up because I wasn’t sure if I could eat it all by myself?

Being surrounded by things that made you happy was extremely good for the heart.

Deciding to go for an additional blow, I set the CD in the radio. A long aria began at the end of the first opus of all songs. It was a French opera called “La Fille du Régiment”, and being fond of this one had greatly helped me when I was studying French.

The man who started to sing that he was going to marry the army was a world-renowned tenor.

In the beginning, the man sang that he was going to do meritorious deeds in the army, cheered on by his companions. Since I had been listening to the words ever since back when I could only hear them as katakana spelling, my mouth moved without any reference. Of course, my voice didn’t sound like that of a tenor, but it had the same gist as somehow trying to sing in the range of a singer from some music show. Just that was fun enough.

A fish pie was baking in the oven. There were three types of curry in the smaller pots. My Nakata-style sliced veggies pickled in soy sauce, which were a mixture of chopped coconut sambal and dried fruits, were lined up on a cutting board, and the fresh fruits that I planned to make into mixed juice were all completely ready. The only thing I had left to do was preparing watalappan for dessert. It had to chill in the fridge for a while, so it was necessary to make it in advance. However, since it was my third time making it, I had the procedure memorized. No worries.

The tenor raised his voice amidst joy. The man who sang, “Ah, I’m going, I’m going to marry the army” didn’t like the army in particular, he was just in love with the abandoned girl that all the men from the regiment he was enlisted in were raising together.

The key switched to waltz. The true value of the tenor would ensue from that point onward.

The oven beeped, indicating that the pie had finished baking. With light steps, put on my gloves, took out the whole iron plate with the pie on it and gently slid it into a white porcelain plate.

A series of splendid high Cs. This referred to when the tenor raised their voice a great deal. If the composer was wonderful in reproducing the feelings of happiness into the music so keenly, then so was the singer who sang them so faithfully, I believed. The feeling of excitement turned into the melody just the way it was.

I arranged the dishes on the table and peeled the fruits. The high Cs continued one after another. I opened a can of coconut milk and mixed the contents with nut paste. The song was approaching the end. “What a fate, what a fate,” he sang, sounding merry. The highest note was near.

The song was coming to a close while celebrating happiness with the highest note. The feelings of the singer weren’t recorded in the CD, but I could hear them as comfortably as could be.

It wasn’t nearly high enough, but I sang along at a fairly loud volume.

At the same time as the song finished with a flashy grace note, I lightly kicked the open lid of the oven. It closed up neatly. With this, everything was all set. I was going to put away the CD set before the guests arrived.

Or so I had planned.

After the peak of my excitement, I noticed that someone was standing outside the window. He hadn’t come in from the front door. Hence the chime didn’t ring.

“Bravo, bravissimo.” A beautiful man wearing a white shirt and sunglasses, said glasses charmingly pushed up above his forehead, was smiling while applauding at my stiffened self.

The test was terrible that day. I didn’t think there was any issue with the contents of my answers. However, since I was stuttering so much, Saul, my mentor who was so picky about manner of speech as well as the contents of it, pointed out that I should “act more dignified”. I knew that better than anyone. There was too much noise interference in my head with things such as, “Why did I put opera on in such high spirits? What did he think of me now? As I thought, does he think that this hobby doesn’t suit me? No, that’s definitely impossible when it comes to my teacher, so I have to take control of my self-consciousness”.

And so, this is a story that happened more than half a year after that. Something that took place in Sri Lanka in May.

“Eh?”

“Happy birthday, Seigi. Here is a little present.”

“A bank deposit transfer certificate?”

“Good job reading it. That is from the USA.”

“USA...”

“There was a seat that you would probably like, so I purchased a year’s worth of it.”

“A year”? This wasn’t potato chips or cup noodles. What kind of seat was that? Was there a truck coming to deliver it? While thinking about such things, I continued reading the A4 paper, and when I got to half of it, I roared loudly. I let out a voice that sounded like a crushed frog, I believed.

The seat that Richard had given me was indeed a seat. But at a music theatre in America, which was likely the world’s most famous. It was a one-year membership card.

This was proof that “a seat will be reserved for you”. A seat just for me, for any performance, that I could use whenever I went there.

I felt lightheaded. Just how much had this “seat” cost him? What was he trying to do by giving something like this to someone who sat in swivel chairs sold at mass retailers? I did have such rational retorts in my head, but above that, I was so, so happy that I started jumping up and down. I could go to a theatre that I only knew about from CDs. Anytime, as long as I had the plane tickets. No matter who was singing.

“Can I really have this?!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of boorish lad who’d take back the treasure after making the other person happy?”

“No way! Uoooh, I’m too excited; that’s bad!”

“You are reacting like a dog again...”

“I’m gonna run in the yard for a bit!”

As I, with a messy katakana pronunciation, sang to myself the chorus part of the aria that had just finished while rolling around in the yard, Jirou ran over and mounted on me without restraint. “Owner, we’re going to play here, right? We’re going to play here, right? Come, let’s play,” he seemed to say, energetically wagging his tail. I was so happy that I hugged him and rolled about, but then I could see Richard laughing. The yard was on a slightly lower level than the house, so the house was wholly visible, so I didn’t think I was mistaken. He really was making a happy-looking face. This might have been my first time seeing that man laugh with such a child-like expression.

At that moment, something suddenly came to mind.

When Richard told me for the first time that he “likes pudding”, did he also think for a bit that it was embarrassing or wonder about what I was going to say? This man had thorough knowledge about the so-called “society”. There was no way that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

But he had told me about it.

Did I not say anything weird to him back then? “A man, liking pudding?” or “Why would a foreigner like a Japanese dessert?” It gave me the creeps. Back then, I didn’t have as much care as now regarding how to handle such circumstances. I just had words jumping out of my mouth like knives. This still applies even now, but I wanted to think it had gotten better, even if just a little.

Had I not said anything to him? Had I not hurt him? I didn’t have any way to confirm that now. If I apologized without knowing what I had said, it wouldn’t be a sincere apology.

But right now, Richard was looking at my happy self and smiling.

So I decided to stop thinking about these things. And from now on too, I would keep making heaps upon heaps of the things he liked.

I had to protect what was important to me by myself. But if I happened to notice something that mattered to someone who was dear to me, I wanted to cherish it too. I had no other choice.

After stroking Jirou, I went back to where Richard was and bowed to him again. He reciprocated the bow with a “you are welcome” and seemed about to start laughing again.

“That’s right, I was gonna make pudding. Wait just a bit more.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“You already got me a seat at the MET; I can’t go along with that flattery even as a joke. I’d be happy if you played with Jirou, though.”

“Then, I will take you up on those words.”

Rubbing my chest in relief, I went back to my room, patting my whole body to remove the dirt and dog hairs, and after washing my hands with soap, I returned to the kitchen.

By the looks of it, I was going to be able to listen to an opera in person one of these days – at least within a year’s time. Once I watched it live, all the curtains would close, right? For real? Was such a thing possible? Apparently yes. Hard to believe but it was true.

That man who was like an incarnation of the worldwide definition of “beauty”, and above that, who was a genius at pleasing me, was fooling around with my hybrid brown dog in the yard, illuminated by tropical sunshine. It seemed that the preparations for our feast would still take a while.

“What a wonderful day,” I hummed tentatively in French. A gorgeous tenor voice wouldn’t come out of my throat, but the things I liked would firmly support my heart nevertheless. Almost like a backbone for it. And there was someone supporting this backbone. Honestly, what a wonderful day. For now, I’d be making pudding. And share at least a little bit of this feeling.

[sunnysidekit]

Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

[lilchibi-chan]

Hello! Hope you are doing welll!

I saw that your requests were open so I thought why not?

How would Todoroki, Bakugo and kirishima react if the reader already had a boyfriend that went to another school or something. I imagine the girls from class 1A teasing the reader for not telling them.

Feel free to skip if you don’t feel comfortable writing this. Take care

First, I wanna say thank you for requesting. Second, I’m open to write whatever, so please don’t be afraid to ask for what you want and I will try my best to write a scenario or just how the character would react to certain things in my head ☺️💖

Todoroki

You and Todoroki have been friends for a while and he’s been wanting to tell you about his feelings, but he was never sure how to express them. He knew how he felt about you, he just didn’t know what you would say if you were to find out or if he were to tell you. Shouto is a very straightforward guy and he’ll tell it like it is. He decided that today would be the day he finally tells you because it’s been eating at him for a while and he wanted to know how you felt or if he even had a chance.

Your friend group, which consists of Mina, Uraraka, Tsu, Kiri, Baku, Deku and Denki, were all gonna hang out after school at a nearby ice cream shop and then go to the movies.

You were in your room getting ready for the hang out with the girls and you were all excited since this week was a little stressful. You definitely ready for a little down time before doing your homework for the weekend.

The boys met you all by your room and you all headed out together.

When you were approaching the main gate, you noticed a familiar figure standing there. It’s your boyfriend.

You run over to him excited and hug him.

“What are you doing here,” you ask excitedly

“I came to surprise you,” he said happily

You introduce him to all your friends and save Shouto for last.

“Todoroki, it’s nice to finally meet you. They’ve told me all about you. I feel like I practically know you already.”

Todoroki shakes his hand. His heart breaks a little bit, but he hides it well because he loves seeing your smile.

“Nice to meet you too” he says

“Guys, is it okay if he comes,” you ask expectantly

“I have no problem with it, that way we can give home the third degree since we haven’t met him before,” Mina says teasing

Everyone agreed and you all went on your way.

Uraraka hung back with Todoroki.

“Hey, you okay,” she asks concerned

“W-What are you talking about,” he asks her blushing

“I can see the way you look at her. I know you like her.”

“Is it that obvious,” he asks nervously

“Maybe not to her, but definitely to me.”

He stays quiet, but eventually smiles (like in the gif above)

You get to the ice cream shop and you all put two tables together. You and your boyfriend sit next to each other and Uraraka let’s Todoroki take the seat next to you.

You all enjoy your time together at the ice cream parlor, just talking and laughing, Todoroki sneaking glances at you when he can.

When it’s time to watch the movie, Todoroki heads in the aisle first with you behind him and your boyfriend behind you. Once seated, he starts feeling butterflies in his stomach. He’s sat next you before, but never this close.

As the movie goes on, Shouto starts paying less and less attention to it and more attention to your free hand. He wanted nothing more than to hold it in his, caressing your delicate fingers, feeling the softness of your palms. He was distracted by the image in his head, he didn’t even notice you asking him what he thought of the movie so far. He responded that it was good, but to be honest he couldn’t care less about the movie. Not when you were clouding his thoughts.

You all made your way back to the dorms after the movie was over and you said goodbye to your boyfriend. Todoroki asked if he could walk with you to your room and you told him yes.

When you’re about to enter, he grabs your wrist to stop you

“Wait,” he starts,“I have something I need to tell you, just please listen. I like you y/n. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but I never knew how to say it. I planned to tell you today and I am aware that you have a boyfriend now, so I won’t try anything. I’m not that kind of guy. I’ll still be there for you as a friend, whenever you need me. I hope you’ll accept me, even knowing my feelings. I couldn’t hide them from you any longer, so I just wanted to let you know. Good night, y/n.”

Bakugou

Bakugou is never really the type to convey his feelings in a conventional way, nor is he one to do it in front of people unless he’s pushed to his limit. Although he has feelings for you, he doesn’t know how to express them properly, so he definitely gets easily annoyed when he does something for you and you tell him he shouldn’t have or ask why he did what he did.

It would definitely go something like ‘What I have to have a reason?! Just accept it, okay!’ or something like ‘Is what I gave you not good enough? Fine, I’ll take it back. Have it your way!”

He would definitely be blushing while saying these things to you because it’s not really what he means. He’s putting himself out there which he doesn’t normally do, but he’ll do it for you because of how he feels.

Today you wanted to head to a bookstore in town after school and asked if he would go with you. He reluctantly, but also not so reluctantly said yes. You were very happy and told him that your boyfriend would be coming along too. He goes to a different school, so you don’t get to see him very much, so you try to spend as much time with him as you can.

“B-boyfriend? When were you gonna tell me? I thought we were friends!”

“We are Baku, best friends, but no one has ever asked and I didn’t really wanna broadcast my relationship like a weirdo, so it basically stayed a secret. Technically, I didn’t lie, I just never said anything.”

He starts pouting because you hadn’t told him before that you were in a relationship, not that he was going to admit how he felt now, but if he had the option, he would want to.

At the end of the day, you and Bakugou meet your boyfriend at the school gates and immediately Bakugou starts sizing him up. Trying to figure what’s so great about him and your boyfriend does the same thing, but in a bit of a nicer way. He’s never met Bakugou either, so he was kinda nervous to meet him being that you’ve told him about Bakugou’s hot headed-ness and attitude.

It was awkward at first, but they got to talking and found out they have similar things in common, but Bakugou still saw him as some extra.

You all finally get to the bookstore and when you got to the aisle you needed, your boyfriend stood behind you and put his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. Bakugou rolled his eyes and sucked his teeths.

“I’m gonna go to different section, you extras are making me sick,” he says then walks off upset

“Is he okay,” your boyfriend asks

“Yeah, that’s just how he is,” you say laughing and you weren’t wrong. That was how Bakugou was, hiding what he truly felt because he didn’t wanna seem weak or vulnerable.

You continued looking at books, until you were ready to go. You decide to go look for Bakugou to inform him and when you find him, he’s helping a little boy get a book from a high shelf and this causes you to smile. This is the side that you loved seeing of his and wished he showed it more, not that you would admit it, but you knew there were layers to him.

When he noticed you standing there, he started blushing really hard.

“I-I wasn’t just gonna watch him struggle. He needed help,” he says somewhat defensively

You just softly smiled at him.

“Since we’re finished, do you guys wanna head to the arcade,” you say. Bit of the boys agreed and the gears started turning in Bakugou’s head. He was gonna show you that he was better than your boyfriend and when he beat him in whatever you decided to play, you would see that.

First you decide you wanna do Mario Kart, you each take a seat and Bakugou makes sure to win first place, getting the most tickets. Then you play skee ball and the same goes. Bakugou even used his quirk on the ball sometimes to give it extra power.

Again he wins, collecting the most tickets.

You all start walking around to see if there’s any other games and your eyes land on a claw machine. You mention how cute one of the stuffed animals was, which caught Bakugou’s attention. He stops at the machine and tries to win you the stuffed animal. You didn’t know that he stopped.

You and your boyfriend walked around the whole arcade and didn’t see any other games you wanted to try. You noticed Bakugou was being quiet, too quiet. That’s when you turned around and noticed that he was no longer behind you. You decided to walk back the way you came and saw him by the machine. He was holding the stuffed animal you said you wanted.

You smile at him blushing, flattered that he went through the trouble of getting the plushie for you. Especially, since you know he hates the claw machine.

