#the best part is that she has no idea that this is her pattern

[madwomanwithawarehouse]

the thing about felicity smoak is that she will uproot her life to do something "sensible" when she's in an emotionally vulnerable state and then realize she's deeply bored with sensibility and jump at the chance to do anything interesting, regardless of its legality, safety, or how it affects her interpersonal relationships - until something bad happens then she starts the loop again

and i love that for her

[trevanent]

I think one thing I will say about the finale was that the most problematic aspect of the concept of the show was how it feels like they had to use the Fionna and Cake plot to Trojan horse a resolution to a swathe of loose ends Simon and Betty's arcs had. They pulled it off even better than I ever wanted to let myself hope for for the most part but I would say my main issue if anything was how cramped the finale felt when I think they could have left a lot more up to season 2 speculations (especially with the resolutions for the alt universes, they didn't really feel necessary when they basically just had to egg Scarab).

I feel I liked the understated melancholies of seeing Simon recontextualized and kinda infantilized in that temporary form hosting his mind, and some people have said the Casper and Nova thing felt hamfisted but I thought the vibes were too cute to care that it wasn't particularly "efficient" as far as metaphors go, but that does slow down the pace which probably crunched the ending a little harder :'). But it also worked in further showing the sad side-effect of the crown on Simon's relationships, including that of stunting his ability to have ever matured in his understandings of love and his relationship with Betty. I also think their last scene in the memory worked because it was Simon reconsidering how he viewed their relationship for the first time, even if his attempt to do for Betty what she did for him would have just been an inversion of their original flaw, the scene rests on them understanding it's unchangeable anyway, so that decision doesn't matter so much and it's not something for Simon to dwell on.

I also feel I liked the scene a lot in spite of how scarce it felt in the finale was because of what was most conspicuously unaddressed, which was just the sheer logistical impossibility of any different choices they made having possibly been any "better." It sticks out because Betty says they could have made better choices, which kinda seems to situate their relationship in a vacuum as if there wasn't a very high likelihood had they done anything different at that crossroads, they would have just been literally nuked into orbit regardless. Sure, it seems like enough time had passed for them to have worked out their relationship better at least and then died, but that kinda seems better by an arbitrarily less tragic amount, and really it seems the least tragic possibilities ever were either that they conceive their relationship more healthily, Simon finds the crown and protects Betty from exploding somehow and also doesn't warp her to the future, and they live some terrible survival life but at least they get a chance to live something kinda fulfilling and Betty probably would have taken care of Ice King decently for the remainder of her life once Simon was gone while also having a better understanding of what had happened to him. The only other hand would be that she also was still warped to the future he finds the crown but Simon had not enabled her self-sacrificial tendencies and so she becomes less undividedly obsessed with saving him and instead integrates into Ooo more properly and also accepts what had become of him (I find it hard to think she would have just let him die either way though lmao).

That all said, they had been around a long time to have reflected over everything. I think it is a bit of an issue that they don't really allude to that, but I find it easy to believe that they did recognize how thwarted a happy ending would ever be for them by all angles of their reality, yet they still had that tender ache of that simple and small tragedy just between them two that still exists within the torrent of catastrophe that engulfed them and the breadth of their fate. So much horror in their lives but they reconnect and find themselves primarily concerned with that last regret of not having been able to make the ideal relationship they quite thought they had.

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[itsswritten]

gone. | 3

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Warnings: Slight angst, drinking alcohol, nightmares, slight mentions of death.

Summary: Sometimes it take's heartbreak to move on...or to realise what you've always had.

<< Previous Part

To celebrate your return, Mor insisted on a night out at Rita's. Despite your lingering exhaustion and the pull of a quiet weekend begging you to spend it sleeping and reading, you didn’t have the heart to say no to her.

That evening, you prioritised finishing your reports before joining your friends at Rita's. You had always been exceptionally dutiful in your role, taking immense pride in your responsibilities. Though Mor grumbled at your decision to work, she reluctantly agreed to meet you there later, with the rest of the group.

As you worked alone, you cherished the moments of silence. After six months of solitude, acclimatising to the hustle and bustle of family life was both exciting and well… exhausting. And navigating your relationship with Azriel wasn’t the easiest, you were trying, trying really hard in fact. And although you had fallen into old patterns, it was still a little awkward at times. 

Azriel had perhaps had the most enjoyable week he’d experienced since you’d left all those months ago. Everyone had noticed how the tension had eased from his shoulders, warmth had returned to his eyes and how finally, his lips would pull into a full smile again. Azriel hadn’t allowed himself a moment of happiness since you left, in fact he quickly realised in your absence how you were the cause of most of his smiles. So your eagerness to mend a bridge between you both had been greatly appreciated, and he had relished in having your company back.

Yet, despite the familiarity in your interactions– friendly banter, teasing laughter and comforting silence. Azriel still felt the weight of your confession, and what it had done to him. How it had peeled back the layers on himself, revealing something that threatened the very dynamic you had begged for when you came back.

Best friends again?

Your words reverberated in his mind, a relentless echo of your plea. Azriel had teetered on the edge of refusal, almost said no, on the brink of voicing his own desire for something more. Admitting that just being friends would no longer be enough. But he found himself frozen under your vulnerable gaze, he had faltered, he too, consumed with the fear of unsettling the delicate relationship between you. The idea of risking your friendship was too daunting, too uncertain. It was safer to remain friends, safer to keep things as they were.

So he had remained silent.

Azriel took another sip of his drink, listening to his family laughing around their designated table at Rita’s. You weren’t here yet, your usual spot next to him and Mor still empty. Mor had mentioned you were wrapping up some work, and a part of him couldn't shake the urge to seek you out. He was contemplating sending his shadows to check on you. 

Again.

His shadows had been silent watchers since you came back, although you hadn’t you seemed to mind. In fact after spending six months with a few of the smoky tendrils, you actually welcomed their company. Each morning, you were greeted by at least one shadow curling around your cheek, or if you were away from the group for too long, a shadowy companion would appear to give you a light whispery kiss on your skin.

Whether they acted of their own accord or at Azriel's behest remained unclear to you.

He had always been protective of his family, but it only intensified with you since your return. It becoming somewhat obsessive. He couldn’t stop himself though, and you hadn’t rejected his shadows yet, so he took that as silent confirmation that he could continue.

“Gods, the girl has always known how to dress.” Amren said approvingly, her words pulling Azriel out of his thoughts. He followed her gaze to the entrance of Ritas, where a familiar figure seemed to capture the attention of the room.

You.

Dressed in a black lacy number, you exuded an alluring energy. In fact you always had, but Azriel in all his centuries of knowing you had done a remarkable job of ignoring it. The dress was classy in shape, but the sheerness added that Night Court sex appeal you always carried so well. A little black thong and bralette peeked through the sheer fabric, while the lace hugged all your curves.

You had always captured the attention of everyone, a trait of yours that had only become more endearing to Azriel as the years went on. But previously, he would bury those thoughts and feelings in the darkest recesses of his mind, never to be touched. Them only slipping out occasionally in his dreams.

Those particular dreams had plagued his sleep for centuries now, his deepest desires burying themselves in his consciousness to slide out when he drifted into a slumber. His suppressed desires manifesting themselves in vivid dreams, visions of you that often made him struggle with what was real or illusion. 

Some dreams were innocent, filled with whispered conversations under the starry nights. Dreams of taking you flying while your melodic laugh filled his ears. It was those nights he slept soundly, his mind surrendering to the hazy false reality.

There were also those darker dreams. More forbidden. 

The kind that made it hard for him to look at you the next day. It was those dreams he struggled to stir from, the kind of dreams where he’d find you waiting for him in his bed, or where he’d wake still hearing your moans and the taste of you on his lips. 

He’d had more of those dreams since you’d come back, and he knew he would definitely have that problem tonight after seeing you in that dress.

Was it really a problem though?

He couldn’t pretend that those dreams weren’t some of his favourites. As guilty as they made him feel.

And now, after everything. Knowing that there had been a possibility you could have been his, that feeling you, tasting you could have been his reality– he found it hard to steer his gaze. Hard to ignore your allure. Hard to believe he ever could have been so blind.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

His shadows coiled round his ear to chant, it was information he didn’t need. Because he already knew how beautiful you were. 

He watched as you sauntered in, flashing a smile and small wave to regulars you recognised. A male had reached out, gently tugging on your arm for your attention, Azriel swore he heard him beg you to come dance.

“Maybe later,” you replied sweetly.

He was glad you rejected that male, glad he didn’t have to watch you dance with someone else, not that he had a right to feel that way. Azriel’s eyes followed the sway of your dress as it cascaded down to calf-length. He was mesmerised by you, and when he caught your scent he had to stop a quiet groan rolling up his throat.

Careful Azriel, you’re almost salivating there. It was Rhys’ talons that had clawed on Azriel’s mind, only for him to tease as soon as he was granted access.

Azriel shot Rhys a dark glare.

Fuck off.

Rhys merely laughed into Azriel’s mind. I’m just reminding you, that’s not how you look at a friend.

I said fuck off.

How you stayed composed all those centuries, to merely crumble now I’ll never understand.

Azriel was fast to push Rhys out his mind, while you took your seat beside him. “I got you a drink,” Azriel said to you, pushing your favourite cocktail your way.

“Thanks Az,” you beamed, picking the glass up to sip of the sweet concoction. A soft giggle left your lips as one of his shadows, coiled round the glass up your hand, to greet and pepper you with kisses.

He wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked, the words on the tip of his tongue but there was this fear holding him back. 

“ME-OWW, I want a bite of you!” Mor teased, her fingers grabbing your waist pulling you closer to her on the bench.

“Was that Orion giving you those sex-eyes?” she spoke loudly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. She had clearly seen the interaction you’d had with an old admirer of yours. 

You shrugged nonchalantly in response, opting to sip your drink instead of answer.

“We aren’t the only ones to have missed you it seems.” Nesta purred from across the table, joining in on Mor’s suggestiveness.

“Put the poor male out of his misery and fuck him already.” Amren smirked, stating an obvious solution.

The table erupted in amusement, words of encouragement and teasing remarks filling the air. It was definitely an option, one worth considering. Especially after that crushing rejection from Azriel.

And Orion was undeniably attractive. He had that deep dark tan with vibrant blond hair that offered a stark contrast to Azriel. It would be a welcome distraction.

However he could never match Azriel’s beauty. 

You noticed how strikingly handsome Azriel was looking tonight, dressed in all black just like you. Always so smart and chic, the pair of you always dressed that way. Mor had pointed out years ago, you both always seemed to coordinate effortlessly. Her comment had sparked a glimmer of hope within you, something you had desperately clung to. That maybe yours and Azriel’s connection was deeper, and a small part of you had fantasised at the possibility that maybe you were mates. 

In the end it had just been wishful thinking. Fulled by your own affection and longing. You and Azriel were fated to be only friends.

And that would be enough.

You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth, glancing behind you with Mor to look at the male. A large shit-eating grin on his face as he winked at you. He was quite the charmer.

“Hmmm maybe,” you replied to your friends quietly as you turned back to face them, Mor bumping her shoulder with yours gently in response. 

Maybe this was how you would move on from Azriel? By getting under someone else. 

You’re not sure why you felt compelled to look, why you cared what he thought, but your gaze steered to your side. Gazing up at your handsome darked-haired friend. Azriel’s eyes were already on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that caught you off guard. 

He didn’t appear impressed, neither angry nor happy. “You’re too good for him,” he stated quietly, before taking a sip of his drink again.

You wanted to respond, ask what he meant by that. Ask why he even cared, why it even mattered. Casual rendezvous’ didn’t hold some kind of standards, and your partners didn’t need to meet whatever expectations Azriel suddenly had for you.

“Oh shut it Az! She deserves to get laid, she didn’t get to have any fun on her trip and that was six months long!” Mor reiterated her rhetoric from the other day.

You rolled your eyes, about to interject to remind her once again you were not on some half-year vacation.

“It was not some trip but a high-stakes mission yadda yadda” Mor chimed, mimicking you.

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing, the female really knew how to open you up. Her teasing, her probing, was relentless to some. But had always worked on you. Pulling back those walls. 

Giving her a playful glint you spoke, “I almost had some fun if you must know.”

For some reason, you found yourself stealing a glance at Azriel, curious about his reaction. He had never taken an interest in your romantic encounters in the past, so his sudden attention confused you. 

Azriel tensed at your words, chewing the inside of his cheek before taking another sip of his drink. It was Rhys that was watching him with that infamous smirk. Azriel wanted to wipe it clean off his brother’s face.

I told you to fuck off.

Rhys only laughed back into his brother's mind.

“Give me all the details.” Mor squealed, clasping your hands in hers.

You shrugged, your lips curing into a soft smirk, retelling how you had met this mysterious male on your travels. “He was really cute…handsome…had these gorgeous eyes,” you sighed dramatically, your eyes gazing off into the distance, hand on your heart. “But he was the enemy, so I had to kill him.”

Your friends laughed in response, some of them shaking their heads in disbelief. Nesta leaned across the table with a dark glint in her eye, “You could have had a bit of fun first.”

You scoffed playfully at the notion, hand waving in the air dismissively. “Etiquette darling. I don’t like playing with my food before eating,” you purred.

Nesta shook her head with a smirk, “I’ve missed you, come dance.”

It wasn’t so much a request as it was a command when it came to Nesta and dancing. You rose from your seat, Mor and Feyre joining you eagerly as you made your way into the crowd, letting the music engulf you.

Azriel’s eyes, though, stayed glued on you.

"She's not going anywhere, Az," Cassian chuckled, downing the rest of his drink. It was easy for Cassian to assume Azriel’s obsessive nature had spun from your absence, from your dangerous mission, just Azriel’s natural protectiveness of all his family members, but of course that wasn’t the only reason.

He couldn't help but watch you, captivated by every movement. Not when you looked like that, when you moved like that, smelt like that.

Your confession had torn him a part, shattered his perception, forcing him to confront feelings he'd long buried. Make him acknowledge a possible reality he never considered himself worthy of. Azriel couldn't shake the image of what could have been, a world where it would have been your body swaying against his tonight.

Cassian had smacked his empty glass on the table now, shouting that he’d get another round in as he walked over to the bar.

“So what are you going to do, Azriel?” Rhys then asked, his own eyes never leaving Feyre who was dancing drunkenly with you.

Azriel glanced briefly at Amren, who remained at the table, swirling her drink absently. She didn't meet his gaze, clearly uninterested in being dragged into the complexities of her family's relationships.

"I don’t think you'll have four centuries to pine for her this time," Rhys remarked quietly. "I don’t think she'll wait that long."

Azriel drew in a sharp breath at Rhys’ words, his gaze still tracing the contours of your form. His breath caught as he realised your eyes had found him from across the crowded room. A soft smile forming on your lips, prompting him to give you one back in return.

If this was all he could have of you. Would it be enough?

❊

“Az…”

He heard someone calling his name. That familiar melodic tone.

“…Azriel wake up,” that soft sweet voice sang to him. 

Only that voice could pull him from his deepest dreams and nightmares. 

Azriel stirred, his consciousness slowly emerging from the recesses of sleep. Blinking groggily, he glanced around his dimly lit room, his mind clouded with confusion. 

His head throbbed faintly, a dull ache pulsating behind his temples. Had he drank too much? He couldn't remember.

He turned on his side to face where your voice had called him, only to find you laying beside him. Why were you here? What had happened last night?

There was a soft smile gracing your lips. You were adorned in a delicate white nightgown, that seemed to shimmer in the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. You were a vision of ethereal beauty— and you were in his bed. A sight that left Azriel momentarily breathless.

How had this come to be?

