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anonymousewrites · 2 months ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Nine

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Nine: Misinformation and Memories

Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) deal with terrible journalists and homework.

The following day, the newspaper had worse articles. Clearly, they intended to irritate and discredit the castaways until they got the interviews and information they wanted.

“Two Castaways ignored our Requests—Who are these Two? Could They be more than Friends? We Caught Them Hugging.”

“Seven Mysteries about the Shipwreck.”

“The Saws that Mysteriously Appeared.”

“The Definitive Proof.”

“Takahashi Spills the Truth.”

(Y/N) looked at Saiki. The first title was an issue—if their relationships status got out to the students, the amount of drama in their friend group could be astronomical. “What do we do, Kusuo?”

“This is ridiculous,” said Saiki. It was just the newspaper club running a giant gossip column, and it was silly. Unfortunately, people were already whispering and glancing at the pair. (Y/N) grimaced, and Saiki narrowed his eyes. (Y/N) disliked the looks they were getting, and that meant Saiki disliked them.

“Are you ready for that interview now?” said Jouten, smirking and standing behind Saiki and (Y/N). Her hands were on her hips, and she looked down on them triumphantly. “This is what happens when you don’t cooperate, Kusuo Saiki, (Y/N) (L/N).”

You’ve gone too far. Involving his relationship with (Y/N) in the gossip was too much. It was rude, disrespectful, and could hurt (Y/N)’s friendships (he insisted he didn’t have friends, so what did he care?)

“You shouldn’t underestimate us,” continued Jouten. “Now tell us everything!”

Saiki projected his thoughts directly into (Y/N)’s mind. “We need to get them off our backs. If they’re going to public fake news, let’s tell them everything.”

(Y/N) shrugged. It wasn’t like anything really interesting happened on the island other than Mera going feral for a day. They could talk about that.

“That’s a weak story,” said Jouten, frowning after (Y/N) and Saiki finished their story.

“It’s the truth,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

Jouten waved a hand carelessly. “I can’t make an article from that. It would be over in three lines. Kaidou’s story was better.”

“Because he was lying,” said Saiki.

“Anything is fine if it’s interesting,” said Jouten.

“I thought reporters were supposed to tell the truth,” said (Y/N), confused.

“Whatever,” said Jouten. “Just hand them over, then.”

“Hand what over?” said Saiki.

“Pictures of Kokomi Teruhashi changing,” said Jouten. “You were with her for four days, after all.”

“Why would we take photos of someone changing?”

“No thanks.”

(Y/N) and Saiki’s respective asexuality reared its head.

Jouten stared at them. “Are you stupid?! You didn’t take any?! No way, you must have one.”

“I think it would be rude to take a photo of someone like that,” said (Y/N).

“Nobody even had a camera,” said Saiki. They covered the ethical and logical arguments against the idea in a single moment.

“How could you miss that?” exclaimed Jouten indignantly. “You’re telling me you don’t even have a photo of her pooping?”

“Ew?” said (Y/N).

“Are you stupid?” retorted Saiki.

“Are you kidding me right now? You didn’t take any?!” said Jouten.

“Why would we?” said Saiki.

“Weird…” said (Y/N), eyeing Jouten.

“You’re failures as journalists!” said Jouten.

“What about you?”

“I’m not a journalist?”

“I would have taken the shot,” said the cameraman.

“Are you stupid, too?”

“I’m telling Kokomi to avoid you,” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

Jouten groaned and sat down in her chair again. “Whatever. Just go.”

I hope they get shut down.

I really hope they get shut down. Saiki looked at the articles up, once more full of gossip and misinformation.

“Breaking News! Kokomi Teruhashi’s Island Nudes!”

“Poop Photos Leaked. Naughty Photos, Too.”

“Photos will be Exclusive Next Week.”

“Other People in Photos include (Y/N) (L/N)—”

Saiki didn’t bother reading the rest. He was already fuming. Beside him, (Y/N) made sure their uniform top was tightly buttoned. They were extremely uncomfortable with the idea of such photos of themself—especially since there was no way they existed.

“Kusuo?” said (Y/N), looking at him. “Can you…stop this?”

Saiki looked into (Y/N)’s eyes, so nervous and hesitant, so different from their usual cheer. Now you’ve done it. Jouten would face his wrath.

“Saiki! Is it true? There are photos of Teruhashi?” Several boys turned towards him.

“How could you?”

“Give them to me so I can get rid of them!”

“No, give them to me!”

“I’ll take the pictures of the others!”

“I’ll pay!”

“Kusuo?” said (Y/N), back away. Saiki moved slightly in front and glowered at the boys, who flinched back.

Paying for photos of my—! Saiki had not been this angry for a long, long time.

“Stop this!” Everyone turned in surprise. Teruhashi stood in the hall, hands on her hips. “Saiki wouldn’t do that. No one on that island would. The newspaper article is a lie.”

“But they said there were photos,” said a boy in confusion.

“There can’t be,” said Teruhashi. “Because I didn’t.”

“What? You didn’t—?” Poop?

“I didn’t.”

“It was four days. You would have to—”

“I didn’t.” Teruhashi’s smile didn’t break, and she shone brighter than ever.

“Even you have to—”

“I didn’t.” Her brightness was blinding.

“She didn’t!” cried the crowd. “She didn’t!” As unbelievable as her claim was, they refused to believe anything the newspaper said about her—she was infallible.

“At least that means they won’t believe anything else they read about us,” said (Y/N), laughing slightly at how easily everyone listened to Teruhashi.

“Good,” said Saiki. Still, he would deal with the newspaper club directly. They were spreading rumors about (Y/N) in addition to the girls on the island. Saiki wouldn’t stand for that.

Tomorrow, the newspaper club would find a rather unexpected article on their board—an expose.

“Is this for real?”

“I can’t believe her!”

“The newspaper club is the worst!”

“They photographed themselves pooping in their room?”

Jouten and her cameraman stared in shock at the photographic evidence of their plans to lie about Teruhashi, (Y/N), and everyone else who was shipwrecked.

“They’re perverts.”

The pair of “reporters” deflated and collapsed to the ground. Saiki smiled slightly in satisfaction.

“Maybe that will teach them a lesson on honesty,” said (Y/N) optimistically.

“Or stop them from being reporters,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) smiled and took Saiki’s hand. “Thank you, Kusuo.”

Saiki glanced down at them and squeezed their hand. “Of course.” Always for you.

“Okay, I’ve finished math,” said (Y/N). “And so have you. Should we take a break?”

Saiki nodded and closed his notebook. They had been working all morning to complete their homework before their break, so they deserved a small break (and a snack to go along with it).

A knock at the door. (Y/N) looked out the window and smiled.

“It’s Kuboyasu, Kaidou, and Nendou,” said (Y/N).

“Pretend we’re not here,” said Saiki.

“Kusuo, they’re your friends,” scolded (Y/N), though they were laughing.

“Bothers.”

“Sure,” said (Y/N), opening Saiki’s front door. “Hi, guys.”

“Oh, (L/N),” said Kuboyasu in surprise. “Hello. What are you doing here?”

“Homework,” said (Y/N).

“Will you help us with ours?” said Kaidou.

Saiki reached around (Y/N) to close the door.

“Wait, hear us out!” said Nendou.

“We brought these to share,” said Kaidou, holding out coffee jelly.

(Y/N) smothered a laugh as their boyfriend’s eyes zeroed in on the sweets like a hawk.

“Get in,” said Saiki.

“Thank you!” chorused Kaidou, Kuboyasu, and Nendou.

And so, (Y/N) and Saiki, happily finished with their work, sat back and ate the free coffee jelly while the other three copied their work.

“I’m copying everything,” said Nendou, smiling brightly.

“Don’t make it too obvious!” said Kuboyasu. “Copy around eighty percent of it at most.”

“You should keep it under ten percent,” said Saiki.

“Just compare your answers to see if it’s right or not,” said (Y/N) helpfully.

“It’s too hard to do that with the picture diary,” complained Kaidou. “That took so long.”

Saiki froze. “Picture diary?” He opened his schoolbag and dug around until he pulled out a diary. He flipped through it. Empty. All empty.

“It’s thirty-one days! You can’t finish that in a day!” said Kuboyasu.

“I guess this is more important than our homework,” said Kaidou.

“We don’t have a choice,” said Nendou.

“Yes, go home.” Saiki could just use his powers.

“We’ll help!” said everyone, and (Y/N) started laughing in the background.

“No, go home!”

“But we want to help!”

“Guys,” said (Y/N), still laughing. “You weren’t around for his summer. Come on, finish your work and head home. Kusuo will figure things out.”

“But—"

“I have plenty of photos from things we did all together, so I’ll give them to him,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Oh, good idea!” said Nendou. He pulled out his phone and began to send pictures to (Y/N). “Here, more!”

“I have some, too!” said Kuboyasu.

“Me, too!” said Kaidou.

(Y/N)’s phone dinged like it was the end of the world as all the photographs came in. They smiled. “Thanks, everyone! Now, we should let Kusuo focus on putting everything together.”

“Alright!” Now that they had helped, the boys were more willing to be pushed out of the room and the house, happy that their homework was handled and their friend’s would be, too.

“How do you do that?” (Y/N) easily controlled the annoyances around Saiki.

“They wanted to help, so I let them,” said (Y/N), a smile on their face. “Come on, let’s see what photos we can use.” They sat down on the couch, and Saiki sat down next to them.

“Look at what Nendou sent—pictures of some of the ramen places we all went,” said (Y/N). “That was fun.”

“When they followed health codes,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) laughed. “Right.”

Saiki held out his hand to the phone, then to the pages of his diary, and the correct dates filled in with photographs of ramen restaurants.

“Kaidou sent us photos from when he dragged us to comicon the day-of,” said (Y/N). They chuckled. “I remember that I really wanted to cosplay but had no time, so you helped me put together an outfit.” Indeed, in the photo of Kaidou—dressed as Sasuke, the only “right” character for his tough and tortured soul—(Y/N) and Saiki stood with him. Saiki had no costume, but (Y/N)—dressed as Luffy—was putting a straw hat on his head playfully.

“That wasn’t so bad,” said Saiki. He was a bit of a nerd when he could avoid spoilers, so buying themed snacks and a poster or two was fun.

“And Kuboyasu sent pictures of you and him on your bikes,” said (Y/N). They laughed sheepishly. “I think that was the day I tried to be your backpack and we almost crashed.”

“We’re not trying that again,” said Saiki.

“Not for a long time,” agreed (Y/N).

Saiki transferred the photos over again and glanced over at (Y/N) and their phone. “What photos did you take?”

“I, uh, took some from our dates,” said (Y/N). Quickly, they waved their hadns in front of their face. “I didn’t post any anywhere. Our privacy is secure.”

“…Would you show me?”

(Y/N) brightened, and Saiki could melt from the warmth of their grin.

“Sure!” said (Y/N), scotting closer to Saiki. They held up their phone between them and opened their photos. “See, that one was when we went to Shibuya to take that baking class.” Saiki was covered in flour, and (Y/N) was pointing at him as they laughed behind the camera.

“The cupcakes tasted good after,” said Saiki.

“They did!” agreed (Y/N). They flipped to the next photo. “This is when we picked out outfits for each other.” They smiled at him and leaned on his shoulder slightly. “We look so cute.”

Saiki smiled slightly. “You did.”

“And this is one of my favorite photos,” laughed (Y/N), showing one of Saiki’s blissed-out face eating coffee jelly. “I think it captures you.” Another photo. “And this one is the one I sent to you when Kokomi, Chiyo, and I went to a festival and did face-painting.” They had tiny strawberries painted like freckles across their cheeks. “And you let me try to paint you after.” Saiki’s face was in the next photo—a coffee jelly painted on his cheek. The next picture was a selfie—(Y/N) kissing Saiki’s cheek, the one without the face paint. “I really like this one.”

Saiki’s hand subconsciously lifted and went around (Y/N)’s shoulders. With their head leaning on his shoulder, they were really looking like a couple, cuddling and everything.

Saiki looked down at them and smiled to himself as (Y/N) continued to ramble about all the memories they’d made together. He really didn’t deserve them. But he was glad to have them.

Saiki was head-over-heels for (Y/N).

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silentscrying · 1 month ago

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🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track three: something about a beat

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, hopeless stupid pining, alcohol, mentions of deceased parent, maki is Fed Up, anxiety, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

“OKAY, IT’S UP,” Nobara says, grinning at you over her laptop. You’re sprawled across the living room at Takuma’s place, surrounded by a random combination of your band and his while others are in classes. After spending last night mixing the single, Takuma helped Nobara set up an artist profile for the band, and now your music is available on streaming services. Just like that.

“That’s so weird,” you say, grinning as you pull up Spotify on your phone. Next Fix by Cursed Technique. Strange to see your face on there, a photo taken of all of you by some freshman when you last performed at The Fix. Nobara sends the link in your group chat, and Toge responds within seconds.

freak no. 1: FAME freak no. 1: FORTUNE freak no. 1: wait it’s not opening freak no. 1: nvm i’m just stupid

“Does he ever pay attention in class?” Nobara mutters. Maki snorts.

Yuta is also in class, but that means he’s locked in, all his devices on Do Not Disturb. You don’t think Toge’s turned DND on a single time in his life.

“I’m going to Kinji’s!” Kirara shouts from the front entryway, and Yuji leaps to his feet and disappears down the hall, barreling back out of his room seconds later.

“Wait! Can you give this to Panda while you’re there?” He hands her a drive, and Kirara rolls her eyes and takes it.

“You need to slow down every once in a while,” she says, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Okay, bye. I’ll be back in a few hours.” The dogs follow her to the door and return the living room when she’s gone, curling up on either side of Megumi, who’s busy writing some paper in the corner.

“What was that?” Nobara asks.

“Demo drive for the radio station,” Takuma says. “Panda plays our stuff sometimes. I bet he’d play yours, too.”

“That’d be sick,” Nobara says approvingly. She turns to bother Megumi, poking at him until he takes his headphones off and talks to her, and Yuji strolls into the room and flops down directly on the floor.

“Comfy?” you ask, poking him with a socked foot.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Ah, look what you did, Kugisaki,” Megumi says, and you look up to see Shiro trotting toward you with her tail wagging, having abandoned her post at her owner’s side.

“That was not my fault! You’re the one who moved.”

“Because you kept poking me!”

You immediately slide off the couch onto the floor, letting Shiro sit in your lap. “Um, excuse me,” Takuma says, offended. You crane your neck to look up at him behind you on the couch. His face is lit up by his computer as he works on a string of code he tried (and failed) to explain to you, and there’s laughter in his eyes despite the affronted tone of his voice.

“Favorite,” you inform him with a wide, cheeky smile. He very maturely sticks his tongue out at you.

“Toge message,” Nobara informs you all, reading off her phone. “He says omg we have four listeners do you think they’re writing slutty fanfiction about us already.” She glances at you. “Petition to remove him from the chat—oh, look, he started sending the wolf memes again.”

Hanging out like this has become natural so quickly you almost forget you haven’t been friends with Shibuya Incident for ages. You feel almost as much at home in the tapestry-covered living room here as you do in the plant-filled kitchen of your own house down the street.

Maki checks her watch, sighing. “We should get going soon. The guys will be back in half an hour.” Then you have rehearsal, even though you’re not one of the three bands performing tomorrow night. When you do take the stage next week, you want to be ready.

Nobara is trying to read Megumi’s texts over his shoulder, which isn’t working out well for her, and he tells Maki, “Yes, please, take your invasive little gremlin home.” He puts his hand right on Nobara’s face and pushes her away, and she screeches and tries to tackle him, but he’s already sitting in a beanbag chair in the corner, so it doesn’t really do much except make Kuro jump on top of them both.