“Here y/n,” he says handing it to you, looking at the side blushing

“Thanks Bakugou,” you say accepting it

“Yeah, yeah. Take my tickets too. Use ‘em at the gift shop, I don’t want ‘em. I’ll wait for you guys outside.”

You cash out all the tickets and make your way outside where Bakugou is waiting and head back to the dorms at UA.

Once back at the school, you say goodbye to your boyfriend and head inside with Bakugou. He walks you to your room and he’s about to walk away, but you stop him.

“Thanks for coming with me today. I’m glad you had fun too.”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s nothing. Good night.”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you say, then give him a peck on the cheek

He heads to his room and once there plops on his bed. He closes his eyes and smiles.

Kirishima

You and Kirishima has both gone home together over the weekend and since you live near each other, both agreed to head to school together come Monday morning.

He meets you at your house early and you both eat breakfast together. Once finished, he helps you wash dishes and you both head out to go to school.

As you’re walking, you notice your boyfriend walking ahead of you both and decide to call out to him. You run over and hug him and he lifts you up and spins around with you in his arms.

“Hey, you headed back to UA,” he asks

“Yeah, this is Kirishima by the way,” you say introducing him

“Woah, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.”

He was taken aback by the word boyfriend, as you’ve never told him you had one. He puts on his big smile anyways.

“Nice to meet you too bro!”

You all take the walk together and he leaves when you’re halfway to UA, since he goes to another school.

“He’s really nice. I’m glad he makes you happy,” he says, not really giving you eye contact

“Yeah, he’s the best. We do have our moments, but I’m happy to be his girlfriend.”

Once you enter UA, you run over to Mina with a huge smile.

“Be right back Kiri,” you say while heading over

Just then Kaminari puts his hand on Kirishima’s shoulder.

“Dude, just tell her already,” he says to Kirishima

“I can’t,” he says sadly

“And why not? You’ve had a crush on her basically since you met her. Why not just come clean?”

“She has a boyfriend...and she’s happy,” he says looking over at Kaminari (like in the gif)

“Are you ever gonna tell her,” he asks

“Maybe one day,” Kirishima says with a big smile,“but for now, I’ll just be there for her as her friend. It wouldn’t be very manly of me to try to steal her away.”

“I can respect that,” Kaminari said

You make your way back over to Kirishima and notice Kaminari is there. You say your hellos and then proceed to take your seat next to Kiri. You smile at him and turn your head to the front of the class.

‘One day...’ he thinks to himself

•

•

•

I hope you enjoyed this. I tried my best to give a good scenario for each boy 🥺

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 276: Our Turn to Save You

Previously on BnHA: In a refreshing change of pace from the usual “the adults refuse to tell the kids anything” shtick, Deku and Kacchan flew around trying to get Tomura’s attention while refusing to explain jack shit to Endeavor! Deku eventually thought to ask Kacchan why he was getting in on this, and Kacchan launched into a two-page Denial Speech which seemed expressly designed to prime him for losing his quirk any fucking second now! Tomura then showed up and the two of them were all “KJSDLFK” but thankfully Gran dove in to rescue them from dying INSTANTANEOUS HORRIBLE DEATHS, and reminded them that there are practically SIX WHOLE GROWN-UPS left who can definitely still fight Tomura and won’t die at all!! And one of those grown-ups is Aizawa! Who’s getting ready to fight Tomura now! Listen Horikoshi you fucker, when I asked for more Aizawa angst and badassery this ISN’T WHAT I –

Today on BnHA: Tomura is all “THIS QUIRK WON’T STOP ME BECAUSE I CAN’T READ” and sort of shrugs it off and continues to kick ass even though his Decay and AFO powers aren’t working. The pros all try to stop him with Endeavor taking the lead, and because THEY ALL SUCK, APPARENTLY, nothing they do is effective in any way whatsoever! Meanwhile Gran dumps Deku and Kacchan off and is all “YOU’LL BE FINE HERE” which is the most ridiculous thing anyone in this manga has ever said, and then pretty much as soon as he says it at least nine more High Ends (excuse me, NEARLY High Ends) just POP UP OUT OF NOWHERE and are all “RARR” and the heroes are all “oh shit” and Tomura is all “lol yeah I actually had more High Ends this whole time” and Ujiko is all “it’s true!” and, fuck. The chapter ends with Tomura charging in to kill Aizawa only to be intercepted by MY TWO PRECIOUS BABIES, MY DARLING LITTLE HERO HATCHLINGS, and...!! I blame Gran for this.

gotta say, my sense of time is distorted enough as it is these days without chapter leaks coming out A WHOLE ENTIRE DAY EARLY out of nowhere. not that I’m complaining, because I want to see Aizawa kick some ass & immediately lose his fucking quirk as much as anyone, but it is disorienting

anyway time to dive into this chapter which I predict will be titled “everything instantly goes horribly wrong.” I’ve had a lot of time these past two weeks to think about what is going to happen next, and I’m pretty sure I nailed it you guys

so we’re opening with a familiar sight

I like that Horikoshi thinks that helicopters go “chop chop.” well, close enough

anyway, so yet again we have a scene in BnHA of a town in the process of being destroyed by villains while a helicopter whirs (WHIRS, Horikoshi) and chuffs (SOMETIMES THEY CHUFF TOO) anxiously nearby. I wonder if this helicopter is going to fucking disintegrate. that’d be something new

ARE YOU GOING TO DIE, MISTER LIVE REPORTER SIR. OH MAN. OH GOD I’M ANXIOUS

dozens, you guys! there are dozens of them left! not to worry then. the good guys definitely still got this

oh hey it’s that news anchor with the cutely fucked-up backstory of chopping off his own horn so as to more handsomely report the news

oh god don’t tell me this whole thing is going to be broadcast live. that’s all we fucking need right now. I wonder what’s going to throw society into chaos more, the reveal of just how powerful Tomura is now, or the exposure of what the government-mandated child soldiers get to do during their super-educational practical on-the-job training! no coffee-fetching for these kiddos! we’ve got ‘em rolling up their sleeves and getting their hands good and dirty!

oh hey and it looks like this means that All Might will get to watch protege #2 lose his quirk live on TV -- HEY WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

BAD BABYSITTER!! MY GOD MAN, I KNOW YOU’RE THE INDULGENT GRANDFATHER TYPE, BUT MAYBE CONSIDER CHANGING THE CHANNEL TO DOC MCSTUFFINS FOR THE TIME BEING??!

also I know this is just a perspective thing probably but lmao his hand on her shoulder is fucking huge. All Might you been working out again

but seriously this is not good for either of them to witness. they don’t need more trauma in their lives! All Might doesn’t need yet another thing to blame himself over! and he has conflicted feelings about Tomura still on top of that which I’m sure isn’t going to make this any easier. ANGST ALL AROUND. EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK, EVERYWHERE YOU GOOOO

MOTHERFUCKER I --

is Mitsuki looking at fucking baby pictures of Kacchan. reliving the memories of the good old days, thinking about how far her baby boy has come and how proud she is. that’s just great you guys. that’s just fucking great. these aren’t even red flags at this point these are red fucking tapestries

(ETA: and this basically goes without saying, but I’m sure the fact that not one but THREE Todorokis are represented in this little montage means that Endeavor and Shouto are also going to be just fine.)

:)

HE’S SO HAPPY just fucking try and tell me he doesn’t have a mental fucking link to Tomura and Deku you guys. this bitch knows exactly what is going down right now and he is LIVING FOR IT. that does it. someone please save my spot in the chapter for me I am going to go take a quick walk to calm down

and of COURSE that’s a fucking lie though, god -- [frantically clicks to next page]

LOL HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS

FUCKING MANUAL IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY LMAO. YOU CAN ALL FUCKING RELAX NOW. and fuck me, I’m so fucking happy RockLockRock is still alive as well but WHY ARE YOU STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO AIZAWA IN WHAT I LIKE TO CALL THE “CAUTION: YOU WILL GET SHOT” ZONE. swear to god Horikoshi THAT MAN HAS A FAMILY don’t you even think about -- !!

sigh, anyway so then the rest of the page is panels of Gran & The Boys, Endeavor, and Tomura, along with the text “WHICH SIDE IS THE VICTOR”, which is not helping matters any! also the title of the chapter is “Cheating” which I assume is a reference to both the erasure of Tomura’s quirk, and the soon-to-happen permanent removal of Aizawa’s. I’m just an optimist like that

oh hey and Tomura’s sending out some quick orders to his squad as well

and to think this homicidal maniac is in my top ten favorite characters. sob. I do love you kiddo so please don’t take it personally that I have to unequivocally root against you here. maybe if you listened to me once in a while and would even just consider my radical alternate plan of not killing anyone in sight

anyway lol but here everyone including myself thought he was going straight for the bullets and instead he was pulling out his phone. shows what we know. [braces myself for the follow-up panel of him putting the phone away again and THEN reaching for the bullets!!]

meanwhile we’re being introduced to some new sidekick of Endeavor’s who’s probably going to set the record for shortest time in between being introduced and dying horribly. sorry Kido. I’m just jaded

don’t mind me I’m just putting up emotional walls in between myself and any new lovable characters as a means of self-preservation. mmhmm. he can manipulate the trajectory of things. that’s nice. he seems nice. wouldn’t that be a nice quirk for Tomura to steal and then trajector a bullet straight towards Aizawa ffffff

(ETA: watch this space, everyone. Endeavor’s Sidekick Kido. gonna fuck everything up for everyone, mark my words.)

so I can’t help but notice that now that Tomura can’t use his quirk anymore and is helpless, they have all decided to just sit around doing nothing again?

like. far be it from me to openly wonder why they are not immediately knocking him out or setting him on fire again or whatnot. I am just a lowly civilian. it’s not my job to question these things

(ETA: I must learn to be patient.)

also lmao at Manual saying Aizawa’s ankle is “twisted”, similar to how Deku is constantly “twisting” all of his arms and legs all the time. or did he mean “twisted” in the sense that his leg was pretty much literally wrung out like a fucking towel

anyway so Manual is waterbending liquid into Aizawa’s eyes like that’s supposed to help him NOT close them

has Horikoshi ever had water splashed into his fucking eyes. he and I have had very different experiences as to the effects of this apparently

there we go!!

at least someone out here is fucking trying. for a second there I was honestly worried we were going to see a repeat of “oh well he seems dead enough, let’s just leave, see you at the victory party this weekend, X-Less”

LMAO WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE

[GRABS THESE PANELS AND WAVES THEM IN FRONT OF THE UNCONSCIOUS HAWKS] DID YOU HEAR THAT. DO YOU SEE THAT, BOYO. FACTS. BEING WEAK TO FIRE IS, IN FACT, 100 PERCENT A CHOICE. IF YOU HAD JUST DONE MORE PUSH-UPS AND TRAINED HARDER YOU WOULDN’T BE IN THIS SITUATION RIGHT NOW. SMDH. YOU FUCKING WIMP. YOU RECREANT. YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED

hooooh man. hokay. whew. has anyone seen my suspension of disbelief. I’m so used to having it on me at all times when I read this manga that I must have let my guard down and now it seems I’ve spaced it out. well we’ll just keep a lookout for it

so now we’re cutting to Ujiko who is gleefully bragging that Tomura’s strength is on par with All Might Prime’s, which is just great. and now he’s also starting this sentence and then just... not... finishing it

that’s fine. you just trail off, then. hang those implications. whatever dude

meanwhile RLR and Manny are helping Aizawa limp away while he awkwardly has to twist his neck around to be able to still keep Tomura in his line of sight. I feel like there was probably a better way for them to do this but whatever

anyway thanks for confirming that Ujiko did make Tomura into a Noumu in addition to giving him AFO, though, Horikoshi! that’s very nice of you to unsink one of my theories like that. appreciate it

and hold up, so it occurs to me that “Being Fireproof” could still be a quirk, but just a mutant-type quirk rather than an activation type, meaning that Erasure would have no effect on it! aha! oh, there’s my suspension of disbelief lol it was in my pocket the whole time!!

anyway so Endeavor and Tomura are tussling but I really wish they’d be more careful because if Tomura is still capable of super strength and super speed then he could propel himself out of Aizawa’s line of sight really easily and I feel like this isn’t really helping

is it just me or do they look like they’re TRYING to jump in between Aizawa and Tomura, like?!?! GUYS

LMAO now Gran is just

SHUP. toss. dusts off hands. well that takes care of that

and apparently he’s under the genuine impression that a mere “now stay put you dumdums” is going to have any effect on these two whatsoever. lol okay. we’ll see

anyways YESSSSS, KACCHAN MEET GRAN, GRAN, KACCHAN

meanwhile Kacchan falls silent as he mentally tries to work out who tf “Toshinori” is lmao. I’M SO CHUFFED ABOUT THIS. YES THAT’S ANOTHER USE OF THE WORD “CHUFFED.” VERY VERSATILE AND REMINISCENT OF HELICOPTER BLADES WHIRLING

and now here’s a convenient map showing how far away Deku and Kacchan are from safety!

thanks for that. that’s so reassuring to have this nifty little visual

OH MY GOD GRAN

DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?? DOES EVERYONE IN THIS FUCKING ARC HAVE A DEATH WISH. MY GOD

“BUT FAR BE IT FROM ME TO LEAVE WITHOUT ANY OMINOUS FORESHADOWING!!” NO INDEED WE CAN’T HAVE THAT!!!

rather than focus anymore on how goddamn foreboding that is, I would instead like to take this moment to call attention to the fact that Gran apparently knows Bakugou’s name but not Present Mic’s. that’s amazing

sob

what good indeed. imagine if they couldn’t even do that. I imagine that would have some far-reaching consequences which might even be interesting to explore as part of a story

:O

I made the same face as them just now fyi

fucking Schrodinger’s High Ends. they only exist when the plot says it’s convenient for them to exist. maybe they’re like fairies and if you say you don’t believe in them they drop dead. where the fuck did these things actually come from?!

WAY TO DROP THE BOYS OFF IN THE MIDDLE OF NOUMU FUCKING CENTRAL MY GOOD MAN. MAYBE WE SHOULD SCROLL BACK UP AND UPDATE THAT MAP. GOOD JOB LMAO

WHAT THE FUCK

welp. they deleted Tomura’s quirk and then sent the strongest guy they had after him, annnnnnnd he went and beat him anyway in like two fucking seconds. so that’s. ... wowee. ...so do we have a plan b, or...

like, holy shit though?? and can you imagine the kind of psychological impact this is having on everyone watching this live on TV right now?? this is literally the anti-Kamino. holy fucking shit. also did Tomura lose an arm or am I just not understanding this image right?? NOT THAT IT SEEMS TO BE BOTHERING HIM IN THE SLIGHTEST??

