#they have to get to it in season 1 because there will be no season 2

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

i know nanami’s only 27, but i can’t help but think that he’s probably got a lot of “old man” traits that he’s acquired one way or another. maybe life made him that way, maybe he chose to act like he is in his 40s and not late 20s, but either way, having him around would be a very interesting experience to say the least because i’m pretty sure he…

he complains like a seasoned retiree. he’s got that heavy sigh, rubs his temple routine down to an art. the kind of man who mutters, “i’m too old for this,” when he’s only been awake for ten minutes. if you suggest staying out late, he just looks at you like you suggested committing a crime.

he has a very specific way of doing things. nanami doesn’t just go grocery shopping—he has a route. he knows which brands he likes, which cashier is the fastest, and he refuses to go on weekends because “that’s when the amateurs show up.” he folds his laundry a certain way, and god help you if you disrupt his system.

his idea of “treating himself” is so dad-coded. nanami doesn’t do impulse buys—when he does spend money on himself, it’s always something practical. “i finally got those orthopedic insoles” or “this is a quality briefcase; it’ll last a lifetime.” and he probably has one (1) expensive pen that he never lets anyone borrow.

he dresses like he’s ready to scold someone for stepping on his lawn. pressed slacks, polished shoes, dress shirts with the sleeves neatly rolled up. casual wear? good luck catching him in it. even his loungewear is suspiciously put-together—like, who wears an actual button-up pajama set in 2025? nanami kento, that’s who.

he drives like a dad. he never speeds, always uses his turn signal, and complains about “reckless drivers” while driving exactly the speed limit. the kind of man who refuses to start the car until everyone has their seatbelt on.

oh, and dating nanami as someone younger than him would be an experience. he already acts like he’s in his 40s, so the age gap (however small) feels so much bigger because he refuses to let loose. but deep down, he wants to—he just doesn’t know how. so to be in a relationship with him is to get used to stuff like this;

he sighs like he’s raising a teenager. if you stay up too late? heavy sigh. if you forget to bring a jacket? exasperated sigh while taking off his coat to drape over your shoulders. if you tell him about a reckless decision you made? pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs like you just told him you totaled his car. but beneath all that dramatic suffering, there’s genuine care. you might get an “honestly, do you have no sense of self-preservation?” but it’s followed by him adjusting your scarf, making sure your shoelaces are tied, and keeping a steady hand on your back when crossing the street.

he pretends to be annoyed by your energy, but secretly loves it. he acts like your enthusiasm exhausts him, but if you ever stopped being excited around him? he’d miss it desperately. when you drag him to try something new, he’ll complain the whole time (“this is a waste of money”), but afterward, he’ll admit—very quietly—that it wasn’t that bad. he likes how you remind him to enjoy life in ways he never lets himself. he’ll never jump in recklessly, but if you say, “just trust me,” he’ll hesitate… then sigh… then go along with whatever nonsense you’re up to, even if he acts like he’s suffering the entire time.

he acts like a responsible adult, but enables your habits in secret. “you shouldn’t be drinking so much caffeine.” and yet, the next morning, there’s an extra coffee waiting for you. “wasting money on little things adds up.” but somehow, that limited-edition item you wanted just magically appears on your desk. he talks a big game about being responsible, but when it comes to you? he has no self-control.

he takes care of you like an old-fashioned gentleman. he opens doors, walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, and insists on carrying heavy things for you. not because he thinks you can’t—just because he wants to. he likes taking care of you, even if he pretends it’s just out of obligation. if you try to carry something heavy, he just looks at you. doesn’t even say anything. just crosses his arms and waits for you to give up and hand it to him. if you call him a gentleman, he’ll scoff, “that’s just basic decency.” but if you really gush about it, you might catch the tips of his ears turning pink.

he thinks trendy slang is ridiculous. you use modern slang just to see his reaction, and it never fails to make him sigh like he just aged ten years on the spot.

“nanami, be so for real.”

“…so for real what?”

“you should just trust the process.”