You were so close to him, only a breath away from his face. So close, he could feel the warmth radiating from your body. For a fleeting moment, he almost let himself get lost in your gaze. Those eyes, he loved so much. He often dreamt of them, lost himself in them, and searched for them in a crowded room. He loved the way they crinkled when you laughed. A sight he would never tire from seeing.

His mind was reeling though, he couldn't recall getting into bed. Or when you joined him.

"It's time, Az..." you whispered.

Azriel didn’t understand.

"Time for what?" Azriel mumbled, his brow furrowing in bewilderment.

Your words were sickly sweet, dripping with an unsettling ambiguity that sent shivers down his spine. But before he could make sense of them, your fingers were threading through his hair, and he found himself paralysed by the intimacy of the touch.

"It's just time," you murmured softly, your smile masking a deeper sorrow. Your voice echoing through the caverns of his mind like a haunting melody. 

But time for what? 

Azriel's confusion deepened, his heart pounding in his chest. Something was wrong, he could sense it. 

Where were his shadows?

Before he could question you further, he watched as you closed the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his.

As your lips met, there was a sensation of weightlessness over Azriel. As if he was suspended in a realm where time held no sway. It was silent, peaceful and felt endless. He wasn’t sure why or how this was happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to question. Couldn’t bring himself to break away.

No, not now. Not now he had you. 

His heart swelled with a mixture of joy and disbelief. You were finally his, finally in his arms.

He felt you against him. Your body plush to his, melting into his touch. A warmth vibrated through his chest, as your breaths mingled. Azriel’s arms wrapped around you tighter, as if terrified this would all slip away. 

Wait, something was wrong. But Azriel, lost to your touch, couldn’t remember what.

The softness of your kisses against his lips was like a sweet melody, stirring something deep within him. He craved more, his hunger for you insatiable, as if he could never get enough to quench the burning desire within him.

This was what he had been searching for all those years. All those times he got it wrong, thinking it was someone else. It had in fact been right in front of him the whole time– you. 

He could feel you pulling away. Azriel looked at you now, noticing that sorrowful expression on your face again.

“It’s time…I have to move on now,” you smiled sadly.

 "Move on...what do you mean?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I've waited so long, Az...too long," you replied, your words laced with a haunting sense of finality.

Unable to find the right words, Azriel watched helplessly as you began to slip away, sliding out of his arms and off the bed. He tried to move, tried to grab you, stop you, pull you back but you were slipping through his fingers like water.

A cold breeze swept through the room, sending goosebumps over his body. The air seemed to grow thicker, heavier, as if the very atmosphere was connected with your emotion. 

Panic gripped his chest, like a claw had clasped his heart and it was squeezing it with every heartbeat. Desperation was flooding his senses as he reached out for you, his voice cracking with emotion. Something was wrong.

“Wait don’t leave y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell you–”

"Will you make me wait another 400 years, Azriel?" your voice echoed in his mind, the haunting tone of your voice shaking him.

His body felt as if it were encased in stone, every movement sluggish and strained. No matter how hard he tried to rise from the bed, he could only manage to shift to its edge, his limbs refusing to obey his desperate commands.

In the doorway of his room, you stood, your form bathed in an eerie half-light that cast strange shadows across your face. Fear etched lines of worry into your features, your eyes wide with a terror that mirrored his own.

Something was wrong. You needed to come back to him, back to his arms where it was safe.

"I may not live that long," you cried out, your voice raw with anguish, the sound of it tearing at his soul.

Azriel tried again, ragging his limbs to try to get closer to you. Then in that moment, time itself seemed to warp and twist, as if the hands of fate were turning the clock.

Azriel could only watch in horror as you began to age before his eyes, each passing second drawing lines of time upon your skin. Your once youthful visage contorted and twisted, suddenly you began to wither, flesh peeling away like petals from a dying flower.

Your scream was piercing through his skull, your hands trying to hold onto the pieces of flesh that were burning away until there was nothing left. 

Tears were streaming down his face as Azriel stumbled off his bed, his heart pounding with a frantic urgency. His rapid uncoordinated footsteps matched his heartbeat. He felt drugged. But that didn’t matter, he needed to find you. He ran out of his room into a darkness that seemed to swallow him whole, his voice a desperate plea echoing through the empty halls.

"Come back...please," he cried out, his words carried away by the chilling breeze that surrounded him. Each step he took felt heavier than the last, his limbs weighed down by a crushing weight. "I won't make you wait…please...please," he begged, his voice suffocating with painful emotion.

“Azriel…” he heard a voice.

“Y/n,” he cried out again. But only darkness answered him.

“Azriel! Wake up!” It wasn’t your voice, no, someone was shouting. Someone was shaking him.

Suddenly the darkness faded, and the face of his brother speckled into his vision. Rhys had his hands gripped to the side of Azriel’s face.

Rhys and Mor had stayed up for the night, lounging with some faerie wine, reminiscing as the house slept silently. But then they’d hear screaming, and before they could even move Azriel had stumbled down the hall screeching your name. It was clear to Rhys, that Azriel was entrapped in some disorientating nightmare, and he had used his talons to pull him from the deathly grips of the dream.

“It’s a dream brother, only a dream” he tried to reassure him.

But Azriel’s eyes were searching, looking for you. 

Azriel was slumped on the floor, his knees under him. Rhys and Mor pulled him against a wall, hoping the cool stone would bring him to his senses. His shadows were frantically buzzing around him. Attempting but failing to console him.

“Where is y/n?” he managed to choke out.

Not here, not here, not here. His shadows whispered in his ear.

Mor stepped forward, concern on her face “She’s with Orion. You know this…” she spoke softly.

Slowly slivers of reality seemed to sink into place. His dream had felt like eternity, and yet it had only been a few hours since you had all left Rita’s. 

No you hadn’t left, you had stayed. Stayed with him, stayed with Orion.

He had been too late. Too late to find the courage, too late to speak his truth.

That male. Orion, had found you on the dance floor. Ensnared your attention for the evening, had charmed you. Charmed you enough that you hadn’t returned with your family, that you had stayed to seek the comfort of him that night.

Not Azriel. He had been too late.

Azriel had curled in on himself, knees brought to his chest as sobs began to rack through his body. The talons of the nightmare still clung to him, dragging him back into its clutches. Senseless words left his lips, your name rolling off his tongue repetitively.

"I was too late…" he cried, his voice choking with anguish. "Rhys, you have to save her… she… her face… Rhys… she was dying."

“I think you might need to call for y/n, Rhys,” Mor suggested, her concern evident as she crouched near Azriel. He was trapped in a dreamlike state, caught between the realms of reality and imagination. When she reached out to touch him, he only flinched away, lost in his own torment.

Azriel was drenched in sweat, his body burning with fever as he struggled to distinguish between what was real and what was not. As much as Rhys tried, Azriel’s mind was a mess. He couldn’t decipher what was right in front of him and what was in his mind. 

To him you were gone, he’d seen it with his own eyes. He had failed you. 

"What's going on?" Your voice cut through the tense air, drawing the attention of Mor and Rhys.

You stood in the doorway of the lounge, your hair tousled and your nightgown askew as if someone had forcefully dragged you from the depths of your own dreams. In fact that is exactly what had happened. Azriel’s shadows were circling you, pulling and tugging you relentlessly, just as they had awoken you.

You could tell from their desperate plea something was wrong, and it had only taken you a matter of seconds to run from your room.

"We thought... I thought you'd gone home with—" Rhys began, but you shook your head, your expression filled with concern as you took in Azriel's state. Without hesitation, you moved quickly to kneel beside him.

You could have gone home with Orion, almost did. Was tempted, but there was something about the way Azriel had looked at you as they all departed for the night that had gnawed at you. A look of a broken male. His expression, a mixture of sadness…and well, longing. It was confusing.

And unfair. He had rejected you after all.

Yet, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that you couldn’t ignore. Despite his rejection, your heart ached for him. After an hour in Orion's company at the bar, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. So you called it a night and came home.

It had been a long time since you’d seen Azriel caught in a state like this. Azriel didn’t sleep much, but when he did there had been a few times in your years of knowing him that he'd find himself trapped in the liminal space between dreams and reality.

“Hey Az…” you moved to the space in front of him, crouching between the space of his kness. His eyes were skittish, looking at you but through you. It was as if he didn't register your presence at all, trapped in a world of his own making.

“I waited too long…” he breathed out, his fingers tangled in his hair pulling and ragging at the strands.

“Azriel,” you spoke gently but firmly, your voice a lifeline in the darkness that engulfed him. You needed to coax him out of this. “It wasn’t real, only a dream”

A torrent of incomprehensible words spilled from his lips, and you exchanged a glance with Rhys and Mor, who stood nearby, frozen in place. 

Over the centuries of being part of this family, you'd all encountered moments like these. Moments where the nightmares and traumas racked over you. However, Azriel had always been more private about his inner turmoil. You realised that this might be the first time Rhys and Mor had witnessed this part of him.

It wasn’t your first time, though. One of the earliest moments you realised you loved Azriel was after he had helped you through a debilitating nightmare, one that had left you screaming in your sleep. From then on, he had always been there to offer comfort in those dark moments. 

And you had always been there for him in return.

“I’ve got this…” you reassured them with a soft smile, and they nodded, reluctantly leaving the room. They didn’t want to abandon Azriel in such a state, but they trusted you, trusted that you would only ask this of them if it was for Azriel’s best interest.

You waited for them to leave, the room enveloped in a heavy silence, save for Azriel's incoherent whispers that echoed off the walls.

“I was too late…” he repeated, his voice strained.

“Hmmm were you? What were you late for Azriel?” Again you voice, firm but sweet resounding through the room. 

He blinked, finally recognising your presence. His brows furrowed as tears streamed down his face.

“I lost you, I was too late” he choked out.

“You haven't lost me, Az. I'm right here,” you reassured him, your voice a soothing balm.

But Azriel shook his head, haunted by the vivid memory of seeing you slip away before him.

“Tell him, tell him I’m right here.” You spoke, this time towards his shadows.

She’s here. She’s here. They sang.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as he listened to his shadows. They had never deceived him before, always guiding him with honesty. So surely what they were saying was true?

You tilted your head slightly, a soft smile gracing your lips as you reached for his hand. His eyes widened at your touch, but he didn’t recoil. He watched as you gently placed his hand against your chest, just above your heart.

Real, real, real. His shadows continued to sing in his ear. Their own feather-light touches caressing his body, cooling him down.

He could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch.

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump. The vibrations of your heart were sobering under his palm. And there was something about the way this felt, so different to the version of you in his dream. Everything was heightened, every sense felt multiplied.

“I’m real Az, and I’m here. It was just a dream, okay?”

Azriel felt a shaky breath leave his lips as his own breathing synced with yours. His rapid heartbeat gradually slowed to match the steady rhythm of yours.

You weren’t gone. But you had chosen someone else. 

“But…but you chose someone else,” he sputtered out.

You weren’t sure what he meant. Whether this someone else was what he had dreamed of, or if he meant Orion. But you leaned forward, drawing closer until your faces were mere inches apart, so close that he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“I’ll always choose you, Azriel.” It was the truth. You knew he needed to hear this, he needed reassurance to pull him from the grasp of his nightmare, but it was also unequivocally true. You would always choose him.

You had tonight.

In the opportunity of comfort and pleasure of another, you had chosen Azriel. Even in his rejection. Even if that made you a fool. You would always choose him.

“Really?”

“Always.”

You both sat there for a while, Azriel syncing his breathing to yours as the cloudiness of his vision cleared and he began to feel reality pinching him. It felt so real, that nightmare. A version of his future he never wanted to face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently moving his hand from your chest as embarrassment seemed to finally wash over him.

“Don’t ever apologise for this, Az,” you spoke softly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I just mean I’m sorry for everything, for hurting you before, for not seeing what was right in front of me all along, for not being honest…”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him, but you let him speak.

“I’ve been trying to find the right words to say to you for the past six months.” He laughed then, not the laugh you loved. A self-deprecating laugh that made your chest ache. “I had six months to find the right words, and I was still too late…” he trailed off, his voice heavy.

“Ever since Mor introduced you almost four centuries ago, you’ve had me mesmerised. I thank the stars every day you came into my life…”

You thanked the stars everyday for him too.

“Azriel, I feel the same…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“No, I don’t think you understand, y/n. I adore you. I’ve always adored you.” Azriel's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, his hands trembling as he reached out to take yours. 

He hesitated with his words, still struggling to find the right way to say this. You felt the roughness of his scars against your soft skin, but it was welcome, you had always found his hands beautiful. His touch, comforting. 

Right now though, something felt different. 

The way Azriel was looking at you was unlike anything you had seen before. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you.

“You are so wonderful, so beautiful, smart, hilarious. You’re the best of all of us.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, it was a notion your family had always told you. Azriel through the years, claiming that statement more times than you could count. But this time the words felt different, they weighed heavier, they revealed so much more. And you feel your cheeks heating under his intense stare.

“You are. You’re the best of us, better than me. Too good for me.”

“Azriel…” you said softly,

“That’s why your confession came as a shock, I just never considered myself good enough for you. Never thought I’d be the kind of male worthy of you.”

You felt your throat tighten at the idea. The thought that Azriel had never considered himself good enough for you, when he was exactly everything you wanted and needed.

“I’ve been deflecting my feelings for years, ignoring them, because I didn’t think I deserved you…”

Azriel's hand tightened around yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin.

"But I don't want to waste any more time," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you were with Orion–”

“There’s no one else,” you cut him off quickly, the realisation dawning on you. A realisation of what was happening, what your dear friend was admitting. Something you had hoped and wished for so long.

Your heart was now the rapid one and you could feel it beating through your chest. 

"If there's a chance for us, I want us to take it." Azriel concluded, his confession final.

"Really, Az?" your bottom lip quivered slightly, your eyes becoming glassy as tears threatened to spill.

"Really, my love."

“I love you…” The words tumbled from your lips, soft and heartfelt.

With gentle strength, he pulled you into his embrace, your head finding its place in the curve of his neck. He inhaled deeply, savouring the familiar scent of you.

“I love you more than words can express, more than you may ever realise,” he whispered, his voice brimming with tenderness. “And I promise to make up for lost time.”

You leaned back slightly, your eyes meeting his. A soft smile was on his lips, one you gave back, as a tear rolled down your cheek. He moved gently then, leaning down to press a tender kiss where the salty tear had escaped. 

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, a force he had ignored for hundreds of years, his lips found yours in a long-awaited embrace. Time seemed to slow as you shared that kiss, your lips melting into one another. Finally, the kiss seemed to speak of. 

This was it. 

This would be enough, because this was everything.

fin.

a/n: Sorry to make you all wait so long for this! I was in a really bad writing slump, and wasn't sure how to make this work, still not 100% on it but hey-ho (but thank you to my love, @illyrianbitch for her continuous support every time I changed my mind and scrapped an idea lol, and to @milswrites for her lovely words that helped me get out of my slump) Anyway I hope you all got the ending you wanted ;) but yeah let me know if you want any one-shots from these two! I'd be happy to explore their dynamic a little more if you've got a scenario in mind <3

Forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @milswrites @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound @amberlynn98 @marscardigan

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

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

BLLK Masterlist | Part Two | Otoya Version

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Total Word Count: 41.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you like my train?” he said.

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

“My favorite,” he said. “Light blue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked at you. “Get your own.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” you said.

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

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

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

“What’s the matter?” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you said.

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

“No, I’m an only child,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he said. “Is Yayoi coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Aoyama?” you said.

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

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

“The teacher’s sick,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“He’s so weird,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” he said.

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

“I’m not crying,” he mumbled.

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

“No,” he said.

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

“No,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he said.

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

“You’re not like Yayoi,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a little kid!” he whined.