(ETA: somehow I missed the fact that he is even calling attention to it lol. “I’ll raise [the other hand] when it’s back.” fucking look at Mr. Transcendent here who’s so powerful that when you tear his arms off all it does is make him more sassy. is he secretly related to Mirko.)

idk guys I really think my original chapter title was better

at least Endeavor isn’t fucking dead just yet. four more pages and you might actually make it out of this chapter alive my good man

blah blah blah flashback to Ujiko explaining that the Noumu could be activated by an electric current flowing through them, and that they’re programmed to move only on Tomura’s orders. you know. just more good news

oh hey but at least these ones are mindless so I guess it’s okay for the kids to kick their asses without feeling too conflicted. it’s just too bad “their strength is higher quality than the others” but you win some, you lose some

OH GOOD, THEY’RE GOING STRAIGHT FOR AIZAWA

I’M SURE THAT MIDORIYA “MY BODY MOVED BEFORE I COULD THINK” IZUKU AND BAKUGOU “I’M THE ONE WHO’LL GET PAYBACK FOR THAT DAY” KATSUKI WILL TAKE THEIR GRANDPA’S SAGE ADVICE AND GO AND HIDE WHILE THEIR TEACHER IS IN DANGER. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’VE LITERALLY GONE TO SCHOOL FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR EXPLICITLY MAJORING IN NOT DOING THAT. YES THIS IS FINE THIS IS FUCKING FINE AND GREAT

NOW WHAT’S HAPPENING THERE’S LOTS OF RUBBLE FALLING AROUND AND STUFF MOVING AND SOMEONE IS TALKING

OH IT’S HIM

excuse me. EXCUSE ME. no, you are NOT. going to fucking die, Aizawa Shouta. HORIKOSHI KOUHEI!!! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST FOR THE CRIME OF DRAWING THIS FUCKING PANEL. THIS ONE, RIGHT HERE. YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING. HOW DARE YOU. how FUCKING dare you sir

and if anything happens to RLR I SWEAR TO GOD!! you know what?! you know what?!?

STOP IT

[sitting curled up into a little ball with my knees drawn up to my chest, drawing little finger circles on the floor] I see. so he’s not even concerned about himself at all. it’s his two tiny little hero eggs, his problem children, and the fact that if he dies here there won’t be anything preventing Tomura from finding and killing them. ahh. okay. it’s okay. that’s fine

and goddammit what is he pulling out from his belt. everyone is on the same page here, right? Aizawa’s Not Allowed To Die. that was the deal. WHAT HAS THIS ALL BEEN FOR OTHERWISE

(ETA: yeah but he seriously did just pull a knife out of fucking nowhere though like the kid in that fucking vine lmao. APPARENTLY HE’S HAD IT THIS ENTIRE TIME?? “what if I just stabbed him” lulz. based on the way things were trending, I’m willing to bet it would have literally bounced off of Tomura’s chest at this point, but I’ll give him credit for making the effort.)

NOPE NOPE NOPE NO

(ETA: Shinsou being in the bottom corner... ;_; )

is anyone listening to me!??! I’m over here screaming myself fucking hoarse??! AIZAWA ISN’T FUCKING ALLOWED TO DIE??!! HELLO!?!?!

lol well at least RLR didn’t get steamrolled over

well everyone. we’ve reached page 18. one more to go. what are the odds we end with the boys arriving in the ta-da nick of time to defend their teacher. just who is watching over whom

THERE IT IS!!!

OH NO OH GOD AM I CRYING??! YOU HAD TO GO AND PUT THOSE FLASHBACK PANELS IN?? HIM SAVING DEKU AND CO. AT USJ, PLUS THAT ONE TIME HE DEFENDED BAKUGOU DURING HIS MOST VULNERABLE MOMENT IN FRONT OF A NATIONAL AUDIENCE??? “IT’S OUR TURN TO SAVE YOU”???

and they look so determined and desperate?? and the “Aizawa-sensei!” echoing in both their minds?? and meanwhile Aizawa looks fucking horrified though, because of all the... [gestures] you know? the Terrible Danger?? sob??

anyway. I really let this manga do this to me every damn week. let it just have its fucking way with me. at least Horikoshi didn’t end up breaking the law after all. I don’t know if I could continue to support a mangaka who is willing to commit an actual war crime. no touching Aizawa. OKAY?? OKAY

[darkpoisonouslove]

Sparks of Life Opera Edition

I am still not over Singing a New Tune so I am going to recap for you the experience of writing that fic because there were many interesting moments over the course of those three days. Lemme start from the beginning.

- So I’m writing a fic that mostly focuses on sexual stuff but it is also mainly happening in an opera so my first order of business is to figure out what that opera is. Both the building itself and the show they’ll be watching. Because that is of utmost importance.

- I have already mentioned that SoL is located in New York so I looked up New York operas. I do not vibe with research most of the time but I vibe even less with having to come up with names for any kind of thing so research was definitely the choice here.

- I somehow get results about operas that are in the other end of the USA. That was not great. I get to the Metropolitan Opera House at last (which I might have known existed if I cared about opera in any way, shape or form) which is great! I am so close to starting the fic! Just need to figure out what opera they’re watching. Because I need that for reasons.

- I end up downloading a PDF with the seatings inside the Met Opera so that I can figure out where the hell they will be seating. But I leave that for later. I look through the actual plays that they’re having while absolutely failing with the navigation of their site. I find a show that catches my eye. It’s called The Magic Flute. I have zero idea what it’s about so I read the Wikipedia summary just to be aware. It mentions that a character has a moment when he’s singing about his search for a wife and I think “Perfect! Foreshadowing!” (since this is set pretty early on in Griffin and Valtor’s relationship).

- I decide to look up the opera and see if I can find a part of it on youtube to figure out how it will sound. I am pretty sold on it already because of the summary I read and also because it implies there is magic as a subject in it which would call back to canon. Still, I look it up. I find a full version of it on the internet with English subtitles... It is 2 hours and 35 minutes:

- “Wow, okay... that’s a bit much. But hey, it has got subtitles in English. Maybe I’d actually watch that... once I’m done with the fic. I’m just gonna listen to a little bit while I finish my research, though, so I can have an idea of what it sounds like.”

- Now it’s time to open the engagement fic - Enough to Be Yours - because I don’t remember what year they got engaged in and I need that to reverse engineer the year in which this fic is taking place so that I can make sure that The Magic Flute was being performed back then. I don’t have an year stated in the engagement fic, though. I have a date - 9th October which is Friday and that means the year is 2015. Great! So I need to figure out if they were performing The Magic Flute back in 2010. Great.

- That takes a shit ton of time and nerves as it turns out. I spent over 4 hours just researching the logistics for this fic and a lot of that was unnecessary but I’m getting ahead of myself.

- I cannot find out whether they were performing the Magic Flute in 2010. I get results of it being broadcast in English (for the first time, I believe) in 2012 but that is way too late for this fic to be happening. Also, they are speaking of a broadcast which just doesn’t work for me. So I am having a hard time over here.

- I find a list of the new titles in 2011 but nothing mentions The Magic Flute as far as I can see.

- I am now considering switching to another opera. I see an opera that is based on events from The Song of the Nibelungs (I cannot be assed to go back and check what the actual title was). That catches my eye because I have read a book that was titled The Ring of the Nibelungs, I believe, and I kinda remember stuff from it... which is what makes me hesitate because that was a big tragedy.

- Meanwhile, I have stumbled upon a trailer for The Magic Flute:

MY GOD IS THAT BEAUTIFUL! THOSE PROPS ARE FUCKING GORGEOUS! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU GET TO GO AND SEE THAT LIVE? THAT IS NUTS! (Also, when I mentioned paper birds (I think they are) in the fic, I meant the ones shown in 0:13, not the big one in the beginning but HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SEE THAT THING????? HOW IS THAT REAL?!?!?!?! IT IS SO FUCKING AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN’T. I AM DYING. THIS IS JUST TOO BEAUTIFUL.)

- I somehow happen upon an old archive of the opera (idk how I did that but I bookmarked it in case I’ll need it again) that has information about plays going back as far as the year 1900. This is nuts! I am in too deep but I can’t pull myself away. I’ve gotten this far, I will see it through.

- I search for keyword “flute” and I get results. Some of them are pretty old but I finally find what I need. Performances of the Magic Flute in 2010! Bingo!

-  ...Oh, wait, they’re all around Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Hmm... when will it be okay for them to go? I mean, Valtor has been established to have zero free time around that time of the year and I can’t see them going on the 24th or the 31st... Oh, those are matinees. Definitely no! I need them to go in the evening. And some of these are broadcasts which doesn’t work for me either.

- I looked up earlier years as well. I considered another opera again. I decided to switch up the timeline a little. It makes sense if it’s in 2009. I think they had spring performances of The Magic Flute then. Or was it 2008? Anyway, I finally settle on an early April date in 2009 (I think). Now that that’s settled, let’s go back to the seats.

- First I need to figure out what floor (let’s say) of the opera they’re on. I was thinking of the last one first (family circle) but the boxes (I figure those seats will be safest for their activities) look like this:

which isn’t vibing with me because they would be in the front row and it seems more visible. So I relocate to the previous floor (balcony) that looks like this:

That works a little better although there’s the danger of having more people in their box. But they’re sitting in box 14, seats 5 (Griffin) and 6 (Valtor) (where the arrow is pointing) and there’s only one man in seat 4 in front of them. So that is the best I can do.

- Wow, all that’s finally figured out. I decide to do all the rest of the research up front in order to be able to just write after that and not stop for another 4 hours. More on those other things later BUT I get to the part where I need to pick a vibrator and... well, I done fucked up.

- First thing that comes up for a remote controlled vibrator is Lush, of course. And I am immediately sold because it has a sound activated setting which Valtor will definitely love to utilize while in the opera.

BUT

Lush 2 (which is the first one to have the sound activated setting, I believe) came out in 2018. Even if we accept that Lush also has it, that came out in 2015. My fic is set in 2009. Searching for 2009 vibrators literally went no where so in the end I decided that the SoL verse is actually set in a parallel universe where time is a little warped so the Lush 2 is out in 2009. Plus, that way there isn’t going to be a pandemic in future installments. Overall, that works. Except that I needn’t have been so thorough with my opera research beforehand. Oh, well. It’s finally time to start writing.

- How do you write? How do you start a fic? One word in front of the other? Oh, okay, never mind. Lipstick is a girl’s best friend. Let’s start from there. And a kiss that leads to the discussion of lipstick... Damn, I forgot to spend one more hour on researching what kind of lipstick Griffin would have worn. Shame! You don’t get that detail now. I believe I didn’t even mention a shade.

- Oh, wait. Need for his breath to taste like something. Hmm, let’s see. Tonic water? Yeah, that sounds about right. Never mind that he should have probably drunk it right before getting out of the car to kiss her if it was still lingering on his breath. I mean, that’s not impossible. Just improbable.

- He’s also wearing cologne, right? Gotta research that too. How else would I get this:

and zero idea what it actually smells like despite the description. Also, did not check if that was a thing in 2009 but the story now exists in a vacuum so who cares.

- Apparently, Griffin doesn’t own any golden bracelets even though she does have a golden necklace? Or she could have a golden bracelet, just not one she likes for the current situation? Anyway, I wanted to mention Ediltrude as well because the twins always go together and that was the best I came up with. (That said, I didn’t need to put the mentions of them one sentence apart.)

- My god, I used a semicolon! That feels illegal. I sure hope I used that bitch correctly.

- Okay, I absolutely love all the banter and just flow in the car. Idk how I did that since it’s such a constricted space but I am really proud of it. However, the logistics were sometimes hard to logic my way through. I mean, Valtor doesn’t get to look at her a lot and I had to employ a red traffic light to give him the chance to do so.

- I hit a wall about three paragraphs later. Things started going in a weird direction. I was considering even deleting the last two lines but then I managed to get back on track thanks to having figured out how they met and I decided to write a little bit about that without spoiling it (that will be a fic of its own some day). Suffice it to say it was a meet-very-ugly. But it bailed me out. Also, they got over it so it’s all good.

- And now... that paragraph. You know which one I’m talking about. It stands out with the locations I’ve given. That paragraph required 30 minutes of looking at Google Earth to figure it out and I still nearly got it wrong. At that point it occurred to me that they’ll need a place to park. I mean, idk how parking is in NYC but it’s probably not the way it is in Bulgaria especially on small neighborhood streets where it’s just... park wherever (even in front of a garage if you’re brazen enough and don’t fear having your tires slashed). So first, I was going to have them coming down Tenth Avenue and passing by the backside of the Opera which is not ideal for me because I needed Griffin to figure out they’re going to the opera so that they can have the following dialogue. But there is the New York Public Library of the Performing Arts right next door so I figure Griffin will recognize the area if it’s next to a library. And I have them almost at the garage but... that’s not looking right. This garage is on 65th Street and mine is on 62nd... I have been looking at the wrong garage for the past hour. Now that I have caught that mistake, things get easier. They just drive right past the facade of the opera, take a right turn and then enter the garage. Easy peasy. For whoever’s actually paying attention to the map.

- They’re in the garage now and I have to write another kiss. Shoot! I do not vibe with writing kisses. Writing sex scenes is much easier. But I’ll try my best because this is a little bit necessary if we’re dealing with an insertion of a vibrator in a public bathroom one minute from now. (Again, logistics!) I actually went back to add in a little discomfort during the kiss (but not too much because they’re consumed with each other anyway and probably missed something) just to make it more realistic. They can’t be comfortable in the car. Also, you have got to love how I never even thought of what make the car is. But I did stop to research the tinting of the car windows.

- Now this is extremely funny but I would have had zero idea that there are different laws about how tinted your car windows can be in the USA if I hadn’t read a very extensive critique of Fifty Shades (whichever part it was that had that info). So I look up the VLT for New York and it says 70%. Great! Then it won’t be that visible through the windows what they’re doing inside. Oh, wait! VLT means Visible Light Transmission aka 70% of the light should be passing through the window. Aka it is only tinted on 30%. This much:

That’s practically nothing. You can see everything through it. Welp, then someone’s gonna see, I guess.

- Can’t believe I didn’t stop to look up clutches either. (Lmao, I was calling it a purse instead of a clutch at first even though I definitely meant a clutch. And then I remembered that clutch existed as a word. Who would’ve thought?) It’s baffling trying to figure out why my brain was prioritizing some details over others and I just genuinely have no idea what was going on.

- Griffin is blushing a lot in this. Can you tell I have no idea how else to convey Valtor giving her feelings through body language?

- I first envisioned the box being opened by the hair pin by turning it like a key. Only later did I realize that that wouldn’t be possible because the pin has two parts (whatever they’re called) and that would make turning it impossible unless all of the base fits into one hole in the lid of the box. So I had to adapt my vision to using the extensions at the ends of the hair pin like a hook that pulls the lid up once it’s clicked free. I have zero idea how that would be done but I’m sure it can be done. So yeah, anyway, the pin looks like this but with attachments at the ends to open the box:

- I might have gone a little overboard with Griffin’s reaction to having the vibrator inside her. I might have made her a bit too embarrassed but I still think that she simply wouldn’t appreciate someone knowing about what she considers a private experience (despite the very public setting).