“i’d rather not.”

if you ever jokingly call him “king” or “bestie” he’ll give you the look. he pretends he doesn’t care, but if you say something really out of pocket, you might actually get him to break character and let out a very exhausted, “what does that even mean?” (you’re keeping track of all the slang that makes him react the most so you can use it strategically. it’s your favorite game.)

he secretly likes when you cling to him. nanami acts like he’s too mature for overly affectionate behavior, but the first time you loop your arm through his or rest your head against his shoulder in public, he freezes. clears his throat. tries to pretend he doesn’t care—but his hand naturally comes to rest over yours, holding you there like it’s second nature. if you ever hug him from behind or whine “but i missed you,” he won’t admit how fast his heart is beating, but he will sigh and say, “i was gone for twenty minutes.” doesn’t matter. he still lets you cling to him as long as you want.

he plans the most responsible dates, but lets you drag him into chaos. nanami’s idea of a date? a nice dinner, a quiet café, maybe a bookstore. nothing loud, nothing unpredictable. your idea of a date? “let’s go to an arcade.” “let’s take a random train and see where we end up.” “let’s sneak into a rooftop at night.” he knows he should say no. but when you look at him like that? sigh. fine. but if you get into trouble, “i had no part in this.” (he’s definitely bailing you out of trouble five minutes later.)

he absolutely dads you when you get hurt. if you get a tiny scrape? nanami reacts like an overprotective father. “what happened?” “let me see.” “you need to be more careful.” and you’re like, “it’s a paper cut.” but he’s already pulling out a bandaid (which he definitely carries with him, because of course he does). if you ever get seriously hurt? he’s scolding you while carefully patching you up. “you’re too reckless.” “next time, call me.” but his hands are so gentle, and he won’t leave your side until he’s sure you’re okay.

he adores when you fall asleep on him. you knock out on his shoulder? he won’t move. his arm is numb, but he doesn’t dare wake you. if you fall asleep on his lap? his hand naturally comes up to run through your hair. if you curl up in bed and mumble “stay with me,” he’ll sigh, say something about how he has work in the morning… and then stay anyway. and if you ever catch him staring when you wake up? he’ll immediately look away. “you were drooling,” he lies. (he was watching you like you hung the stars.)

he acts like he’s too old for all this, but deep down? nanami loves you more than anything. and if loving you takes years off his life? so be it.

[lewyn-martell]

BRITT LOWER as Helena Eagan and ADAM SCOTT as Mark Scout in SEVERANCE → 2.04 "Woe's Hollow"

You know, there's a kinship between these two people that is innate, and I think what the show explores in all of its scope is the ways in which we're different in different environments, and does that sort of kinship carry over between characters, as you shift from innie to outie?

—Britt Lower, Inside the Episode 204: "Woe's Hollow"

My first instinct is to go to the part of my job that is sculpting the inner life of each of these parts of this same person. So, starting from Season One, I was much more in the headspace and inner life of Helly R, and Helena was seen much more in presentational environments. She's being taped, or she's being watched. […] This is a person, Helena, who has been conditioned into the position she's in. She's trapped within the same company [as the rest of the characters]. I think for Helena, it was this chance to blend into an environment that she doesn't get to be a part of, and to connect in a way that maybe she's never connected before.

—Britt Lower, GQ

I think there is that longing for connection and humanity because she’s been so starved for it. So even though she’s lying, I think there are genuine moments. There are genuine things that she’s filtering through the lens of Helly R.

—Britt Lower, The Washington Post

They're two parts of the same person. So there's obviously an inner rebel inside of Helena. That's an aspect of her that's not totally foreign to her. It is something that she has access to. And in Season 1, we see Helena looking at the innies. We see her studying Mark and Helly's interaction and having this curiosity about them.

—Britt Lower, TIME

That taking on this other version of yourself that maybe you've out-grown or you're at odds with, but it's still there—it's a frequency and a rhythm that you can tap into. Even in the scene where she's kind of laughing at the mythology of the scriptures at the ORTBO, I think that, probably, when she was a kid, she wanted so badly to laugh at these pretty ridiculous texts of her family, but she didn't have the ability. So here she is, through the lens of Helly R, getting to live out that [rebellion].