“Sure,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good luck with that,” Yayoi said.

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

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

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

“She’s making it up,” Tabito said.

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

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

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

“That’s true,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You promise?” he said.

“Yes, I promise,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you said. “Scare what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did it!” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not—”

“L/N, hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” Tabito said stiffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aoyama?” you said.

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

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

He grunted. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

“Secret to what?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” he said immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s got you down?” you said.

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

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

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

“You tell me,” you said.

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

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

“I’d never abandon him,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I try,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, I see how it is,” she said.

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

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

“Not even our parents?” Yayoi said.

“Obviously I wasn’t counting them!”

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

“Hello?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you do,” you said.

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we allowed to?” you said.

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

“If you say so,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, that sounds cool,” you said.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell you what?” you said.

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

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

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

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

“Really?” he said.

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

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

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

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

“Your phone number,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “Bye, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s it to you?” Yayoi said.

“I want to, too,” he said. “Can I?”

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

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

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

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

“He’s my favorite,” he said.

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

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

“No,” Yayoi said.

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

“…Okay, then,” Tabito said.

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

“Oh,” he said.

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

“Is he a bad boyfriend?” Tabito said.

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you are a baby,” you cooed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I will, you promised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” he said stiffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pokemonheritageposts]

It sucks that I have nowhere near enough time or energy to make a fangame because I have such a good idea for a direct sequel to the Johto games and I can't stop rotating it in my brain. Anyway I just spent the last 8 hours typing up the entire plot for no particular reason

Pokemon Blaze Gold and Storm Silver

-Box mascots are Entei and Raikou, but new formes with Ho-Oh/Lugia's wings respectively plus added motifs from each Pokemon, Fire/Flying and Electric/Flying

-Regional Pokedex has all Kanto/Johto Pokemon minus the Kanto starters available, plus every new evolution to a Kanto/Johto Pokemon up to Gen 4

-Start in Camellia Town, a new town south of Route 29, loosely based on Toyohashi

-Rival 1 is your neighbour, Maya, who has major chuuni vibes, tells you Prof Elm has returned from a trip and that you should go ask him for a Pokemon, declares herself the best trainer ever despite having no Pokemon

-Start traveling to New Bark Town but get interrupted by Professor Elm upon entering the grass

-He reluctantly agrees to take you to his lab on Maya's insistence

-At his lab you meet his kid who is also his assistant, Rival 2, who is the opposite gender version of the player character. Following old traditions I'm gonna say the male character default name is Blaze and the female character default name is Storm. I'm gonna refer to the rival as Blaze going forward but it depends on your PC.

-Elm says he was going to offer one of the three to Blaze, but we can have the other two.

-Blaze gets nervous and indecisive and asks us to pick first, Maya says it doesn't matter which one they get because she will win no matter what. Maya picks the starter that's super effective against yours, Blaze picks the one it's weak to. Maya immediately challenges you to a battle.

-After you win, Maya declares that this is jist a roadblock and that she's going to take on the gym challenge and become champion. Elm gets wistful remembering the PC from the original games, and then decides to ask you to retrieve a package from another professor in Cherrygrove City.

-Route 46 now has wild Pikachu, plus a new part of Dark Cave featuring all Pokemon from the Violet City side as the original location will not be accessible until much later. Phanpy and Teddiursa are also available in their respective Crystal version locations (I have no idea why HGSS removed this inprovement). Paras is also now available on Route 30. These changes have been added so that you are not completely fucked if you didn't pick Chikorita.

-Cherrygrove City is now much larger, featuring a port, and a new Pokemon Gym. You go to the house Elm indicated but Blaze comes out and says the professor is out, and that they need to go look for him.

-On Route 30, you see Professor Oak standing in front of a cliff face dividing the route in half. He tells you that 6 years ago, a great cave suddenly sprung from the ground, causing great devastation. Nobody knows how, and it should have been impossible. He then tells you to come with him to get the parcels Elm asked for.

-Upon returning and being handed the parcels, Blaze asks you to battle him. When you win, he gets nervous and asks you what you think it takes to be a good trainer, before leaving.

-When you all return to Professor Elm, he hands you and Blaze the newest Pokedex which was in the package from Oak. He asks you to fill out the dex. After Blaze leaves to go catch Pokemon, he suggests you could try the gym challenge like Maya is.

-You run into your mother in front of the entrance to Camellia Town. After explaining the situation, she gives you the Poketch and encourages you.

-When you get to Cherrygrove Gym, Maya comes out and declares she beat the gym leader easily (though she is clearly worn out), and says she's going to get on a ferry to go take on Cianwood Gym.

-Inside, the Gym Leader, Akua, is a cheerful, portly middle-aged lady wearing a blue floral patterned sundress. Her team is a Lv12 Chinchou and a Lv14 Corsola. Upon winning, she grants you the Shore Badge.

-Upon leaving, a boat has returned to the port. You can interact with it and travel to Cianwood City. You arrive at the new Cianwood Port inside Cliff Edge Gate. However, Chuck is blocking the entrance to Cianwood City proper. He asks you to go after his son, Hurley, who ran to the Safari Zone saying something about Team Rocket - which is strange, since Team Rocket disappeared 10 years ago.

-The same Pokemon as usual are available on Routes 47/48, but only their first stages, and levelled down. Miltank has been replaced with Murkrow to make Dark-types accessible earlier in game.

-You see Hurley in front of the Safari Zone. He is a young boy with a buzzcut, tatami pants, and a sarashi chest wrap. He is surrounded by a group of Team Rocket grunts. Team Rocket are trying to kidnap all of the Pokemon out of the Safari Zone. Hurley is trying to take on all the Rocket Grunts himself. Blaze arrives and you take on two of the grunts in a double battle.

-After winning, the entrance to the Safari Zone is wrecked, so theycare trmporarily closed. Hurley thanks you for your help, and gives you the field move Poketch app for Headbutt. He tells you some of the apps need gym badges, but not this one, before announcing that he is the new Cianwood gym leader now that his dad has retired.

-You return to Cianwood City, which is now accessible, along with its gym. Hurley has a Lv18 Tyrogue and a Lv20 Heracross. Upon winning, he grants you the Storm Badge, which allows you to use the Fly app (which you will need to acquire later). The ferry is now ready to depart for Olivine City.

-At Olivine, when you pass in front of the Olivine Gym, Maya is there. They tell you they came to fight Jasmine, but she's gone travelling to Sinnoh and the gym is closed. Maya challenges you to a battle. She has a Lv18 Snubbull, a Lv19 Shellder/Bellsprout/Growlithe (whichever is weak to your starter), and a Lv22 Bayleef/Quilava/Croconaw.

-At Ecruteak City, the Gym is locked, and Morty is in the Burnt Tower. When you enter it, you run into Colress as he is leaving the building. He talks about the Legendary Beasts that were believed to have existed in this building. When you go up and speak to Morty, he says he had been having a conversation with Colress about the legends surrounding the towers. He then heads back to his Gym. Houndour is now catchable in Burnt Tower.

-The Kimono Girls can be battled as before for the Surf app, however there are now 7 of them, with the addition of Leafeon and Glaceon.

-Morty has a Lv24 Gastly, a Lv25 Misdreavus, and a Lv27 Gengar. Upon defeating him, he grants you the Fog Badge, allowing you to use the Surf app.

-The path south of Ecrutreak is blocked by a Sudowoodo, forcing you east. As you enter Route 42, Blaze appears. He says he thinks he's gotten stronger and wants to test himself against you. His team is a Lv25 Pikachu, a Lv20 Happiny, a Lv24 Oddish/Vulpix/Staryu (whichever is super effective against your starter), and a Lv27 Bayleef/Quilava/Croconaw. After you win, he says Professor Elm said to give you this, and installs the Rock Smash app on your phone.

-Upon arriving to Mahogany Town, you see that it has been levelled by the rising caves. The Gym and Pokemon Center are in disrepair, and the path to Route 44 is obstructed by a new cliff face. If you enter the one accessible house, the hermit inside will tell you everyone left when the disaster happened, and they moved to Lycoris or Ecruteak cities, and that the Gym Leader Pryce disappeared when the cave formed and hasn't been since since.

-At the Lake of Rage, two Team Rocket grunts are standing by the water. When they see you, they challenge you to a battle. After defeating them, more arrive, but they are scared off by the arrival of Silver. Silver thanks you for defeating the grunts, and introduces himself. He says he's had some experiences with Team Rocket before, and that it's troubling to see them around here. He then gives you a Squirtbottle to get past the Sudowoodo.

At this point, you can take on the next three Gym Leaders in any order you want. However, there is a firm level curve, and if you challenge the 6th one next you're likely to get your ass kicked - you are, however, free to do so. This will be following the recommended order.

-After removing the Sudowoodo, the path to Violet City and the Ruins of Alph is blocked by a risen cave, forcing you towards Goldenrod City. This area is mostly unchanged, but more houses have been made accessible, including one with a conspicuously blocked off basement. Additionally, if you enter the basement of the Pokemart, they tell you you're not allowed down there and send you back into the elevator. The radio tower has modernized, and now runs streaming content and podcasts. You can also still obtain an Eevee from Bill at his home.

-At Goldenrod Gym, Whitney has a Lv29 Clefairy, a Lv31 Furret, and a Lv33 Miltank. Upon defeating her, she grants you the Plain Badge, allowing you to use the Strength app. She has a line about how she's not gonna cry over losing any more, and tells you there's a reward at National Park for the Strength app if you win the Bug-Catching Contest (if you haven't already won it).

-The Bug Catching contest can now be played at any time, and allows you to catch as many as you like, with your final score being a point total so as to make it way easier to win. You also get to choose which Pokemon you keep at the end so you don't have to keep a bunch of fodder mons.

-When passing the Daycare, you see Maya outside. She brags about having 5 gym badges and challenges you again. She has a Lv27 Snubbull, two of Lv28 Weepinbell/Shellder/Growlithe (excluding whichever matches their starter's type), and a Lv32 Bayleef/Quilava/Croconaw. When defeated, she throws a mild tantrum about how she has more gym badges and should be stronger than you, but then corrects herself and offers you one of two eggs she was given by the daycare. Yours contains a Togepi.

-In Ilex Forest, at the Celebi shrine, you encounter a strange man with a tattered black cloak shrouding their body, extremely long white hair, and a white mask covering their entire face, although you cannot see the front of it from your position. He is talking to the shrine. "Celebi... how long has it been? To this day, I still don't understand why...". He sees you, at which point he excuses himself and leaves.

-At Azalea Gym, Bugsy, now an adult, has a Lv35 Ledian, Lv35 Ariados, and a Lv36 Scizor. Upon winning, he grants you the Hive Badge, allowing you to use the Cut app.

-As soon as you leave the gym, you hear a commotion coming from nearby. Bugsy comes out of the gym, and says that sounded like the Cut master, and that it was coming from Slowpoke Well. He heads over to see what's going on. In the Well, you see the Cut master trying to corner a Team Rocket grunt, but the grunt defeats him. You step up and battle the grunt, who then tries to escape.

-When you leave the well, the grunt is being cornered by Kurt, who says he'll never let Team Rocket mess with this well again. The grunt runs away towards Union Cave. When you get to the cave's entrance, he is nowhere to be seen, and the cave's entrance is boarded up. Kurt, Bugsy, and the Cut master all arrive and tell you he must have gone into the cave, but that we shouldn't follow him - the cave was unstable after the rest of the cave system rose from the ground, and it may still be dangerous. Kurt introduces himself and tells you about Azalea Town's history with Team Rocket, and tells you about his apricorn ball service. The Cut master thanks you by giving you the Cut app.

-Returning to the Lake of Rage, the northeast has a new path, but it's obstructed by two rocket grunts. Travelling west, though, through the maze of trees, there is now a new route, Route 49. It is a winding route, covered in trees and snow. Here, you can catch Fearow, Furret, Noctowl, Murkrow, Misdreavus, Smeargle, Sneasel, Houndour, and Delibird.

-To the west of Route 49, and north of Mt. Mortar, is Lycoris City (loosely based on Fukui). It is a snow-covered city with architecture similar to Ecruteak, with numerous beds of Spider Lillies. It is divided into two halves, with the top half being on a high raised wooden platform.

-In the north is Lycoris Shrine. It is a two-storey building in the center of the raised platform, filled with trainers and wild pokemon. Here, you can find Growlithe/Vulpix, Golbat, Gastly, Haunter, Bellsprout, Weepinbell, Natu, Murkrow, Sneasel, and Houndour.

-When you get to the far end of the top floor, you encounter Blaze. He tells you he came all this way looking for as many Pokemon as possible, and wants to show you. His team is a Lv37 Pikachu, Lv36 Chansey, two of Lv37 Gloom/Ninetales/Starmie (minus whichever is the same type as their starter), and Lv38 Meganium/Typhlosion/Feraligatr.

-Karen comes over, who tells you she used to be the gym leader here a long time ago. She says she was impressed by your battle and likes the look in your eye and expects she'll be seeing you again soon, before giving you the Fly app.

-At Lycoris Gym, the Leader is Shin, a tall person with spiky white hair, a sleeveless black turtleneck, mesh sleeves, long and sharp black nails, and baggy black jeans. Their team is a Lv37 Sneasel, Lv38 Umbreon, Lv37 Murkrow, and Lv40 Weavile. Upon winning, they grant you the Umbral Badge, which allows you to use the Whirlpool app.

-Once you have 6 badges (and have handled the Slowpoke Well incident), Silver will call you asking you if you can come to Mahogany Town. When you arrive, he is in front of the old Rocket hideout. He thanks you for coming, when suddenly Maya arrives, bragging about having 6 badges, before being shocked that you've caught up to them. They proclaim that they will be the strongest, and need to battle you to prove it. Silver interrupts saying we have more important things to worry about, and telling Maya that it's a mistake to view everything in terms of Weak and Strong.

-Silver then breaks down the door to the hideout with his Crobat, and inside we see the place full of Team Rocket members, who run down into the base. Silver comments that he thought they'd be smarter than hiding here again, and tells the two of you to follow him into the base.

-In the boss's office of the base, you encounter Proton, Petrel, Ariana, and Colress. Silver says he's shocked to see the three of them back at it, but asks who the new guy is. Colress introduces himself and says Team Rocket are his new benefactors. Petrel tells Silver that Colress is the brains behind their big new scheme, before Ariana tells him to be quiet. You battle Proton, while Maya battles Petrel and Silver battles Ariana. Proton has a Lv38 Golbat and a Lv39 Weezing.

-Upon winning, Proton says it doesn't matter, and they already got everything ready here. Petrel says they learned one thing from last time, and Colress flips a switch turning off all the lights. When they come back on, they have all vanished. Silver expresses disappointment that they couldn't catch them, and tells the two of you that he once battled Team Rocket here with two of his good friends. He then wonders what they're planning next before he takes his leave.

-Maya says it was always her dream to become the strongest, but that seeing the way Silver battled was something she never imagined. She trails off before leaving.

-The rocket grunts at the lake have now left, allowing you to take a new path heading down into Route 44, which is much the same as it always was besides the entrance to Mahogany Town being obscured.

-You travel through Ice Path into Blackthorn City, and on arriving at the front of the Blackthorn Gym, Maya shows up. She tells you that she's not sure if she really is the strongest, and that since you two are even she wants to battle you before either of you face the gym. She says to meet her in the Dragon's Den behind the gym, and she'll be waiting.

-In the shrine in Dragon's Den, you face off against Maya. She has a Lv42 Granbull, a Lv40 Rhydon, two of Lv42 Victreebel/Arcanine/Cloyster, and a Lv44 Meganium/Typhlosion/Feraligatr.