- And I am being overly specific again with the seats but I worked for that information so you’re getting it against your will!

- Speaking of, that man in their box was pretty ignored throughout the fic. But then again Griffin wasn’t overflowing with lucidity. She is sure to have missed... A Lot, actually.

- My apologies (once again) to @her-majesty-wears-jeans​ for not letting Griffin punch Valtor in the face for the terrible pun he was about to make but I thought that that would ruin the mood so I had to skip it.

- I might have imagined things a little differently but then consent factored in and I had to change things up so that Griffin is clearly on board with everything. I hope it came through that way at least. She is on board even if she is very, very frustrated. She would never throw the bet just because it’s difficult for her. Though, I’m taking note for future fics of maybe being a little bit more explicit about the enjoyment of all parties involved. I just couldn’t really think of a way to convey it better back then and I am coming up with several ideas now and I will try to keep them in mind for future fics.

- I keep going back and forth on just how far into their relationship this is. Sometimes it feels like it’s not enough time for them to get this familiar with each other and sometimes it feels like too much for them to still be skirting their feelings for each other like that. Will update when I make up my mind about how long exactly it has been.

- In retrospect, probably should have picked up an opera that people would be less likely to bring their children to (as brought to my attention by @her-majesty-wears-jeans​). I apologize for this. Did not consider it at all.

- A wild tangent about Griffin’s sexual experiences before Valtor popped up (for the second time now). This is giving me thoughts and I am not even sure if I’ll manage to get them all out in the bachelorette party fic. Oh, no, I am getting ideas again.

- God, I had to mention those paper birds because I adore them. Also, needed to do a time skip somehow (sure hope they don’t show up at the very end or the very beginning).

- So there are some things about the whole thing with the suit jacket that if you squint, you’ll miss the very far-fetched and convoluted ways in which I could make them make sense but again, it isn’t impossible to make them operate according to logic so good enough.

- And now for the dress:

I thought it would be reasonable for Griffin to own something like that. It doesn’t look overly expensive or dramatic.

- I swear that most of the 2% angst was an accident. Griffin was supposed to say the “You paid how much for tickets exactly just so you could fool around?” line but the following few paragraphs sprang on me out of nowhere. That was where I left it off the first day I was working on it and I wasn’t sure how to continue it. Then the angst happened.

- I do not believe the retaliation part was planned but would it really be a Griffin x Valtor story if something like that hadn’t happened? XD

- “reverberated”, “multitudinous” and “unobtainable” are probably not words that Griffin’s muddled mind would go to in that precise moment but everything else I came up with for them just did not sound right.

- I completely forgot the word for neckline and was so mad at myself for that but, luckily, I managed to remember it before posting the fic. I believe the original read “he slipped a finger under the fabric of her dress, running it over the top of her breast” which is not incorrect but just not precise enough for my liking.

- Sure hope the shortened version of the opera did not cut out the ending musical sequence. But that seems unlikely.

- The idea was running overly long in my head by having them going back to the penthouse so that I could have the scene where he picked her up so I decided to move things around and have him carry her bridal style on their way from the opera to the car. It’s not like she didn’t earn it.

- Pretty sure I had planned something a little different for the last several lines of dialogue but I couldn’t remember what so we get this. Which isn’t a disadvantage. I mean, Griffin is already thinking of marrying him. XD (That’s probably a bit of a stretch at the current status of their relationship but then again, she was thinking of a wedding, not necessarily of their wedding even though I’m clearly a little romance gargoyle that meant exactly that.)

- Originally, Valtor was supposed to floor the brakes while they were out in the NYC traffic but then I decided that doing it while still in the garage with only one car behind them and both vehicles driving at a very slow speed was a lot safer so I switched to that. It also saved me writing more words which was appreciated. I thought this fic would be a bit shorter.

- I was at a loss for how many orgasms Griffin should want from him but then the commitment line happened and that was all avoided.

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

Huge Ego?

Pairing:  Thor x Male Reader

Word Count: 800 (short, sorry!)

Warnings: Anxiety, Sadness, angst, lots of self doubt Fluff and Happy endings (mentions of offscreen sex towards the end)

Requested by: Anon-Hey sorry to bother you, but would you be able to write a fic of Bucky or Thor? If you want to know any info about me for the fic incase you want to put me in as the y/n. I’m 5’, I have below shoulder length hair, my friends say I have a feminine body for being male as well. I’m not good with requests so sorry if I’m all over the place...

Storyline: Anxiety riddled witch male reader is still a badass with a hot boyfriend (sadly badassery is offscreen)

A/N: I was yet again listening to Marina and the Diamonds and I got double inspired. Also anon I included some of your descriptions but I tried to make the rest of the story general for other readers. I hope you enjoy!!!

Okay most of this was though of/ written in September of 2018. It is August of 2020, I’m so sorry it took me forever to release this. I think I made it angstier but hopefully it pays off in the end. I’m now listening to Ribs by Lorde but thanks Marina. Also this totally disregards endgame.

------------------------------------------------------------

You were reluctant to join the avengers. Especially after hearing about how confrontational they were. It was weird how much they argued or how they sometimes acted like the world revolved around them. Like come on, you are superheroes with no secret identities, everything you do will be broadcasted all over the news. Reporters will scrutinize your every behavior, every change in your look, every curve of your body, and you’re just okay with it? Okay with embarrassing yourselves publicly by squabbling like a married couple?

 It’s like having a huge ego was a requirement to become an avenger. One box you couldn’t check. With that being said you did want to be an avenger. You needed to be an avenger. So what else could you do but fake it. Act like you're better than everyone else otherwise you have to face reality. You didn’t want to admit that you felt a need to be an avenger so your life could have purpose. And you definitely didn’t want to admit that I was afraid that no one would ever need me in their life.

So far faking it has relatively worked out great. You joined the avengers, kicked some ass, and got a hot boyfriend. Yeah, hot boyfriend. 

Thor has made you feel like I’ve never felt before. He makes you feel loved and appreciated.  NEEDED. He needs your love because he wants it, he relishes in it. And you honestly can’t deny you feel the same way. Yet you’re terrified that everyone else will realize I’m not as confident as I seem and I’m scared that they’ll figure out that they don’t need me. And the bolder I pretend to be the safer I feel.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“How does so much ego fit in a body so short? I mean come on he’s shorter than Tony but acts just like him” clint asks as soon as Y/N is out of earshot

“That’s because it’s fake” thor answers

“What?”

“The confidence, it’s all fake”

“Tony’s or Y/N’s?”

“Both! Have you not been paying attention? They’re like loki just divided in two. Tony has deeply rooted psychological problems most probably stemming from his father and Y/n has been suffering from anxiety. He’s been afraid that we’ll leave him because of his faults. He’s afraid we don’t love him like he loves us and I’ve just about had enough. I’ve quietly tried to show him that he means the world to me and the rest of the team would suffer without him but he doesn’t believe it. I can’t convince him on my own so everyone needs to find a way to let Y/N know how you really feel about him.” Thor explained

---------------------------------------

You laid in bed next to the god you had the pleasure of calling your boyfriend. You ran your hand through his hair while looking in his eyes. Thor rested his forehead on yours placing his hand behind your head, slowly rubbing his thumb behind your ear before inhaling deeply.

“My love” thor began “I have told the others about your issues with anxiety. I’m sorry for betraying your trust but I’m not sorry for letting your friends know you’re struggling. Now that they know they can help and I want you to get all the help there is”

“Thor I don’t know what you want to say. I’m not sorry that you told them. I’m not sorry that I hid it and I’m not sorry that you told me. Everything that has happened led me to this moment. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m surrounded by love and doing good in the world. The only thing I’m sorry about is making you suffer with me. I love you and I love our friends. To me there is nothing better than just lying here in your arms, thinking one day I’ll marry this man. That day may not be today but it’ll come soon. In the meantime I want you to make love to me. I want you to set every nerve in my body on fire while you whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”

You woke up the next morning so appreciative of the world for finally allowing something to go right for once. Thor had been the reason the team had been more expressive, and not even just because he made them, you could tell they meant it. It didn’t chase off every negative thought but it did make you feel like you had a safe space to be yourself, confident day or not.

Thor may not have been perfect, but in between explaining the most simple of ‘midgardian’ customs and tools, he paid attention.

You sighed as your eyes fluttered closed once more. The last thought before your consciousness slipped away 

“Himbo Rights.”

[writer-k-pop]

Hello Counselor

지극히 정상이다. Absolutely normal.

Description: When on an episode featuring couples, you and Minghao get the opportunity to explain some of your thoughts on relationships. [Note: Hello Counselor was a Korean talk show that let viewers bring some concerns and problems and then those concerns/problems were discussed by a panel of set celebrities and guest idols/celebs. I don't 100% agree with the way this show was aired because it allowed for personal problems to be broadcasted on national TV but for this story I kind of needed it as a setting so.] Warnings: None Genre: Slight Angst, Celebrity!MinghaoxCelebrity!Reader Word Count: 1.3k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

We were about two-thirds of the way done with the taping of "Hello Counselor" and all was going smooth. Minghao and I were one of two couples asked to appear for this episode. The other couple being Luna and Jaehoon. Contrary to what the public believed, they were only together as a publicity stunt.

Think me awful to say that but they won't even share a dressing room when there's a shortage of rooms AND Luna and Jaehoon are flirting with anyone but each other as if their life depended on it. So it's pretty obvious in the celebrity circles that they aren't together for real. But they're high publicity so they're everywhere.

"Let's hear our next concern." MC Arin stated with a hand raised towards the screen behind her.

A video began playing and a female in her later teens introduced herself and her concern.

"Hello. My name is Song Jisoo." She said with a bow. "I have a boyfriend and we sometimes fight. Not a lot, just every once in a while. But whenever I try to talk to my parents about what goes on, they are constantly tell me to break up with him, that he doesn't love me cause we always fight, and that if we really loved each other, we wouldn't be fighting at all."

My lips pursed at the thought that a parent would really say those things to their daughter. Minghao noticed my slight upsetness and grabbed one of my hands in comfort.

"I don't think that's fair to say and I don't think they're exactly correct. I would just like some input on who's correct." She finished and the video blinked back to the logo screen.

"Wow, interesting topic, isn't it?" MC Dawon nodded and stroked his chin slightly.

"Very interesting." MC Seohyun agreed and then looked out into the audience, "Is Jisoo here today?"

From the right side of the audience, Jisoo raised a hand and a mic in the other, "I'm right here."

"First question," MC Arin said, "Are you still dating that boyfriend?"

Jisoo nodded, "I am."

"Ah, and how long have you been together?" MC Youngmin asked.

"We've been together for about a year." Jisoo answered which garnered a round of coos.

"And your parents are here too?" MC Youngmin questioned.

Jisoo nodded and gestured towards the older couple sitting two seats to Jisoo's right.

"Do you really believe that couples shouldn't fight if they really love each other?" MC Seohyun questioned the parents.

The father nodded quickly, "Of course, my wife and I have been married for 30 years and we have never fought once."

I gasped slightly. 30 years and not one fight? That seems a little impossible.

"I don't believe you." I commented before I could process what I was saying. "That's just not possible."

"That's what I think too." MC Arin agreed with me.

"It's true." The mother stated, "We haven't ever had a single fight."

"What about when you were dating, not married? Did you ever fight then?" I pressed.

The mother and father shared a glance and shook their heads.

"Nope." The father answered.

Leaning back in my chair, I stared dumbfounded at the parents. I had never met a couple who never fought.

"Okay, then let me ask the two couples we have here." MC Youngmin turns his attention to us. "Do you guys fight?"

Not thirty seconds had passed before Luna shook her head vigorously and Jaehoon responded with a strong "no."

I had to fight my facial expression at their terrible couple acting. Looking at Minghao, I found him looking back at me with a "why not?" expression. We had always been pretty open with the public about certain events or happenings in our relationship so there was no question to not answer honestly.

I turned back towards the MCs, hand intertwined with Minghao's.

"If we said we never fought, it'd be lie." I stated. "Sometimes we do fight, but we always make sure to talk later about what we were fighting about so we can work through the problem together."

"When we first started dating we definitely fought a lot more than we do now but that is just the process of getting to know each other and all that good stuff." Minghao continued.

"And you guys have been dating for a while, right?" MC Arin clarified.

Minghao and I both nodded, "We're coming up on a year and half soon." Minghao proudly smiles.

"How times do you think you've fought in that time?" MC Seohyun questioned.

"Mmm," I tilted my head to look up at the ceiling as I attempted to count our fights. "I'd say like 2 big fights and a few more bickerings."

Minghao nodded in agreement.

"Then can you really say that you belong together?" The father abruptly asked, shocking everyone in the studio.

"Excuse me?" Minghao was the first to speak before the MCs could collect themselves.

"That's quite a lot of fights." The father said in a tone bordering scolding.

I looked towards the daughter who was shaking her head in complete embarrassment. I knew then why she decided to sit a few chairs away from her parents.

"Actually, I think it's a healthy amount of fights." Minghao argued. I hadn't expected him to say anything so all I could do was watch and listen as he defended him and I. "Every couple is bound to fight because even though they may be your soulmate, their life style is bound to be different from yours. Which means adjusting needs to occur. And sometimes that adjusting creates a little too much friction which then leads to a fight. But the most important thing in any relationship," He turned to make eye contact with Jisoo, indicating that she needed to listen to these words, "is to make sure you resolve and talk about the fight. To make sure both parties are in an understanding and agreement."

Listening to him, I felt my heart bust so many coos that I was sure there was a visual representation, it'd be a puppy with the biggest puppy eyes known to man.

"And you should grow with each resolved issue." Minghao continues, "It's all about growing with your partner and that is a goal the both of you should strive for."

"Well, I didn't know Minghao was so philosophical." MC Arin threw out a light joke to disperse the tension radiating from the parents in the audience.

I quickly recollected myself from my state of awe, "He always has been, but usually only at home."

From my left, I heard Luna scoff every so silently under her breath. I ignored her and also turned towards JIsoo.

"I think you and your boyfriend are doing just fine." I told her, "Just remember that too many big fights is not good and that if the fights become about changing just one person and not compromising together, then it's not good."

Jisoo nodded with her lips tucked into an appreciative smile.  

I then addressed the parents who seemed to be sinking in their chairs at the seconds pass. "Though I also believe there are couples who don't fight. And that's fine. But it is not the only way to have a good relationship. So you shouldn't dictate your daughter's relationships just because she's trying to figure it out."

"And it's completely normal for couples to fight." MC Seohyeon emphasized again which I agreed with a nod.

"Absolutely normal." Minghao and I said at the same time, causing us to laugh at ourselves.

"Thank you." Jisoo said before giving the mic back to the staff member waiting in the aisle.

"You guys are really informative about this." MC Youngmin observed.

I nodded, "Minghao and I are pretty open about normalizing certain aspects of relationships."