—Britt Lower, GQ

I think she’s getting a chance to have a laugh about it through this rebellious version of her. She’s like, “This is the filter who would get to do that and not suffer the consequences.”

—Britt Lower, Variety

I think that her meeting the innies has a profound effect on her humanity. And I think that she does share a sense of humor with with Mark, that's natural.

—Britt Lower, TIME

His feelings for Helly have only grown thus far this season […] Helly is a huge part of his life. Huge. And I think that a lot of his identity is wrapped up in how he feels about her and how she feels about him[…]

—Adam Scott, EW

Mark starts to realize: maybe getting Gemma out of here isn't my first objective. Maybe it's a little more important to take care of myself.

—Adam Scott, Inside the Episode 204: "Woe's Hollow"

The two of them are on a path. The two individuals, regardless of the innies or the outies, have been on a path of kindred spirit from season one. There's something physiologically that they have, this innate connection[…]

—Britt Lower, GQ

It's something we talked about a lot and spent a lot of time mulling over, the idea of this sort of triangle that's created with Innie Mark and Helly R. and Helena. For Mark's outie, Helena is someone he finds frightening and who is responsible for so much tumult and grief in his life. Yet, I think these two people, one way or another, have a connection of some sort. I'll leave it at that.

—Adam Scott, TIME

[shitpostingsapphic]

"I hate Caitlyn because of the system she represents. I'm so tired of people acting like we can'thate her for that."

Let's have a long, hard talk.

This argument IS made in direct comparison to the oppressive systems we see in real life, so let's first talk about how Caitlyn compares to real world oppressive systems, her faults and the ways she fails the people she serves, and then let's talk about how you're just fucking wrong about her and how you hate the wrong character.

Caitlyn is an enforcer. Stating the obvious. She is a member of a larger system she chose to be a part of, because she wanted to serve the people. She was ignorant of the system's corruption as we see throughout season 1. Her initial intentions with becoming an enforcer are because she wants to fight injustice, defy the stuff politics of Piltover that she was raised under, and have her own identity.

At the end of season 1, several things happen to Caitlyn. She is abducted naked from her home, held hostage for at minimum 24 hours, during which time an array of things could have happened to her but of which we know for certain left her TERRIFIED of the young girl with blue hair she was abducted by. She watches that same girl fire an explosive that kills her mother. Preceding this, she has been witness to the ways Silco has harmed the people of the undercity and how he had the enforcers in his pocket in order to do it. Ekko explicitly tells her this. He tells her how Silco has ruined lives and how the enforcers were the manpower that let it happen.

Caitlyn walks away from season 1 changed in many ways. She is brokenhearted and traumatized, but still holds a strong desire to protect the innocent people of both cities. Because of who she has been up to this point, her belief is that she can rectify the wrongs by using the power of her position to do good instead of aid corruption. Her asking Vi to become an enforcer to do as much is in bad taste, yes. Which she later apologizes for and takes ownership for. That doesn't remove the good intention behind it. And it doesn't negate that Vi can later see the logic behind it. Being able to take control of a bad situation and use that power to do good instead of abusing that power to do bad, is an incredibly shaky but important position to be in. And the whole point of Caitlyn's character is how she navigates that--can she use her position to do good? As per GOOD WRITING, she's not going to get it perfect until she learns and grows.

We can acknowledge the moral ambiguity of using the grey, how it does harm, while also acknowledging the WAY it was used and for what purpose was both smart, economical, and GOOD. Doing bad things for good reasons. That's what the use of the grey was.

I'm not going to get into the memorial much, but all I will say for that, is it's an excellent example of people twisting Caitlyn's words and underselling the pain she's going through. If you can't acknowledge the right Caitlyn has to be upset at the people who just violently disrupted a memorial for mourning the loss of loved ones, I don't think you care to have a conversation about the humane treatment of others. And using Caitlyn's anger and grief as a "see?? She hates Zaunites!!" is so fucking stupid I'm not going to entertain an argument for that.