You glance up at Takuma again, still stroking Shiro’s fur while the others start to stand, ready to head home. “You rehearsing today too?”

“I’d hope so,” he shrugs.

“Yes, dipshit, in two hours. If you ever read the group chat,” Megumi says.

Takuma doesn’t seem fazed by Megumi’s irritation and just shrugs. “We have a new song for tomorrow.”

“You didn’t tell me!” You poke at his knee in retribution for his secrecy. “I wanna hear it!”

“You will,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“Skipper, help, I don’t wanna walk our gremlin home by myself,” Maki calls from the door, and you reluctantly pat Shiro on the head and stand. She follows you to the entryway and sniffs at you while you cram your feet into your sneakers.

“Maki Zenin.” Nobara turns up her nose and crosses her arms over her chest. “If you hated me so much, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Bye!” Yuji shouts from the living room, and you all call out varying goodbyes and noncommittal sounds before making your way out the door and down the block, the afternoon air chilly against your cheeks.

Nobara waits all of ten seconds before spinning around and walking backward, grinning at you mischievously. “I bet Ino wrote a song about you.”

“Oh my god. Shut up,” you laugh. “He didn’t.” You can’t imagine you’ve given him all that much to work with. What would he write, that you like coffee and drums and Megumi’s dogs?

“Why else wouldn’t he show you? Don’t you guys text each other song lyrics like the little romantic fucks you are?” Your face is flaming, and you’re suddenly very grateful for the cool of the wind against your skin. The idea of him writing a song about you plants something weird in your gut—not something bad, just something unexpected and warm and blooming.

You try not to show it and your friends see right through you, Nobara turning back to skip up the drive with a satisfied grin and Maki rolling her eyes at the both of you.

“I’m gonna write a song, too,” Nobara declares, unlocking the door and pushing her way inside. “Skipper and Ino, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S—”

This time, you and Maki speak in tandem. “Shut up!”

—

“There’s a joke here,” Gojo says, tapping both of his index fingers together while he thinks. “About being a drummer and a journalist. Something about a beat.”

You laugh, jotting another note on the lined paper of your small spiral notebook. “I hate to tell you, but I’ve heard that one before.”

You’re not sure features qualifies as a specific beat, more of a broad category, but your staff isn’t nearly large enough to assign people to smaller specialties. Plus, it’s a college publication, designed for experimentation and growth. Nobody wants to be boxed in yet. That’ll come later, out in the monotony of the real world, and you’ll be confined to some hyperspecific beat like neighborhood crime or high school basketball.

“No!” Gojo cries, dragging his hands down his face like it’s the end of the world. “I can’t believe somebody plagiarized me before I even said it.”

“That’s not how that works,” Utahime cuts in dryly, sliding three shots across the counter to the waiting group of sophomores and then effortlessly throwing together another cocktail.

Gojo leans toward you, shadowing out your notes, and stage-whispers, “You see what I have to put up with?”

You do, actually, see what Utahime has to put up with. She long ago put down a line of blue painter’s tape to divide her side of the bar from Gojo’s, and she preaches frequently that there will be dire consequences if he crosses it.

Of course, he crosses it at every opportunity, and here he is, still.

It’s also just how the two bartenders split up the work, the customers, and you write that down too, that it’s an effective division of labor. “Don’t read my notes,” you tell Gojo as he squints at your writing upside down. “It’ll wreck the journalistic integrity.” He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout that reminds you violently of Toge, who’s taking photos of Utahime as she works.

You glance over to the stage, where Angel is performing the last number of her set, a bouncy, belty song that you recognize from a video she posted earlier this week. The crowd loves it, dancing around and singing along, but still, you think she’ll have a tougher time making it through as the only solo artist remaining in the competition.

You whoop and cheer as she hits her last note, holding it for an ungodly amount of time, and Gojo eventually has to abandon his teasing to do his job. When Toge thinks he’s got enough photos, the two of you slip back into the crowd, Panda commentating on the change of artist as you catch up to your friends.

“And now, here’s your alt rock duo, your boys, the Kamos,” he says as you come to a stop beside Yuta. “Give it up!”

Nobara very loudly gives it up.

“Hi.” Yuta nudges you. “How’s the reporting going?”

“Good.” Noritoshi and Choso settle in on stage, tuning their guitar and bass and making girls swoon in the front row but somehow remaining entirely oblivious to it. “You’re not going home tomorrow, right?”

Yuta shakes his head. This weekend is fall break, which just means that there were no classes today. You spent the first day of your three-day weekend cramming for midterms.

Toge’s heading out after this and Nobara will leave early in the morning, but Maki and Yuta will be here for the weekend. You wonder about Takuma and his band, but you can’t ask right now—they’re all backstage, waiting to go on after the Kamos.

The boys in question, when they’re not doing covers, have incredibly nonsensical song names that have little to nothing to do with their lyrics. The first track of theirs you ever heard was called Song About the Time My Dog Got Lost for Three Hours.

“Okay,” Choso says after their cover of a song by The Smiths. “This one’s called Please Don’t Tell Your Mom I Was At Your House Past Curfew.”

He and Noritoshi then proceed to play the most upbeat, energizing alt rock shit you’ve ever heard. You love these guys, and the crowd does too, the way they don’t take themselves too seriously but they’re genuinely talented. But it’s making you nervous for Takuma and his band, because only one group goes on tonight. Only one.

No, you think, shrugging it off. They got this.

When Shibuya Incident finally walks on stage, the ensuing roar of applause before they even do anything eases whatever worries you might have had. They were slotted at the end of tonight’s set for a reason. Everyone loves them.

Without prelude, they launch into a song you recognize from their EP, a fast-paced track with a pretty simple chord progression that gets entirely flipped on its head in the bridge. You let Yuta spin you around as you dance with the rest of the crowd, the lights and sound washing over you. Yuji’s in his element, Kirara is fucking killing it, and Megumi—as always—is the rock the band stands on, unerring tempo and steady presence keeping everyone on track.

After the song finishes with a crazy riff from Kirara, and the crowd takes a minute to freak out and then slowly wind down, Takuma grabs the mic to address the audience.

“Hi again,” he says, scanning the clusters of people from his place on the low stage. His gaze lands on you and your friends, and he smiles a little wider. “That was Godspeed. We’re gonna slow it down a bit for our next song. It’s a new one. We’re calling it Curious.”

Nobara practically launches herself over Toge to get to you and shake you by the shoulders. “What did I say?” she hisses.

“Oh my god,” you say, shoving her off. “They haven’t even started yet.” But you look back at Takuma to find he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

To your surprise, the instrumentals don’t start first. Most of Shibuya Incident’s music opens with a riff or a fill or at least four bars of introduction. But this time, Takuma leans into the mic and starts singing, just a low “ooooh,” and the rest of the band comes in one by one—Megumi, then Kirara, then Yuji. Kirara’s harmonizing on a higher note, and the effect is a slow, dissonant build that makes you lock in, all anticipation.

Then Takuma tugs the mic from the stand and sings,“I see your eyes, curious, curious, you wanna know why the sky’s so goddamn blue. I hear your voice, curious, curious, you’re asking me if I’d ever fall for you.”

And as you listen, Nobara’s smile just gets wider and wider, and Takuma keeps making fleeting eye contact with you, and you realize abruptly that she was right.

This song is about you.

Takuma’s said it to you before, in passing, how he likes the way you look at the world—through a journalist’s lens, curious about how everything works, always searching for unseen answers.

“Wish I could see my life like you do,” he and Kirara sing in unison. “Wish I could walk the streets each night… wonderin’ if the full moon sees you, but I just keep lookin’, lookin’ down at the time.”

You’re transfixed, just like the first night you saw Takuma perform live, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stage if you tried. Someone should write a story about him, you think. This man could be on the cover of Rolling Stone and you wouldn’t question it.

God, you’re so far gone, aren’t you?

When the set is over, the last song finishing with a long, drawn-out chord, Takuma thanks the crowd and hands the mic off to Panda to take over. As the band disappears one by one into the backstage area, he lays out the voting process.

“The voting period will last ten minutes, assuming no technical difficulties,” he says. “QR codes, as usual, are posted around the bar. If you’re a competitor, you can’t vote. Make sure you’re logged into your .edu accounts or you won’t be able to access the form…”

Your fingers are tapping nervously at your thighs, the crowd around you already glued to their phone screens. The band isn’t back out on the floor yet—Panda will call all three artists up at the end of the voting period and announce the finalist live.

Sweat is starting to pool in the palms of your clammy hands, and you wipe it on your jeans, anxious. To you, there’s no question. But it’s not up to you.

“Relax,” Yuta says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It won’t even be close, Skip.”

After the longest ten minutes of your life, Hana Kurusu, the Kamos, and Shibuya Incident join Panda back on stage, a dramatic spotlight bouncing between each artist as Panda draws out the announcement. “And the artist from tonight moving on to the finals in two weeks is…”

“Just say it,” Maki huffs beside you, and Yuta chuckles and nudges her with a shoulder. She tries to hide the slight upturn of her lips, but that’s not going to slide past you.

You’ll tease her later. For now—

“Shibuya Incident!”

The reaction is explosive, both on the floor and the stage. Yuji practically leaps onto Kirara’s back, and Takuma’s face goes slack in surprise before a shy smile works its way across his spotlit features, Megumi being his nonchalant, unaffected self in the midst of it all. Nobara is screaming, and you’re yelling at the top of your lungs, Toge whooping and snapping photos as the Kamos and Hana crowd the band, congratulating them on the victory.

Takuma looks out into the crowd again and you wave, smiling unabashedly, so fucking proud and excited and thinking maybe, maybe, if you make it too, you’ll be facing off against each other, and wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe you shouldn’t be so thrilled. He’s the competition, after all.

But if he wins for going up there and singing curious, curious with his eyes locked on yours, you suppose it wouldn’t be all that bad.

—

Most of Saturday passes in a barrage of classwork and inconsistent, snacky meals in between, the diet of a harried college student, ramen and chips and whatever actual food Yuta leaves for you in the fridge. He’s back from work by three, and Maki wraps up her own work around the same time you do, late afternoon creeping into evening. The three of you are curled up in the living room, the TV on while Yuta and Maki try to pretend they’re not looking at each other.

You need to get them alone.

you: are you busy takuma: not at all takuma: what’s up? you: mind if i crash your house?

You glance up and swear Yuta has somehow, in the last two seconds, moved closer to Maki on the couch.

you: i think yuta and maki need some ~ALONE TIME~ takuma: TEA takuma: sorry kirara told me to stop saying that in response to everything that happens ever takuma: it’s fun tho

“I’m going to Takuma’s,” you announce, and Maki raises a brow at you.

“Again?”

“Sue me for having friends.”

Yuta’s brows crease a bit at the word friends, but he doesn’t comment. With a furtive glance back, you grab your shoes and slip out the door, successfully leaving Maki and Yuta alone in the house for an indeterminate amount of time.

Please, you think. One of them has to make a fucking move soon.

Takuma answers the door before you can knock. “Hey.”

“No pups today?” you ask as you step past him into the entryway, kicking off your shoes.

“Sadly,” Takuma says. “Fushiguro took ‘em with him, wherever he went. Ah, man. Did you only come over for them?” His tone is teasing as he closes the front door behind you, trading the October cold for the warmth of the house. “Afraid I’m a letdown.”

“Takuma,” you scold at his self-deprecation. “You’re basically an excited puppy yourself, so—”

“Hey!” he squawks, and then thinks about it and tilts his head, conceding. “Fine. Maybe. Yeah, okay.”

“What have you been up to?” you ask as the two of you make your way to the living room.

“Procrastination. Guitar instead of homework, mostly. You?”

“Same,” you sigh. “Well, not the guitar part. But I should have been way further ahead on my homework by now.” You shrug. You’ll get it done; you always do.

You settle in easily on the couch, and the two of you boot up the Wii and play a few rounds of Mario Kart because someone left the disc in. And when you’ve both beaten each other enough times to lose count, Takuma mentions something about your single and you realize you haven’t checked the stats.

“You can see more on a computer,” he says, and you follow him up to his room, where he cedes control of the device to you. You pull up the artist profile and grin at the steady upward climb of listeners. It’s not a ton, but this only went up on Thursday.

“We haven’t even done anything to promote this,” you admit, spinning in Takuma’s desk chair to face him. “I don’t even know how people are finding it.”

He immediately looks down, which means he knows something. You nudge him with your foot. “What? What does that face mean? Takuma.”

“I maybe gave Panda a drive of the mix,” he shrugs, talking fast like the meaning of the words might elude you if he mumbles enough. “And he maybe played it at the radio station earlier today. Several times.”

A wave of affection crashes into you so fast that you jump up and throw your arms around him without thinking, laughing into his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that!” You pull back, grinning. “That was really sweet. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Ah, it was nothin’.” He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as self-conscious.

“Not nothing,” you say softly. He smiles.

After a moment, he glances at the window and seems to come to a decision. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself.”

“Wanna go out on the roof?”

You blink, processing the words, instinctively looking to his window. You’ve never really realized it before, but it opens out onto a flat expanse of shingles, a perfect lookout right outside Takuma’s bedroom.

Your grin is answer enough, and he unlatches the window and pulls it open. He glances back at you, up and down, and you feel yourself blush before you realize he’s taking in what you’re wearing. He grabs a thick jacket from the closet and tosses it to you, then shrugs one on himself and leads the way, gripping the window frame with one hand and pulling himself outside. After a moment of consideration, he reaches back in and grabs his acoustic guitar by the neck from its place against the wall, pulling it out with him.

When the window shuts behind you, you’re immediately grateful for the protection of the extra layer. Even with your hands balled in the sleeves of your hoodie, it’s chilly out here.

You’re surprised by how much of the campus you can see spread out in the distance. It’s early evening, but the days are getting shorter, the sun a misleading blaze of heat in the otherwise cold hour.

“This,” you say, “is fucking awesome.”

“Right? I called dibs on the room as soon as we toured. For this.” He grins, leaning back on his palms, legs spread out in front of him. You lie back on the roof, letting the cool surface seep through your hood, staring up at the sky.

“So Maki and Yuta,” he says, shaking his head fondly. “Are they finally a thing?”

“I don’t know, but if they’re gonna do anything about it, it’s not gonna be while anyone else is home.” You shrug, or at least do whatever approximation of shrugging you can when you’re bundled in a bulky hoodie and jacket and lying on a roof.

Honestly, Yuta and Maki are some of your favorite people on this planet, and you can’t imagine anyone else who really deserves them. They’re the de facto mom and dad of your group—as in, Yuta is the band mom and Maki’s the gruff father who won’t admit his affection for the pet he didn’t want to get but ended up loving anyway.

“Man, I’m glad I wasn’t around when Kirara and Hakari were in their pining phase,” Takuma chuckles. He pulls his legs in, sitting cross-legged, and picks up the guitar, idly tuning it as he speaks. “Then there’s Itadori, probably picks up girls everywhere he goes and has never once realized it.”

“What about Megumi?” You let your head loll to the side, looking at Takuma with the guitar settled in his lap.

“Fushiguro? I don’t know, man, he doesn’t tell us anything. He has like, resting yearning face. I’ve got no idea. I don’t even know where he is right now, just that he’s supposed to be back really late.”

“That means the dogs will be back?” you say hopefully.

Takuma shakes his head, strumming another chord, and another, fingers moving deftly across the frets. “I’m not enough for you, huh?”

“I said no such thing.”

He plucks out a happy little melody on the guitar, looking at you. “Wanna learn?”

You sit up, your hood falling back off your head in the process. “Really?”

In answer, he hands you the guitar, scooting closer to you to show you where to place your fingers. You’ve been around your bandmates enough to know the basics, but you let him teach you anyway, giggling a little when he guides you through a three-chord progression and says, “Damn, you’re a natural.”