-Upon defeating her, she wonders if maybe she isn't the strongest after all. Before she can go on, Lance appears, and tells her that she's plenty strong, but strong isn't enough. Clair also arrives, and says they heard us talking outside their gym and watched our battle. Clair announces that she is the leader of Blackthorn gym, before Lance corrects her and says that they are the leaders of Blackthorn gym, and that they now battle side by side, and that they're excited to face us.

-In Blackthorn gym, you face off against Lance and Clair in a double battle. Lance has a Lv43 Gyarados and a Lv45 Dragonite, and Clair has a Lv42 Dragonair and a Lv44 Kingdra. Upon winning, the two of them bicker a bit, before giving you the Rising Badge, allowing use of the Waterfall app.

-When you exit the gym, you get a call from Professor Oak telling you there's an emergency at the radio tower and he needs our help. Immediately afterwards, Silver calls, and tells you Team Rocket are attacking Goldenrod City, and wonders to himself if they're really just trying to same plan all over again.

-When arriving to Goldenrod, the city is swarming with Rocket Grunts. The radio towers has waves of them in front of it, blocking the entrance. Silver is fighting them all off. Silver tells you he'll take care of this, and to go look for a cardkey in the underground - he know show they operate, and that we'll need it to get to the top of the tower. We go to look for it, however the Pokemart and the Underground are both blocked by Rocket grunts. Blaze and Maya are both here, battling rocket grunts at each of the entrances.

-Heading into the house that had the suspicious basement passage from earlier, you are immediately confronted with a rocket grunt, who accidentally gives away that this is the new secret entrance to the underground system. You then battle your way through the underground, where you eventually encounter Petrel, who has the keycard. He has two Lv40 Koffings and a Lv42 Weezing. Upon defeat, he runs away, dropping the keycard.

-You can then leave via any of the three exits, where you can see Blaze and Maya have defeated their respective batches of grunts. You head into the radio tower, now accessible, and give Silver the keycard. He heads upstairs. You encounter Proton and Ariana, but before they can stop you, Maya arrives. Silver says to fight them while he heads upstairs and deals with their leader. You and Maya enter a double battle. Proton has a Lv40 Golbat, a Lv39 Qwilfish, and a Lv42 Weezing. Ariana has a Lv40 Arbok, a Lv41 Vileplume, and a Lv42 Honchkrow.

-Upon defeating them and heading upstairs, you see that Silver has firmly defeated Archer. However, Archer makes a break for it, running outside of the building. Outside, you see Blaze, who tells you they saw Archer run towards Ilex Forest.

-In Ilex Forest, you encounter Archer at the shrine, where you challenge him. He has a Lv40 Houndour, a Lv43 Weezing, a Lv42 Ariados, and a Lv45 Houndoom.

-Upon defeating him, Silver, Maya, and Blaze arrive. Silver tells him to give up, but Archer tells him that this was a trick to buy time while the broadcast was uploading. You then get an alert on your Poketch showing you the radio tower has a live stream - you cut to the video, and you see a man shrouded in a tattered black cloak, with long white hair, and a white mask covering his face... with the Team Rocket emblem over the mask. It's the man you saw here, in Ilex Forest. He begins a speech, telling everyone that he believed that Team Rocket was done when Giovanni left - however, the broadcast 10 years ago inspired them to take up his mantle. He calls himself Rocket Mask, and declares that he is the new boss of Team Rocket. He informs them that they have plans in motion that will enable them to achieve total domination, and invites anyone who abandoned their cause to return to them to fulfil their destiny. He tells them that the Mahogany Town base is compromised, but that they should know where to go. The stream ends.

-Archer says he's completed his work, and it doesn't matter if you take him in. He tries to eacape anyway, but suddenly... Looker turns up. He apologizes to Silver for taking so long to arrive, and captures Archer. They all briefly talk about who the strange man in the mask could be. Archer refuses to tell them anything, and is hauled away by Looker. Silver thanks you for your help, and gives you the Flash app for your help. He tells you to head to Violet City through the Dark Cave.

-As everyone leaves, you begin to walk away, but suddenly hear something. Celebi floats down in front of you, before hovering over their shrine. The space in front of you begind to warp, and you are shown a vision of Rocket Mask at the shrine, with the four Rocket Execs beside him. He tells them that this shrine belongs to Celebi, and that it is thanks to them that they can begin their glorious return. Celebi then disappears, returning everything to normal.

-You fly back to Blackthorn City, and travel through the Dark Cave to Violet City. Falkner is currently out, at the Sprout Tower. You battle your way through Sprout Tower, and once you meet Falkner at the top, he returns to his gym.

-At Violet City Gym, you face Falkner, who has a Lv45 Noctowl, a Lv44 Fearow, a Lv46 Dodrio, a Lv47 Togetic, and a Lv48 Pigeot. Upon defeating him, you are granted the Zephyr Badge, allowing use of the Rock Climb app.

-Upon leaving, Professor Elm calls you and asks if you can come back to his lab. When you get there, he gives you the Waterfall app, and upon finding out you have all 8 badges, suggests you go to the Pokemon League. Before you leave, Blaze arrives, and says they've been watching us, watching Maya, and that they think they've learned from us and our bond with our Pokemon what a good trainer is. They challenge us to one last battle. Their team is a Lv48 Raichu, a Lv48 Blissey, a Lv47 Espeon, two of Lv48 Bellossom/Ninetales/Starmie, and a Lv50 Meganium/Typhlosion/Feraligatr. When you win, he thanks you, and declares that they're going to take on the gym challenge as well.

-You travel through the way to the Elite Four the same as in the original games. Just before entering to face the Elite Four, Maya stops you. She says she's been thinking about what Silver told her, and that maybe she had been wrong to focus on being the strongest. She asks you to battle her again to help her figure it out. Her team is a Lv50 Granbull, a Lv50 Rhyperior, a Lv49 Umbreon, two of Lv51 Victreebel/Arcanine/Cloyster, and a Lv52 Meganium/Typhlosion/Feraligatr. After you beat her, she thanks you, and says that she realizes that instead of trying to be the strongest, she should just try and be the best that she can be... which meand THEN she'll be the strongest! (never change, Maya).

-As you enter the Elite Four, the first member you face is Brock. He has a Lv50 Golem, a Lv51 Kabutops, a Lv51 Omastar, a Lv51 Onix, and a Lv52 Aerodactyl.

-The second member is Will. He has a Lv51 Hypno, a Lv52 Girafarig, a Lv52 Slowking, a Lv53 Exeggutor, and a Lv54 Xatu.

-The third member is Misty. She has a Lv53 Politoed, a Lv54 Cloyster, a Lv53 Azumarill, a Lv53 Vaporeon, and a Lv55 Starmie.

-The fourth member is Karen. She has a Lv54 Umbreon, a Lv55 Honchkrow, a Lv56 Weavile, a Lv56 Gengar, and a Lv58 Houndoom.

-As you head up the long staircase to face the champion, the ground suddenly begins to shake, and the lights momentarily go out. You continue to climb the stairs, but when you reach the door at the top, it won't open. As you head back down, a gang of Team Rocket grunts swarm in. They tell you that the building is surrounded, and they're going to keep the Elite Four incapacitated while they carry out their plan. They begin to back you into a corner, but suddenly, Celebi appears. The world around you begins to warp. Suddenly, the Team Rocket grunts have disappeared, and everything seems to be normal.

-You head into the Champion's room and see... Lance? But wasn't he a gym leader now? He seems just as confused as you are, since there wasn't anyone challenging the league. After you explain about Celebi, he tells you that he has heard the myth of a time travelling Pokemon, and that maybe you've been sent back in time. You leave the building with Lance.

-As he begins to wonder how to return you to your own time, he gets a call from Silver. Silver tells him that the Pokemon are going crazy near the Ruins of Alph, and that there are some strange signals being picked up on the Poketch. Lance takes you to Violet City, however as you head to the Ruins of Alph, a great quake begins. The ground begins rising in front of you. You hear a great cry, and you are seperated from Lance as the ground beneath your feet lifts, turning into a new cave. It's six years ago, and the disaster is occuring before your eyes.

-From the Ruins of Alph, you see something fly away. As the sunlight clears, you see Entei/Raikou (the opposite of the boxart legendary) soaring into the sky on wings, surrounded by Unown. Its emits a great glow, and its wings seem to burst into flames/lightning. It falls onto the new cliff face in front of you, now in its original form. As it stares us down, Celebi returns, warping us back to our own time, in Ilex Forest, before disappearing.

-We immediately get a call from Blaze, who is asking if we're okay and is confused that we're in Ilex Forest. They heard that Team Rocket is staging an assault on Indigo Plateau. Suddenly, the same signal starts coming through the Poketch that did six years ago. A broadcast comes on, and you can see Rocket Mask once again making an announcement. He states that six years ago, he failed. But this time, he will succeed. Celebi has shown him the way, and soon, Team Rocket will have the key to world domination.

-You head to the entrance to Union Cave, now unblocked. As soon as you enter, you see Suicune. It roars at you, before running into the cave. You travel through its underground passages, and make your way into the Ruins of Alph.

-The ruins now have a large pillar in the centre, which you seemingly have no way to access. As you head into the ruins, you see Suicune again, at a wall. Suddenly, Unown surround them, and a portion of the wall disappears, revealing a hidden passageway.

-As you get to the end of the passageway, and enter the pillar in the center of the ruins, and see Colress and Rocket Mask. Colress seems alarmed to see you. Rocket Mask asks how you got here, but remarks that it doesn't matter. The screen pans, and you can see Entei/Raikou (your box legendary), surrounded by two chains of Unown, spinning around them like a gyroscope.

-He explains that ever since a fateful encounter with Suicune, he had sought the power of the legendary beasts. 10 years ago, when Team Rocket made their broadcast, he was ashamed to have left them when Giovanni first disbanded the team. To find out that they had even been operating in his old secret hideout brought him great shame. After the news of their defeat broke, he went on a journey. In Ilex Forest, he was suddenly approached by Suicune, and feared Suicune was going to attack him. Suddenly, Celebi arrived, and teleported him back through time, showing him his glory days in Team Rocket as Giovanni's right-hand man. He decided then that this was a sign - that he needed to bring back Team Rocket, and that the Legendary Beasts were how he would do it.

Six years ago, he was approached by Colress, who had experimented with Pokemon before, and had heard of his interest in the beasts. He knew that they had a master who had created them, a legendary Pokemon named Ho-Oh. If they were created by Ho-Oh, they could use its power. By utilizing the power of the Unown, he believed he could combine their power - with a Rainbow Wing/Silver Wing. However, they only used one chain of Unown - they needed two. The beast they captured six years ago broke free, and unleashing their full power caused them to send that energy through the land, reshaping it. While they lost both the beast and the wing, they discovered that there was a second wing - that the Silver Wing was not actually from Ho-Oh, but from Lugia, a Pokemon whose power mirrored Lugia, and that they could use the Silver Wing instead/that they had the wrong wing, and that the Rainbow Wing was needed. Now they have obtained the second wing, and captured another beast.

After their failure six years ago, they felt tremendous shame. Not just for their failure, but for the damage they did. They even destroyed their own town. After that, they could never go back. They had to see this through to the end. They took up the mantle of Rocket Mask, and decided nothing would stop them from taming the beast - least of all, you.

-Rocket Mask removes their mask, revealing themselves to be none other than Pryce, the former leader of the Mahogany Town gym. While Colress finishes combining the beast's power with the wing, Pryce challenges you. He has a Lv55 Weavile, a Lv57 Dewgong, a Lv56 Piloswine, a Lv57 Cloyster, and a Lv59 Mamoswine.

-Upon defeating him, he says it no longer matters - the beast is complete. The Unown chains spin faster, and emit a great glow. The ground begins to shake, and then... suddenly, it ends. The Unown are floating freely, and Entei/Raikou is before you, in the air, flapping its wings. Pryce is amazed, and orders Entei/Raikou to come to him. It roars, and ignores his order. Pryce is shocked and indignant, and demands an explanation from Colress, who doesn't understand why the Unown chains broke apart - they were key to controlling it. Entei/Raikou attacks them, sending them both reeling. It floats before you, waiting.

-You challenge Entei/Raikou, Lv60. Capture or defeat it.

-Once captured/defeated, Pryce demands an explanation, and says he couldn't have been wrong. Suddenly, Celebi descends. It shows Pryce his past again - this time, the day he left Team Rocket. It shows him coming to terms with moving on, and looking forward to the future. Pryce then begins to wonder if he had made a mistake this whole time.

-Suddenly, Looker flies in! He challenges Pryce, before realizing that he has already been defeated. Pryce agrees to come quietly. Colress slips away unnoticed.

-Suddenly, Maya, Blaze, and Professor Elm all fly in seperately. They congratulate you on taking them down, and you all head home together. Roll credits.

-Upon resuming, Maya comes to your house, informing you that the league is shut down at the moment to repair the damage Team Rocket did, and that in the meantime we should go and challenge the Kanto gym leaders!

-You head to Cherrygrove City and take the ferry to Vermillion. When you arrive, Looker is there, and thanks you again for your help taking down Team Rocket. However, the three remaining admins are at large, and they believe they are somewhere in Kanto.

-With one exception, the gyms can now be faced in any order. However, two of them require specific events first. The rest, in no particular order:

-Lt. Surge has a Lv56 Raichu, a Lv57 Electrode, a Lv57 Magneton, and a Lv58 Electivire

-Sabrina has a Lv58 Mr. Mime, a Lv58 Slowbro, a Lv59 Espeon, and a Lv62 Alakazam

-Janine has a Lv55 Ariados, a Lv57 Venomoth, a Lv56 Weezing, and a Lv58 Crobat

-Cinnabar Island has a new artificial extension to keep the town proper out of volcano range, and have fully revuilt the town over the water. Blaine has a Lv58 Rapidash, a Lv58 Arcanine, a Lv57 Magcargo, and a Lv60 Magmortar

-Flint, Brock's father (yes, like in the anime) has taken over Pewter Gym. He has a Lv57 Forretress, a Lv57 Magneton, a Lv58 Skarmory, and a Lv60 Steelix.

-Erika is not at her Gym in Celadon - she can instead be found in front of the disused casino. She is speaking to Looker about Team Rocket sightings in the area. She will not battle you until after all of Team Rocket are fought. If you go inside the Casino, you can find Rocket's original base is in use again, and the rest of the rockets are hiding there. You and Looker go through and find Proton and Ariana there. You battle them. Proton has a Lv55 Golbat, a Lv57 Qwilfish, and a Lv57 Weezing. Ariana has a Lv60 Arbok, a Lv59 Vileplume, and a Lv61 Honchkrow. Looker captures them and takes them away. On their desk, you can see a plan to take over the Power Plant. If you head there, you find Petrel, the last Rocket, skulking around in front. He has three Weezings, Lv60, Lv61, and Lv62. Once defeated, he agrees to come quietly, and Looker thanks you for your assistance. You can now fight Erika.

-Erika has a Lv60 Jumpluff, a Lv61 Victreebel, a Lv61 Vileplume, a Lv60 Bellossom, and a Lv64 Tangrowth.

-In Mt. Moon, you encounter a young girl digging for fossils. She has beige overalls, a braided black ponytail, a hard hat, thick gardening gloves, a white dirt-stained tank top, thick round glasses, and freckles. She tells you her name is Bonnie, and says you're welcome to one of the fossils she's just dug up. At that moment, Maya arrives and tells you she already has 6 of the Kanto badges, but can't find the other two gym leaders. She then challenges you to a battle. She has a Lv64 Granbull, a Lv65 Espeon, a Lv64 Rhyperior, two of Lv65 Victreebel/Arcanine/Cloyster, and a Lv66 Meganium/Typhlosion/Feraligatr. After you beat her, Bonnie offers you both a fossil (you pick between Dome and Helix) and she awkwardly says that she's acfually the new Viridian City Gym Leader, and heads back to her gym. You can now challenge her.