"That's a great thing to hear." MC Arin nodded happily, "Shall we meet our next concern?" She moved onto the next segment with the ease of an experienced MC.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Forest National in Brussels, Belgium - January 26, 1979

(x)

Before the concert, the promo video for their new single Don't Stop Me Now (directed by Jorgan Kliebenst) is filmed.

Freddie, after the first song: "Hello Brussels! We meet again! It's really nice to be back. You wanna rock? You wanna roll? Okay, let's dooooooo it!"

Brian: "Thank you, good evening people of Brussels. It's great to see you again. An old song for you now. This is a song from a couple years ago. This is something called Somebody To Love."

Freddie, after a standing ovation following You're My Best Friend: "Merci beaucoup! You lovely people. Okay, on with the show. Do you people remember a group called Mott The Hoople? I'm sure some of you do. A long, long time back when we first started out, we did a tour with those guys - the only support tour of our lives. And Brian wrote a song in dedication. This is from an album called Sheer Heart Attack."

Freddie, while listening to the audience sing a football chant after Now I'm Here, says: "Let me hear you, c'mon! Thank you, you're a beautiful audience."

Brian, after Spread Your Wings: "Somehow you make a good noise here, people. You're great. I think I should tell you an interesting fact. We're thinking of making a live album, and this is the first night we've ever recorded for a live album, so I hope you make a nice little noise, as you are." After Roger lets out a gigantic scream, Freddie says, "You bitch!" This is a beautiful version of Dreamers Ball, sung very passionately by Freddie.

Freddie, speaking to masses of cheers: "The last time we did this song when we were here, you were the best choir in the world. We'd like a repeat performance. This next number is called Love Of My Life." After the song, Brian says, "You're the best. The best. Unbelieveable. I don't think we need a singer." Someone in the audience keeps shouting for I'm In Love With My Car, even though Queen have already played the song. Brian continues, "Right, we'd like you to sing some more if you'd like. This is called '39."

Indeed, this was the first show to be properly recorded by the band with the intention of making a live album. The next twenty shows were recorded, but for quality reasons many of the shows couldn't be used. Live Killers would be released in June.

Plenty of footage from this tour was filmed to be shown on TV, as it was likely intended to be used as promos for the upcoming live album. But much of the footage isn't great quality, as the cameras weren't able to handle the amount of brightness coming from Queen's lighting rig. The only truly great quality footage is from Munich and Paris.

Footage of this show in Brussels was used in a TV special called "Follies" that initially aired in 1979, and most of it was rebroadcast as part of a Japanese documentary called "The Jewels" in 2004. There is about 15 minutes of concert footage, including clips of Now I'm Here, We Will Rock You (fast), Fat Bottomed Girls, Brighton Rock, Tie Your Mother Down, Bohemian Rhapsody, Dreamers Ball, Spread Your Wings, and We Are The Champions (the rebroadcast didn't include the Now I'm Here and Dreamers Ball segments). The original broadcast also included footage from earlier in the day, including the construction of the stage, the band members arriving at the venue, and an interview with tour manager Gerry Stickells.

The Belgian public broadcaster posted the entire 32 minute episode on their website in 2018. Unlike the original broadcast, the credits are not superimposed on the last 30 seconds of footage.

Fan Stories

“I saw Queen in Brussels on Friday 26th January 1979. I wasn't even 13 years old yet and this was the very first concert I ever went to. Needless to say I was very excited being a huge Queen fan. I wasn't allowed to go by myself so my older sister and brother (non-Queen fans) had to accompany me. We had to go by public transport (tram) which took us about an hour to reach the concert hall. It was impressive to enter the concert hall and see the crowd, stage, speakers etc. for someone like me who had never been to a gig before. I still remember I got the chills when the lights went out and the band opened with "We Will Rock You (fast)". They immediately rocked my socks off and the loud (yeah well I thought it was loud back then :-) sound blew me away. Some other memories: - Me being a bit disappointed because they didn't play a full version of "Death On Two Legs" as it was part of a medley. - Me being completely impressed by "Now I'm Here", not only because it really rocked of course but also because Freddie made the crowd sing along. - Two smaller but higher stages at both sides of the main stage on which Brian and Freddie were standing every now and then. I thought that was very cool and I could imagine how great it must have been to them to stand there and rock the crowd. - Leaving at the beginning of "God Save The Queen" because we had to hurry to catch the last tram home in time :-). I had the time of my life that evening (to put it lightly). I think that every Queen fan can perfectly imagine how fantastic it must have been to see Queen as the first band ever to see live. I'm 40 now and I've seen so many other amazing bands since but this concert is definitely the one I cherish most. And sometimes when I go to a gig in the same concert hall I imagine myself standing there as a kid to see Freddie, Brian, John and Roger but the feeling I had that evening in '79 never really came back...” - Erik C.

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 18 - Baseball with Mercedes Benz logo used by Chiba Lotte Marines.

K: This is Dir en grey's Kaoru with The Freedom of Expression. This program started...how many years ago was it now? 3 or 4 years ago?...on InterFM, asking questions about freedom of expession...with this theme we talked about current news stories each time. From there, we have moved over to Youtube.  There are maybe times when we talk about stuff that isn't really related to expression though..

J: There are.

T: Yeh.

K: I just wanna enjoy talking sometimes.

J: This program has a wide scope.

K: Yeah. Well, today, I mean, on the day of this broadcast, its the opening of the professional baseball season.

J: Oh, June 19th?

K: Yeh. At the point in time of recording this, we don't know exactly what will happen, but..at last baseball is gonna start.

T: And that means...? Kaoru?

K: And that means?

J: And that means?

K: What do you mean?

T: Your beloved Hanshin Tigers!

J: Oh, yeah, his Hanshin Tigers. How will your beloved Hanshin do this year?

K: Oh, they will win by a mile!

J, T: *laugh*

J: *laughing* We shouldn't laugh!

K: Hahaha

J: We really shouldn't laugh! We're so rude!

T: Its because he said straight away, 'by a mile!'.

J: Tell us your rationale for saying that, for saying they'll win by a mile.

K: Well...they're strong.

J: You could say that about anyone! *laughs*

K, T: *laugh*

J: Saying, 'They're that strong'...Yakult fans could say the same.

T: I'd just like to ask again, since when have you been a fan of the Tigers? Since when were you first aware of the Tigers?

K: How old was I?...I think I was probably in the lower grades of elementary school. As far back as I can remember really. My Dad played baseball in a non-professional team. So he had his uniform, and glove, and bat, and stuff in our house. I used to play with him, and he took me to watch games. My first time was at Nishinomiya stadium, I think...the Hankyu Braves. And after that, I wanted to see a game at Koshien.

J: Ehh, really? Oh, so you were going to stadiums from quite a young age?

K: Yeah.

T: How did it feel going Koshien and places back then?

K: It was kinda scary. There was a load of scary looking people there.

T: Scary looking people? *laughs*

K: Like really drunk people, and stuff.

J:Oh, all the hecklers.

K: The staduims didn't look as smart as they do now.

J: Ohh, of course.

K: They were kind of grubby.

J: So about Hanshin doing really well this year, they'll definitely win today's game? Where are they playing today?

T: Today is..

K: Against the Giants, right?

T: Yeah, the Giants.

K: At Tokyo Dome.

T: Their nemesis, the Giants.

J: The legendary fued between the Giants and the Tigers, right?

K: Well, yeah. For the opening match, Tokyo Dome is a bit hard going though.

J: I thought you just said they were gonna win by a mile?!

K: Hahaha.

J: Already thats not the case! 

T: He's suprisingly calm about it, right?

K: No, its just that at the moment, Tokyo Dome carries some not so good memories. I've been to watch them there many times.

T: Oh, right.

K: I don't have very good memories of it.

J: Is it bad?'

T: They'll be starting about now, at 18:00, won't they?

K: They will be, yeh.

J: Don't we upload this at 19:00?

K: Yeh, yeh.

T: Ahh. Oh, they'll be just about finishing the third round or so?

K: Ahh.

J: I see.

K: But they'll probably be hitting ???(バコバコ)*1. They might still be on the second round.

J, T, K: Hahaha.

J: Well, its good to think about it in a positive way.

K: Yeh, yeh, yeh.

J: What are the thoughts of our so called sports journalist about Hanshin's chances this year? *gestures to Tasai*

T: Well, as for me, Hanshin are..I was talking to my wife about this before, and despite being a really popular team, in reality, they rarely win.

K: Yes.

J: Oh, is that right?

K: They never win.

T: Yeh, yeh, yeh

K: They're weak, to start with.

J, T: Haha

K: I even imagine them as a weak team.

T: Yeah.

J: I see. So its not like they are famous for being a strong team like the Giants?

K: The Giants are invincible.

J: Well, yeah.

K: Its like they have to be strong.

J: Yeh, yeh.

K: Hanshin are like...even though they're weak, you like them, haha.

J: Hahaha.

T: So people used to say, Dame Tora!/ No good Tigers!' at one point and stuff. But, what is it? The mentality of Osaka people?

K: Well, even if they loose, it doesn't hurt very deeply.

J: Ahh, right. Unlike Giants fans, who would be hurt at even a small loss. Hanshin fans don't have such a weak heart?

K: We don't.

J: Ahh, amazing.

T: Its incredible, thier popularity. They are more popular than the Giants.

K: Yeh

T: The Sports newspapers down there, if they have like 8 or so pages, 4 or 5 pages will be dedicated to Hanshin.

J: Oh, that much?!

T: They even cover the minor team at Naruouhama, with their results and a comment.

K: The minor team is really well recieved, and everyone gets really carried away with it.

J: Hahaha.

T: Yeh, yeh, yeh.

J: Isn't that the reason they never get that strong?

K: Well, in the end, yes.

T: Hahaha. No, but they are talked about, even as the minor team.

J:Ehh

K: And with all these fans, theres kind of a supporters' association, and everyone gets full of themself.

T: Hahaha.

J: Oh, really? Kami is listening silently though. I wonder what he thinks. Don't gods know much about baseball?

Kami: No, no, I've been listening the whole time. But Hanshin are quite strong, aren't they?  I mean, they are not the best in Japan, but don't they often win? The league win?

K, T: No..

K: They don't.

T: Once in 1985, and once in 2000, that time with Lotte in the Japan series, and once at the time they changed over from Nomura san to Hoshino san.

K: Yeah, league wins.

T: Its only been about 3 or 4 times hasn't it?

Kami: When you say weak...well, they have gotten stronger recently, but I always think of the BayStars as the weakest.

T: Yeah, Yokohama never win either.

Kami: I didn't think Hanshin were that weak.

K: Well, overall, they are getting better. Like, thier average..the gap is closing.

T: Well, Hiroshima won three times in a row. The Central league is sort of bunched up like that. The Giants are just ahead.

J: Just a bit, right. Ahh, it exciting isnt it? How far will Hanshin get this year?! They'll win?

K: Of course.

J: They will win.

T: Should we make a promise to do something if they win?

K: If they win?

T: If they win...or if they don't win? But, they will definitely win, right?

K: Hmm..  *Everyone laughs*

J: Hang on a second, you started by saying they will win by a mile, and now 'Hmm..'. You're saying 'Hmm..' for 5 minutes.

K: Its because I don't know what will happen.

T: Well, yeah. You don't know whats gonna happen.

K: Well, its cause its an irregular season.

J: Well, of course.,

T: Yeah.

K: Cause its a tight schedule.

J: Oh, because its tight?

K: There are no inter-league games, and no All Star games. Im not sure how the climax will go.

Kami: Lets do something if they win.

J: Oh, yeh, if they win.

Kami: If they win.

K: If Hanshin win?

Kami: Yeh, if we did that, we'd be all looking forward, supporting Hashin.

K: Well, ok, if Hanshin win let's do an event on this program.

J, T: Oh!

J: What kind of event?

K: Well, im not sure, it would have to be next year, and I don't know if we could have guests, but lets do something like that.

J:Oh!

K: In that way everyone would be supporting right?

T: Yeah.

J: Shall we do a 'The Freedom of Expression' event?

T: "In celebration of the Hanshin Tigers' win!"

K: Im not sure we need such a crown.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Well, anyhow, we'll do an event.

K:Yeh.

J: I think we've created the motivation for people to support Hanshin with this.

T: Yes, its turned out well.

K: Like a live broadcast or something?

J: Oh, that would be good. Thats a good idea.

K: Well, ok, this isn't what we're supposed to be talking about today.

T: It wasn't supposed to be about Hanshin, was it?

J: Well, as today is the opening of the baseball season, let me share a piece of news concerning professional baseball.

This is the news that Lotte are using a baseball which features the Mercedes Benz logo. Manager Iguchi says, the Marines are at the top too! In the first game of this season at their  main stadium, the Zozo Marines Stadium, the ball they use will have Mercedes Benz Japan's (thier sponsor's) logo printed onto it. This comes to fruition as a result of thier manager Iguchi being a big Merecdes Benz fan. Iguchi said to his team on the 8th, 'Since I started playing professional baseball at age 22, up until now over 20 years later, I've always driven a Mercedes Benz. Just as these cars are admired from around the world, I want the Marines to reach the top this season.'

K: Yeah.

T: Its great, isn't it.

J: Eh, Tasai san, have you seen it?

T: I saw it earlier. Its stamped on about the size of a seal.

J: Is it small?

T: Well, its like 'Benz!'

K: I kinda want one.

T: Yeh, its cool, right?

J: So, it doesn't cause any obstacle when grasping the ball?

T: No, it doesn't. Its just the Benz logo.

J: I see. So its not like it catches on your fingers and effects your throw?

T: Well, I wonder..

K: It doesn't! It would be a problem if it did.

J: It would be problematic, right? But conversely, if you pay money, you can have this type of thing engraved on the ball. What do you think, Kaoru? What if you had the Dir en grey logo put on the ball in one of the Hanshin Tigers' official games?

K: Oh, I'd like that.

T: But I get the feeling that people would want to do that a lot with Hanshin.

J: I wonder how much it costs?

T: Probably a million or so yen. I don't think Mercedes Benz will be the cheapest either.

J: Thats right.

K: But if its on the ball, it won't be seen on TV right?

J: No, it won't.

K: So, you wouldn't even know about it,  unless it was pointed out. ???*2 Also, if the guy who gets a home run puts it on SNS or something.

T: Ahh, that would be ideal.

J: It would normally be plastered all over the fences of the stadium, wouldn't it?

K: Yeah, in the stadium.

J: But its kinda fresh, to put in on the balls.

T: Yeah, its cool.

K: On the balls?

J, T: *laugh*

K: ???

J: No, no, no. *laughing* ????

T: Joe san! Don't soil baseball like that! Its an untainted sport!

J:???*3

T: Yeah *laughs*, so you are tainting it!

J: No, but I really wanna put a Dir en grey logo, or a Tora no ana logo on one Hanshin's baseballs.

T: That would be good.

K: Noo, its impossible.

J: But didn't you do a collaboration with them before?

K: Oh, well that was just like an announcement, but this is totally a sponsor.

J: Well, yeah..right.