He leans back and stares at the sky, listening to you play. Eventually you add a few other basic chords into the mix, varying your strumming patterns, already feeling the strain in your fingertips from the unfamiliar press of the strings.

“So,” you say, still idly messing around on a G chord. Takuma props himself up on his elbows, looking over at you. “What was the incident in Shibuya? Have you been to Shibuya?”

He snorts. “Nope. Honestly, it was more to make people ask the question. You know in the Marvel movies, how Hawkeye and Black Widow are always talking about Budapest?”

“And nobody knows what the hell happened there,” you say, laughing. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve never even been to Japan,” Takuma admits. “Fushiguro has, though. Maybe he had an incident in Shibuya. Who knows?”

G, C, D. D, C, G. You play the chords over and over, strumming softly, slowly, letting your finger catch on each of the strings, then five of them, then four.

“This is a really nice guitar.”

“Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence that makes you glance up, weighted differently than the usual pauses in conversation. Takuma is sitting up now, knees pulled loosely to his chest. “Was my dad’s.”

“He taught you to play,” you remember aloud, recalling your conversation in the coffee shop. But now you’re hung up on that word: was. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, but part of you feels like his words are a sort of quiet invitation, like he wants to tell you, but doesn’t want to force it. “I… is he…?”

“He died when I was twelve,” Takuma admits, eyes fixed on the sky. “Uh, car accident. It was stupid, some issue with the other guy’s car. Couldn’t stop it.” You’ve never heard his voice like this before, taut, oddly thin. Carefully, gently, you set the guitar on the roof beside you, watching him.

“Were you…”

“In the car?” Takuma sniffs. “Ah. Yeah.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and that’s what it is, more of a breath than a word. “I—Takuma…”

When he laughs, there’s no humor in it. It’s a hollow kind of chuckle, one that says everything he can’t. “It’s why I learned to skate, actually,” he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. “I’d get everywhere that way. I didn’t—want to drive, I guess. Got my license late and everything. I think people thought I was just a slacker.”

Whatever words you might scrounge up feel inadequate for a grief this large. You don’t want to pity him, and you don’t want to dismiss him, and that’s always the problem with hard conversations, isn’t it? What a line to walk.

“You’re not a slacker,” you say eventually, and he raises a brow at you. “I mean, maybe you procrastinate coding projects to a worrying extent, but you always get it done.” You smile thinly. “You don’t give up in any way that matters, Takuma. I like that about you.”

He chuckles. “Nanami said something like that, once.” His eyes go far-away again, just for a second. “He’s kind of the closest thing… like… I don’t know. I’ve known Nanami for a really long time. He was my dad’s friend. And I guess he sort of became a father figure, after…”

He shrugs. “It’s probably a big part of why I decided to go here. That, and it’s not too far from my mom’s. I don’t know that she’d have been thrilled if I went somewhere farther.”

“You’re not home,” you say carefully, a question but not question. “For break?”

“She’s on a business trip,” he says. “So not much point. But I’ll see her at Christmas, at least.”

For a while the silence stretches out comfortably between you, like a weighted blanket. You can’t ignore it, but it isn’t unwelcome. At some point you scooted closer to him, and now you sit side by side, only the layers of your jackets separating you.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say eventually, soft, unwilling to break the quiet. He nods.

“You didn’t go home either,” he points out, an unspoken question in the spaces between words. “Is it just ‘cause you’re from so far away, or…”

“Yeah. A Friday off didn’t feel like enough of a break to warrant a flight back.” But that’s not all of it. His silence tells you he knows it, too. He’s been so candid with you all night. You can share this part of yourself, you decide.

There’s something about Takuma, anyway, that makes you want to tell him things. You want to know him, and you want him to know you—you now, here, at school, but also you there, home, in the past.

“I haven’t been home since July,” you admit, hugging your knees to your chest, mirroring him. “My town is… small. I liked it when I was little. But the older I got the more I started to feel, just—I don’t know, stifled?”

Your hometown used to feel huge, like you could explore it forever on your Razor scooter and never find all its secrets. But you grew, and the town didn’t grow with you, and suddenly you were standing outside your high school realizing you knew every corner of the self-proclaimed suburban city, every street and coffee shop and alley. You’ve always been curious. And at some point, there wasn’t anything left in that place for you to be curious about.

“I love my home. I love my parents. It’s just… I needed to get out. I don’t think they ever really understood that.”

It’s easier to admit things when you’re looking straight ahead like this, out over the lines and curves of buildings, picking out street lamps, watching a few stray cars make their way around slow corners.

“Is it what you wanted it to be?” he asks quietly. “Here, I mean.” He nods out to the vast stretch of campus, spread across the city. So many corners you’ve been here years and haven’t found them all.

Campus is weird on break, you muse, looking out over the darkness. A whole parallel world for you to explore, the shadowed version of the place. A video game map on single-player, a dead server. Hardly any lights on in the windows, no kids out on the street. Like a ghost town. But it still doesn’t feel empty to you. There’s so much promise in it.

“Yeah,” you answer after a moment, soft. “Yeah, I think it is.”

A ghost town that isn’t lonely, somehow. You could write a song about it, you think. Friends with all the dead in my ghost town. The phrase plays itself out in your head, and it sounds like something moodier than your band usually goes for. It sounds like Shibuya Incident.

You wonder if this is what it means to be in a relationship—not a romantic one, necessarily, but a friendship, or any kind of bond between two creative people. If it’s this, the sharing of intellectual property with another person to the extent that their voice and yours start to blend.

It’s in the way Nobara can finish your sentences when you’re throwing out potential verses, scrambling for rhymes. How Toge and Yuta can anticipate each other’s movements, match chord progressions without talking about them. How Maki slips into your tempo seamlessly, every single time.

And now your lyrics sound like something his band would play. Maybe Takuma’s songwriting will start sounding like yours, too.

You don’t think you’d mind.

“Can I tell you something?” Takuma murmurs after a moment, sounding hesitant.

You rest a cheek on your knees, hands clasped together in front of your shins, facing him. “Mhm.”

“That song last night,” he whispers, and he’s not looking at you, just staring out at the rapidly darkening campus. “It was about you. And how you—I don’t know, the way you look at things. Like they’re always so full of potential. I wish I could do that. You just see things and want to know more. I like… watching you, being curious.” He pauses for a beat and then quickly adds, “Not in like, a creepy way! Just—I don’t know.”

A chuckle slips through your lips against your will, the darkness hopefully hiding the color in your cheeks. Maybe you can blame it on the cold. “Watching?” you ask, teasing. “I can’t imagine I’m all that intriguing. There’s a lot of cool people around here, y’know.”

“Skip,” he murmurs, and now his eyes are locked on yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Every nerve in your body is hyperaware of his proximity, and his hand reaches up to cup your jaw, the touch ghosting over you, barely there, hesitant. A nonverbal question. Is this okay?

You lean into the warmth, letting his breath wash over you, mingling with your own in the space between your lips, smaller and smaller and smaller.

He’s watching you, closely, giving you a chance to pull away. So many words exchanged tonight, but you don’t need any for this.

You don’t pull away.

It’s slow at first, and soft, and hesitant. The shingles dig into the heel of your hand as you lean forward on one arm, a grainy feeling on your fingertips, in the grooved imprints left by the guitar strings. You find your free hand moving up to his shoulder, pushing, guiding him down until his back is pressed against the roof and you’re over him, lips locked with his. You look at him, and he’s so full of potential. You want to know everything about him, you want to know how he works, you want to ask questions. And you do, with your tongue along the seam of his lips, and your hand tangled in his hair, and his breath mixing with yours in the air. It’s near full dark now, feeling later than it really is, evening in autumn.

You’re not cold anymore.

He deepens the kiss, body coming up to meet yours, and you feel like maybe this roof is the top of the whole world, because how could you ever feel higher than this?

“Takuma,” you murmur, and you kiss him again, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this way before, but you’ll do maybe anything in the world to feel this way again.

And then a sharp, deep sound makes you jump, scrambling to sit up on the shingles, breathing heavy from the kiss and the noise. Did that come from inside or out?

“What—”

“Oh, crap,” Takuma groans, pulling open the window. “Someone’s home.” He looks back at you, cheeks flushed from the cold or the kiss or both, looking a little helpless, a little apologetic, and you can’t help the small laugh that bursts from you at the absurdity of the situation. You feel like a teenager getting caught by your parents.

“We should…” He nods toward the window. You hand him the guitar, then crawl back over to the window and slip inside after him, the warmth a stark relief from the temperature you’ve gotten so used to. Your heart is a jackhammer, rapidly pecking away at the once-stable structure of yourself.

You kissed him.

You kissed Takuma.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out with still-cold hands.

utah: [1 Image Attachment] utah: dinner?

Admittedly, the pasta does look amazing, and your stomach grumbles as if on cue.

“I should go,” you say awkwardly, holding up the phone for Takuma to see.

“Uh, yeah, uh—for sure, no problem, I should go see what’s up down there anyway,” he says after a beat of hesitation. “I’ll see you, uh…?”

“Around?” you finish, laughing slightly.

“Yeah,” he echoes with an amused half-smile as you make your way down the stairs. “Around.”

—

You’re freaking out.

It’s 4:31 on Monday afternoon, you’ve been listening to the same song on repeat for an hour, and you’re freaking the fuck out.

After Saturday night, you didn’t talk about it. You kissed him on the roof and your heart turned into a hummingbird and you were warm all over, and then the front door slammed and you nearly jumped out of your skin, and Megumi was back early and Takuma had no idea why, and you pet the dogs and then slipped out, wanting to give them their space.

And you haven’t talked about it. You haven’t had time. Sunday was a mess of cramming for midterms and your housemates returning from break and you threw yourself into your studies and tried not to remember, but now…

The stupid fucking switch in the back of your brain has flipped itself on and you can’t turn it off, all worry and criticism and hypothetical worst-case scenarios and you’re giving too much too fast, Skipper, you know better than this!

How many people in your tiny town fell in love young and grew to resent each other? How many of your high school friends grew up with divorced parents? How many breakups have you seen in your two and a half years at this university, how many tears and shouting matches in public halls, how many friend groups falling apart because two people fell in and out of love?

The thing is, you know you’re panicking about nothing. Takuma hasn’t asked anything of you. It was just a kiss. He is not your boyfriend. This is not a contract.

But if you talk about it, it could be, and you don’t understand why that scares you so much. Do you have commitment issues? What the fuck is your problem?

You probably wouldn’t have a problem at all, if you’d just had the time Saturday night to figure out what the kiss meant. But now that a whole day has passed and you haven’t seen him and you don’t know for sure, your mind keeps wandering down paths it should have stayed away from.

What if it’s a friends with benefits situation and you’ve just read too much into it? Maybe this is all he wants, making out, spending late nights together getting physical. Maybe that’s all. A heated makeout session on a roof doesn’t mean he feels the way you do. And do you even know how you feel? Fucking hell.

It’s the anxiety talking, the more logical part of you says, the part that sounds an awful lot like Maki. Your friends aren’t around to tell you how stupid you’re being, so the only texts you and Takuma have sent since Saturday night are playlists and song lyrics skirting around whatever truths you’re trying and failing to articulate.

Do I Wanna Know floats from the speaker on your desk, your phone next to your head on the bed, facedown and dormant. Do I wanna know if this feeling goes both ways?

Your door slams open and you jump up, whirling around to find Maki with her arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “Alright,” she says. “That’s the tenth time I’ve heard that godforsaken song. What the fuck is up with you?”

When you don’t respond, she steps inside and closes the door behind her, pauses the music, and then makes herself comfortable on the edge of your bed. “Talk to me,” she says. “You’re driving yourself crazy.” The words stall in your throat, useless, stagnant things as you avoid her knowing stare, instead staring at the popcorn ceiling until it blurs.

Maki sighs and shifts entirely onto the bed, turning herself to face you.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you say lamely.

“You’re driving me crazy, Skip,” she tries, and she knows you so fucking well, because the guilt trip is exactly what dislodges all those words built up in the back of your mouth—she breaks the dam and you spill your soul onto the quilted comforter, rambling, a rush of truths and things you thought you’d hidden from yourself but you can’t anymore. And she just listens, not looking away once.

You tell her everything: that you know you catch feelings fast, too fast. That despite your bleeding heart, you haven’t really been in a long-term relationship since high school. That you think of the future, of all the places you want to go, all the things you want to do, and there’s no guy in those dreams, and the thought of restructuring the life you’ve planned out for yourself around a boy who might be temporary is too much to even fathom. That—

“I kissed him,” you say breathlessly, bordering on hysterical, and you feel so stupid, this worked up over something so small, something that should be good. “I kissed him and now it feels real and now I’m freaking out.”

“I can see that,” Maki says calmly. “Let me ask you something. What is the worst thing that could happen, if you date him and it doesn’t last?”

“I…” You chew on your bottom lip, mind spinning through every bad outcome. “He could end up hating me, Maki. I could get some crazy job and have to leave, or he would come with me and leave his whole life behind and then he’d grow to resent me and we’d just be in some kind of hellish limbo until one of us snapped. Or he could—he could leave me, or we could try long distance and he could fall in love with somebody else, or I could, or—or—”

You flounder for a second, realizing your biggest worry is the one most immediate, the one most central to your life as it exists right now.

You’ve been sitting here thinking about big-picture things that are so far out, trying to make the feeling curdling in your gut feel like a valid reaction to a major life event. But that’s not what this is.

You’re just really, stupidly, pathetically scared that Takuma kissed you and didn’t mean it.

“Or—I guess that’s not the issue. Not really,” you admit quietly, not looking at Maki. She probably already knows. She has a way of knowing exactly what’s bothering you and just asking the right questions, getting you to talk yourself out of whatever hole your anxious mind has dug.

“I—it was just a kiss. What if he doesn’t want something serious right now, and I like him this way and he just wants something casual? I can’t do casual, Maki,” you say, raking a hand through your hair. “And it could fuck up this thing we have going. Yuji and Toge get along so well, and Nobara and the boys and Kirara, and Megumi’s your cousin, and I don’t wanna cause some weird, awkward rift, you know what I mean?”

Because it’s been so good, getting to know them. You don’t want to fuck up the dynamic just because you caught feelings too fast.

Maki leans back against your wall, humming as she thinks this over. “Okay. First of all, take a step back. Do you actually think you and Ino dating or not dating or whatever would mean I stop talking to my cousin? Or Nobara to the guys?” She raises a brow at you, unimpressed. “Seriously. I love you, Skipper, but you do not have that much power. These relationships existed before you knew Ino. Yuji is incapable of having conflict with anybody. And Toge doesn’t give a fuck about awkward relationship drama, he just wants to play Smash.”

As she speaks, you can feel your heart settling back into its home in your chest. Maki always knows what to say. Always.

“Second: Let me put it this way.” She levels you with a serious look. “You are so worked up about all these incredibly hypothetical situations. If you shut this down now, if you don’t act on what happened on Saturday, you’re still going to be worked up about hypotheticals. They’ll just be different ones. I know you, Skipper, you’re gonna drown yourself in what ifs. So you have to pick the lesser evil. There’s an unknown factor either way. Which one is gonna be worse?”

You groan, faceplanting into your bedspread. In the process, your forehead must hit play on your phone, because all of a sudden Arctic Monkeys blasts through the JBL again and Maki is grabbing your phone and saying, “Absolutely not. Nope. We are done with that.”

You look up at her helplessly. “Do I wanna know?” you choke out, half-laughing. “Because if I’m taking this out of proportion, if he doesn’t feel this way and I’m just another girl he kissed—”

“You’re not,” she says firmly. “Are you kidding me? Skip. That boy kisses the ground you walk on.” She shakes her head, some mix of fondness of exasperation flashing across her face. “You already know. The question isn’t if he likes you, or if you like him. It’s whether you’re gonna let it play out or shut it down before it has a chance to.”