-Bonnie has a Lv63 Quagsire, a Lv64 Pupitar, a Lv64 Donphan, a Lv65 Gliscor, and a Lv67 Nidoqueen.

-Upon passing the front of Cerulean Gym, Lorelei will appear. She informs you that this gym is closed now that Misty is in the E4. She retired from the Elite Four years ago to look after her home in the Sevii Islands, but got offered the Gym Leader position here. She arranged for a new gym to be made in the Sevii Islands instead, and to come visit her once you have the other 7 badges. You can travel there from Vermillion.

-At Lorelei's gym on Four Island, you can battle her once you have the other 7 Kanto badges. She has a Lv65 Delibird, a Lv66 Dewgong, a Lv67 Jynx, a Lv67 Glaceon, and a Lv68 Lapras. Once defeated, she grants you the Snow Badge.

-With 16 Badges, you are ready to take on the league again.

-As before, the first member you face is Brock. He has a Lv67 Golem, a Lv68 Kabutops, a Lv68 Omastar, a Lv69 Steelix, a Lv69 Rhyperior, and a Lv70 Aerodactyl.

-The second member is Will. He has a Lv69 Hypno, a Lv70 Wobbuffet, a Lv70 Girafarig, a Lv70 Slowking, a Lv70 Exeggutor, and a Lv71 Xatu.

-The third member is Misty. She has a Lv70 Politoed, a Lv69 Cloyster, a Lv70 Azumarill, a Lv71 Vaporeon, a Lv71 Golduck, and a Lv73 Starmie.

-The fourth member is Karen. She has a Lv71 Umbreon, a Lv72 Honchkrow, a Lv71 Weavile, a Lv72 Gengar, a Lv73 Muk, and a Lv74 Houndoom.

-Finally, you climb the stairs up to the champion, once again. No interruptions from Team Rocket this time. You open the door.

-Silver greets you. He thanks you for yoir work in defeating Team Rocket, and says he doesn't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there. He apologizes for not being able to fight last time, but as the Pokemon League Champion, he will hold nothing back. Silver has a Lv74 Crobat, a Lv73 Weavile, a Lv74 Magnezone, a Lv76 Gengar, a Lv75 Alakazam, and a Lv78 Tyranitar.

-As you defeat him, he congratulates you, and says he knew you had it in you. That he hadn't faced a trainer like you in a decade. He takes you to the hall of fame, and swears you in as the new Pokemon League Champion.

Roll credits, again.

-Finally, as champion, you now have access to Mt. Silver. And who is on top the mountain... but Ethan/Lyra, standing in the spot where they once defeated Red. They say nothing. The battle begins. They have a Lv82 Red Gyarados, a Lv81 Ampharos, a Lv83 Meganium, a Lv83 Typhlosion, a Lv83 Feraligatr, and a Lv85 Togekiss.

[writingstoraes]

lover 🪻

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!singer!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this is another thing i thought of knowing i have hundreds of unattended drafts lolol lmk what u think! this is like very similar to something i've posted before but only w a slightly different ending... hehe also am using mother taylor's lyrics cause they're just too good

about: you and charles seem to be really quiet, it's either one of two things — you're over or you're about to release a masterpiece that shatters all break up rumors.

wagsoff1

liked by wannabewag, norrisfan, hamilec, and 25,439 others

wagsoff1 It has been 100 days since Y/N was seen in the paddock. Her last appearance was during the 2023 Australian GP. Any thoughts? 👀

leclercsainz yeah honestly the two of them have been really quiet lately... i'm scared

ynfan this is such a reach? 😬

lecsyn4eva are we forgetting that y/n has her own career, a pretty successful one at that, it's normal for her to not be at races at times?

wagsoff1 Hmm yeah but she's missed a ton of races, apparently rumors are only ever growing that they might be over... lecsyn4eva maybe we stop sticking our noses where it doesn't belong 🤨

queenyn MOTHER WE MISS YOU pls come back

sainzstappen Classic pattern of broken up F1 couples lol miss a few races then suddenly statements are out 😆

popgirlstm stop i will literally jump off a bridge

yourusername

liked by zendaya, florencepugh, landonorris, and 2,340,923 others

yourusername At every table, I'll save you a seat.

My 3rd full-length album, Lover, is out tomorrow at 12 EST. Sorry for the surprise but see you at the premiere ❤️

lecsyn BITCH THIS IS WHY YOUVE BEEN QUIET

mothertay miss mam we havent heard from you in months how can you drop a bomb like this so casually

norrislaren IM CRYING I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING

midnightshouse y/n i need to know if i can shake my ass to this album or i will be destroying ice cream pints with tears on my face

ynalbums Judging from the title... it sounds like it's more on the romance side? gucciluv oh my god there's hope for charles and her after all 🙏

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 1,295,294 others

charles_leclerc My lover.

Beyond excited for your album, amour. Thanks for letting me be a part of it 🤍

lecsyncharles CROWD CHEERS OH MY GOD

hamilstappen im crying they broke the streak they're alive! WAR IS OVER

charlierari part of it... y/n ft. charles????

carlossainz55 Hey this counts as your musical debut? 😆

charles_leclerc I didn't sing... carlossainz55 Yeah you shouldnt c2lovers FUCK??ABSHBHWWH

landonorris Can't believe people thought you broke up you literally won't shut up about how you're in Silverstone and she's in LA

pierregasly Don't forget the calling Y/N every 10 seconds charles_leclerc ??? Please shut up

Now Playing: Lover (Music Video) - The Dedication

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris, lorenzotl, and 2,109,294 others

charles_leclerc My forever lover.

tagged: yourusername

landonorris Will you save me a seat at every table?

yourusername Have my song memorized already, I see 😆 landonorris You know it!

lewishamilton Congratulations, Y/N and Charles! 🥂

danielricciardo I call taking most of the pictures 🙏

landonorris No???

ynlecs16 this is such a fucking surprise the two of you need to cool it down i'm hyperventilating

scuderiaferrari Best wishes to our favorite couple ❤️

yourusername Wait, I thought we broke up?

charles_leclerc Negative. You're stuck with me forever now 😘

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: taylor has got me wishing i was currently in love this is sick! anyway i only got this idea bc my tiktok fyp is swarmed with charles daylight edits and they are right he is so golden <33

[kindaasrikal]

Things the ninja fear, except they make zero sense:

Kai: I refuse to forget he’s afraid of elves. It’s a good thing Christmas doesn’t exist for them, he would NOT survive the groups of little kids dressing up as elves for it.

Zane: uneven floor tiles. They literally had one job and now he feels like pulling them out of the ground and putting them back in an organised pattern that fits. He has done this once before at the monastery at 5am and Wu had to, for the first time ever, hit him with his stick and tell him to go to bed.

Lloyd: Bunnies. Specifically ones with white fur and red eyes. It reminds him of Harumi and Garmadon a tad too much. And Akita. Every time it reminds him of Akita he actually just turns super depressed until he sees the red eyes and screeches onto the ceiling spider-man style.

Cole: bleach. He drank it as a kid, got caught, and was rushed to the hospital. He didn’t understand what was so serious but all the panic made him terrified of bleach, and most cleaning products that aren’t used for hygiene.

Nya: the colour yellow. Ironic, isn’t it?

(She once was in a house that was fully yellow as a child and couldn’t tell up from down and ended up sobbing like a baby. Kai had to sell all of the fully yellow things in their house.)

Jay: crocodile’s. He had a dream when he was younger about a crocodile in his parent’s bed eating them under the blanket and he never got over it. Best part was that it wasn’t gory or detailed or anything, it more cartoony of a dream, but nevertheless he has had a vendetta against crocodiles from that day on.

Edit: Bonus+

Morro: flowers. As a child Wu read him a story about an evil flower that first started the fear, yet when he left the monastery he was no longer afraid. It was during his travels to find out how to become the green ninja that the fear sprouted again. Due to multiple events. He once ate a poisonous flower. He once came across a corrupted flower that was bigger than a mountain and liked to eat stuff. He once came across a cemetery covered in deadly flowers. He once got force fed incredibly sweet flowers. And he once had someone give him a bouquet of flowers, except that person had no idea that this flower can give some people severe allergic reactions. Yeah. He is terrified when he’s near flowers. He likes those really small ones that grow on the ground though if that helps.

Garmadon: the light. He hisses like a vampire when too much light hits either his skin or eyes.

Wu: pitch black darkness. Best believe you’ll find him half transformed into a dragon and in a corner with a spear when the light comes back on.

Skylor: beards. They look like rats nests to her. Specifically ones on people with bad hygiene, she will automatically back away and get close to throwing up in fear if that thing comes near. After seeing Wu’s beard care routine (cause you have to have one with a beard that long) Skylor has accepted Wu to be one of the people that her fear doesn’t apply to.

Pixal: weird scratchy floors, they feel disturbing to her at first, but during her first few weeks alive she watched a movie about creatures coming out of those exact same scratchy floors and she has never been the same. She sits on Zane’s or Cole’s shoulders when they’re near some of those type of carpets.

This was supposed to be fears that didn’t make sense and then I made them all make sense.

Best part, Jay’s fear was me projecting. Number 1 crocodile hater right here.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

💖 APHRODITE: Goddess of Love and Beauty 🕊

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you arrive at camp, you’re already got eyes following you. There’s something about you that draws people’s eyes to you. It could be your face, your hair, your eyes, your hands when they move, how you walk, how you move. So when you get claimed by Aphrodite, your fanfare is totally expected by others and unexpected when you get a magical makeover by your godly mother’s blessing. You’re dressed to the nines, your look done up perfectly like you're a movie star walking on the red carpet. People stare at you with awe and you can feel it.

The moment you are shown the Cabin, all you can think of is “Oh god it’s a god dang barbie mansion”; this may either fulfill your deepest childhood dream or your worst nightmare.

There’s gossip everywhere in the cabin. You’re hearing about people’s love lives, social interactions, and everything about the people in camp. Even if you’re not as romantically inclined yourself, you’re practically spoiled for choice for hearing about drama. There may be no TV or shows for you to watch, but this is the next best thing. It’s like the Kardashians, House Wives, and Golden Girls all the same.  

Shipping. So much shipping. Shipping between campers in your cabin and outside the cabin. Shipping between movie stars to literal characters. Heck, even self-shipping is encouraged! It’s a shipper's galore. 

The Aphrodite cabin likes to have fashion runs. A lot of the Aphrodite demigods become models and do a catwalk. But if you’re not that interested in being a model, there are still ways to participate. 

If you like to design and make your own clothes, the Aphrodite cabin has your back. You have access to all types of fabrics, patterns, and materials you could need. You have no shortage of models for you to work with. If you’re interested in doing make-up, cosmetic or movie makeup,  you have plenty of people to practise on. Even if children of Aphrodite have the ability to have permanent makeup and whatnot, it doesn’t mean you still can’t use your skills to be on fleek. 

You know the meme where you see a woman putting eyeliner with the sword to make sure it's sharp? You see that way too often.

You're swiftly proven that functionality being sacrificed for fashion is a myth. It can be done and it has been done, but it's just some outweigh functionality with AESTHETICS

Stans. Stans everywhere. People don’t usually see the Aphrodite kids fight and break character unless it comes to their stan. If you haven’t seen them fight before, you do now. You’re still reeling from the BTS stans.

K-dramas. K-pop. Enough said. 

You look at yourself as best as you could, it was both familiar yet foreign.  It was like looking at the mirror, seeing yourself and all the positives of your body. Even if you had a negative view of yourself, it was gone and changed.  

A girl stepped up, her black hair swaying, and you looked at her in awe as she smiled at you. “Hi! My name is Silena Beauregard, welcome to Cabin 10!” 

“Oh hi” you said lamely, but before you could say anything further, you saw a large amount of pink in your vision. “Oh my god” you couldn’t help uttering as soon as your eyes laid on the Aphrodite cabin. It was pink in glory, and all you can think was that it was a true to god barbie house. 

“Ah yeah,” said Selina, “Welcome to the Barbie house.”

“Wait it’s really called that?” 

“Well, we really shouldn’t be calling it a Barbie house, but ... .I do admit it is pretty much a barbie house” Selina whispered in the last part. 

You couldn’t help snicker and Selina gave you a knowing smile and wink, before she led you to the door.

“You ready?” she asked. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be” you replied after taking a deep breath. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for every step of the way” she reassured and you smiled back. As soon the door opened, there was a waft of perfume. It wasn’t particularly strong or particularly bad, in fact it made you happy, but you could smell it anyways. There was a twinge of emotion that stirred up in you; it reminded you of smelling a perfume that reminded you of home and love…for some reason, you had a flash of a woman holding you to her chest and you burying your nose into her, your eyes closing with warmth.

“Hey everyone, let me introduce you to our new half-sibling!” introduced Selina, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. You raised your hand and waved, introducing yourself. That was all it took before the flood work came. Immediately, all the inhabitants in the cabin begun to interview you from where you were from, your favourite colour, your favourite colour, band, and etc-

Your head was absolutely swimming but as you all talked to each other, sharing your likes and dislikes, you had a feeling you were going to be alright.

[lcriedlastnight]

Reader is having trouble sleeping due to anxiety (because of a very important event) so Oscar whispers sweet things into her ear while rubbing soothing circles on her back until she eventually fall asleep, her body warm against Oscar’s, comforting them both.

omg what a sweet idea i love this, thanks anon!

tw: fem!reader, weird sleeping schedules (she just like me fr!), swaers maybe, lmk if you want me to add anything

w/c: 1k

you had always had a weird sleeping pattern. oscar had noticed it the first time you had slept over at his. he thought your sleeping habits were a bit odd too but he never dared to mention it.

you had been working on a major presentation from monday, perfecting it and getting ready it be presented in a meeting full of your coworkers, which would ultimately decide if you would get the promotion you had been working so incredibly hard for since your first year at the job.

in bed on monday night, you had told oscar all about the presentation and how your future was resting in your own palms. oscar calmed you enough for you to be able to fall into a peaceful sleep, he always prided himself in being able to ease your worries with the touch of his fingers, quite literally.

the rest of the week you had decided to head back to your own place just so you could maximise any working time you could get. (staying up into the wee hours without getting reprimanded by oscar, who was only worried for your health, and rightly so. it was safe to say that this was not the first time something like this has happened at your job or even in your life.)

oscar did not see you until thursday night, when he decided to check in on you. he came baring gifts, some of your favourite snacks and a couple of face masks, just to help you relax for the important day tomorrow. the boy had also brought his own pyjamas, knowing that even if you were as calm as you had told your boyfriend over text, it would not hurt to have him there to help you sleep the best. you always did sleep better when he was with you, another thing that made him proud to be yours.

"it's just me, sweet girl. came to have a pamper night of sorts." oscar calls out to you from the hall, kicking off his shoes and placing him on the empty shoe rack at your door. all your own shoes were at oscar's place. you were barely at your own place anymore, oscar was constantly begging you to move in with him.

there was no response but he could hear your voice. it was quiet but he could hear it. he followed it your bedroom, the door was closed so he knocked and opened it, bags still in his arms. you stop reciting your project as he walks in and face him. oscar's face falls as soon as his eyes catch the dark bags on your face and the tiredness in your eyes. oscar sighs as he drops the bags at the door and walks towards you, on the edge of the bed.

"have you been sleeping at all?" he asks. it's not a reprimand, what you thought it was going to be. no, in fact it is full concern and hints of love sprinkled in. oscar cups your jaw and lets his thumb swipe half circles into your under eye, almost like you had been hurt. he was always so careful with you.