K: Right?..The amount of money..

J: Totally different right.

K: Yeah, its on a totally different scale.

J: Well, but I imagine professional baseball players seem tacky to Mercedes Benz.

K: Like a thugs or something.

J: Why do I think that, I wonder? Although they're all the same athletes, soccer players don't give off the same atmosphere to me.

K: But even soccer players seem like they are a bit artificial. They suddenly start dressing up, wearing brand clothes..

T: Yeah.

K: They get off planes, dressed up all smart and stuff.

J: They do, yeah.

T: But that might be the influence of Kazu (Kazoyoshi Miura) or Takeda san since they got into the J League.

J: For some reason, if you talk about fashion in the pro-baseball world, I always think of Kuwata san, for example. Also, Shinjo san (Tsuyoshi Shinjo). They have that kind of image. There's not that many..

T: Ahh, right.

J: Like I don't know many with a sense of fashion.

Kami: I think the same! Thats it. They have no fashion sense. They are not cool at all!

T: Thats right.

Kami: They are real sports people. Whatever they wear, thier muscles swell, it looks kinda wierd.

T: Yeh, yeh.

K: Well, yeh.

Kami: But when baseball players or even soccer players wear thier uniform, they look super cool!

J: Absolutely.

T: Ah, I see.

Kami: When they get off airplanes, I want them to wear thier uniforms.

J: Always in thier uniforms.

T: That would be good, yeah.

Kami: They would look so cool!

J: I see.

T: Well, they are professionals, baseball is technical job, they are the ultimate professionals. If you can play baseball, that is everything, I imagine. Thats my follow-up. 

J,K: *laugh*

K: Well, today, at this time, the game will still be ongoing.

J: Yes, thats right.

K: I'll be praying for an exciting baseball season.

J: And if Hanshin win?!

K: We'll do an event.

T: Pretty good.

K: Well, we'll finish here for today. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

J, T: Thank you. 

*1 バコバコ - Don't know what this means.

*2 Couldn't catch this.

*3 I'm not fluent enough to translate dirty jokes about balls XD Plus Joe is speaking too fast, and there is too much background laughing...thats my other excuse.

[otakween]

07-Ghost - The World (Part. 2)

Episodes 11-20 of the 07-Ghost radio show. I’m really enjoying listening to this. It makes me want to investigate which other anime have radio shows. The only other one I know of is Zetsubou Sensei. Pretty funny that the lesser known shows would be popular enough to be on the radio. Links below for anyone who wants to listen (raw Japanese only). 

Episode 11

This episode kind of feels like the beginning of a new season because they got a new opening and ending theme. They’re nice to listen to but not something I would want to download or anything. They have a cheesy mid-2000s vibe to them (gee, I wonder why?) This episode was cute because they had Hakuren’s VA as a guest. It’s fun to imagine Teito, Hakuren, and Mikage all hanging out together since that never happened in the series. 

This time around they discussed “what would you do if X happened to your best friend” scenarios and read a lot of fan mail. As usual Mikage’s VA lost every game lol. I think Jun (Hakuren’s VA) said at one point that he thinks of Mitsuki (Teito’s VA) as an “ikemen” looool. I just googled her name and she does look really androgynous. 

Episode 12

More of the same, more teasing of Namikawa (one of the fanmails was just asking if he got bad grades in school lol). This time around the beginning conversation was about “who would make a good brother, sister, mom, etc. in the 07 Ghost universe?” It kinda bugs me how surface-level and basic their answers are. They never really mention side characters or manga-only characters so they really only have a tiny amount of people to shuffle through again and again. On the other hand, Namikawa never read the manga so...

They played two games: “which thing is smaller?” and what’s in “Pandora’s box?” Saiga flat out said she didn’t want to do the second game lol. She’s getting bored with the formula. I do think the show is stronger when they’re just chit-chatting or bouncing ideas off listener mail, but the games are easier to understand language-wise so it’s good to have a mix of the two. 

Episode 13 

This episode had Kuroyuri’s VA on as a guest which was a nice change of pace. They discussed grades again (you can tell a lot of the listeners are very young based on the listener mail) and played shiritori using dialogue from 07 Ghost. I feel like they’re getting pretty creative with the games they come up with. 

This episode and the previous one had a lot of ads at the end for 07 Ghost content (DVDs, drama CDs, manga, etc.) They mention the “upcoming live event” which I’m guessing is the same one that was released on DVD. Are live anime events still a common thing? I know the Tales of series has an annual festival so I guess they must be. -sigh- why can’t I live in Japan :( 

Episode 14

This episode was fun to listen to, Namikawa and Saiga crack each other up a lot and have great chemistry. I feel like I’m enjoying this radio show more than I enjoyed the entire series? Loool 

Anyway, in this episode they spent a long time talking about and giving each other nicknames (they settled on “Wada” for Namikawa and “Ouji” for Saiga). Namikawa got roasted by the listeners a bunch, as usual, and they had a “dad joke” competition. Two listeners wrote in about their worries, one was worried about his sore neck and the other’s husband was mad at her for spending too much on anime (lol). I guess this episode came out around the mid-point of the anime’s broadcast because they referenced the Frau dolls and the weird noises they make, which was funny. 

I think I need to listen to more Japanese podcasts cuz this is fun and great practice. If anyone has any reccs, please let me know! 

Episode 15

Sho Hayami (Ayanami’s VA) returns!! His voice is sooo dreeeammy. One of the listener mail’s mentioned his fan club and I totally get it lol. I would join if I could. Anyway, this episode was cute. They talked about their first crushes (Hayami’s was a boy!) and played a game where they had to read some exposition from 07 Ghost and pick out what was wrong about it. Honestly, I struggled to understand that part because fantasy world vocabulary is tricky. Namikawa lost as he always does and his punishment was that he had to talk like a baby for the rest of the episode. He did a really good job lol. 

They did a “last supper” segment again where they ate pudding (flan) with soy sauce, which apparently is supposed to taste like sea urchin...ew. 

Episode 16

This episode was decent, a little meandering lol. They had Hyuuga’s VA on as a guest and he seemed surprisingly shy compared to the character he plays. He was very quiet and didn’t contribute much to the conversation. I was a little nervous when he lost one of the games they played and had to speak “rabbit language” (basically adding “pyon” or “usa” to the end of every sentence) for the rest of the episode, but that actually was exactly what was needed to spice up his debut lol. His awkwardness plus the vocal tic was pretty hilarious. 

This episode took place after the live event because they had some fan mail about it. One girl went with her mom which is so cute (I can imagine dragging my parents to something like that lol). They discussed what it would like to be a twin and played a game where they had to read a bunch of tricky words (mostly katakana) really fast. It sounded really hard! I kinda wish I had the script so I could try for myself. I really like reading katakana 

Episode 17

This episode felt really short, the nico nico video is only 38 minutes long! Castor’s VA guest starred this time and was way more energetic than Hyuuga’s VA in the last episode. He was hamming it up a lot. They discussed sleeping positions and played a game where they got a list of 3 07 Ghost characters and had to figure out what they all had in common. I had fun playing along (although I didn’t do very well lol). Namikawa lost and had to use “zamasu” language? I’m not really sure what that is. 

At the end of the episode they read some listener mail and gave love confession advice lol. Almost made it a third of a way through the show! 

Episode 18

A nice, simple no-guest episode. This time around they discussed what pets would suit them and played family feud basically (and failed miserably). Saiga and Namikawa both got “punished” for failing the game and had to speak like the opposite gender. They both really struggled to do so lol. Masculine/feminine speech is so weird to me. I’m sure English has some, subtle version of this, but if someone told me to “talk like a guy” I wouldn’t know what to do. (Lower my voice? Say “bro” a lot?) It’s always interesting when other languages have a quirk that there’s no real English equivalent for.

This episode felt kind of lazy. They spent most of it just chit-chatting and didn’t seem like they wanted to do the regular corner. They ended up running out of time for the final fan letter reading. I’m not complaining really, it was just noticeably less professional than some other episodes. 

Episode 19

Not gonna lie, the Japanese was a little tricky for me in this one. Haruse’s VA made his show debut and I didn’t recognize his voice at all lol. Haruse barely talks in the show so I was like “???” They asked him what kind of character Haruse is and he was like “...nice?” Lol poor Haruse. Not much to say about him anime-wise. 

This definitely felt like a “we’re running out of ideas” episode. The game they played was really weird. Basically it was “what do you do when X natural disaster occurs?” with 07 ghost characters illustrating what to do vs. what not to do. Haruse’s VA lost and his punishment was to speak in broken Japanese (like annoying foreigner characters do in anime). It was really obnoxious lol. The episode ended with a “Last supper” segment but I had trouble following what they were eating :/ Almost to episode 20!

Episode 20

Another Hyuuga episode, although I felt like he didn’t talk as much this time. These episodes are really starting to blend together. This one was recorded in October so they discussed autumn and things they like/dislike about it. Practically every fan letter was about Namikawa (either bullying or praising him). I finally understand the “Wada” joke (namikaWA DAisuke), it took me a few episodes.

Unfortunately I didn’t really understand much of this episode, especially the game they played. It sounded like they had to pick a symbol to represent a character from 07 Ghost, but I’m not sure if that’s the gist of it. Namikawa lost as usual and his punishment was to speak like an old man. I thought he did a great job! Sometimes I forget I’m listening to voice actors instead of regular radio hosts. It makes sense that all of their punishments would be impressions related. 

[hockeylvr59]

Knight in Shining Armor || Seth Jones

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So I had this concept in my drafts to write for like a year for another player (coughcoughSeguin) but since he’s not on my good list right now and I’ve been wanting to write about Seth for a while, I decided that the concept would work great for him. This is mostly platonic but there’s kind of an underlying current of more so let me know what you think of it. 

Warnings: shitty ex-friends, lingering grief 

Word Count: 2,868

______

Most days you were in love with your job. Being one of the few female television broadcasters for a professional sports team was a major accomplishment and you tried to never take a day of it for granted. You were setting the stage for women in the future and that was a source of tremendous pride for you. You got to watch a sport you loved and see players that would someday be in the hall of fame take the ice. You got to travel to places that you’d probably never visit otherwise.

While the perks were numerous, there were also things that sucked. 

Though most of the time the travel didn’t bother you, sometimes you found yourself sick of climbing on planes, sleeping in hotel rooms, and living out of a suitcase. Then there were the emotionally draining things like constantly being criticized by male fans because of course, a woman couldn’t possibly be competent enough to do color commentary for a major sport. Finally, there were the late nights. 

Tonight was one of those days where you weren’t quite so in love with your job. You were two cities into a six-city road trip and it was that time of the month. In your haste of packing, you’d forgotten to replenish your supply of feminine products and so you’d had to rush to a drug store while praying that you didn’t bleed through your pants. After putting out that fire, you’d gotten yourself ready for the game before heading over to the arena with your co-anchor. Running behind had meant that you’d missed dinner, however, and press box food wasn’t your favorite. Setting into your seat after touching up your hair and makeup you waited for the puck to drop between the Jackets and the Sabres. 

By the first intermission, the lack of food and mother nature’s wrath had left you with a burgeoning migraine. You’d searched your bag for a bottle of Advil, only to find it empty. A quick inquiry with the rest of the media during a commercial break also turned up empty. While the roller of peppermint essential oil you did have took a little bit of the edge off, no matter how many times you had reapplied it you wanted nothing more than to go lay down by the time the final horn sounded. 

Usually, you stopped down at the locker room to congratulate the team, however, tonight you just needed to get back to the hotel while you still had the faculties to do so. 

Once back at the hotel you changed and crawled into bed, laying in the dark in hopes that a lack of visual stimuli and quiet would make the pain lessen. You’d been laying there for roughly half an hour when there was a knock on your door that caused you to groan. When the knock sounded once more, you pried yourself out of bed and padded over to the door, peering through the peephole. Standing on the other side was Seth Jones. Curious as to why the Blue Jackets defenseman was there you flipped open the security latch before opening the door. 

“Hey,” Seth whispered and your eyes furrowed both from confusion and pain. With the latter suppressing your filter words filtered out of your mouth. 

“What are you doing here?” You inquired, running the hand not holding the door through your hair. 

“Missed you in the locker room after the game. Saw the second intermission report and thought you could use these.” He mused, his eyes taking in your appearance more fully. It was only then that you glanced down to see the pill bottle in his hands. “Snatched these from the training room.” He admitted with a smile. 

“You’re a saint Jonesy.” You admitted, your body language softening at the prospect of actually getting enough relief to sleep. Taking the bottle from his outstretched hand you sent him as much of a smile as you could muster. 

“Anything for my favorite broadcaster.” He responded shrugging. “Need you back in top form for the next game.” He teased. “And migraines aren’t any fun and you look like you’re suffering pretty bad.” He added, his hands now drifting to the pockets of his suit. “Anyway...take those and get some sleep huh?” He instructed and when you nodded he turned to walk away. 

“Hey, Seth…” You started. “Thank you.” 

~~~~~~

After leaving Buffalo, the team had dipped up to Ottawa before flying down to Boston for a game against the Bruins. The team had a day off between the two games however and had decided to go out for the night, have a few drinks, and just relax before a tough game the following day. You’d been invited by a bunch of the younger guys and though the club scene really wasn’t your thing you’d agreed. 

Dressed in a pair of form-fitting jeans and a flirty blouse you made your way through the crowd to the bar for a bottle of water. You’d been dancing with Pierre but you’d sent him to chase after a woman who had caught his eye and now you were parched. It wasn’t until you were leaning against the bar trying to flag down the bartender that you noticed that someone you really didn’t want to see was just a few spots down. 

Ducking your head you prayed that he didn’t notice you, but of course, despite being short, he was suddenly at your side, calling out your name over the crowd. 

You’d known Jake in high school, had been close friends and something else that you could only describe as awkward. You hadn’t dated, he’d had other girlfriends at the time but you’d definitely toed the line of appropriateness regarding your conversations. He’d hurt you badly a few years ago and you hadn’t spoken since. Honestly, talking to him now was the last thing you were interested in. You’d known he was living in Boston but what were the odds he’d be at this club the one night you were in town. 

As he stood beside you, his hand fell to your arm that was resting on the bar and he was asking if he could buy you a drink. You wanted to tell him to go away, you wanted to shove his hand off of you, you wanted to insist that you were good and to go shove the drink but suddenly you couldn’t speak and you couldn’t move. In that moment you felt beyond vulnerable. 

And then suddenly a warm arm draped itself around your waist and you were tugged into the side of a firm body. The second the scent of his cologne filled your nose, you relaxed against him and glanced up to see Seth’s figure hovering over you. 

“Hey sweetheart, I have a bottle of water for you at the table.” He declared, tone soft as he directed the words at you but with enough volume that your unwelcome company was certain to hear it. “Josh has a story he refuses to tell until you’re there.” He added, giving you every excuse to step away from the bar. 

“Uh...yeah...coming.” You agreed, turning back toward your former friend for just a second. “Sorry gotta go...the gang beckons.” Not giving him a chance to respond, you let Seth lead you across the club to the table that your group had claimed as its own. Cam Atkinson was the only one present at the table, nursing a beer as he typed furiously on his phone. 

Pulled in beside Seth, you found that there was indeed a sealed water bottle waiting for you and you sighed feeling your body relax now that there was some distance between you and Jake. 

“Thank you.” You murmured. It was the second time on this trip that you’d spoken the words to Seth after he’d saved you. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Seth insisted. “You looked uncomfortable and no one deserves that. Do I need to go back up there and kick his ass?” He inquired and though you were certain Seth could indeed kick Jake’s ass there wasn’t any need for that. 

“No, it’s okay.” You assured him, relaxing against his body as his arm settled around your shoulders. “Just a former friend that I didn’t expect to see...nor do I ever want to see again.” You sighed. Seth didn’t pry into that statement, but his fingers tracing patterns over your arm expressed that he was willing to listen if you did want to talk about it. 

For the rest of the night, Seth didn’t leave your side, going as far as walking you up to your hotel room. Having Seth by your side made you feel safe and as you opened your hotel room door, you once again expressed your thanks. 