Your door slams open, and Nobara strolls in and puts her hands on her hips. She glares at Maki and then at you.

“Please tell me I’m wrong,” she says, and you know you’re in for it, “but I believe you both had significant relationship developments this weekend and didn’t immediately call me? What the fuck? Spill.”

Abruptly, you feel like the worst friend in the world. Not necessarily because you haven’t filled Nobara in—she hasn’t been home—but because Maki is flushing pink, and you left her alone with Yuta on purpose, and it’s Monday, and you haven’t even asked what happened.

You look at Nobara. “Close the door.”

She does, but she doesn’t sit down, choosing instead to pace the room as she speaks. “Exhibit A: the plants have name tags and the handwriting is not Yuta’s. Exhibit B: I just came from down the street and Ino is acting weird as fuck.”

You sit straight up, suddenly on high alert. “Weird how? Did he say anything?”

“No. Like, the entire time. That’s the weird as fuck part.”

You turn to Maki, trying to read her. “Okay, what happened with Yuta? Was it when I left? Because if I wasn’t obvious enough—“

“You were very obvious, thank you,” Maki says, her blush deepening. “Uh, we made dinner. As you know.”

“It was good.”

Maki is pointedly looking everywhere but at you and Nobara, gaze darting from the ceiling to the bedspread to the door, as if she might escape the conversation. You hadn’t even noticed the plant name tags. That’s maybe the most sappy gesture that’s ever come from Maki Zenin.

“Mm. Yeah. Uh,” she says, eloquently. “We might have kissed. We might be… together.”

“Maki!” you and Nobara both scream, which results in Toge nearly breaking down your bedroom door five seconds later.

“What?” he demands. He clocks Maki’s bright red face and grins widely. “Aha! Yes. Good.”

“Wh—”

“Yuta won’t look me in the eyes, so I figured. You wanted to tell us all at once?”

Maki nods sheepishly.

“Too late!” Toge says cheerfully. “And he’s not home. So we can take this quality girls’ time to—”

“You are a man.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me,” Toge tells Nobara, hand over his heart.

She swats at him in response and flops onto your floor, and Toge drops down beside her, you and Maki leaning over the edge of your bed to see them both.

"I ate your love pasta," you tell Maki, and she groans.

"This is why I don't tell you people things."

After the appropriate appoint of freaking out about Maki and Yuta (of course I knew, I always know, Nobara says), they make you go through the whole of Saturday night in detail.

You leave out the part about Takuma’s dad. That doesn’t feel like your story to tell.

When you get to I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Nobara blinks at you, and the innocent expression on her face means whatever she’s about to say is anything but. “So he told you you’re not like other girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

“Oh, shit, Skipper!” Toge nearly shouts from the floor. “We have to go, like, two minutes ago.”

“Shit!” You scramble off the bed, shoving your laptop into your bag and weaving around Nobara, who has made no move to get off the floor. You and Toge have your usual Monday night class time to do field reporting, and you’re meeting up with Geto and Utahime.

The front door clicks open and closed, and you grin at Maki, who goes red. Yuta’s home. God, you wish you could stay for this.

“Hi, Yuta! Bye, Yuta!” you call on the way out the door, patting him on the head, and Toge follows suit with a much more aggressive motion that messes up Yuta’s hair.

“Oh, hi! Um. Bye?” Yuta’s startled laugh follows you out the door, and then you’re on your way.

You’re always on your way back to The Fix, eventually.

—

Utahime, notably a happier person in general when Gojo’s not around, lets Toge into the back to get some photos of the storeroom. That leaves you alone with Geto, back on the same stool as last time, phone on the counter as you watch him work, talking as he goes.

“Finished inventory,” he says, typing something rapidly on his laptop, “and now it’s budgeting. And yeah, that’s about what it looks like on the day to day. What else did you want to know?”

Geto is remarkably easy to talk to. He’s soft-spoken and articulate, a good listener, and you find yourself forgetting it’s an interview after a while, lost in conversation. You learn that he studied business in school, so opening an establishment like this wasn’t much of a stretch. He handles the finances and hiring, and he’s the one working with Panda on the Battle of the Bands. Gojo and Utahime bartend, Nanami is security, and Shoko handles everything else. It’s a small team, he says, but they work.

“I wanted to be able to be home for the girls when they were growing up, and this wound up being a great way to do that, schedule-wise,” he tells you. “And now they’re here, which is great. I wouldn’t say I ever saw myself opening a bar, back in college, but now that I’m here and Shoko and I have been running the place for a while, I’m not sure where else I ever could’ve ended up, y’know?”

You nod, head propped in your hand with your elbow on the counter. “So is this the dream? The endgame?” you ask. “Think you’ll stay a while?”

“Well,” he says, closing the laptop, “I think it comes down to doing something because you love it, not because other people love that you do it. Though right now, both of those things are true, which is fortunate for me." He leans on the bar counter, head tilted as he considers his words.

"If the work makes you happy, if the people there make you feel the same way, I think that’s worth hanging on to," he says. "If I ever stop loving the work, I suppose I’ll move on. I don’t see that happening, really, but if it does, I’ll roll with it. Whatever comes after.”

“That makes sense.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Man, I wish the career thing was that clear-cut now. I know I have time, but it’s weird to think about.”

“Would you ever go further than this with the band, you think?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious. “Or is the journalism thing pretty much what your heart’s set on?”

You’ve thought about it. Drumming makes you feel alive like very few other things do, but you love writing, reporting, meeting people and telling their stories. You want to go for editor-in-chief next year when Tsumiki graduates, but the reality is that you won’t have so much time for the band if you get the job. And you love your band.

Not that it’ll be the same, anyway, without Maki and Yuta. That’s something you don’t love to think about.

“I don’t know,” you confess, sheepishly realizing you’re still recording, that you’re supposed to be the one asking the questions. “I don’t think… that the band is ever necessarily going to be a professional thing. Maki and Yuta have all these big career plans. And it’s like, how much do I invest in that now, knowing it’s not… forever? When the journalism thing, the career, might be? I don’t know.”

“You know, I don’t think it matters all that much whether it’s forever,” Geto shrugs. “If it gave you what you needed at the time, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

He glances up at you, taking in the lines of your face, the tapping of your fingers against your other arm. You kind of feel like he sees something you don’t.

“Here’s some unsolicited advice, kid. On the record. Maybe life is short, maybe not. But regardless, your heart is not a finite thing.” His eyes are soft but not sad, serious but with a sort of levity that’s wise and not regretful. You think, idly, that you would find it very hard not to trust him. “If you’ve got something, love it while you have it.”

Something tells you he’s not talking about the band anymore. Or maybe that’s just you, looking for answers where there aren’t any.

“Thanks, Geto,” you say, turning off the recording. “This has been really helpful.”

Your heart is not a finite thing. And you think you’ve made up your mind.

directory | prev. | next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222

a/n: what is this? setup for the megumi spinoff i'm writing after this? oo (sorry he was a cockblock it was for the plot, this one AND his, hehe)

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bloodyinkandquill · 3 months ago

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Windforce x Reader

no one requested this. i just wanted to write this, also my requests have been open for over four hours and no one’s sent one, very surprising, anyways im on a windforce yume rn so have this since there are three other windforce x reader’s on tumblr that ive found and that’s sad

- “You’re dating her?! Do you have a death wish?!” ‘Mayhaps’

- Maybe dating the most quick to anger and destructive deity wasn’t your best idea but who cares, Windforce has a soft spot for you and tries her hardest not to hurt you, she treats you gentler then her son but has the same soft spot for the both of you, which is very surprising given her apparent distaste for mortals, though somehow in her eyes you were different, and she loved it, she loved you, everything about you even if many of your ‘mortal customs’ were perplexing to her

- She’s eaten before sure, but that was like, three centuries ago, so onetime when you decided to make yourself a grilled cheese she looked on very curious, asking what each component was for, you patiently explained it and when you finished you offered her a bite, you had to make yourself a new grilled cheese after that because she ate the entire thing, you introduced her to food and she was crazy for it, if you ever cooked you had to make sure to make extra so she could have some, her favorites were things with bread in them or spicy dishes, one time you got green chile rolls and it changed her world (please tell me these aren’t just a new mexico thing more people need to know about green chile rolls)

- You have to let her know if she’s hurting you, she forgets to watch her strength and forgets that you are small and squishy, if she’s not careful she can definitely injure you so you have to let her know if she’s holding you too tight, she never directly apologizes but you know she’s sorry, she just has too much pride to apologize

- Speaking of her pride she’s very egotistical so when you do something to fluster her as though you have some sort of power over her, it makes you feel a little powerful, she’s usually very stoic but if you kiss all over her face, especially with lipstick on, her brain fries, you laugh at her and she grumbles but she likes it too much to tell you to stop, unless your with anyone else she doesn’t want to appear weak, especially to a mortal

- Windforce uses her lightning to protect you, almost anytime she deems you in a ‘dangerous situation’ (she’s very bad at telling danger) she will create a thunderstorm, though she gives you a small glass container with pure light inside, for if she’s busy with godly duties and doesn’t know you’re in danger you can break it, smash it, whatever, and it will cause lightning around you, but specifically avoiding you, you turned it into a necklace for easiest use

- Ban Hammer is confused by you, his mom never liked mortals and suddenly she’s dating one? He does not understand in the slightest but you make his mom happy so he doesn’t bug about it, she also constantly tells you stories about him, embarrassing photos and funny accidents galore when he was a child demi-deity, if he’s around when she does so he gets embarrassed and whines for her to stop, it’s an odd side to see of the big bad warden but it’s also funny so you don’t care

- You watch her work out, every piece of equipment she owns is too heavy for you so you just watch or maybe do basic stretches or yoga, but watching her work out is not a bad sight in a slightest, you hand her a towel to wipe off with, she doesn’t need water, I mean neither do you, but on occasion you still offer it, she usually declines she finds the sensation of drinking to feel weird

- On only one occasion you saw her truly angry, someone had incited her wrath and it was terrifying, and maybe a little arousing, it was the only time she ever said sorry, for scaring you since she knows her more divine form is a lot scarier than her usual form, you said it was fine but made a mental note to never get her that angry

- Not the touchiest but she definitely loves giving you bear hugs, though you have to remind her to watch her strength when she does, she does also enjoy kissing you but she’s a biter, watch out for that

- Windforce’s love language is not entirely clear, maybe quality time? You cannot tell and she doesn’t know either

- You don’t really do dates per say, you hang out and do things together but it’s never like a planned typical thing, so you could sort of call it dates but you don’t really do them, you don’t mind though because you know she loves you and you don’t need to go on extravagant dates to know that

yippee!!! i also got one request so lemme answer that after i post this, working on a project for one of my classes of billie holiday i should be working on that rn but oh well i have a few more days

#x reader #phighting x reader #phighting #phighting!#windforce #windforce phighting #phighting windforce #windforce x reader #phighting windforce x reader #windforce x reader phighting

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andy-wm · 9 months ago

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Why is Bam on insta?

This thought flashed in my head when i saw the most recent photos of Bam.

Maybe I'm just slow and everyone else figured this out already but maybe not, so I’m sharing it.

The Bam insta account isn't just a fun side project set up by JK while he’s doing military service. He doesn't even have an account for himself*, so why would he make one for his puppy? It's not like he needs (or wants?) more followers or influence, and he could have just used his t1ct0k, where hes already got gazillions of followers.

When bowwow_bam first appeared, many comments suggested he created it to keep in touch with ARMY while he's serving in the military. And yes he DID share the account with ARMY on weverse, but I doubt that's the reason it exists.

Bowwow_bam is not for ARMY...

The photos JK gets from the training centre let him know that Bam is happy and well cared for.

Even though Bam has been in and out of the training centre often while JK has had his schedules, those stays were brief compared to 18 months. This time, Bam will basically be living there full time, long term.

Maybe this is why JK sent Bam to the training centre so often in the past, when he might have left Bam with friends or family instead. That way, the training centre became familiar to Bam before his long term stay.

Bowwow_bam is for JK

Bam's photos are likely sent to JK directly, so why post them to a public platform? And why post ONLY these?

Why?

Sure, it's a good way for JK to stay connected to ARMY with minimal effort. Let's not be foolish enough to think he doesn't care about that. It's pretty clear he wants to pick up his career where he left off when he comes back. (It goes without saying that BTS - and JK - will still have millions of fans after MS.)

But i don't believe thats the only reason Bam has an insta account, and i dont think it's the most significant reason either.

There are so many ways JK could have maintained a socials presence. If he wanted to be on insta, even just reposting old content would keep him at the forefront of ARMY's mind... if he had an insta account* that is.

It also got me thinking about what JK will be doing with his time off.

He isn't all that close to his family, he tells us. And most of his friends are idols, from what we see (although that could be selective information), so probably insanely busy with their own schedules. And his Bangtan brothers, his found family, are also doing their service. And he and Jimin are apparently on different shifts (if the information we have is correct).

So who is he connecting wiith?

Who is his link to home and normality?

This doggo right here is.

Besides letting JK know that Bam is happy and well cared for, the photos connect JK to home and give him something tangible to look forward to on the other side of his service.

They'd remind him that this episode of his life has an end date, that he has a place to return to, and that somebody is waiting for him to come home. Bam is waiting for him.

But why post them on instagram?

We know JK has a strong connection with ARMY. He's said many times that we're his safe place (debatable, honestly) and his happy place (I truly hope so). He's told us it's ARMY he talks to late at night when he's alone. He's also set clear boundaries about what he's prepared to share and how close we're allowed to come - although he blurs these lines himself sometimes... naked livestreams from his bed come to mind, but i digress...

I believe the insta account - Bam and ARMY together - is his anchor. This is his link back to his life before and after MS.

Sharing these photos from the training centre with his three (or four or five) million closest friends would validate for JK what his life has been, and will be again. It tells him we (like Bam) are still here, still waiting, without him ever having to ask.

It keeps that part of his life real for him.

Just to be clear,

I'm not downplaying the significance of Jimin and JK serving together in the companions program.

In my mind nothing could be more significant.

Jimin is with him day after exhausting day, just as he has been for the last twelve years. While that must be an enormous comfort to them both, these long and arduous days must still seem endless.

Getting through this difficult time with any sort of optimism would require something to look forward to, and recieving photos of Bam would give JK much happiness, and remind him that there is life outside of the camp.

They'd serve to remind him that at the end of it all he will see his beloved doggo in person...

...and that he and Jimin will go home and his little family will be whole again

💜🐰🐶🐥💛

*pretty sure he does tho...

~as always, opinions are my own and all of this is conjecture~

#jeon jungguk #park jimin #jikook #kookmin #국민 #true love #jeon bam #bam's dad #jimin and jungkook #bam's insta #bowwow bam #bts military service

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pascaloverx · 4 months ago

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NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

THREE FIVE

FOUR

You're trying to avoid looking directly at Steve while he enjoys an éclair and sips your mediocre coffee. In reality, you're pretending to be busy in the back of the bakery, hoping he'll leave without asking you anything else. Despite him being easy on the eyes, you're afraid he might be too persuasive, and you might accidentally give away Barnes, which would break his trust in you.

"You always knew your hands could make treats like these that seem to be made by angels?" Steve asks as he stands up from the small table where he was sitting. You smile slightly, finding his compliment to your baking skills sweet, though you're still on edge.

"In reality, my mother is a chef, so I was always inclined to work with cooking. Ironically, my mother isn't very fond of baking. But I fell in love with it, making some desserts and breads. To answer your question, I always knew I had to be good at something culinary, even if just as a hobby," you speak gently as you collect the plate and utensils that Steve used. When he hands them to you, your hands briefly touch. You notice that his hands are incredibly soft for a guy, and the sensation sends a slight shiver down your spine.