"can't sleep without you." you mumble out, sad. oscar chuckles a little even though he was the exact same.

"why'd you leave then, sweet girl? hm?" oscar asks, a little teasing smile on his face. he knew you were not telling him the full truth. you sigh as he sees right through you, once again.

"wanted to work on my presentation." you finally tell him truthfully. the boy only hums in response. he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead.

"okay, get ready for bed. no fighting me. you know that you'll need a good night's rest for tomorrow. doesn't help that you have barely slept this week." oscar mutters the last part to himself, silently cursing himself for letting you go off and sleep at your own flat in the first place. you listen to him and do not even try to put up a fight. you are already in your own pyjamas so you just do your night time skincare and slide yourself into your bed.

once oscar has gotten ready and into his own pyjamas he slips in next to you. his arms immediately pulling you into his side, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be. you huff out anyway. oscar's eyebrow raises as he peers down at your tired features.

"what?" he questions, big hand coming to rest on her back, underneath your sleep shirt.

"just wish this was your bed. hate my bed now. i sleep better in yours." you reply with a slight groan.

oscar chuckles at your words and you can hear it vibrate through his big chest that your ear is resting on. it makes for a much better pillow than your shitty, old pillows that have not had a head rest on them for at least four months.

"oh my poor girl, what am i gonna do with you?" oscar asks, not expecting any sort of reply. his hand moves against the skin of your back, he adores touching you in any way, shape or form he can. he loved how soft you were. the warmth beaming off of you, equally comforting him as much as he knew he was comforting you.

his touch is enough send you into a comforting sleep that you had been longing for the past three nights. oscar is mutter sweet words into your ear about how proud he is of you and how well he knows you are going to do tomorrow, how you are a shoe in for that promotion.

"night, sweet girl. i love you." oscar mumbles to you as he feels himself falling over. he knows you have been asleep for at least ten minutes at this point but he does not think he, himself, could get a decent nights sleep without telling you those three words.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Return to sender - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[graphic descriptions of violence/injury]

SUMMARY: Someone from your past keeps sending you unambiguously romantic letters. While you think of them as nothing beyond an inconvenience, Kaz has a different opinion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.9k

A/N: I'm going through the first editorial correction for my novel and as it turns out, I can't speak my own mother tongue lmao

Kaz has an eye for details. Whether it’s a pattern or an overlooked design, he always notices. That set of skills, either he learned them or was born with them, made it painfully obvious to him that your foul mood coincided with correspondence he never saw you actually read. The letter usually ends up in the nearest fireplace, its secrets never uncovered and you maunder around the club looking for a fight or a strong drink. A much bigger problem, however, was the fact that if you were in a sour mood, Kaz would become exceptionally chippy without an apparent cause. ‘Care for my investment’ he calls it, which makes a rather amusing euphemism.

In any event, he knows that the letter should arrive today. Exactly seven weeks had passed since the last time some mysterious correspondence pissed you off and the sender, as far as Kaz has noticed, is like clockwork. Strangely enough, he can’t recall a day when the letter should arrive that you’d come to the club already annoyed as though he has become privy to a rather obvious pattern that you remain oblivious to. If so, he has even more advantage - he can solve this inconvenience behind your back, in case you’d try to dismiss him. He wouldn’t listen anyway, of course. Not when it comes to you.

Knowing very well that you have a habit of arriving shortly after Inej, he’s quick to find the thief before you even get a chance of catching wind of his scheme. She’s fixing her clothes when she spots him hastily limping towards her with his face turned nearly into a snarl. A hand brushes through his hair. He’s agitated. But Inej knows better than to make the first move against the unmovable mountain. Kaz sought her out, after all, and if he means business, he won’t waste time.

And he does just as she thought. Speaking in a low tone, Kaz makes her part of his conspiracy: “Inej, I need you to do something but no one else can know. Someone will deliver a letter today. Follow them and find out as much as you can,” his voice is stern, not accepting refusal. The matter appears urgent, of utter importance.

Her keen gaze studies his face for a moment, looking for any way even the slightest tick of muscles could reveal a further piece of the mystery she isn’t yet privy to. “Is this about the new job we’re doing?” She elegantly manoeuvres around the subject.

Kaz knows what she’s trying to do. He clenches his jaw and gives her a blank, although somewhat impatient, look before slowly answering: “It’s rather loosely related.”

This is enough to put her curiosity on hold - for now, at least. The unmovable mountain remains, well, unmovable. Inej nods. “I’m on it.”

The moment she ends her sentence, the door to the club opens with a creek echoing through the otherwise empty venue, immediately earning the undivided attention of Kaz and Inej. The sound of heels against the wooden floor is unmistakable as is the fitting, rather short, coat. Inej smiles, stifling laughter as she notices Kaz immediately straightening his back when he sees you.

There’s a certain spring to your step, one that Kaz has learned to associate with complacency. Although this joyous aura is making his mind turn into quicksand swallowing anything coherent, he’s got enough grip on his thoughts to render his theory proved - you really do not have any idea that the letters come regularly. 

With a triumphant grin, you wave a scroll in his face. “I had a hunch and did some browsing at the city archives. You’re going to love it.”

Inej is gone and the only thing Kaz can do at the moment is wait along with trying his best not to think about this mail fiasco. But considering you’ll spend the entire day a mere inch or two away from him, he’s hardly going to do much thinking anyway. 

“Let’s see it then,” Kaz interposes before turning around and walking back to his office. 

Making his way to Brekker’s office, Jesper examined the expensive stationery from every side and angle. No matter the perspective, the cursive letters on the front still spell out your name. Truthfully, he does that every time you receive mail, mainly because of how little you talk about the possible sender. There’s always a huff, an eye-roll and the envelope ends up turned into ashes, without any further explanation. You become short-tempered for the rest of the day and go ballistic on anyone trying to inquire about the mysterious correspondence. As much entertainment as it usually brings Jesper, he’s smart enough to know when to stop poking the bear.

Jesper knocks on the door but opens them right after - announcing his arrival rather than asking for permission to enter. 

“...smuggling through the sewers.” He hears you finishing your sentence.

Both you and Kaz simultaneously tear away your gaze from the maps scattered on the table and bore your eyes into Jesper with anticipation. He lifts the letter, wriggling his wrist slightly, and immediately your expression falls. You clench your fist. A contemptuous grimace creeps onto your face.

“Letter for you,” he announces.

“By the Saints, not this again,” you whisper and roll your eyes.

“What do you mean again?” Jesper asks casually, half expecting you to break his hand and half hoping for an answer. Today, as it turns out, is his lucky day.

“A friend once convinced me to go to some socialite high tea with her. I met someone there, we wrote to each other a few times and then he started to be obnoxious, the whole ‘woe is me’ lark.” The memory must still be vivid to you as you let out an annoyed sigh. “He claimed he can’t live without me while never spelling my name correctly. But since I value myself a little too much to waste my time on pity parties, I simply stopped replying. The last letter I sent him, I don’t know, three years ago? And he just keeps coming back.” You clench your jaw, clearly stopping yourself from a string of profanities considered obscene even in this company.

Jesper puts on a playful grin. “You know, you never struck me as someone who’d have a secret admirer.”

Your irritated gaze makes him equally amused and nervous. “He’s not exactly secret, is he? More of a returning cockroach infestation. Worry not, boys, I’ll just burn this one like the rest and we can all forget about this little perplexity.”

“Come on, you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s inside?” Jesper coaxes as he hands you the letter.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a rat’s bald ass about this man and his pathetic wax poetic.” You snatch the envelope, all the while looking at your friend with squinted, piercing eyes. Considering who you are, a complete lack of curiosity whatsoever might as well be a symptom of a lethal disease.

In that short moment, when the stationery goes from Jesper’s hand into yours, Kaz watches the letter as closely as he can. Smooth paper, probably expensive. Careful lettering, written with patience and thoughtfulness. An aroma of mint and tobacco lingers on the parchment. The stamp has the current date on it and the postal code is only a few numbers away from the club’s - whoever sent it is in Ketterdam and quite close by.

Kaz makes those little observations just in time because you throw the letter into the fireplace behind him, without even glancing at the paper. The flames grow for a few seconds, devouring the dry stationery. Soon, there’s no evidence that any mail has been delivered to you on this day.

“Now, where were we?” You clap your hands. “Ah, sewers.” Jesper takes the change of subject as his cue to leave but you stop him right when he pushes down the door handle. “Oh, and Jesper? If you tell Inej, I’m ripping your arm off and beating you to death with it.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a newfound sense of anxiety turning his vivid amusement into somewhat tame courtesy, leaving his smile unfaltering but tearing away the genuine joy behind it. “I will keep this enlightening piece of advice in mind, thank you.”

The door clicks as Jesper closes it behind himself. Returning to your previous engagement, you stumble upon Brekker’s stern gaze of disapproval. 

“Do not maim my investments.” Although it’s supposed to be a scolding or a threat, it comes out with a certain note of disinterest.

“Don’t try playing all nice, Kaz. You and I both know you’d watch for like ten minutes before stepping in.”

His gloved finger taps the map. “Sewers.” 

You mumble something along the lines of ‘yes, sir’ and pick up the single-handed divider again. Kaz examines your face out of the corner of his eye. Judging by your casual demeanour, the palm’s length between your heads is of no bother to you. Maybe you’re just too busy counting the segments with the divider. When you’re done, you reach for the other side of the desk, for a moment leaving broody Kaz to the, surprisingly cold, lukewarm air filling the room.

This day just can’t seem to end for Burr Lowther. First, he had to take his regular trip into the filth of the Barrel, he shudders at the memory, only to then spend another ten hours at the sewing workshop. Being a foreman pays exceptionally well and perhaps this is the only reason he’s still putting up with those lazy needlewomen. 

Putting his well-kept coat on the hanger by the front door, Burr lets out a sigh of relief - compared to the factory, his house is a quiet oasis. He remembers to take out a pouch and a box of expensive cigars from his coat. Without much thinking, he opens the small bag and puts another leaf of mint between his teeth. What started first as an addition to his personal hygiene, has quickly become a habit impossible to kill. Now used to the strong, chilly sensation on his tongue, he’s grown to like it. 

The house is drowning in darkness. Dim, yellow light from the streetlamps crawling in through the windows is barely enough to let him make his way around the furniture. Foreman Lowther is yet to start the fire in his living room but he needs to be quick - if he stalls too long his joints will begin to hurt. Even with laudanum, the ache is bound to keep him up for hours and that’s something he can’t afford. But first, he needs some light to be able to get the necessary things.

Chewing on the herb, Burr walks to the table across the room from the fireplace. He puts the new box of cigars down and begins looking for something to light the oil lamp. Once he blindly finds a box of matches, his muscle memory does most of the job - he’s lit up the lamp far too many times to think about the actions. In swift, mechanical motions, Burr takes off the chimney, lights the wick and puts the glass part back on. The fire brightens the rest of the table, reminding the foreman that he forgot to put away the made-to-order McKinnon & Co. stationery. He pushes the paper farther away from the lamp, just in case.

Burr’s knees make a cracking noise when he crouches in front of the fireplace. Carefully, he lights a match and puts it between logs and old newspapers. The fire smoulders for a moment, balancing between starting and being put out, before a bigger flame begins gnawing at the dry wood and paper. 

Foreman Lowther is about to stand up when something hits the side of his head, making his face clash with the seat of a nearby armchair. Scurrying and turning around, he sees an outline of a man, looking more like a feverish mare of the night than a real human. He’s thin and tall, dressed rather elegantly. The model crow on his cane glistens in the newly started fire.

“Who are you?” Burr’s voice cracks, giving away his panic.

“A scorned businessman, Burr Lowther,” Kaz explains slowly.

The foreman climbs backwards into the armchair. It’s difficult to look imposing while sitting beside a fireplace but his fear is far too severe to let the man stand on his own two feet.

“I’ve no business with you!” he yells. A few droplets of spit fly out of his mouth. “Get out!” Burr’s shaky hand points vaguely in the direction of the front door but Kaz, as it seems, is not going anywhere just yet.

In slow steps, Kaz gets closer to Burr, the difference in height painting him even more menacing. Lowther’s hand falls limp on a small table meant for trays with food.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I have plenty with you.”

Before foreman Lowther can ask another question, Brekker drives a sharp blade through the man’s palm, pinning it to the wooden counter. A howl of pain cuts through the night, scaring away the birds sitting outside the windows. Thick, crimson blood spills from the wound, falling to the floor in long drops. The fireplace’s flame glistens in the growing puddle, the reflection dances in morbid anticipation.

Kaz walks over to the table with the oil lamp. The first thing that catches his eye is the ivory paper. Somehow, he stifles the visceral reaction it elicits from him. Grabbing the wad of stationery, he folds it a few times and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. Then his gaze trails towards the wooden box of cigars. The name of the company, Starling, is burned in cursive lettering on the front. In a swift movement, Kaz slides the package open, knowing exactly what he’s going to find inside - a cigar cutter. For people who can afford Starling tobacco products, it definitely doesn’t befit to chew off the end.

Firelight cascades off the metal cutter when Kaz turns back towards Burr. The man’s eyes widen in panic, recognizing the sharp device put against him.

“No, sir,” Burr begs with a frantic shake of his head. “Oh, Saints, please, no! Don’t! I’m begging you, sir! Please, please! No, please!”

Brekker’s face doesn’t change its indifferent expression. The pleading is not putting him off, never faltering his already-made decision. Perhaps, if it isn’t too morbid to consider, he’s enjoying having someone at his mercy. The cigar cutter clicks quietly as Kaz closes it a few times to check the state of the mechanism.

Kaz makes his way back to the foreman. Casually, he puts his cane against the table but away from the nailed palm, careful not to get it dirty. Then, he snatches Burr’s other hand, the swiftness diminishing all doubts that he’s inexperienced in bringing suffering.

“You have laid your hands on something that isn’t yours, Lowther,” Brekker explains as he forces one of the man’s fingers through the cutter’s opening. “Now you must pay for it.”

A muscle in his face ticks as he presses the cigar cutter. Burr howls in agony, tears streaming down his face. The finger falls to the floor with a wet slap as blood begins to pour. The white tip of the bone sticks out from the pulsating flesh, glistening in the warm, dim light of the burning fireplace.

In a feverish delirium, Lowther mumbles something under his nose, the string of incomprehensible words sometimes interrupted by sobs. Kaz can understand only two things from the ramblings of a madman: ‘wench’ and ‘reply’. Scarce information but he hardly needs more.

“Wench?” he repeats in a low voice.

With a snap of his wrist, Kaz twists the knife still residing in the man’s hand. A bone cracks. But there’s no scream this time - not an ounce of strength left in the victim. Lonely tears stream down his grey face, mixing with cold sweat as he blankly stares ahead. A gloved hand yanks his head back by the hair, forcing delirious Burr to look into Brekker’s eyes. They look darker than they should, clouded with something far too horrible to be considered human.

“Not only did you lay your filthy hands on something of mine,” Kaz’s voice is low enough to resemble a growl as though something carnal inside him has finally woken from its slumber, “but you also dare insult her.”

Burr makes a strange guttural noise, something between a gag reflex and a murmur, as another one of his fingers is cut off. Considering his vacant expression, it’s hard to say whether his consciousness even registered the loss.

Kaz tosses away the cigar cutter. It clutters and clicks falling in the largely unknown corner of the room. Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out the folded stationery. Pressing tightly on Burr’s cheeks, he forces the man’s mouth open.

“I don’t think you will be needing this anymore.”

Even if foreman Lowther was in his right mind at the moment, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prevent Kaz from shoving the dry paper down his throat. A match, a spark, a smoulder - the ivory stationery is burning inside Burr’s mouth.