~~~~~~~

The last stop on your long road trip was Winnipeg. You’d arrived around 2 in the morning and had fallen into bed almost immediately upon reaching your hotel room. 

Around 4 in the morning you were jolted awake by a shrill piercing sound. Checking your phone you saw group messages from the boys saying that you all needed to evacuate the hotel immediately. With the timestamps being nearly four minutes earlier, your heart raced and you threw on the nearest clothing items you could find before sliding on your slippers. 

Of course, a Jackets hoodie, thin tights, and indoor slippers were no match for the Winnipeg winter. But you didn’t realize that in your panicked state until the harsh wind whipped right through them as you made your way across the sidewalk to where the rest of the team was standing. Tucking your arms around yourself tightly, you stopped by Torts to see if he knew what was going on and how long you’d have to be outside in the middle of the night. He didn’t have any answers to give you and you sighed nodding, a yawn slipping from your throat. 

Around you, all of the guys were grumbling, but you quickly noticed that they’d all had at least enough foresight to throw on more substantial clothing. And those who hadn’t...well they were Canadian and probably didn’t feel the cold anyway. 

Shivering, you tried pacing around to keep the blood flowing so that maybe you wouldn’t feel the cold but it wasn’t working well. Passing a group of the guys you felt an arm reach out and tug you closer and when you looked up, Seth was gazing down at you. 

“C’mere.” He mumbled, his voice showing that he wasn’t exactly happy to be woken from sleep either. “Someone forgot Winnipeg was cold.” He teased and a slight blush covered your cheeks. You could play it off as the cold though if anyone noticed, thankfully. Now stopped in front of Seth, you watched as he unzipped his coat and pulled your body against his before rezipping it as much as he could around two bodies. 

With your chest pressed to his and his arms wrapped around you along with the coat, you were suddenly filled with a comfortable warmth and you burrowed yourself into his body as much as you could. 

“Better?” He asked and feeling you nod he chuckled softly. “Good. Can’t have you freeze now can we?” 

Thankfully all of his teammates were too sleepy to even really notice your intimate position because if they had they certainly would have chirped both of you to no end. Standing wrapped in Seth’s jacket until the all-clear was given and you were permitted to return to your rooms you couldn’t help but notice the rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his heart beating, and the way your body fit against his in spite of the height difference. 