“Are you interested in going out today?” Steve asks, still close to you. At first, you think he might be joking, but he really seems to want to go out with you. However, something tells you that it's more out of suspicion than genuine interest.

“I don’t know your friend, and a date isn’t going to change that. I sincerely hope you find this Bucky of yours, but it won’t be with me.” You say, stepping away and likely sounding too blunt. What a hassle—having to turn away a handsome stranger to protect another handsome stranger.

“It’s clear when you’re lying. I saw your reaction to Barnes’s photo, which might be nothing, but it seems like something. So, go out with me and prove me wrong, or cowardly hide the fact that you know James Barnes. The choice is yours.” Rogers’s blue, maybe greenish eyes seem to pierce through you. He’d make a great priest, as something in his words eats away at your guilt. You’re lying to him, and it doesn’t feel fair. But he could be deceiving you, and you can’t take that risk.

"I close the bakery normally at six in the evening, if the business is slow. There's a restaurant right across the street; we can have pizza and maybe a glass of wine. You can interrogate me as much as you want. After that, this matter will be closed. Does that sound good?" You say, looking him straight in the eye, and then extend your hand towards him, waiting for him to seal the deal. He takes your hand firmly while looking at you with determination.

Steve then leans in close to you, almost as if he’s about to kiss you. It would be crazy, right? But then he whispers, "I’ll be at the restaurant at seven o'clock waiting for you. I believe you don’t want me to come to your place and find out what you're hiding from me. And by the way, tell Barnes it’s a shame he’s making such a beautiful woman turn into a big liar." Steve says, leaving you speechless before exiting your bakery.

The thought of finding Barnes's best friend and lying to him, while also accepting a date that seems both tempting and terrifying, distracts you for the rest of the day. So, an hour earlier than usual, you close your bakery and rush home, knowing you need to inform Barnes, Bucky, or whatever other name he goes by, that his best friend is searching for him. As soon as you enter your apartment, you rush to your bedroom, frantically searching for something to wear for your date with Steve. Your mind is in chaos, and no dress seems right for a man whose main interest in seeing you is to figure out if you're lying. On top of that, you're confused about why you're even in this situation—lying and acting like a criminal when you've done nothing wrong. All of this because a customer at your bakery is handsome enough to make you lose your sense of right and wrong. Suddenly, a wave of desperation washes over you. Amidst the clothes scattered on the floor, you reach into the pocket of your pants and pull out your phone. You dial the emergency number, feeling a wave of nausea, both metaphorical and literal. Are you really about to report Mr. Barnes? Well, you’re just telling the truth, right? It will probably lead to his arrest, maybe even worse... but that’s not your problem, is it?

"You can tell them I'm standing in your living room when they ask if you know where I am," a voice says from behind, startling you. James is standing there with his arms crossed, looking less than pleased. You quickly hang up the phone before the emergency line even picks up. Honestly, you feel like a rebellious child caught red-handed doing something wrong.

"How did you get in here?" you ask as you try to recover from the shock. Your hands tremble as your nerves take over. You're not sure if you're safe with Barnes or if he's the kind to seek revenge for an almost-betrayal.

"I came to check on you, see if everything was alright. I noticed you got here early, and I got worried… but it seems that was for nothing. You didn’t need to rush to your apartment just to turn me in. And don’t bother denying it." Barnes says, still standing there, his voice low and tense, sending chills down your spine. It’s clear you’ve struck a nerve—maybe his pride, maybe something deeper. You stare at him, searching for the right words to explain yourself.

"I won’t lie, I was going to turn you in. I’m not like you. The weight of knowing something that others don’t, it’s eating me alive. First, two agents showed up at the bakery looking for you, and now your best friend, who doesn’t seem like he's just here to catch up. I had a moment of weakness…" You trail off, not explicitly naming what you were about to do, though it’s painfully clear. You were ready to hand Barnes over to the authorities. He lets out a frustrated sigh, followed by a bitter smile. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel exposed, almost tainted, under his gaze.

Barnes steps closer, extending his phone toward you since yours is still on the floor, discarded in your rush to hang up. You look at him, puzzled, unsure of what he wants you to do. "Clear your conscience, make the call. I promise I won’t resist," he sighs, waiting for you to take the phone from his hand. An unsettling feeling creeps over you, a weight of guilt, as if you’re betraying him in the worst way. His calm demeanor makes it even worse, and the thought of going through with it makes you feel like you're stabbing him in the back.

"Are you really going to let me turn you in just like that?" you ask softly, feeling a bit ashamed, knowing that no matter his answer, there’s something strangely intimate about him letting you be the one to hand him over. Maybe you’re losing your mind. Barnes looks at you for a long moment, his eyes softening just a little.

"If that’s what you need to do," he says quietly, "then go ahead. I won’t stop you." You can't help but feel a knot in your chest. The idea of having this power over him, of being the one who decides his fate, makes everything feel even more complicated.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted like that. It wasn’t fair to try to turn you in; it was just too much pressure, I’m not used to this." You look at Barnes, regretful of what you might have done. His hand with the phone is in front of you, so you place both your hands under his and shake your head as if to say he can trust you, at least for a moment. He looks at you, then places the phone on the coffee table. He turns to you, placing his hand gently on your face and caressing your cheek. It’s so comforting that you close your eyes, feeling like you can finally breathe peacefully for the first time.

"You don’t have to carry this burden, not for me," he says softly. You’re still lost in the gentle touch of Barnes’ hand. You then open your eyes to find Barnes looking at you as if you were his most precious treasure. All the anger he seemed to be feeling earlier seems to have vanished.

"I'll go on the date with your best friend and try to throw him off. I hope you'll accept this as an apology," you say, looking into Barnes' blue eyes. He’s still standing right in front of you. "I don’t want you to expose yourself like this, Y/N. I can handle Steve my way. This life full of dangers and lies is mine; I never should have involved you in it," Barnes replies, pulling his hand away from you. His gaze is distant, and it saddens you in some way.

"Let me do this for you, then," you say almost weakly as you feel Barnes pulling away. "And then I'll leave you in peace." You can’t bear to look at Barnes anymore; instead, you gaze down at your feet.

“Look into my eyes, Y/N. And tell me, when you look at me, do you see a man who isn't at peace when he's with you?” There’s a melancholy in Barnes's voice, and you gather the courage to meet his gaze. He’s closer than you realized.

"I see a man who has a lot to hide. You must carry a burden much greater than mine. So let me help you; maybe I can be of use to you." You step closer to Barnes, and as he looks at you once more, you feel as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe or move. You’re sure you must be blushing, given how hot your body feels.

"Wear a dress that shows your legs; it’ll distract Rogers enough to make him forget why he’s interrogating you. Also, lie about trivial details. Tell him your favorite color is green, that you have two older brothers—something like that. He’ll analyze your facial expressions to see when you’re telling the truth or lying. It’ll confuse him. Try not to deny that you know me; just say you remember seeing me as one of your customers. He might be convinced." Barnes advises you, but doesn’t come any closer. He appears hesitant, as if struggling with conflicting thoughts. You nod in agreement without speaking. The silence in your apartment becomes painfully oppressive. You want to walk over to Barnes, to kiss him and perhaps make love on the cold floor of your apartment. But he doesn’t seem to feel the same way, as he turns and walks away, leaving you with a heavy heart.

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venerablemonk27 · 2 years ago

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I've done a lot of birding the past couple months and not a lot of posting, so I'm going back to our Tucson, AZ trip from April. I hadn't been to the Western US since picking up birding or wildlife photography, so I knew I was going to pick up a ton of lifers. One of our target species for the trip was also my fifth Owl species ever: the Burrowing Owl.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. They are facing left and looking toward the camera. The sun is low in the sky off to the right, which illuminates the right side of the Owl's face and their back, while casting the rest in shadow. They have striking yellow eyes and a furrowed brow that gives them the appearance of a permanent scowl. Their oval-shaped head transitions naturally into a slender cylindrical body covered in mottled tan and white feathers. About half the bird's height is body and folded wings, with two naked grey legs planted on the ground. End ID]

This was the morning we had picked for me to do some solo birding, so I drove out to a spot west of Tucson where eBird indicated that Burrowing Owls were likely to appear. It was just after sunrise when I found the road cutting between farm fields where the Owls were reported. I drove slowly down the side of the road in my rented Dodge Charger, stopping occasionally to inspect a suspicious clump of dirt with my binoculars. I had not seen any sign of the Owls when a Land Rover pulled up behind me. A group of three folks in their 60s with binoculars piled out of car, clearly more birders here to do exactly what I was doing.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt, facing the camera. The sun is still low in the sky, but now the bird's face and chest are more brightly lit, showing the transition in feather colors from tan to mottled tan to white as they progress downward from collar to belly.]

They introduced themselves as coming from the UK, and had been visiting Arizona for several weeks in search of all the unique birds the state could offer. The driver was particularly puzzled about the location of the Owls, saying he was "absolutely foxed" that this place with no real habitat could host Burrowing Owls. I showed him the recent sightings on eBird and explained that it was possible the birds just hadn't emerged from their burrows yet.

After another 15 minutes of searching the fields, I offered to lead them to an alternate site nearby. We got in our cars and slowly drove back the way we had come. Just as we were approaching the end of the road, I spotted a small tan creature standing right on the edge of the irrigation ditch along the near side of the field. A Burrowing Owl! I swung the Charger around and flagged down my companions, who had also spotted the Owl.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. The one in the foreground looks decidedly sleepier and plumper than the one in the background (seen in previous images). Both Owls are similar in coloration, but the one in the foreground has an aluminum leg band for identifying them. End ID]

We got out to take a look and grab some photos from long distance, then slowly crept forward with my Charger as a rolling blind. There turned out to be four Owls spread out along the irrigation ditch, likely close to their burrows which were out of sight. They were surprisingly unbothered by the cars rolling up to them, probably because they see trucks and farm vehicles driving past all day every day. Once we were directly across the irrigation ditch from the closest pair, I climbed into the passenger seat to take some better photosm. Mostly the Owls just stood on their tiny hill and looked around. Though I did witness one of the pair above fly down to pounce on a grasshopper, then return to feed it to their partner.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. This photo was taken midday, with the sun directly overhead. At least one of these individuals is different from those above, as they have two leg bands instead of one. It's also apparent in the photo that the Owls are standing at the edge of a farm field from the row of green plants out of focus in the background. End ID]

I had such a great view of the Burrowing Owls that I had to bring my family back to see them on our last day in Tucson. Because we were heading out of town in the middle of the day, I was confident we'd find them right away and avoid testing the patience of my kid. It turns out I didn't have to worry. Not only were the Owls right where I left them, but the kid had fallen asleep on the drive, so we had to wake him up to see them! And seeing as I already had the camera within easy reach, I had to take a few more photos.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. This one is looking alert in the midday sun, standing and scanning the area around the edge of the farm field. End ID]

On a trip full of exciting views, long hikes, and thousands of photos, it was nice to finish the trip quietly sitting in the car just a few yards away from such a compelling bird. And it always feels good to track down a lifer and share that experience with others!

#bird #birding #birds #bird photography #birdblr #birdlife #photography #birdwatching #close encounter #original photography #original photography on tumblr #owl #burrowing owl #arizona #there's simply nothing around here that looks like habitat

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fallinforerling · 2 years ago

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LOVE ISN'T ETERNAL. chapter 5 - jb

Song recommendation for today's update: Tink - Toxic

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The rest of the night went without you even noticing, mostly because of the extra drinks you had after telling the girls about the little selfie with Gio. And as you supposed, they loved how well played it was.

Another thing you could still remember vividly while you managed to open your eyes was that even after you said goodbye, you encountered Gio once again on the dance floor.

You danced together for a couple of songs. It was obvious you were having fun; Gio always behaved like an absolute sweetheart, super respectful, and even though you knew some flirting was there, he never made it obvious. He was good company.

Now you were fully awake, having a dejávu when you realized Mia and Nikki were sleeping in the same position from a few days ago. Odd.

“I can't believe we partied until four A.M” Mia's voice, sounding raspy as always when she drank too much, made you notice that she was also waking up. “Now I'm seeing the consequences of my actions.”

“Yeah...” You agreed, feeling how your body was heavier than usual, making it difficult to move. So you didn't. “I think I'll live here forever, I don't have the energy to get up. Not today, not ever again."

“What time is it?” Nikki whispered, still wrapped in two covers. You didn't even had two covers on your bed the day prior... Where did she find them?

“Hold on...” Mia moved around the bed for a moment before letting herself fall again into the mattress. “Oh God, it's 3 p.m”

The three of you gasped before laughing. Yep, that seemed reasonable.

“We need to eat something or else.” You said after a while, making sure none of them had fallen asleep again. “Are any of you craving some shawarma?”

“Hell yeah.” Nikki said, still wrapped around the covers, but fully awake as far as you could tell.

“Nice, let me grab my phone.” While getting up, you started to see the disaster the three of you caused around the bedroom. Your clothes were everywhere, the bathroom door was fully open and even being far away you could notice that three drunks were there. “Great...”

You didn't have the energy to care for cleaning right now. The bags were strangely safe, carefully placed by your vanity. Priorities. Luckily, all your stuff was still in your purse, which was a miracle of its own. The only strange thing was your phone, which was buzzing like crazy. The battery was almost gone, but you could see the many notifications popping up second after second.

“What the...?” You took it, fearing the worst. “Gio's story...” Now that you thought about it, maybe being posted and tagged on a famous footballer's insta story wasn't the smartest option when you wanted to keep a low profile. “Fuck my life...” While you unlocked it, Nikki and Mia were out of bed, looking at you with curiosity.

“What happened?” Mia said, arching an eyebrow.

“I think I just exposed myself to the world.” You said, gasping when you saw that most of the notifications were from Instagram.

"What do you mean "exposing yourself”? You didn’t post a nude picture, did you?” Nikki questioned, getting out of the covers.

“I think that’ll be easier to fix if that was the case…” You unlocked your phone, trying to calm down and not succumb to the rising panic you were starting to feel.

Tons of notifications were still coming, but you decided to go directly to Instagram and find out what kind of disaster was starting to unfold. Your notifications were up to at least 5.000 only in mentions and following requests. Thank God you kept your IG private. Before your trembling fingers made a mistake, you went to your DMs, which were even worse than the notifications because not only hundreds of people were asking who you were, but also sending you videos and photos. With a deep breath you started to open the recent ones.

“What’s going on? You look pale.” Mia got up from the bed, taking your arm carefully. “Come on, sit before you pass out.”

“I feel like I’m about to…” You sat between the two of them, letting them see your phone screen. They peeked over your shoulders, gasping when they saw the amount of DMs.

Some of the messages were just things like “Are you Gio’s new girlfriend?” or “Are you friends with Gio? Give him my number lmao” while others were worse, not because they were threatening you or anything similar, but because they mentioned Jobe’s twitter photos or that people were sharing videos of you dancing with Gio last night.

You went through some of them, feeling more and more anguished by the minute.

“Is this you with Gio????”

“Oh my god, are you dating both Jobe AND Gio?”

“Are you the same girl from the photos of the twitter threat?”

“You look kinda similar to Jobe’s new girlfriend”

“It’s giving clout chaser”

“Are we seeing the rise of the next WAG?”

“You’re pretty asf”

“Omg, I could swear on my mom I’ve seen you before in Dortmund with Judeeeee”

The last caught your attention more than you wanted. It wasn’t that impossible, since you did go out for walks with Jude after his practice or drive him around town when you were visiting. But back then it was impossible for the few people that saw the two of you together to figure out who you were. Now, with your face out in the open, maybe more people could start recognizing you.

God knows what could happen.

The absolute worst part of all this was people recognizing you from that stupid Twitter threat. You weren’t dating Jobe, but who was going to believe you? It was better to stay silent while figuring out what to do from now on.