Leaving Burr Lowther to his own devices, Kaz Brekker leaves the house, joining the otherwise grey and indifferent citizens of Ketterdam. The sunrise is just a few hours away. He’s making his way back to the club, uninterrupted and unbothered, to enjoy another day of your hardly divided attention.

[lumi-nescentt]

Max Verstappen seems like the type who would absolutely be jealous of his cats getting more attention than him, add in that his partner is allergic to cats, and she's still choosing to spend the few hours they have together when Max is home, cuddling with the cats instead of cuddling with Max.

There's just something sweet in my mind about a whining Max who's loosing to his cats, despite his girlfriend being all teared up and snotty because of her allergies, the cats are cute, and she has to cuddle them.

This is a mess of an ask, I apologise

Head On The Pillow, I Could Feel You Sneakin' In

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Max doesn't consider himself jealous. But he might start acting a little grumpy if he sees you choose his cats over him one more time.

A/N: Omg please don't apologise this was the cutest idea ever and after writing angsty stuff all week I was thrilled to have something sweet to think about :) I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe

Giving you a key to his apartment had seemed like the best idea for the two of you after dating for a few months. Max could tell you exactly when he was supposed to be back and he knew you’d be there waiting for him if you could. It was also good for when you missed him too much and wanted to either steal some of his clothes while he was gone or just stay at his place surrounded by so many things that screamed Max.

Normally, Max would have been over the moon to be with someone who was comfortable enough in his own home to spend time there with or without him but lately, Max seemed to notice a certain pattern. 

No matter when he called or texted, if you weren’t supposed to be working, you were always at his place. This first part wouldn’t have bothered him at all if it wasn’t for your cat allergies. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been but your eyes still got all red and puffy whenever you were around Jimmy and Sassy and you sneezed a lot. 

Max had tried to convince you countless times to stay away from them but you couldn’t resist them. They just had to be in the same room as you and you were already calling them over so Sassy could rest on your lap while Jimmy nuzzled against your side. If the cats realised you were allergic to them and tried to keep yourself from sneezing on them, they didn’t show it and gave you back as much love as they could. 

Part of Max was almost in awe to see you being this affectionate with his cats when they barely acknowledged him most of the time but he couldn’t help from wanting to be the one to receive all the attention. It had been fine during the summer break because you were spending all your time with him anyway but now that he was always gone, he really wanted to make the limited time he had with you count. 

As soon as the Qatar Grand Prix was over, all he wanted was to lay down with you in bed and not move for a few hours. He was exhausted, sweating all over and honestly driving in those conditions had been a nightmare. He really needed to complain about it, just to let it out, but with the media all around he wasn’t sure if his PR team would appreciate it so he kept his mouth shut, waiting to be all cuddled up in your arms to vent as you ran your hands through his hair like you usually did. 

When he landed in Nice a few hours later, Max had never been happier to have his own jet. All he could think about now was going back home to you, and his cats, but mostly you. He knew you’d be here because you told him so but he didn’t expect you to be in bed already, or to still be cuddling the cats instead of him when he lied down next to you.

-“ Schatje ?” he asked, only getting a sleepy groan as an answer “ Can you make them move please ? Jimmy’s claws are scratching my back and Sassy’s using half of my pillow…”

-“ They’re asleep Max, I don’t want to wake them but I can scoot away a bit and bring Jimmy with me a little if you want.” you answered with your eyes closed, your face resting against Sassy’s head while her back was on Max’ pillow

-“ I don’t want you to move away. I want him to move away and you to move closer.” he grumbled 

-“ I can’t do that without waking them up. I'm sorry baby, I promise we can cuddle all you want tomorrow. Is that okay with you ?” 

-“ Yeah I guess, good night schatje.” Max gave in, stretching over the cats to place a quick kiss on your cheek before settling down as best as he could against Sassy

When Max woke up the next day to a pillow all for himself, he wanted to make the most of this chance so he turned around, ready to drag your body closer to his but just like both cats had left him, you were no longer lying next to him. Groaning ever so slightly, Max got out of bed and started looking for where you had decided to go at 8am when he knew you had the day off. 

He quickly found you on the sofa with the cats laying all over you while you were clinging onto the box of tissues for dear life, trying not to sneeze and wake them up. 

-“ I didn’t think you’d wake up this soon Max, did I wake you ?” 

-“ No, I just missed you so I decided to get up.”

-“ I missed you too, baby.” you smiled at him warmly

-“ Did you really ?” 

-“ Yeah of course I did, we haven’t seen each other in 2 weeks. That’s a long time.” 

-“ It doesn’t quite seem like it…” Max complained with a pout

-“ What do you mean ?” you asked, confused as to why your boyfriend would be upset

-“ Since I came back all you did was cuddle with the cats and when I woke up and wanted to do the same like you promised, you were already gone...” 

-“ I’m sorry, they were hungry and I didn’t want their meowing to wake you up so we went to the kitchen and then I sat down for a second and Jimmy fell asleep on me so I couldn’t go back to you.”

-“ Just put him down on the sofa, he won’t even realise that you’re gone.” 

-“ Yes he will ! And then he’s going to think I don’t love him anymore and I don’t want him to think that.” 

-“ He’s a cat y/n.” 

-“ So ?”

-“ He’s not going to care that much as long as you keep feeding and petting him the rest of the time. However, your boyfriend who just came back from a very tiring race and wanted to be close to you might think you don’t want him anymore if you keep choosing his cats over him.” Max mumbled, crossing his arms as he eyed the two cats stealing your attention

-“ You don’t have to be jealous, okay ? There’s still room for you next to me, you know ?” you chuckled, patting the spot next to you

Max was going to sit down next to you when Sassy appeared from nowhere and jumped on the couch next to you, laying down where Max was planning on sitting. That was the final straw for your boyfriend and before you could realise what was happening, Max was taking Jimmy in his arms and putting him on the sofa before picking you up as you helplessly laughed and asked him to put you down. 

Max made his way to your bedroom, closing the door behind him before the cats could follow. Once he was sure it was only the two of you, he put you down with a satisfied huff.

-“ Are you satisfied now ?” you asked him with a grin

-“ Almost.” he said before handing you a tissue and heading towards the joint bathroom “ Here, take your allergy treatment then go shower because your eyes are all red and your arm is too. Once you’re done, I’ll be waiting on that promise you made and without the cats anywhere near you.” 

-“ But–”

-“ No ‘but’ schatje, I know you love them but I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re allergic to them to get your full attention and to get you to put some distance between you.”

-“ They’re so cute, how am I supposed to not cuddle them when I need cuddles ?” 

-“ You have a boyfriend who’s perfectly able to do that too but since you seem to have forgotten, I’ve decided not to do anything all morning except reminding you that I’m way better than my own cats at this.” Max huffed, looking determined

When you came back from your shower, Max was waiting on a freshly made bed with two cups of coffee and a few pastries he had gone to pick up at the bakery downstairs. You sat on the bed for a while, eating your breakfast in front of a TV show you had just started together but as soon as you were done eating, Max was pulling you under the blanket and resting his head on your chest, tightening his arms around your waist.

-“ Isn’t this better than two fur balls that make your eyes itchy and your nose runny ?” Max asked, with his face buried against you

-“ It’s very nice, I have to admit.”

-“ I know but is it better than them ?” he insisted

-“ You’re really jealous, huh ?”

-“ Answer the question y/n.”

-“ Yes, this is way better Max.” 

-“ Good, I would have hated to have to sell my babies because they were stealing you away from me.” 

-“ You wouldn’t.” you exclaimed with a laugh

-“ I might if they keep you from me. I love them but I know I love you more, that’s for sure.” 

-“ You’re an idiot, I swear.” 

-“ I know, but I’m your idiot.” 

-“ That you are, now shush I want to watch this.” 

-“ Only if you promise me that I will come before the cats, always.” 

-“ Max.”

-“y/n.” he deadpanned, still waiting for you to comply

-“ I promise you come before the cats. You’re my favourite person, of course you come first.” 

-“ I love you.” Max smiled, placing a kiss on your stomach where he was now laying before adding “ Now shush, I actually want to watch this too.” 

-“ You’re insufferable.” you laughed, ruffling his hair slightly “I love you too dummy.”

[ms-demeanor]

Going off that post about nutrition and science, I'd love to hear what you think of the 5:2 diet/The Fast 800 and its creator, Dr. Michael Mosley. For context: in order to get an NHS-funded breast reduction (it's a gender thing, but also just a general quality-of-life thing), I need to be a certain BMI, so I've been referred to a weight management clinic. The lady I've been seeing initially just put me on a low-carb diet (130g or less of carbs per day, with an aside from her about how bullshit Keto and BMI limits for treatment are), but now she's said that, if I wanted to speed up the weight loss, I should include the 5:2 diet: 5 days in a week where I eat "normally", and 2 fast days in which I restrict myself to 800kcals. I did a little looking into it myself, and found that 5:2 - which I HAD heard about before - is now being sold as part of "The Fast 800", with Dr. Mosley being the creator of it. I was shocked by that, because I was already a fan of Dr. Mosley's work (he has a podcast called "Just One Thing" that I really liked, and thought contained reasonable-sounding advice), and yet having a diet plan that he's clearly making money off of does immediately make me feel suspicious. I've borrowed his "The Fast 800" book from the library, both to find out more about the diet I've been put on and to see if it's at all backed by evidence, and he does cite a bunch of scientific studies which seem to back up his ideas, but I don't know how valid they are, and I don't just want to accept them at face-value (especially since he's a "we got fat completely wrong in the 80s, therefore we should eat a Mediterranean diet!" types). Obviously I'll go with what my weight management lady suggests, since she's obviously more qualified to talk about it than I am, but I am curious to know what you think, and whether I'm right to be distrustful of all of this.

I am, generally speaking, against any diet for rapid weight loss. They're not sustainable so people gain the weight back (often with more weight getting added on).

There have also recently been findings that suggest that BMI cutoffs for top surgery are detrimental to patients as patients in higher BMI categories are more likely to have minor complications like UTIs or to be readmitted, but are not likely to have major complications or be at risk of significant harm from having top surgery. I don't know if anybody will listen if you bring up that study, and I know that GCS is fraught in many places for many reasons.

I'm also just.

I'm so mad. I'm so fucking mad! I'm so mad about this!

One of my best friends is a guy who was pressured into a pattern of disordered eating and unhealthy exercise in order to qualify for top surgery; since then he has not been able to eat in a healthy way and has struggled with alternating between exercising to the point of harm and other destructive behaviors that make him unhappy and unsafe. And he didn't need that. He didn't need any of that! He needed a very safe surgery that had perhaps a slightly higher risk of minor complications at his size and instead he got top surgery and an eating disorder! I hate it! I'm so fucking mad about it!

Also as near as I can tell Michael Mosley qualified as a psychiatrist in the 90s, spent very little time working as a psychiatrist, and then became a media personality. From what is visible on his website and every biography I've found for him he apparently doesn't have any background in nutrition beyond whatever is standard for someone in medical school (which is NOT MUCH).

Hey I just looked at his website and this is straight-up fucked up.

Anybody recommending an 800 calorie a day diet for 2-12 weeks in a context that is not heavily medically supervised can fucking choke. That is *ridiculously* dangerous and the website says that this can improve insulin resistance but there are a shitload of studies about people on crash diets like this *developing* insulin resistance (oh hey like my friend who became prediabetic after his rapid significant weight loss).

Also in regard to the studies he cites on the website, the "two years later patients are still going strong in their diabetes improvements" it's really important to put shit like that in context

at 5 years 13% of the original intervention group were in remission from their type two diabetes; the average weight loss experienced by the intervention group as a whole was 6.1kg compared to 4.6kg in the control group. That's 1.5kg lower for the people who went through a twelve week medically supervised very low calorie diet compared. That's an average difference of 3.3 pounds between "starvation diet" and "no diet" for the Americans in the audience.

Yours is the second comment I've seen that has been leery of the Mediterranean diet, btw, and the Mediterranean diet is fine. It's very achievable and not super gimmicky and is based on very reasonable reassessments of fat, not the hardcore "you are fine to eat 100g of fat a day" kind of attitude that you get from the keto crew. There isn't really one Mediterranean diet and it certainly isn't low carb (which the bits from Mosely's website seem to indicate it is).

So, no, honestly I don't think much of Mosely and I'm very sorry you're in this situation, that sucks and I hate that they're refusing you treatment until you undergo an exceptionally difficult and potentially harmful weight loss excursion.

I know you're probably stuck with that and it's bullshit and I think it fucking sucks and unfortunately the medical advice you're likely to get is "eat in a significantly disordered manner at least until it is time for surgery" and it blows. That just fucking sucks.

If you're looking for rapid weight loss that you don't plan to sustain (and you shouldn't plan to sustain it, it won't stay off) you may want to look into body building forums for how they discuss cuts. It's still disordered eating and it's still not healthy, but at least they're effective and can tell you what supplements will keep you from becoming malnourished while you prepare for surgery. This is a terrible idea. I don't actually want to give this advice to anyone but bodybuilders are the exact kind of people who know how far and how fast they can push weight loss while having an awareness that it isn't really good for them and it won't stay off.

I cannot overstate enough how much I hate the thought that people are being encouraged to rapidly starve themselves in order to prepare to recover from surgery. I am so sorry and I'm so mad and

[morlock-holmes]

I recently found this article about Robin DiAngelo and it's really stuck in my head now. This woman is so instructive about the underlying psychological processes animating us in the early 20s, and it's totally unintentional, which makes her fascinating to me.

Partway through her presentation, DiAngelo asked us, “What are some of the ways your race has shaped your life?” She told us to give our answers to each other and added that if we were white and happened to be sitting beside someone of color, we were forbidden to ask the person of color to speak first. It might be good policy, mostly, for white people to do more listening than talking, but, she said with knowing humor, it could also be a subtle way to avoid blunders, maintain a mask of sensitivity and stay comfortable. She wanted the white audience members to feel as uncomfortable as possible.

In our group of three, Southern, who is white, went first. Like Woods, she was already steeped in DiAngelo’s ideas; Southern had led two church book groups in discussing “White Fragility.” She was fully persuaded that, as she said to me afterward, “we’re all racist in that we’re swimming in a culture that is racist,” and that “we don’t think, as white people, of white as a race that comes with all kinds of conditioning.” Yet, in the moment, in response to DiAngelo’s question, she struggled. She couldn’t articulate much of anything about how she’d been shaped by being white.

I went next. I, too, was ready for everything I heard from DiAngelo. In fact, I knew this very question was coming. Just the day before, I’d been to a session she ran for a fractious city department that agreed to let me watch as long as I didn’t describe the event; the department’s equity team had brought her in to spur white self-awareness. But I had failed to speak about my whiteness as formative. That is, I noted that my color gave me infinite advantages, but the words, while sincere, were passionless. I emphasized instead that three of my five nonfiction books were about race, that I thought about race constantly, that back in junior high my best friend was one of the few Black students in my school, part of an experimental busing program in the early ’70s, and that the way our friendship ended still haunted me, that I’d betrayed him badly.

At some point after our answers, DiAngelo poked fun at the myriad ways that white people “credential” themselves as not-racist. I winced. I hadn’t meant to imply that I was anywhere close to free of racism, yet was I “credentialing”? And today, after a quick disclaimer acknowledging the problem with what I was about to do, I heard myself offering up, again, these same nonracist bona fides and neglecting to speak about the effects of having been soaked, all my life, by racist rain. I was, DiAngelo would have said, slipping into the pattern she first termed “white fragility” in an academic article in 2011: the propensity of white people to fend off suggestions of racism, whether by absurd denials (“I don’t see color”) or by overly emotional displays of defensiveness or solidarity (DiAngelo’s book has a chapter titled “White Women’s Tears” and subtitled “But you are my sister, and I share your pain!”) or by varieties of the personal history I’d provided.