As the two of you parted, you moved to thank him but Seth just pulled you into a quick hug before retreating down the hall. It was evident that you were both too tired to say the words but that he knew you meant them all the same. 

~~~~~~

Arriving home from the road trip was such a relief. You were ready to sleep in your own bed, ready for a day off. Still, as the boys chatted about what they were going to do with said day off as a group of you walked across the tarmac to your respective cars, the significance of tomorrow’s date flooded into your head and you froze. 

“Y/N…” Boone stated, trying to snap you out of your haze. 

“Huh?” You responded. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked. 

“Um...probably just running some errands…” You said, your voice cracking as you spoke. “And a stop at the cemetery.” None of the boys knew much about your personal life, certainly not nearly as much as you knew about theirs. At your admission, no one knew what to say and you said goodbye to them as you tossed your bag into your car. 

By the time you’d gotten up the next morning, had cleaned yourself up and gotten dressed, had started a load of laundry, and placed a grocery order for pickup it was almost 11am. Since the forecast showed rain in the afternoon you knew that if you were going to stop at the cemetery that you needed to go now. 

Heading down to your car, you paused seeing someone leaning against the hood. Anxiously stepping closer, you let out a soft breath recognizing Seth’s frame and mannerisms. Beside him was a drink holder with two cups inside and you adjusted your purse on your shoulder as you approached him. 

“What are you doing here?” You questioned. Seth shrugged for a moment before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Thought you could use some company…” He expressed, reaching to grab a cup, handing it to you. “It’s hot chocolate.” He explained and though you weren’t sure why he wanted to tag along, how long he’d been standing there or a multitude of other questions, you took the cup from him, taking a sip and letting the warmth of the drink flood through you. 

Unlocking your car, you watched as Seth folded himself into the passenger seat. The drive across town was quiet, only the radio playing softly providing background noise. As you pulled your car into the cemetery, already you could feel your throat getting tight and you forced yourself to breathe, using the mental task of navigating to the right part of the cemetery to distract yourself. 

With the car in park, you opened your door, turning back to reach into the center console for a stray hockey puck. Though Seth climbed out of the car as well, he just stood leaning against it as you made your way down the hillside. 

It took a minute for you to find the appropriate plot, but once you had you knelt down on the cold ground, your fingers brushing over the lettering of the marker partially buried in the ground. No matter how many times you were here, this never got easier and tears quickly started streaming down your cheeks. With the ground solid beneath you, you settled to sit by the grave, your hands laying the puck down on it gently. 

For the next few minutes, you talked about work, the games on this latest road trip, how you’d gotten the puck you’d brought, and what you were looking forward to with the rest of the season. At some point, you started whispering about Seth and how he was slowly invading your life, questioning whether any of your family up in heaven had thoughts on that they’d like to share. 

Though you didn’t want to leave, you knew you needed to and so you said your goodbye, your until next times, and a soft ‘happy birthday’ before picking up the puck and pushing yourself to your feet. As you made your way up the hill, sobs racked your body and tears flooded your cheeks. Reaching the car, you barely even noticed Seth’s open arms as you stepped into them, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you close. His other hand gently rubbed your back until your breathing steadied again and when you pulled back, he was offering you a handkerchief to wipe your tears. 

“Do you need me to drive?” He whispered softly, not trying to push you into it but needing to ensure that you were truly alright. 

“Can you?” You requested and after handing over the keys, you traded spots, sliding into the passenger seat. Seth had barely left the cemetery gates when his hand drifted down to wrap around yours and you couldn’t help but watch him as he drove. You’d never met someone who was so silently supportive, who always seemed to know exactly what you needed, and who made your heart skip a beat when he looked at you. 

He was your knight in shining armor and an angel in disguise, making all of the hard things a little easier and the good things even better. The future was unclear but you were quickly learning that you wanted to face all of it with him by your side. 

[cecilspeaks]

168 - Secret Blotter

Life is 10 per cent what happens to you And 90 per cent false memories of what you think happened to you. Welcome to Night Vale.

In an effort to bring more transparency to the Sheriff’s Secret Police, a chronicle of one night’s dispatches will be released to the public. This action comes at the behest of the City Council, who voted unanimously on a resolution to ban plastic bags.

Now, OK, while those two things may not seem related, Sheriff Sam misunderstood the vote as a rallying cry against tyrannical surveillance and a personal threat, involving being thrown to the pit of vipers behind the bowling alley. Sheriff Sam, who has a paralyzing fear of vipers, proposed a compromise in which Secret Police dispatches would be temporarily divulged, so the public can get a better idea of what agency does and how tax dollars are being spent. A plan which was readily accepted by the Council, though they continued to roll their eyes and gnash their teeth and chant softly: [creepy voice] “Viper pit! Viper pit! Blessed be the viper pit!” Which is just how they express a “yay” vote on procedural issues.

As a result, Night Vale has its first ever police blotter. Let’s dig in. 9 o’clock PM. Missing person reported inside the Ralphs. Night manager on duty says employee went to stock some cases of Lime-A-Ritas in the new walk-in beer cave and never came out. Reporting officer thoroughly checked beer cave and confirmed it was deserted. Three cases of the beverage were left haphazardly in the middle of the floor, and a loading dolly had tipped over onto its side. Manager states employee originally brought in four cases. Manager added one missing case of Lime-A-Ritas to the report. When asked if this kind of thing has happened before, manager changed subject and asked if officer would like to look at some of the children’s drawing contest submissions. Officer was amenable to this request.

9:16 PM. Noise complaint. Dog barking in an unknown language annoying residents. Dirty white fur, human face. Gone when officer arrived on scene.

9:25 PM. Two underage residents attempted to sneak into an R-rated movie by pretending to be one tall person in a trench coat. When confronted by officer, they turned into a swarm of flies and dispersed.

10:01 PM. Noise complaint. A sound resembling television static was being emitted from a shower drain out in the Hefty Sycamore trailer park. When recorded and played backwards, it turned out to be a broadcast from a 1952 episode of the game show “Beat the Clock”, where contestants competed to see how many pieces they could smash a clock into. A plumber was called.

10:15 PM. A resident of Desert Creek searched for “easy tortellini recipes”, but none of them were easy enough. It was so late already, and they needed to get to bed soon, but they were also very hungry and needed to eat dinner first. They wanted something quick, but they also wanted a real dinner, not a false dinner like… cereal? They became hyperaware that the more they deliberated on what to make, the longer it was all taking. And factoring in the decision-making time on top of the meal prep time was becoming additionally stressful in relation to the desire to get to bed soon.

11:30 PM. A Coyote Corner’s swimming pool filled with blood and began swirling furiously in a counter-clockwise direction. Home owner appeared distressed. Officer advised home owner to drain pool.

11:31 PM. Multiple residents awoke in a cold sweat from the same dream. It wasn’t necessarily a nightmare, but it was definitely not pleasant. The only thing they could recall afterwards was that it was showing, and that there was a tree with seven limbs.

12:00 AM. Witches.

2:00 AM. That time of night when everything starts getting hazy. Were you headed to a crime? Checking a surveillance station? Listening to a wiretap? Going home? Returning to headquarters? Signalling an invisible helicopter? Sometimes you lose track. An old local legend comes into your mind, and you try to recall the details. It’s been so long since you heard it. You watch the headlights bounce along the dirt road ahead, and your eyes begin to play tricks on you, sensing movement in the dark margins where the light doesn’t penetrate. You turn off the lights and slow the vehicle. They weren’t tricks after all. There is movement here, a dark writhing mass entering the roadway. You are forced to stop the car. Eyes flesh open in the dark. Many sets of eyes. This isn’t part of a half-remembered legend. This is something very, very real.

More of the blotter soon. But first, let’s have a look at traffic. You’re hunting in a pack near the Old Highway. The smell of blood is in the air. Headlights bounce over the rise and your stomachs rumble. The moon flees behind the clouds and you fan out, along both sides of the road, moving parallel to it like a lazy river. The car approaches and slows. It shuts off its headlights, as you knew it would. Some of you push ahead to the car, blocking its path. Others move to the rear and others remain at the sides boxing it in. You converge, surrounding it more tightly the door opens, then closes again, the fleshy creature inside cursing softly. You hear a crackle of radio static, but you know it is inconsequential to you. You consume the metal shell first. There are explosions of air and the hiss of leaking fluids. Then the glass, crunchy and cool in your collective gullet. And finally, the screaming delicacy in the center, the cloth-wrapped package of meat and bone. There are other things afterward, less enjoyable, but consumable nonetheless. Papers and electronics, and the pleather, and cold French fries in the back. Nothing must remain. By the time the moon emerges from the clouds, the old highway will be deserted once more. This has been traffic.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by TickTock. The only app that tells you exactly how long you have left to live. The sleek countdown display synchs easily with all of your devices, so that you can check your mortality at a glance. The premium edition provides additional details, such as manner and location of death, and updates to the minute, as you make different choices throughout your day. You’ll find yourself asking questions like, why did returning a library book just subtract 4 years from my life? How did leaving late for work change my final outcome from drowning in gulch to birds of prey? Why does it say “tomorrow” all of a sudden? [panicking] It must be some kind of glitch, right? OK, OK, I’ve updated the app but it still hasn’t changed. It still says “tomorrow”. I just got checked out by a doctor and they said I’m in great shape, I’m staying home from work, I’m not answering the door, I’ve closed the blinds and I’m sitting on the couch, surrounded by pillows, not moving, not even blinking, I’ve done everything dammit, EVERYTHING!!! WHY DOES IT STILL SAY “TOMORROW”???!! Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. This has been a word from our sponsors.

Back to the Sheriff’s Secret Police blotter. 2:30 AM. Responded to an officer distress call on the Old Highway. No sign of officer or vehicle found. Must have been a false alarm.

3:15 AM. Nude man ranting in middle of old highway, carrying a case of alcoholic beverages. Identified as the night shift stocker at the Ralphs. Claims he entered the walk-in refrigerator at work, reached up to place the case of beverages on the shelf, and abruptly found himself in a network of ice caves. He eventually climbed up a snowy mountain where he met a robed figure he refers to as “The Oracle”. “The Oracle” foretold of a hungry darkness with a thousand eyes and urged that the portal must be cloooosed. The Ralphs employee also reported that “The Oracle” had slurred speech and seemed unsteady on its feet, and may have been inebriated. After this exchange, he then found himself standing in the Sand Wastes nude. He does not know where his clothes are. Officer escorted man back to the Ralphs to finish out his shift.

3:35 AM. Domestic disturbance. “He won’t stop practicing the flute!” a Cactus Bloom resident reported, indicating his dopplegänger who stood in the corner of the bedroom, staring unblinkingly at the wall and playing the same halting scale on a wooden flute. Officer advised resident to take a melatonin and try to get some sleep. “If he doesn’t stop, I can’t be held responsible!” the sleep-deprived resident threatened. “Sounds fair,” the officer agreed and left the premises.

4:00 AM. An alarm clock went off in Old Town. A woman attempted to get out of bed, but her cat walked sleepily onto her person and began purring, preventing her from rising. Her cat is elderly and the woman knows its number of purrs are finite and must be honored. Eventually, she put on coffee and took a shower. She used Herbal Solution shampoo for a lifelong dandruff condition, though she has not seen any improvement after years of using the products. She continues using it, because she likes the way it smells. It smells medicinal, like it’s helping, and it does tingle, like the label promises. The tingle means it’s working, the label says. So it must be working.

And now a break form the police blotter for some sports news. Night Vale High School – go Scorpions! – has added a concession stand to be used during sporting events. The parent-teacher association proudly unveiled the new stand at last week’s baseball game, dedicating the plywood structure to the memory of favorite AP auto shop teacher, Nick Teller. Teller reacted with confusion at this news, as he is still alive. “Oh, of co-, no, of course you are,” the PTA responded awkwardly, “but we just wanted to honor – your memory, as in what a great memory you have. You-you know how you’re really good at remembering stuff? We just wanted to, yeah uh, honor that,” the PTA went on, seemingly unable to stop explaining themselves, whilst standing in front of the dedication plaque, which featured several doves, a Celtic cross, and an image of clasped hands. Teller admitted he does have an excellent memory and is very honored. The following concessions are available at the Teller memorial stand: Special allowances, the granting of rights, the acceptance of certain things as truth, the yielding of certain other things as untruth. Also, RC Cola and popcorn.

Oh, which reminds me, we actually have another word from our sponsor, Royal Crown Cola. Invented by Ferdinand the 1st, king of Naples, who built a museum of mummies inside his palace to house the bodies of his slain enemies. “I am parched from building this museum of mummies,” he famously said, and the rest is history. RC Cola – the drink of ruthless monarchs.

In local news, I have the results of the Ralphs drawing contest. Local school children were encouraged to submit a drawing to the store this week, depicting their favorite Ralphs product. I’ll start with the runners up. The third place drawing comes to us from Ella Snider, a student from Night Vale Elementary, and it shows a large black scribbled mass with a lot of eyes on it, with the Ralphs building on fire in the background. Very creative, Ella!

The second place drawing comes from Jace McCoy, also from Night Vale Elementary, and this one also shows a black mass with many eyes and a big bright red splatter of blood across the page. Nice use of color, Jace!

And the grand price winner comes to us from Heather (Fathusam) [0:16:52] of Daggers Plunge Charter School. Her drawing features a beautiful black mass with lots of lovely eyes, and it’s holding a box of store brand frozen pizza rolls. Congratulations, Heather!

Back to the blotter. 4:01 AM. Distress call from the Ralphs. Upon arrival, officer was pulled into the manager’s office. The employee from the earlier incident was also present, huddled under a desk. Manager frantically indicated the surveillance window that looks out into the store, which he normally uses to spy on shoppers and report on what they are wearing for his Customer Fashion newsletter. Shelves of products were being knocked over and consumed by a vast dark nothingness. The back of the store then burst into flames. The manager implored the officer to quote, “Do something, please, or we’ll all be killed!” Officer used the intercom system to tell the nothingness to vacate the store immediately, and advised it of trespass and vandalism laws. The nothingness took the form of many dark shapes with many eyes. A tank of fresh seafood exploded and numerous shellfish were damaged. Officer advised the shapes that they were all under arrest. “Stop talking to it!” the manager cried and knocked the intercom mic out of the officer’s hand. Approximately 1000 eyes turned to look at the office window. Interesting. Well.

Let’s have a look at that weather.

[“Best Friends” by Curtains: https://curtains.bandcamp.com/]

4:35 AM. Situation escalated at the Ralphs. Officer, manager and employee embraced one another under the office desk amid the shattered glass of the surveillance window. The building trembled around them, products flew through the air, half the inventory was sucked into oblivion, and a great fire blazed, spreading to the bakery section. After doing an estimated 200,000 dollars worth of damage, the darkness and its many eyes entered the beer cave and did not come back out. Officer investigated the beer cave and found it to be empty. “You have to shut down the cave!” the Ralphs employee implored the manager. “That’s its doorway to our world!” The manager hedged and responded that a big heat wave was coming and if they hoped to recoup any of their losses, keeping the beer cave open was going to be instrumental to the store’s survival. “People will spend big on frosty cold beverages,” the manager responded. “Not to mention they’re gonna like standing around in there for a nice cool-down.” The employee wrapped his robe tightly around himself. Oh, the manager had lent him the robe, one of the many fashion items the manager kept in his collection, since the employee still didn’t know where his clothes had gone. “OK,” the employee said. He picked up a Lime-A-Rita and guzzled it down in one continuous gulp. Then he said, his voice already a little slurred: “I’ll have to try to shhhhtop it myself.” He ran into the beer cave and promptly vanished.

5:40 AM. Tree with seven limbs seen growing out of a hole in the vacant lot out back of the Ralphs. Snow observed on the branches, which melted off quickly as the sun rose.

5:45 AM. Real pretty sunrise.

Well, that concludes our Secret Police blotter. I dunno about the rest of you, but I personally feel a lot more safe and secure getting a closer look at what our Secret Police do. On behalf of Night Vale Community Radio, thank you for your service. I’m sure we will all rest a lot easier knowing that our fate is in your hands. Our sleeping bodies are under your watchful eye, and our every thought and action is being monitored for the greater good. As Secret Police mascot Barks Ennui always says: Stay tuned, stay, vigilant, report your neighbors. Woof. Woof.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Six out of seven dentists have no idea where that seventh one disappeared to. Honest, they all have rock solid alibis and that blood could have belonged to anyone.

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Hello good morning and welcome to chili's- is that even the right reference? Whatever. Anyways, welcome to 'auri can't stop fucking writing about party poison and cherri cola' hours. They have such a fascinating bond ANYWAYS also welcome to a fucking trainwreck that i wrote all this morning.

Title: everybody wants to change the world

Wordcount: 2047

Summary:

Party Poison goes out, gets hurt, and chooses a different place for help than they usually would.

This has literally no plot beyond me making Poison have a bad time.

Warnings: injury, blood, death mentions.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen​ @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison swore under their breath as they staggered back to the Trans Am, pressing a hand to their side. They were going to fucking bleed out here, outside a Mad Gear concert in Zone 4, all because they were a fucking dumbass and got themself stabbed. Because Poison could never live quietly, they didn't know how. All they knew was picking fights with random 'joys and listening to the music that blared from the speakers, way too loud and easily drowning out their thoughts. Now that was catching up to them, they guessed, as they slid into the car and put their bloody hand on the wheel.

"Home we go, baby."

No. Not home. Kobra had said, Kobra had told them 'don't go out and get hurt again, don't go picking fights, dumbass'. And Poison had gone and done it anyways. Gone and been a fucking idiot, as Kobes would say. So no, they were not going back to the diner yet. Not bleeding this heavily, anyways. The Girl didn't deserve to see this, nor did she deserve to watch them and Kobra fight about it.

That left Poison with the question of where, exactly, they were going to go. There weren't a lot of people in the world they trusted to see them like this, injured and exhausted and close to crying because it all hurt, it always had. In fact, most of those people, four of them, lived in the old diner where they couldn't -wouldn't- go. Most of those people...but not all of them.

Poison turned the Trans Am to a different path, speeding towards a little radio shack in the middle of the desert. If nothing else, they knew Dr. D would be happy to fix them up and send them on their way again, and then they could head back to diner late at night when no one was awake and no one would need to know they had gotten stabbed like a dumbass.

Unluckily for them, it was one in the fucking morning, and Dr. D was soundly asleep when they stumbled into the station. They assumed, at least, given that he was nowhere to be seen and the radio station was quiet. Empty, in fact. Or at least the living room was. Poison stumbled towards the broadcasting room, hearing a low voice from that direction.

Cherri Cola looked up they stumbled in the door, pausing in the middle of reading off a poem. "Poison?"

"Pepsi! I got stabbed." Poison tried to grin at him, the smile turning into a grimace at the pain in their side.

Cherri stared at them for a few moments, then turned back to the broadcast. "Well, WKIL listeners, I'm afraid this where I leave you for tonight, given that we've got a bit of a situation going on, but I should be back for later this night- well, this morning, technically, I'd say we're coming up on one am now. Cherri Cola, signing off." He turned back to Poison with a sigh. "Where did you get stabbed?"

They tried not to be offended at his huff. "Here. Where my hand is."

Cherri stood, gesturing to them to follow him back to the living room area, where he grabbed a first aid kit. "Lay down on the sofa, that much blood means I probably need to stitch you up."

"Great."

"I'm going to peel back your shirt, okay? Only as far as I need to clean and stitch it," Cherri promised.

Poison shrugged, pulling their jacket off before they laid down. "Do what y'have to."

His hands were scarred and calloused, the skin rough, but he was gentle when he pulled the bloody fabric away and started cleaning out the wound. They gasped in pain anyways, gritting their teeth as their side sent flickers of agony running through them.

"Sorry, sorry," Cherri said quietly. "I promise only a bit more to go, I just need to stitch this."

Poison nearly screamed when he started the first stitch, letting out a strangled yelp instead. "How much longer?"

"Three more stitches, then I'm done."

They gritted their teeth again, clenching their fists by their sides as he tied off the next stitch, and the next, and the next.

"Okay, done." Cherri set the needle aside, closing the first aid kit. "You okay?"

Poison would have laughed if they weren't in so much pain. "Of course 'm not fucking okay. Why would I be fucking okay?"

They hated the pity on his face as he gently scooted them over to sit down next to them. "Silly question, I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

Poison could have been dignified, but they chose to lean against him instead as the feelings they had been bottling up came pouring out. "Everything. Everything is wrong because Kobes is always angry and Jet's always sad and Ghoul's scared and Motorbaby shouldn't have to grow up here, shouldn't have to see us fall apart. What's the point? What's the point, Cola? What are we fighting for? Is there even a future ahead of us? What's even the point of life?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"There isn't a point." Poison gaped at him. "There isn't a point to life, not unless you make one. You have to decide what you want, what's worth fighting for."

The words fell softly into the quiet of the radio station, shattered by Poison's harsh voice. "And how the fuck am I supposed t' do that?"

"It's hard to describe, but..." Cherri trailed off. "Find what means something to you. What you love. For me that's poetry, and Newsie, and D and Pone and you and your crew, and the stars. Also, Mad Gear, they're vastly superior to Benny and the Trampolines."

Poison managed a small laugh. "True that. But what is the point, to you?"

“Well, in the simplest form...the point of life is happiness.”

“I thought the point of my life was to change the world,” they muttered bitterly. Maybe it made them an asshole, maybe the other was trying to help, but it was their fucking job to change things and they were tired of it.

Cherri’s voice was heartbreakingly gentle. “It doesn’t matter how big of a difference you made to the world. All that matters is that you made a different to you.”

Poison found that their eyes were stinging, tears collecting in them. “Are you sure?” Their voice sounded small and pathetic, and they hated it.

“I’m sure. You deserve happiness, more than anything else. It should never be your job to save the world, not so young. Never.”

They tried to speak again, but all that came out was a shuddering, gasping sob. Some small part of them was embarrassed, mortified to be crying in front of Cherri Cola, of all people, but the bigger part of their mind couldn’t bring themself to care. Not when their heart ached more than the wound in their side, not when Cherri was holding his arms out silently, clearly an offer.

Maybe it made them weak, but Poison took the comfort, letting themself be encased safely in the older killjoy’s arms. “I don’t want to die, Cola.” They hated how their voice shook. “I don’t want to die.”

“I know. I know.”

“I want to save everyone, I want to make a difference.” They let out another sob. “But I don’t want to die.”

“Your life should never be the price,” Cherri murmured.

“But it is. But it is! I have to- I’m going to die ch- changing the world. I’m supposed to- to save everyone, even if I have to d-die to do it.”

Poison thought they heard his usually unshakable voice waver a little. “No, Poison, no. This never should have been your job."

"Well who- who was g- going to do it?"

They couldn't see his face, but his voice was very quiet. "It was supposed to be D and I, years and years ago. Me, and D, and Lily. It shouldn't have even been Newsie and Chimp, shouldn't have been Pony, definitely shouldn't have been you. I'm sorry, Poison."

"'s okay." They found themself curling up further, head leaning on his shoulder. "Who's Lily?"

"White Lily, leader of the first rebellion, said to be one of the first of the killjoys," Cherri murmured. "Giver of plastic flower hairclips, the only person who was allowed to call Newsie 'News', and one of my three siblings. In a way."

"Oh." Another sob made its way out of their throat, but this mysterious 'Lily' was a good distraction. "Tell me about her?"

"Well, the day I met her, she was twenty-one and she asked me 'Did this softy offer you a place to stay?'..." Cherri launched into a quiet story about two kind killjoys who offered a desperate sixteen-year-old the first real home he had ever known. His voice was low, soothing, and Poison let themself relax a little bit as they listened to the story.

"D' you have any more stories about 'your day'?"

"I think I have some poems about it, actually," Cherri replied dryly. "Stories, yes, but also poems, which are easier."

"Not easier to understand," Poison muttered, but they let him half carry them back into the broadcast room and proceeded to drape themself over his lap when he started up again.

"Hello there, my late-night crash queen friends, it's me, Cherri Cola, back again. At the request of my companion, the next few poems of the corner will be about the olden days, back before you rock and rollers were out on the road." He started on a poem which Poison thought must have been about Dr. D, plenty of metaphors about the voice of the desert. After that one and one more was finished, he switched on some music and turned back to them.

"When is your crew expecting you home?"

"Don't know. Concert was over at midnight, but they know I sometimes stay out later. For all I know, they all went to bed."

"I'm going to radio the diner, if that's okay?"

"Don't want them t' know I got hurt." Their words were mashed up more from sleepiness than blood loss by now.

"I'll say you got lost." Cherri's tone was joking, but his voice grew serious again as he went on. "Or I'll just say you're staying here tonight, you don't owe them an explanation of why. You do owe it to them to make sure they aren't worried for you, though."

"Okay." They felt rather schooled, staring down at the perpetually dirty floor of the radio station as Cherri fiddled with the radio.

Eventually, Fun Ghoul picked up, sounding sleepy. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ghoul."

"What is it, Cola? You got word of Party?"

"They decided to drop by after the concert, so we're hanging out tonight. They'll be okay, just too tired to drive the Am safely. I'll send them back tomorrow morning by the time you need the Trans Am for anything, but please tell the others not to worry."

"Gotcha. Motorbaby got sleepy, took Jet and Kobra to get her to sleep 'cause Pois is out, then they conked out. I told them to. But if they wake up, I'll tell them, and I won't worry toooo much. Tell Pois I said hi!"

Poison was incredibly thankful Ghoul had picked up instead of one of the other two, since xe wasn't the sort to ask many questions. Kobra would have been suspicious, and Jet would have been pretty decent about it but concerned. And Poison didn't need those two's concern right now.

"Right, well, sleep well, Ghoul. Pois says hi," Cherri said. That was technically a lie, since Poison hadn't said anything, but they didn't really mind. Ghoul deserved some reassurance, even if it was false.

Cherri clicked the radio off. "Right, my stabbed friend. I've got some more broadcasting to do, but you're welcome to stay."

"You're an insufferable bastard," Poison yawned.

"Yes, I am. Sleep well, Sleepy Poison."

Poison had absolutely not intended in any way, shape, or form to fall asleep on Cherri's lap, but they found themself yawning again as he started on another poem. And before they or he had a chance to say goodnight, they were out like a light.