“Look, someone’s calling you.” You blinked, coming back to the real world. You didn’t even notice that you spaced out for a bit.

The screen read “Unknown number”

“You take that, I’ll see what’s all this fuss about.” Nikki got up, reaching for her bag.

“I’ll go make us some coffee.” Mia gave you a look that said I’m sorry.

“I’ll help you with that” Nikki almost ran after Mia, giving you that look of sympathy you hated before leaving. The door closed behind them with a click. Now you were alone with this call.

You didn’t know why, but you knew it was Jude.

“Hello?” You picked it up before it went to voicemail, regretting it almost immediately.

“I’ve been calling you all morning! The fuck is happening? Why are you on Gio’s IG?” Yep, that was Jude’s voice.

You didn’t know what you were expecting when the first call after the breakup happened. Feeling excited? Hopeful? Happy? None of that was happening at the moment; you were pissed. Because how dare he call after weeks of silence to confront you about what you did as a single woman?

“Excuse me?” You said, feeling your blood boil. “Why would I give you an explanation?”

“Because you’re my-”

“Your what, Jude?” Your voice remained firm while your heart shattered all over again. Why was he doing this? “Your ex-girlfriend? Yes, I remember. I’m not your problem anymore, why are you calling me?”

“You’re still my friend, you know that” Ouch. “You didn’t even told me you were going out with freaking Gio.” Why was he mad at that?

“And why should I inform you about that?” You wouldn’t admit you just happened to run into Gio yesterday.

"Because now people think you're his fucking girlfriend!"

“So what?! You didn’t let me know when you went out partying and when you made out with some girl a week ago, did you? Do you even care if people assume that's your fucking girlfriend?”

The line fell in an awkward silence for a few seconds. You almost laughed.

“How do you know about that?” At least he didn’t try to deny it.

“Why does it matter?” You avoided answering him. “You’re acting like a hypocrite. Why are you calling me? To make me feel bad about moving on and having fun with my friends, just as you did a week after you broke up with me?”

“That’s not what-”

“You know what? I don’t really care what you are trying to do here. Don’t call me again.” And you hung up.

Before he could call again, you blocked his number. And then, like a wall collapsing, you started to sob and then to cry.

“Fucking prick!” You wanted to throw your phone, but that wasn’t going to make you feel better. You hated him more than ever. And you hated that he had this effect on you.

“Honey! What happened?” Both girls came running into the room, startled by your scream.

“That fucking asshole!” You said, unable to stop your sobs. Were you crying because of how mad you were or because you still felt a little bit of hope about this call being different? “He dared to call me to ask questions about why I was with Gio last night… Like he had any rights to do shit like that.”

Your friends hugged you without saying anything, knowing what you needed right now.

When were you going to get over him?

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pollymorgan · 5 months ago

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Ex-Husband Negan Part 11

It was naturally impossible to keep the renewed relationship with my ex-husband a secret from our daughters. How could I? After all, we're talking about Negan, whom I had once again gotten involved with.

At some point, he showed up at our doorstep to surprise us. And it was with a trip to Mexico for the four of us. I had no idea where he got the money from again. But our girls were thrilled, and I knew we would never be able to hide our relationship for 10 days. So I was honest with them and hoped that this time it would really work, even though I was more than skeptical myself.

The hotel was stunning, a beautiful property with a huge spa area, and even the flight there was incredible fun. There's just nothing better than watching Negan make our daughters laugh. So I decided not to be a party pooper anymore and just enjoy this vacation with my family.

The first two days were spent soaking up the sun, enjoying the pool and the beach, and eating delicious food. Everything was perfect, and life felt so easy after everything that had happened in the past few weeks. The breakup with my ex-partner, the dispute over our shared house, the terrible atmosphere at work because Steve and I are colleagues on top of everything else, and finally the self-doubt I had for getting involved with Negan again. I often wondered, shouldn't I know better by now? But right now, those thoughts and worries were blown away, and it did wonders for my soul.

On the third day of our vacation, Negan wanted to go diving with Lizzie and Gracie. The mere thought of being dependent on a small oxygen device underwater terrified me. So I decided to stay at the hotel and treat myself to a day of wellness. My family tried to convince me to at least come along. After all, the trip was planned for the whole day, and they wanted me to overcome my fears. But all their coaxing didn't help. I was determined that nobody could get me to put my head underwater.

So I bid farewell to the three in the morning when they were picked up in front of the hotel, feeling a bit uneasy. But I knew Negan would take good care of our girls. He always had, without fail.

I made full use of all the spa offerings at the hotel throughout the day: massages, pedicures, manicures, facials... the whole shebang. It felt heavenly. When I got ready for dinner in the evening, I felt completely comfortable in my skin. I slipped into a short blue dress with white stripes, one shoulder bare. I styled my long dark hair slightly wavy, even though I knew it was probably futile due to the humidity and they would probably not look the same after five minutes.

After dinner, I decided to sit in the beach bar for a while and end my "me-day" there until my family returned.

I sat directly at the bar on a stool because I didn't want to occupy a whole table by myself. As I took a sip of my admittedly strong Caipirinha, I was glad I had eaten well beforehand. Otherwise, the drink would probably have gone to my head even faster than it already had. I took out my phone from my bag to sort through some vacation photos. I felt like I had already taken 1000 photos in the first two days. So I edited, deleted, and moved the pictures on my screen while enjoying my cocktail, lost in thought. When I came across a candid shot, I swiped as quickly as I could. Still, I glanced around quickly to see if anyone had just looked at my phone. Luckily, no one did, but my cheeks still heated up even more, from the alcohol and the heat.

Negan had taken a photo of me last night, giving him a blowjob. And I was so sure he had deleted it again. This guy! What was he thinking? After all, it was not unlikely that our daughters would also look at the pictures. Still, I couldn't help but smile.

Next to me at the bar sat a very elegantly dressed couple around my age. They caught my eye from the start, just like probably everyone else. Their light-colored clothes were perfectly coordinated and looked like they were from a fashion magazine. It wasn't over the top, just elegant and stylish. At some point, the lady left her place, and I looked up in surprise when I noticed the man moved a stool over after a few minutes and now sat next to me.

When I looked at him, his bright blue eyes met mine directly, surrounded by small laugh lines on his tanned skin. He raised his glass and toasted me. What a damn jerk! His wife had just left, and he was already flirting with the next person, and I thought, only one could be so bold...

So I tried to ignore him and focus back on my phone.

"So grumpy in such a beautiful place?" he suddenly asked, his voice sounding like that of an audiobook narrator. Was he actually one? An audiobook narrator? It somehow seemed fitting, but what do audiobook narrators typically look like? You don't see them often... Stop, why was I even thinking about this random stranger, about whom I knew nothing, except that his eyes resembled the ocean and he seemed like quite the jerk...

As a light breeze passed by, I caught a whiff of a woody, exotic scent of patchouli. The man not only had a great sense of style but also knew his perfumes.

"If the drinks weren't all-inclusive, I would have liked to invite you for one. Maybe..." I quickly interrupted him, "Sorry, I think you should find someone else or go back to your wife..."

He looked completely baffled. "My wife? I don't understand... Oh, you mean my sister Claire?! Who was just sitting here..."

I shook my head in annoyance. Sister? What a bold lie. Had Negan ever pulled something like that too? Passing me off as his sister...? The thought didn't seem too far-fetched.

The man beside me immediately sensed that I didn't believe him. "Claire and I are twins. We're here in Mexico because her daughter is getting married... My wife, well I mean... I've been a widower for almost a year. That's probably why my flirting skills are so rusty. Please excuse me!"

I saw his clear eyes slightly mist up in an instant. Oh man, how insensitive had I been? Had Negan's behavior already damaged me to the point where I saw the worst in every man? Feeling embarrassed, I turned to the stranger and apologized meekly. But luckily, the man didn't seem to hold it against me and grinned at me. I noticed how he subtly scanned me from head to toe in seconds. He did it skillfully, but I didn't miss it. However, it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, it even boosted my ego a bit.

He introduced himself as Jacob, and after ordering another drink, we decided to take a seat at one of the tables to have a better conversation. What did I hope to gain from this? Nothing! Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. He just seemed like an interesting, open person, and I wanted to know more about him. After he had shared a bit about himself, without sounding arrogant, he asked me if I was here alone. I don't know why I hesitated for a moment before answering, but then I said, "No, here with my family..."

His face momentarily hardened, but then he smiled again, albeit not as naturally as before. "So, married...?" he inquired, leaning back in his chair to create more distance between us.

I looked at him thoughtfully and truthfully replied, "Well, it's complicated..."

He nodded as if he understood what I was trying to convey, even though I didn't quite get it myself. "Kids?" he asked instead.

"Two wonderful daughters and you?“ I grinned.

"A not always so wonderful son..." he laughed honestly and told me about some escapades of his offspring, which were all more or less harmless but damn funny.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder that grabbed me somewhat roughly. Startled, I looked up and met Negan's dark eyes, which were glaring at me.

I felt caught, but caught at what exactly? After all, I was just having a conversation. Still, I automatically held my breath.

"Wow, looks like you're having a lot of fun... What's so funny here, my love? I want to laugh too..." he said, and his voice sounded even deeper than usual, sending a slight shiver down my body.

Jacob tried to say something to defuse the situation, but Negan immediately cut him off. "I'm talking to my wife, not with a George Clooney Double for the visually impaired..."

"Negan!" I scolded him sternly, although I had little hope that it would do any good.

Unfazed, he took a seat at the empty chair at our table, and I knew this whole situation was not going to end well...

I have a question. In what situations or flashbacks would you still like to see the two of them? Please give me some inspirations. Thank you for your feedback!🥰🤗

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kpopbestie96 · 3 months ago

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Running into an Idol - Bang Chan

Hello lovelies! Bang Chan posted on his Instagram story, which means (drum roll please) 🥁I get to write a story off the pictures! If you're new here, I like to write short stories based off Chan's photos.

So this one is a bit more delusional, I hope you like it. Honestly, I think it feels rushed but hope you enjoy it. Also, did you get to stay up for his four hour birthday live?? I only saw 30 minutes of it before heading to bed. 😅 But let's jump on into the story, let's go!

Warnings: a tiny bit of cussing, attempted kidnapping (I promise it's not bad but still putting the warning as trigger for any of my readers).

Music recommendation: Beautiful Stranger by Laufey

Work let you go pretty late, having you cover for a few people who called out today. You wanted nothing more than to be home, relaxing in your bed, watching your favorite show after a hot shower.

After gathering your things and heading out the building, you entered the night fresh air, happy it finally stopped raining since it's been raining for the past three days.

Making your way over to the bus stop you felt as if someone was following you, your gut feeling was making you sick, afraid to even look. The eyes felt directly on you and it could be felt burning your body.

The second you turned your head this guy says hello right next you, making you jump in your spot.

"Go away!!" You screamed about to take off running but he grabbed your hand.

"I just want to talk." You shook free of his grip, quickly running away from this random human.

As you were trying to run to the bus stop, you saw another man with a backpack exiting a building close by. You thought he might be able to help.

"Excuse me sir," you tapped him on the shoulder, before hunching over out of breath. You tried to find air so you could explain the situation but before you could the man ran up and grabbed your arm.

"Do you know her?" The man with the backpack and black beanie said.

The man who had a grip on your arm looked at him angrily, "I do, who are you?"

"I'm her boyfriend, who the fuck are you?"

You looked at the kind stranger with large eyes, thankful for his lie, until you were able to really look at him. You couldn't believe who was in front of you. A man who's music saved your life, with the help of seven others, was standing right in front of you.

The man panicked and let go of your arm, running away from you both.

"Are you okay?" The kind stranger asked.

"I am now...thank you," you said nervously while your heart was pounding against your chest. You didn't know if it was from almost being taken away or because of THE Bang Chan standing in front of you.

"Are you just leaving work??" He sounded concerned, noticing your attire and bags in your hand."

"Yeah..."

"This late??"

"We had some people call off so I had to help do their work. But your leaving work late too?"

"I am but you shouldn't be out here on your own."

"I know but it's work.. what can you do?" You shrugged your shoulders. "Anyways, thank you for that." You were about to walk towards the bus stop when you heard his feet hitting against the concrete before he reached your side.

"Are you heading to the bus?"

"Yeah..."

"I'll come with you."

"What??" You snapped your neck, looking at him as if he grew two heads. You couldn't believe he would offer to accompany you.

He could see your wary stare, smiling to show he means no harm towards you and genuinely wants to make sure you're okay.

"If you don't want me to...."

You figured he could provide you company and safety on your bus ride home. "No no, I'd love it if you did," you said with a nervous smile because you didn't think to ever run into a member of Stray Kids, let alone them joining you on the bus.

"So where do you work at?" Chan asked, trying to make small talk before the bus arrived.

You told him of your job and how you came to South Korea for it and started talking as if you guys have been friends for years.

The conversations continued on the bus as you both couldn't help but laugh at something he said. You were having your real life Channie's room and thought you would be waking up any second from this dream.

He was wondering why you didn't recognize him. He thought maybe you were being polite but either way he was enjoying his time with you -talking about whatever random thing crosses each other's minds.

"Well this is my stop." You said after looking out the window and noticing the familiar buildings appearing in view.

Both of you wanted to ask for each other's numbers but it's as if you were the same person - being too shy to ask the other. So getting up from your seat, you bowed to the kind stranger you just met, but felt as if you've known for years, and headed off the bus. You did one quick look behind your shoulder to see him sitting there waiting for you to enter your building.

He flashed a cute dimple smile as you turned around to open the door. You bowed one more time and smiled, feeling different emotions but choosing to be excited about meeting a member of Stray Kids.

...

A couple days go by and it's finally Sunday, where you planned to lay around the house, doing nothing before work the next day.

You were watching TV when a notification popped up on your phone screen that was Bang Chan going live.

Quickly turning YouTube on your TV, up popped Chan's beautiful bare face that you saw the night he saved you. Your heart began to flutter, a smile snuck onto your face without your realizing it as you listened to him talk.

He was doing Channie's room like he usually does until he started talking about how he met an incredible person a couple nights ago. "They were really nice and the conversations we had made me feel like a real person, felt genuine. I wish to see them again."

Staring at the TV, with no movement and no breathing, you couldn't wrap your mind around what he said. What the hell??

"I hope to run into them again," he said with a huge smile. "Maybe tomorrow."

Now do I risk staying late again for him or go home without seeing him again? You rubbed your temples gingerly with your fingers, trying to come up with a solution - deciding to stay late tomorrow that way you can cross paths with him again.

#bangchan #chris bang #christopher bang #bang chan #chan #channie #skz chan #skz channie #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan fake texts #chan fake texts #stray kids #stay #skz #bang chan imagines

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rebsins · 1 year ago

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hey! I'm loving your writing! I was wondering if you could do a headcanon of what tom and the reader would be like in an interview together, and the interviewer asking questions about the relationship and everything

hiii, thank you so much🫶. sorry for responding this late but I was on vacation😭😭. For those who sent requests, don’t worry I’ll be doing them soon!Anyways I hope you’ll like it!! 🩷

Tom Kaulitz x reader in a interview

Ok so, when he is interviewed alone with his band, you are the only thing he genuinely wants to talk about.

His favourite question has always been “How is your relationship with y/n going?” ever since you two started dating.

When he gets asked that, he just begins ranting on how amazing you are and how your relationship is going better as the days pass by. He brags about dating you a lot; he is just so proud to have you by his side😭🙏.

He zones out , completely ignoring the interviewer, with a little smile and eyes full of adoration as if he was looking directly at you.

After some time, Bill starts to get irritated at him and tries to snatch the microphone from his grasp. 💀

When this happens, your boyfriend just continues talking about you while avoiding Bill’s ‘attacks’. It often ends with a little fight between them and with Bill getting the microphone and teasing Tom about being a total simp.