This is like some fucking 70s EST or scientology brainwashing shit.

Like, look at the list of responses to this question:

If you deny that being white shaped your life, that's White Fragility;

If you are too eager to show solidarity, that's White Fragility;

If you share personal history, that's White Fragility

If you talk about times when you were made aware of racism, that's White Fragility;

It seems like pretty much every single thing a white person could possibly say in response to that question is "White Fragility".

DiAngelo is clear that we're all inherently racist, but I want you to attend to the emotions that the author, Daniel Bergner expresses. He and his white colleague are eager to participate, and they know, and have heard, that their participation will be racist, but their primary emotions are anxiety and shame.

They are convinced that they have somehow shamefully failed at a very important task, despite the fact that DiAngelo is very, very clear that there is no way to succeed.

More than that, they feel shame at their desire to succeed, and anxiety at the idea of not trying to succeed.

Honestly as you keep track of the article watch how good DiAngelo is at subordinating people:

The surge of attention, DiAngelo told me, made her at once leery and hopeful. She worried that the posts were “performative,” the book “just a badge.” Yet, she said, “there’s a sense of scales falling from people’s eyes,” mostly because of the killings of Floyd and, before that, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, but also, she believed, because of the work she and her antiracism colleagues have been doing. She felt a similar mix about the ASAP emails from corporations. “The very urgency itself says you don’t have a very deep understanding of how hard this work is, and how long it takes and how ongoing it needs to be,” she said. “Racism is not going to go away by August, so how about we do it in August?”

Being too excited to start being antiracist is evidence of how bad you are at being antiracist!

This woman is a terrifying menace.

What struck me reading both White Fragility and this article is the way that this way of talking and thinking distracts extremely heavily from concrete action. Everything pulls into an increasingly subjective, and religious realm, and the question of what we're actually trying to do recedes back into the fog:

Singleton spoke along similar lines. I asked whether guiding administrators and teachers to put less value, in the classroom, on capacities like written communication and linear thinking might result in leaving Black kids less ready for college and competition in the labor market. “If you hold that white people are always going to be in charge of everything,” he said, “then that makes sense.” He invoked, instead, a journey toward “a new world, a world, first and foremost, where we have elevated the consciousness, where we pay attention to the human being.” The new world, he continued, would be a place where we aren’t “armed to distrust, to be isolated, to hate,” a place where we “actually love.”

Bergner, and basically everybody he interviews, have gotten so excited to tell us whether this is a good idea or a bad one that they have forgotten to explain what "this" actually is.

I want you to do something brave. For a moment, forget that you and I think that it is utterly asinine to devalue "written communication" and let's agree with Singleton, putting emphasis on it is an example of white supremacist thinking.

Let's also pretend that we are teachers. What are we doing differently?

What specific classroom policy are we putting into place?

Are we eliminating all written classroom material?

Are we allowing social studies students to choose whether they prefer to give reports orally or as a finished written document?

Are we doing exactly what we were doing yesterday but trying to keep in mind that we shouldn't assume that a student is stupid just because they struggle with reading?

You'll notice that the range of options goes from "Insane radical thing that the school will never do" to "Something so obvious that basically any sane person will agree that it's a good idea"

You'll also notice that it's like pulling teeth to get anybody to actually put things into concrete terms like that (None of the people interviewed for that article is capable of doing so).

Hell, you know what I didn't notice until just now?

During a training in January 2019 run by [Darnisa] Amante-Jackson , which Chislett recorded, Amante-Jackson...went on to present “some characteristics of whiteness,” prominent among them “an obsession with the written word. If it’s not written down, it doesn’t exist.”

During a later session a white employee causes a giant stir by... wait for it...

Refusing to write on a poster during a brain-storming session.

This is the powerful hypnosis these people are working; you and I can listen to them talk about "obsession with the written word" and it doesn't occur to them or us to ask why so much of their anti-racist workshop revolves around the written word, revolves around demands to use the written word, and grinds to a halt when people refuse.

[uglypastels]

okok I've had this idea brewing in my filthy mind for a few days so imagine sanji discovering camgirl! Strawhat reader and becomes kinda obsessed?? Maybe one day she wears something of his(maybe a ring or his shirt) live and he goes absolutely feral and has his way with her??😵😵💫

I took out the camgirl aspect because I just wasn't sure how to incorporate it into the universe?? (I'm still new to it, so trying to figure out the dos and don'ts haha.) but I hope it's still good.

masterlist | inbox - requests open

reminder that reblogs and comments are the best way to support writers on Tumblr

warning: 18+ content. MDNI. simp sanji. masturbation. suggestive language and actions. light biting.

Laundry Day.

'Can someone remind me again whose brilliant idea it was to fight the giant squid?' You looked down at yourself, stiff as a board, as you felt every inch of your body to be sticky with black ink.

When you looked up again, the rest of the crew had all found a sudden interest in the most mundane parts of the ship, not daring to meet your deadly glare.

'Thought so,' you mumbled. 'I'm gonna go change.' Awkwardly, you made your way downstairs to the bathroom to try and wash off the black goo the sea monster had spewed onto you. You scrubbed for what felt like an hour, with the stains just never seeming to seize. The water poured down your body, slowly turning from a black abyss into a drabby grey until it finally recovered to its natural clear state, and the smell of fish was exchanged for your hair conditioner and body scrub.

stupid. fucking. squid. You kicked around your thoughts as you got out of the shower, nearly falling over in the process.

Too tired to cross the ship to your room, you instead walked to the small laundry cabin that was next to the bathroom and picked up the first pair of shorts you found and a button-up shirt to throw on.

You had thought it was one of yours, always being fond of having some larger piece of attire to throw over a short sleeve, but you soon realised your mistake when you entered the kitchen.

Sanji was in the middle of setting some water to boil, glancing up at you from his work with a soft smile. That smile then quickly froze in what you could only describe as a shock.

'I know I look like a mess,' you sighed, reaching over to the cupboard where the crew kept their hardest liquor. The day just called for a shot. Or three.

'Not the words I would use.' Sanji said, the clicking of the gas stove intercepting him, 'Is that- is that my shirt?'

You glanced down, noticing the blue striped pattern on the material and the actual tailoring of the shirt as opposed to the ones you were used to wearing.

You cursed under your breath. 'Sorry. I'll go change.' You began unrolling the sleeves, already seeing how they started to crease.

'No,' Sanji coughed out. 'It's fine. Honestly.'

'You sure?' You looked up at him apprehensively, but he just shrugged and continued on cooking.

You poured yourself a drink and made yourself comfortable opposite Sanji, enjoying the show that was his meal prep.

'Where's everyone else?' you asked as he began chopping up vegetables.

'Uhm, probably sleeping off the squid,' he chuckled, focused on the ingredients. As he kept going, you realised his answers kept getting shorter and shorter with each question. What usually would be full of quips and flirtatious remarks was cut down, blunt, like the edge of a dull knife.

And at first you had brushed it aside as him concentrating on his craft, but the longer he cooked, the more noticeable it was how he avoided your gaze. Even when talking, he didn't dare look up.

'Are you really ok with me wearing this?' You asked eventually when he was done and washing his hands in the sink.

'Of course, darlin',' he wiped his hands on a towel. He was about to turn around, but you saw the moment as your chance and swiftly slithered by his side. He stumbled back slightly in surprise.

'So why have you been ignoring me for the past hour?'

'I haven't,' he slipped by you elegantly and got to packing up the prepared food into storage boxes.

'But you have-- you didn't even look at me until now.'

'Sorry, sweetheart. I was working.' Usually, his saying something like that would make you think things were back to normal, but he seemed nervous, and before you could say anything else, he excused himself to his cabin.

Confused and a bit flustered at the sudden departure, you stood in the kitchen for a moment. You had planned on going upstairs, to get some fresh air, when Luffy stormed into the room.

'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'glad to see you're back to your ink-free self.'

'Yeah, thanks, Luf.' You took another shot quickly and watched as the captain raided all the cupboards. 'Watcha looking for there?'

'The tangerine cookies that Sanji made yesterday. There should still be some here.' He stretched his arm out to pat around the back of the highest drawer.

'You sure you didn't eat them yet?'

'Nooo,' Luffy looked at you sternly. 'Because I put them there specifically so I wouldn't eat them earlier.'

'Right,' you nodded. 'Well, Sanji had been busy around here, prepping lunch for tomorrow; maybe he moved some things around,' you suggested. 'You could go and ask him.'

'Aaah, I could,' Luffy wavered, 'but I was hoping to do this without Sanji's help.'

'Did he ban you from the kitchen again?' After the last incident of Lufft stuffing himself full of snacks right before dinner, the cook had given him strict orders not to eat an hour before meals. Looking at the clock, you could see it was closing in on dinner time.

Luffy scoffed, which only confirmed your assumptions. With a sigh, you got up. 'Fine, I'll ask him. But he might be asleep, you know.'

'Thanks. You're the best.' Luffy said, arm the length of the room as he opened cupboard after cupboard. You just rolled your eyes and made your way to Sanji's cabin.

'Hey, Sanji,' you knocked softly, unsure if he had maybe decided to take a nap. With no response from the other side of the door, you tried again. You thought to just let it go and leave him be, but then you heard the clashing of the pans in the kitchen, followed by a Luffy 'I'm ok!' and knew that you needed an answer for your captain. These were desperate times.

'Hey, Sanji,' you opened the door. The only thing you had really seen was the shape of his body splayed out on the bed, and it was more of an instinct or a gut reaction that told you that you should not look any further. So, quickly apologising, you shut the door again as Sanji cursed out in shock at the door opening.

'Sorry!' You shouted through the door, simultaneously trying to comprehend the blurs of your vision and trying to forget anything you might have seen. He wasn't... no, that wasn't... no.

There was some stumbling coming from his room, followed by a few more curse words. You didn't know why you were still standing beside his door, but he certainly didn't expect you to have stayed there, and so, when he entered the corridor, your bodies practically collided.

'I didn't see anything!' You blurted out before Sanji could say anything. Both your faces were wide in horror. 'I swear- I just,' you made the mistake of taking his appearance in. His shirt was untucked from his trousers, belt unbuckled and hanging at his sides. Oh god. 'I just... I was wondering where the tangerine cookies were. The ones you made yesterday.'

He was still hard. Most of it was hidden by the layers of clothing, but there was no denying it. You did your best to keep your eyes on his face as he listened to you blurt out words like a maniac, but it sure was difficult as all the puzzle pieces came together.

'They should be in the left cabinet, bottom shelf. Behind the baking ingredients. I hid them so Luffy wouldn't eat them before dinner.'

'Good thinking,' you laughed, probably a bit too loud for the situation, but the nerves were getting worse by the second. 'Well, bye then.' And with that, you ran off to the kitchen, leaving Sanji in all his unspeakable glory behind.

In the kitchen, you were met with Luffy picking up the pans he had dropped and Nami looking at him with what could only be described as disappointment. Without acknowledging them, you walked over to the left cabinet, opened the bottom half of it and searched the bottom shelf for the box of leftover cookies, slamming them onto the counter. Luffy immediately lunged forward to them, oblivious to your shocked state, but the navigator was a bit more perceptive.

'What happened to you?' she asked, declining the offer of a cookie from the captain, who already had two in his mouth.

'Nothing,' you shook your head.

'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'I didn't! I didn't see anything!' Nope, nothing at all. You definitely did not see that. Or how big it was... or how his hand looked wrapped around it... or his face when he- NO.

'Hey, is that Sanji's shirt?' Now, Luffy decided to be observant. You looked down at your shirt as if you had only now noticed what you were wearing.

'Oh, I guess it is.'

'He must be having a field day with that,' Nami snickered, to which you looked at her confused. She, in turn, rolled her eyes 'Like you haven't seen the way he looks at you on a regular day.'

'I- no?' you blinked, trying to grapple with what she was talking about.

Nami just shrugged before grabbing the last cookie from Luffy's hand and walking out of the room. If you thought he would be aware of anything that you had just talked about, you would have asked the captain if he knew what Nami meant by her comments but instead just contemplated on it all by yourself.

Against all your survival instincts, you walked back in the direction of Sanji's door and knocked again. This time loud and clear. There was shuffling coming from the other side, and a second later, the door opened to reveal Sanji. His lips were pulled in a tight line of a smile as he looked down at you.

'Hey, can I come in?' you asked softly.

'What?' Sanji asked before the initial question properly connected in his mind. 'Uhh, I don't think that's a great idea.'

'Sanj, we should talk about what happened earlier.'

'Do we, though?' His voice raised in pitch nervously, but you just glared up at him, unimpressed.

'Sanji, please just let me come inisde.' You pushed out any thought that just burst through your mind that did not have to do with the current situation, but it was hard to see the images of what you saw in his room before were still very much playing over and over in your head.

In the end, Sanji gave in and opened the door for you. As you walked in, he stayed behind you, hand running nervously through his hair, as he spoke: 'Listen, I'm really sorry about... everything that happened today, really.'

'You have nothing to be sorry for.' You turned to face him. 'I'm the one that stole your shirt and stormed into your room unannounced.' It was his room. He had the right to do whatever he pleased in it.

Sanji laughed awkwardly, looking away to the far side of the room, but even then, you caught how his eyes glanced and slightly lingered over your body. The blue-striped shirt still hanging over it.

You, in the meantime, fought the urge to look at his body, combined with the memory of what you had caught him doing.

Maybe it was the few shots you had taken earlier to forget about the giant squid attack that instead did nothing you had hoped for but only made you bolder as you asked: 'were you thinking about me?'

'What?'

'You know, earlier. When I walked in. Were you... thinking of me?'

'Shit, don't make me say it.' He combed his fingers through his hair. You walked over to him, closing the gap between you lightly.

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to make things weird between us.' His jaw clenched as you came towards him, and you couldn't help but laugh at what he had to say.

'Oh, it's definitely too late for that now. Things are already weird.'

'Super weird, aren't they?' he asked softly, strangely intensely.

And so, when you responded, your agreeing words were only as hushed as he had been, too focused on each other's proximity. The two of you stood there, frozen between actions, taking each other's bodies in at the new lack of distance until Sanji took the final step over the edge, kissing you with his hands on cupping your cheeks.

You stumbled back at the force, steadying yourself when you caught onto the shirt he was wearing. One of his hands moved down to your waist, guiding you to his bed until the back of your knees hit the wood, and you lightly fell back.

Sanji placed himself over you, and as his weight pressed over you, you could feel his hard-on through his trousers. A curse fell from his lips when you reached for it and your fingertips moved over the material.

'You've been drivin' me insane the whole day, walkin' around in that shirt.' He said as he began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

'Figured,' you couldn't but be a bit smug about it, which he did not seem to appreciate given the pinch of his teeth you felt on your sensitive skin.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer to you, trying to get some, friction out of the movement as he pressed himself against you.

'Cocky are we?' He smiled into his kisses, and at this point, all you could do was nod in agreement.

Sanji kept himself up over you with one hand as he used the other to unzip your shorts. One-handed and without a clear view, taking them off turned out to be a bit more of a challenge, far more awkward than expected when you tried to shuffle out of them, but his touch on your skin made up for it by tenfold.

You were about to make a start on unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing when Sanji stopped you. 'No, keep it on.' and kissed you before you could make any other snarky remark on his behalf. But when he pulled away again, though slightly dazed by the passion, you still managed to comment.

'If this is the treatment I receive for stealing your clothes, I might just do it more often.'

To this, Sanji groaned through his teeth. 'You're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart, I swear.