At the end he just laughs and says “I can’t say that I’m not one for her”. 😍🥰

If you two are interviewed together, he always has his hands on you, in some way. Wrapped around your waist, holding your hand, touching your thigh….He just wants everyone to know that he is taken and that you’re his😾.

Most interviewers, start the interview, by compliment you on your looks and Tom, every time, would immediately jump in and say “Of course, she is my girlfriend, she always looks stunning” with a little smirk, and an hand on your shoulder, to accompany the phrase.

You, even if you are famous, both loved and hated being interviewed😭.

Sure you loved spending time with your lovely Tom, but HATED when they showed paparazzi pictures.

One time the paparazzi had caught you both fucking wasted at the club and they took photos of you basically on top of Tom, eating each other’s faces.

You hoped that they wouldn’t show the photo and ask about it, but of course they fucking did it.

As soon as it appeared on the big screen you covered your face in embarrassment, groaning loudly at the way your mini skirt did little on covering your ass😭🙏.

On the other hand, Tom, was man spreading with a proud smirk on his face as he told the interviewer “Wow, I remember that night…well, at least, the beginning of it. Y/n couldn’t keep her hands to herself ,but I was surely not complaining😏”.

That resulted with you shoving him off the couch and him laughing his ass off at your flustered face. 💀🙏

Fans love your interviews, because you both tease the hell out of each other.

One time they asked you “What’s the weirdest thing that you learned about each other?”. Tom’s face had brightened up as he immediately responded “When she’s drunk, she literally goes up the stairs on four legs. It’s hilarious ”. (totally not me even when I’m sober 🫡)

You had turned your head to his direction“I literally do not, shut up”. He smirked knowingly “I literally have a video”, “You better not”. As he reached for his phone, you snatched it and got up.

You looked at him dead in the eyes “I have a video of you, drunk, trying to do the hola hoop with your neck and then hitting your teeth with it ” you warned him.

His eyes widened as he immediately got on his knees “please, everything BUT THAT” he pleaded. You smiled with victory, but..

“You are being too cocky when, that night, you literally stole a cart and crashed, with it, against a wall” he deadpanned, as the interviewer immediately turned to you “is that why you had a cast for three whole months?”.

This man had to learn to shut up 💀.

You immediately turned around “I SWEAR I HAD FALLEN FROM THE STAIRS. HE IS A LIAR” you yelled desperately as you pointed at him. He got up and took the opportunity to snatch his phone back “I have a photo” he laughed.

Silence, before… “TOM DONT MAKE ME BREAK YOUR FUCKING GUITARS” you yelled angrily at him, “NO OK, WE CAN TALK THIS OUT, YOU DON’T HAVE TO HARM MY BABIES”. 😭

You two are literally so chaotic together, but you both, and everyone, loved it so freaking much🫶.

#bill kaulitz #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tom kaulitz #x reader #georg listing

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batsvnte · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 • 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing(s): Wally Darling

Sypnosis: a brief outing with friends ends with you finding an lost puppet from an unknown show

Warning(s): reader casually vibrating violently out of fear, mentions of cults and murder, cursing, not proofread

Word Count: 2K

Oc’s involved: Malorie, Eira, and Hwan (mine)

Notes: black gender neutral!reader (they/them pronouns) suddenly got an fixation on Sk8 the Infinity so that’s what inspired me to write something like this. this is probably gonna be a long one so bare with me- reblog and share this with credits to me, Welcome Home belong to @/partycoffin

A group of friends chat amongst each other within a restaurant that was very familiar to them. Eating their own choices of food while joking around with one another, but also sharing some advice once the subject takes a change for something else. Nonetheless, everything was going alright for the little group.

“My little brother hates dolls,” across from where (Name) was sitting, they draw their attention to one of their friends Malorie. “He ran out the room one time when he saw those little puppet things.”

“Muppets? Does he know that they’re just controlled by people.” Sitting directly next to them was Eira, one of the few who were always leading the conversation to keep the energy alive.

Malorie shrugs with a mixture of rolling her eyes. “Yeah but he thinks it’s extra creepy. He doesn’t like that for some reason.”

“Poor little guy. I feel bad for him.” (Name) chimes in quietly after finishing their portion of food, knowing Malorie’s family pretty well.

“I don’t,” Malorie scoffs as she takes a sip out of her drink. “It’s funny seeing him run to dad.”

“Mal be nice!” Eira exclaims as she gives Malorie a look as she raises her hands in defense.

As the two continue their conversation, (Name) directs their attention over to another friend, Hwan, sitting with them. Quietly texting to what they could assume would be a group chat that is somewhat unfamiliar to them since they had saw few profile pictures and names being sent all at once. (Name) wouldn’t really call themselves someone who would be nosy, but something caught their attention.

“What the hell is that?”

Hwan perks his head up to (Name). It nearly took him a minute to realize what they were looking at. Hwan turns his head back to his phone, finding the picture that (Name) had spotted previously. Pulling up the photo, he shows them the picture in proper and full light.

“I don’t really know what it is. One of my friends was explaining something called Welcome Home.” Hwan explains as (Name) takes in the details of the photo.

From what they could decipher, they see a portrait of four puppets in the center. Vibrant colors for each one of the four puppets in the portrait consisting of pink, blue, green and orange. It reminded them of the three fairies from a movie they saw when they were younger. Their eyes were mostly fixated on the one in the middle of the four, looking way more cheerful than the orange one. Pink puppet with blonde hair tied up into a high, long ponytail. The design for them were cute.

“Welcome home? Is that a show?” Malorie questions as both her and Eira’s attention is focused on Hwan.

Hwan nods as he moves his phone over to them for a better look at the portrait. “It is. It’s an American puppet show from 60s.”

Malorie’s face scrunched up in confusion as she looks away from the photo. “They had puppet shows in the 1900s? I thought it was all black and white till like.. the 70s.”

“Color in television was in the 40s.” (Name) says as they earn another look from Malorie. “Just saying.”

Malorie didn’t make any mocking remark towards (Name). Seeing how her attention was directed to the photo, possibly taking in the details of what it could be.

Hwan chimes in once both Eira and Malorie had their fair share of looks. “It was taken off randomly at some point. Everything about the show just disappeared.”

“How did your friend find this?” (Name) looks back over to Hwan with questions filling their mind.

“There’s an account on Instagram that is dedicated to reviving old stuff from the 1900s.”

This gained a lot of questioning looks to what Hwan was talking about. (Name) remains silent as Eira and Malorie ask their own questions about the show and the account. All the ones that (Name) was thinking was already said. Giving that the two were the most curious out of the four.

Malorie’s curious it was always tied to her mischievous ideas and persona, finding ways to tease the others about minor stuff that means no harm while Eira was genuine things that she wants to remember. The little details always mattered to her.

“Do you think something controversial went on with the show to get it cancelled? Like someone got murdered or there was a secret cult.”

(Name) became tense at the mention of ‘murder’ and ‘cult’. They weren’t to fearful of those things but the thought of them made them a little concerned. They looks between the three friends that sat near them as they finally finish their plate of food.

“Why do you always assume something dark happens when an show gets cancelled. It was probably the budget they have.” Eira counters Malorie’s questioning and statement, using a more logical approach to this topic.

Judging from the picture they all saw, it was most likely more to the show than the four puppets on the poster. (Name) quietly sides with Eira on the matter, knowing how budget can really affect the way the show runs and how it is viewed from people outside of the work.

“It’s the 1960s,” Malorie says whilst placing her plate in the middle of the table, being done with her food a while ago. “Something bad happens during that time period. It’s not always uncovered until decades later.”

“There can be good things.” Hwan mumbles out with only being heard by (Name).

(Name) sighs under their breath as they listen to the conversation on whether or not the show was cancelled because of some dark unruly secret. They did think that the show looked cute, but it was strange at the same time. They couldn’t really make a judgement call from one photo they all collectively saw.

“Besides even if it was something else why would someone try to uncover why it got cancelled? That poster looked like shit before they recovered back to its former glory.” Malorie leans in slightly with a slightly hushed tone so that only the four of them can hear. “Maybe someone’s soul was inhabited in the puppets. Possibly the pink one in the middle of them.”

“This is connected to that cult thing you said, Mal.” (Name) suddenly exclaims without thought to their words. “That wouldn’t be true, even if it was maybe there’s other characters in the show than the ones we saw.”

Malorie turns her attention over to (Name). Taking an closer look to their posture and listening to the tone to their voice, her shoulders fall slightly. “Sounds like you’re scared.”

(Name) leans away involuntarily, trying to brush off their sudden outburst. “As if. Why would I be scared of some kid puppet show that was made decades ago.”

(Name) couldn’t feel it, but it was clear to the others that they were somewhat scared. Eira leans away to give them room but with a look of concern as they were obviously shaking due to fear. Hwan reaches towards (Name), putting a hand on their shoulder to give them reassurance.

Malorie didn’t really buy it though. “Sure you aren’t.. anyways, is there anything else on the account?”

Hwan shakes his head as a no. “That’s all there is.”

“Wanky.”

After (Name) had calmed down, they all paid once they were done eating and head out of the restaurant. Bringing along their own skateboards since it would quicker to get back home than walking down the streets. Malorie gets a head start with (Name), Eira and Hwan following behind. Mindlessly following the familiar path back to their homes.

Soon they reached a mild uphill. They all kicked up the skateboards, holding them as they walked uphill. Small talk among them to distract them from complaining about the hill. Though at the back of (Name)’s mind they kept thinking about that puppet show. It was a strange thing for them, and it made them more curious about whatever it could be.

“What was that?”

(Name) snaps themselves out of their thoughts. They haven’t realized that they were slightly ahead of the others, turning back around to see Malorie’s head turned to another direction. In fact all three of their attention were on something that they missed. (Name) takes a few steps towards them to see what they were looking at.

“The box fell over.” Hwan states as his eyes were locked onto a small box that was knocked over. Either from an stray animal or excess weight in the box.

(Name) nearly freezes once they take a full look at the box. Something about the box was strange despite it being normal. Eira must’ve thought the same thing seeing how she was clinging onto Hwan. (Name) was curious about it at the same time, but their conscious out-ruled their curiosity.

“We should get going.” (Name) was about to turn away before witnessing Malorie step towards the box. “Mal what are you doing.”

“I just wanna see what’s in here.” Malorie claims as she nudges the box with her foot, trying to figure if it was taped down or not.

Nobody says anything as Malorie kneels down whilst putting her skateboard face down so it wouldn’t roll away from her. Finding one of the lids to be separated she turned the box over properly. Surprisingly (Name) found themselves to be standing somewhat near Malorie. They lean forward to see the contents of the box. Malorie brushes away some packaging before drawing her hands away from what was in it.

“The fuck..” (Name) muttering under their breath as they lean away once they see the contents as well.

“What? What’s in it?” Eira was still next to Hwan with both keeping a distance from the two and the box.

Malorie lifts up what could be a doll? maybe a puppet of some sorts. He, what they would assume, had blue hair that was styled into a pompadour. Malorie brings it up so that they could get a better look at it. The puppet wore a blue jacket with a white shirt underneath, along with a red ribbon tied around his neck. Along with rainbow pants that would be vibrant and lively if they were in better lighting.

“It’s a doll.” Malorie sounded disappointed and concern at the same time. “That’s all that was in the box.”

Malorie stands up with the doll in hand, scooping up her skateboard in the other hand. She goes over to Eira and Hwan so that they can get a better look at it. (Name) stays their distance from Malorie and the doll, not wanting to really get near it. They didn’t know how to explain it but something about that doll was weird. Coming out of a knocked over box with no address signed to it or no name to it. At least that’s what they saw from where they were standing.

“What are you gonna do with it?” Hwan questions as he looks between the doll and Malorie.

“I don’t know but I’m not keeping it,” Malorie quickly says, almost accidentally cutting off her friend. “My brother is gonna flip out and somehow get rid of it.”

“I’m not keeping it either. I don’t have enough room for it.” Eira gives her reasoning.

Which only leaves Hwan and (Name) without any reason or answer to why they can’t keep it.

“I guess I’ll keep it.” (Name)’s answer made them all turn heads to them.

Malorie steps towards (Name) with the doll in hand, having a look of uncertainty. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, (Name).”

“It’s fine,” (Name) takes the doll out of Malorie’s hands. They were surprised to see how light he was. “Besides it’ll probably keep my sibling from running around the place.”

With a hum of agreement, all of them continued uphill. They manage to get back on their skateboards once the road was more smoother and clear, a comfortable silence among them all. (Name) fell behind the others since they had to adjust how they were going to hold the doll. Figuring that it would be more easier to carry it with one arm due to how light it was, they caught up with the others within a few seconds.

Nearing one of the neighborhoods, all four bid their goodbyes. Hwan and Eira separating to opposite roads while (Name) and Malorie continued down one. Both being close neighbors made it easier to get through skating in the neighborhood. (Name) occasionally cruises past Malorie, more or less eager to get back home. Malorie didn’t really mind since she would be home within a few minutes.

Though, it was unfortunate that she missed the occasional stares directed towards both her and (Name).

‘this action will have consequence’ type shi-

More parts to this little series will be coming soon. I don’t know where I was going with this one but there will be more Wally in the next one I promise-

#ghouul #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home clown illustrations #apple to my eye 🍎#ghouul writings #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #yandere wally darling #welcome home oneshot #welcome home wally #welcome home arg

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izvmimi · 2 years ago

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cw: a repost. dilf!bokuto.

Bokuto, well in his 40s, is a busy, busy man, and so is his wife. Your task is to ease their suffering, and you do so exceptionally well, as the always polite, always cheerful au-pair that manages their household tasks, whether it be cleaning, cooking or babysitting.

It’s an incredible gig. The couple has just one darling child that’s no more than two years old and does little more than run around and jump into your arms or say short phrases, many of which warm your heart. The large house is relatively clean, so tidying is easy, and Bokuto was kind enough to give you a credit card and a vehicle to make grocery and snack shopping easy, as well as help your commute to night classes. You live in the two bedroom guest house on the property, and you couldn’t ask for more.

Well, you could, even if you shouldn’t.

As you sit together night after night at dinner, strapping the youngest Bokuto into a high chair before sitting down with her father, who digs into your meals heartily, you wonder what it would be like to fill the space Mrs. Bokuto occupies. After all, she’s been more and more absent recently, traveling for long periods of time to promote her business, and often dinner is just the three of you rather than four. Her husband is handsome, and has always been (you’ve seen the photo albums, the large family portrait at the entrance to the living room, what be it), and it’s hard to not get lost in his golden eyes, especially when they look directly at you as he makes joke after joke. He’s energetic, he’s charismatic, and he’s available. After all, all you do is prove your ability to be a good wife day after day, while his actual wife does God knows what.

Plus, you could be doing him a service. He must miss having a woman’s full attention, and you had plenty of time to provide that for him.

Easing the burden of existing. That’s what you were for.

Perhaps you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you, you consider, as you hand Mrs. Bokuto her travel bag and smile widely.

“God, I can’t believe they want me across the country so soon!”

She looks frantic, checking her watch, then making a full 360 as she waddles in her high heels, making sure she hasn’t lost anything. The taxi that will take her to the airport is waiting patiently but she still looks distressed.

“I can’t find my fucking-”

Bokuto comes in behind her as she traipses at the doorway, pushing a bouquet of flowers in front of her that startles her and kissing her forehead once she turns around to look at him.

“Here’s your goodbye kiss,” he teases.

She frowns. “That’s not what I mean!”

You giggle, and Bokuto laughs too, louder, and hands her the wallet she was missing.

“This? You dropped it in the driveway,” he says, kissing her again. As you watch him, you wonder what it would be like for him to look at you that way. You will have a month together. It’s enough time.

There’s always enough time. Time is on your side after all. You don’t have the laugh lines, or the dull skin or the outdated fashion the woman practically jumping inside the taxi cab does. You watch her go, and as though on cue you can hear Bokuto’s little girl wake up from her nap and start making her way down the stairs. If she saw her mother go, she’d start crying and you’d been a hero and put her to a nap before then. When she sees you, golden eyes still sleepy and half-closed, she reaches her arms out to you.

“Carry,” she asks. You scoop her up and hold her on your hip. Bokuto comes in closer, still waving his wife off then turns to you, then the little girl in your arms.

When he moves in close to her to play with her, you catch the scent of his cologne. You’ll never stop thinking about that scent.

“Awww, did you sleep well? Where’s your blanky?”

His hands brush against yours as you pass him to her. They’re warm and gentle and you wonder what they’d feel like on you.

—

Over the next week, you put yourself on display. Men are simple, visual creatures. If he likes what he sees, he’ll chase it.

Shorts and shirts get shorter, arms and legs get barer. You spend more time in the main room, falling asleep on the couch, the tightness of your tank tops and your yoga pants not leaving much to the imagination. Of course he finds you often in these compromising positions, shaking your ass to music as you mop the floors, reaching every high shelf, and interrupting his workout sessions in the personal gym to ask questions you could easily google.

He looks good dripping in sweat, and you always have a towel and a bottle of water ready.

Like today.

“Thanks!”

Bokuto is as handsome as he is earnest and possibly a little simple, you think. But he is cute, and he is loaded, and you think he’s terribly adorable.

Plus his daughter loves you too. It won’t be a stretch for her to start calling you mama.

Bokuto watches as you feed her tots, chicken nuggets and fresh veggies. As though coincidentally, he also seems to be home more often. Maybe he was avoiding his harpy of a wife after all.

Two weeks pass like this and you brush closer and closer with him.

He’s chattier than usual and he tells you all about his childhood and early days. You wonder if he’s told these stories before, as intimate as a few of them sound, listening carefully as you sit in a comfortable armchair in his office while, having crept up on him as he caught up on some bills and other paperwork.

Perhaps you lean over his shoulder while he shows you some old headlines from back in the day. You’re a good listener - a great one even. You wonder if he feels your breasts ghost over his shoulder. You are so close you can tell he chose another perfume today.

And as he turns to look up at you, you wonder if today’s the day to broach it.

“You’re such a good help,” he says finally, and you wonder if it’s the time he’ll finally break. After all, the door is closed and it’s just the two of you, and you’re close enough that he could very easily turn his head and kiss you.

“Thanks for all you do,” he says finally. He glances over his shoulder at you, then turns back to the work at hand, mentioning something about a raise.

And that’s when you shoot your shot.

“I could do more,” you insist.

He doesn’t pause or turn. “You’re doing a great job already. You know, when ___ first suggested you, I thought it’d be a little strange to have another person in our little space, because you’re basically part of the family, but now-”

Your hand rests on his shoulder gingerly, then firmly, and you move in closer to whisper into his ear.

“I mean in other ways.”

Bokuto pauses.

Perhaps it’s excitement, or maybe it’s concern - after all your honeyed voice is new to him, and possibly the feel of your breath so close to his ear.

Your heart pounds as he pushes back in his chair. He gets up, and there’s a devilish expression on his face when he turns you towards you.

“Why, aren’t you the sneakiest little thing?” He croons.

Your eyes widen as he towers over you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen next, but you swallow hard and let the moment overtake you. He’s got you by the wrists and he pulls you towards him.

“No one here to see us…”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and he turns you until you’re bent over his desk.

Your hands are behind your back. Is he typically this rough when he-

“Naughty, aren’t we?”

You nod, stupidly. Is this really happening? You brace yourself and suddenly, he lets go.

“Get the fuck out.”

Your eyes widen and you turn onto your back.

“What?” you say in a small voice. Bokuto looks furious now, if you could even imagine someone like him getting this upset. But of course he’s upset. You’ve disrespected him, his marriage, his wife? You’re lucky he’s man enough not to lay a finger on you.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he replies.

You swallow hard.

“N-no…”

“Get the fuck out of my office, and I’m calling your parents to expect you at the airport, first thing in the morning.”

You start to stammer and cry but he points to the door.

“Grow up.”

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #daydreams: hq #thoughts: bokuto #mimi’s notes #remembering how this fic and fics like it caused controversy #lmaooooo

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yuzurujenn · 10 months ago

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[2024.03.11] Yuzuru Hanyu sends a message to victims of the Great East Japan Earthquake and Noto Peninsula Earthquake

(Before the interview, while arranging the camera and lighting, I asked Hanyu, "the three days ice shows just finished you look a little tired." Hanyu replied, "Although there is a reason for this, but as expected all sorts of thoughts come to my mind on this day.")

How do you feel about the day of 3.11?

It remains the same every year. I will feel pain and recall the experience of that day. Although many things have changed, there are still things that remain unchanged, and emotions that have not changed actually exist. How to say, every emotion is actually very complicated.

Do you still remember the situation at the time of the disaster?

Yes. I have never forgotten, nor have I ever thought about forgetting. No matter what I do, these memories come back over and over again. I think they will not fade away and will always exist in my mind.

Was it during practice when the earthquake occurred, right on the ice?

Yes, it was on the ice. There had been several earthquakes before that (*a magnitude 7.3 earthquake occurred off the coast of Sanriku on March 9), so I thought that would be the end of it. At that time, it happened to be the holiday period after school exams, so I practiced during the normal business hours of the ice rink. When the initial shock started, I tried to reassure the guests on the ice that “it’s okay” and provide guidance. I have to say that I am actually somewhat used to earthquakes.

You went back to your home?

I walked back, but my home was not in a habitable condition at all (note: it was later judged to be in a completely destroyed state). Although I went to a shelter, it was closed and I couldn't stay overnight. So, I walked for about thirty to forty minutes to another shelter.

Have you ever felt the fear of having your daily life disrupted?

Rather than the fear of daily life being destroyed, it is better to say that there is no sense of reality at first, and that daily life is destroyed before I realize it. I spent four days in the elementary school gymnasium that was used as a refuge centre at the time. “Was this reality?” To be honest, I felt that I couldn't tell the difference at the time. In the blink of an eye, my life, surrounding environment, and the time I had experienced were all changed. So easily destroyed. So, in the short term, my feelings were closer to the feeling of "what happened" than to fear.

Do you remember when it started to feel real?

Everyone was thinking about the disaster-stricken areas, support was becoming closer and closer to people, and I was also allowed to perform at charity ice shows, so it gradually became more and more realistic. It's almost like a feeling that came to me. Whenever I saw videos on the news or photos in newspapers, no matter how I looked at them, they just looked like CG. I myself am not one of those people who actually lost someone close to me. The numbers were so big and so far removed from me that, to be honest, it didn't seem real to me.

You won a gold medal at the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics, and when you were told that you didn't smile at a press conference, you said, ``It's difficult to talk about the earthquake.'' Do you still remember what you felt at that time?

Honestly, if you ask me if things have changed since then, there are some things that haven't changed. Of course, I'll donate money, or if I feel like I can help even a little, I'll do my best to help. However, in reality, even if we provide support, nothing will directly change; for example, in the case of a major disaster like this, even if one person aspires to do something and does something, it will not really change anything. So, if you ask me if the hearts of all people in that area will improve after all, I know that it is honestly difficult to do that. In that sense, there are some things that have not changed since then. However, what has changed over time is that through the ice shows and actually visiting disaster-stricken areas and seeing the smiles on the faces of many people, I have come to realize that I have worked hard, and seen the results of my efforts, the feelings I want to convey, the way I skate, and so on, I was able to feel that there was meaning.

You were also called the star of the disaster area. For a teenager, though, it feels like a burden.

I would say it was a heavy burden. When I was 16 years old, I would say it was heavy. After all, at that time, I was constantly asked about the earthquake, and even if I had achieved results in a competition, for example, I would be asked, “Well, do you have any message for the people in the disaster area?” No matter what I did, I was always asked about the disaster, and at that time I felt the weight of it all. The earthquake happened at the age of 16, at a time when it was easy for me to feel many different things, and I was told many things by many people, and I personally felt that it was very difficult. It's not like I became famous because of that, but as I achieved the results, I was asked about the earthquake in various places, and I couldn't help but associate Yuzuru Hanyu with the earthquake. To be honest, there were times when I wondered why I had to say something like this. However, because of that, I started to connect my skating, and my life itself, with the disaster, and I have come to think that it is one of the missions of my skating.

There are also people who feel afraid and confused about speaking out about the earthquake disaster.

Yes. The same is true today. No matter how hard we try, it is difficult to make everyone empathize. As an individual from the disaster-stricken area, I can be considered one of the victims. However, I did not suffer damage from the tsunami, nor did I lose any relatives at the time. Under such circumstances, I cannot face those who directly suffered the death of relatives and friends, and were displaced. The same is true today. Even if I want to simply convey that reconstruction is progressing, in fact, there are still uninhabitable and abandoned areas around the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant, so I cannot make a blanket statement. However, I feel that I have always chosen my words in the midst of this conflict and contradiction to convey what I want to say.

You still struggle with the choice of words. This has not changed.

Yes. Fundamentally speaking, it’s not like I can get close to everyone's heart. Although I don't want to give up...how should I put it? Really, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to be there for you, in the end it is still just my own one-sided feelings, and I can feel that there is still something like a boundary. In that sense, rather than words, I think it’s better to focus on figure skating. Compared to language, physical expressions such as figure skating that are not bound by language can allow people to see different things based on their own values and allow people to think more.

Continuing from last year, the ice show "notte stellata" will be held in Miyagi Prefecture in March this year. You had a desire to do it around the time of March 11th.

This show itself was not planned by me, but I actually visited the disaster-stricken areas and told the people around me that even before I turned professional, I wanted to be able to support the disaster-stricken areas. However, there was someone who made it a reality, and in fact, it is still happening today. That’s why that person took into consideration what I had always thought and put it together to make this work. Thank you for making the show a reality. So, I'm skating with the mindset that I want to give my best performance here.

When you were a competitor, the World Championships were coming up, and you said that it was difficult to provide direct support. By becoming a professional, you can reach that goal.

To be honest, I don't think that my feelings for the disaster area or the time I spent thinking about that time has changed much. However, I think that my ability to actually take action has changed. I think I have changed in terms of being able to actually take action, rather than just thinking directly about the disaster and practice on my own without taking any action. However, year after year, I had painful feelings and various memories, but I never actually expressed them in front of people or delivered anything, so I think things have changed a lot since I became a professional.

A comment published on the 10th anniversary of the earthquake said, ``I think I am the person who has been supported the most by these words, so I am the person who knows the meaning and power of these words the best.'' So let me say this, “Please do your best.” What are the words that you want to convey now?

I want to continue to support them. It's no different from what I said at that time, but I myself received a lot of support, and in the course of various activities like this, I received support from many people, and there were people in the disaster-stricken areas who supported the activities themselves, so I really want to continue to support the people in the disaster-stricken areas for a long time. More than that, I would like to express my gratitude and support to the people who are supporting the disaster-stricken areas.

Do you feel that you are entrusting that feeling to the ice show you held until yesterday and the solo tour performances since last November?

With 'notte stellata', yes, basically. To be honest, I'm a little bit detached from solo performances, but no matter what I say, when I’m saying something or skating, I think that the earthquake disasters are something that inevitably comes with me, so I'm sure there are many words that come to mind in the story of ``RE_PRAY'' (a solo ice show performance). However, with regards to the earthquake disaster and 3.11, I am entrusting all my feelings to 'notte stellata', such as wanting to do something directly, supporting, and cheering people up.

You put your thoughts into the songs you skated this time: “Notte Stellata,” “Carmina Burana,” and “Danny Boy.”

In the first place, people's emotions are different depending on their values, and when it comes to the earthquake disaster, each person has a different sense of distance in how they deal with it. So, in my opinion, there is no general rule that says how I want people to think about the earthquake. So, to be honest, I don’t think I should tell you everything what I want you to think about Danny Boy, notte stellata and Carmina Burana. However, after seeing each of the performances, each with its own themes, after watching the performances in this time’s notte stellata, I want the audience to feel a sense of hope, and I would like to express my wish that, even if it's just for a moment, the people who were suffering in the disaster area, those who are currently suffering, and those who are actually suffering in Ishikawa right now, can have a moment of happiness. I've continued skating with the hope that those people will be able to forget reality and have some kind of happy moment, even just for a moment.

Having seen not only the Great East Japan Earthquake but also various disasters such as torrential rain disasters, what are your common thoughts?

Regardless of the severity or scope of the disaster, I think people’s grief is the same. During the Great East Japan Earthquake, we always unconsciously pay attention to some quantitative things, such as the number of casualties, areas and scope in need of rescue. We tend to think that we feel pain because it caused so much damage, because it was such a tragic disaster, but even a disaster like a landslide is very difficult for the victims. Therefore, behind the number, whether it is "1", "1000" or "10000", there is also pain and hardship behind it, which will not change depending on the size of the number. I wish I could convey that.

Yuzuru Hanyu and the earthquake disaster are inseparable. How do you want to face it?

Honestly, the way we deal with the earthquake, the way we interact with it, and the way we think about it changes every day depending on the situation at the time, and in fact, people who are thinking about various things after the Noto earthquake in 2024, including myself, may change their way of thinking when they think about 3.11 again. I think that the way in which those vivid memories are revived is different for each of us, so I can't generalize what it will be like five years from now, but as I go about my daily life and skate again, I realize that I must never waste that experience, and because I have felt that experience closely, I am sure that there are feelings and a mission that I can convey. I think that's why I want to be involved in the process, searching for ways that only I can provide support.

You have been fighting for more than one and half year since you changed to professional. How do you feel about your own evolution?

Especially when it comes to "RE_PRAY", what I want to express, what I want to show, including the world view I want to convey, I was not able do it alone. Everyone in the team is serious about showing these things. These real professionals have poured their souls into their creations. From this perspective, I feel that I am far behind. In short, this solo tour performances make me feel this way. After all, the concept itself is completely different from an ice show, the approach itself is completely different, and the way of creating it itself is completely different, so in that sense, I have to evolve myself. I must have the figure skating skills to match it, and I must have the depth of thought to match it. And more importantly, since I call myself a professional, I always think that I have to skate at the highest level in the world as a professional and a figure skating expert.

At the press conference in July 2022, you said that you didn't have any feelings of sadness about leaving the arena. Do you still feel the same way now?

To be honest, my true feeling is that there's not much point in returning to competition. What I have been doing now is something that is really unimaginable in competitive skating. I don't have any unfinished business in competitive skating, I've already won two Olympic titles, and in my opinion, I've already gone through all the stages and steps that I should have gone through. That's why I don’t see myself returning.

I would like to see Yuzuru Hanyu continue to reach new heights as a professional, and continue to master his expressive ability.

To be honest, professional figure skaters tend to pay a lot of attention to things like expression, but figure skating is a sport after all, so it is important to have a high level of difficulty, and to challenge the limit of one's physical strength, and sublimate the situation as an expression again. In order to present this, it is necessary to hone my skills and strengthen my physical ability even more. I think that this is a new genre of entertainment that we are creating. So, of course, I want people to pay attention to the expressive aspects, but in order to do that, I always ask myself how much strength and how much skill I have to put into it. Furthermore, while I certainly want to evolve in terms of expression, I want to evolve while always asking myself how much more skill and physical strength I need in order to evolve my expression.

Source: https://twitter.com/kyodo_DeepEdge/status/1777560764976660827

#hanyu yuzuru #yuzuru hanyu #羽生結弦 #figure skating #interview #machine #translation

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