Caitlyn's setback is her trauma, her ignorance, and her heartbreak. She still isn't a fully realized character throughout most of season 2. She's learning and growing and unfortunately that is at the expense of the people she lords over while enforcing martial law. But if we acknowledge that, we also have to acknowledge the ways she changed the system so that needless suffering and punishment didn't happen. Confronting Ambessa when violence is used unlawfully. Improving the prison food and banning the use of the most inhumane cells in Stillwater. Bare minimum? Yes. But still ways she showed that she saw the Zaunites as humans and not as flesh covered problems the way Salo does. Not as problems to get rid of the way Ambessa does.

If the reason for your ire is because Caitlyn is a figure in a corrupt system, then your hatred is misdirected. The point of Caitlyn is to show the ways the system needs to change, and how the people within it who want to do good can often be misguided, but that doesn't mean they aren't good people or that they can't do good within their position.

If you fundamentally disagree with that, there isn't much of an argument to be had, but I will say that your ire is still misdirected.

I never see you guys discuss Salo or Ambessa.

Salo represents true bigotry in the system. It's a position he maintains all the way up to when his mind is commandeered by Viktor and the hexcore. Salo is the type of person who functions on confirmation bias--he already has a prejudiced view of Zaunites, and will use any opportunity to say "see? Told you so! We should put them down." Compared directly to how Caitlyn talks about them, asks Vi to help fix the system, fights against the system going too far, actively makes adjustments to change the way the system treats Zaunites, the claims that Caitlyn is a bigot don't hold up.

Ambessa IS the system. She IS the oppressive force that indiscriminately will take and take and take and sees violence as a tool and not a consequence to be avoided at all costs the way Caitlyn does. And for some fucking reason, no one who criticizes Caitlyn gives any weight to Ambessa's actions, ever. They don't discuss the way she manufactures the attack on the memorial to manipulate public opinion on Zaunites, as well as manipulate Caitlyn. They don't discuss how she sets Caitlyn up to be pressured to take the position of Commander and uses her grief, promises her justice, in order to warm Caitlyn to her and keep her as an ally, a pawn she can use. They don't discuss how she sent Maddie to be a spy, to be in Caitlyn's bed and to be as intimately close to her as possible, to make sure Caitlyn still was behaving the way she needed in order to see her plan through.

When discussing the manipulative, exploitative, and violent nature of oppressive systems, Caitlyn has become the scapegoat, when it is people like Salo and Ambessa who deserve your blame and your ire.

You wonder why people don't take your complaints about Caitlyn seriously? That's why. Because the show gave you very bold examples of oppressive individuals in control of the systems you hate, and you ignore both of them for the sake of hating on a beloved lesbian character, who is beloved because she is flawed and good natured and whose journey we enjoy because it's all about learning what to do when you're within a system that pulls you at every direction to do evil, and you still find a way to do good.

Do some more think pieces on Salo and Ambessa. Then maybe we can have nuanced discussions on Caitlyn.

[phantomrose96]

Solo leveling annoyed me for YEARS because I tried to take it as seriously as it took itself so all I could see were plot holes and paper-thin characters and missed potential. Thank you for this new perspective because yeah, looking at it as a comedy where jinwoo is forced by the narrative to do whatever the Coolest Possible Thing is, it really does become the funniest imaginable version of itself.

I'm glad!!! Thank you for sharing my vision!!

Every now and then I will find a show I enjoy and that enjoyment is BECAUSE of a very specific way I have decided to experience the story. That very specific way can have nothing to do with the story as it was intended. And this therefore makes it a hard thing to endorse. Like "I think you should watch [thing], but let me set you up with some pre-recorded rifftrax I made that you need to play overtop episode 1 so you can get a handle on what it is that I want to sell you on."

This is from last year when my friends and I were watching season 1

He's just so fucking funny.

[mecha-changeling]

I've done most of these in my current project.

Gold is worthless in Quiet Space, as is everything except time itself. Access to space and automation of labor kind of kill the concept of scarcity of goods entirely and well, that's it for economics as we know it. The Terran Protectorate's closest thing to a currency is a literal credit system that entitles you to X hours of the empire's industrial capacity.

I mean, time is fleeting...

Its a stellar Empire. Only one clock is 24 hour and it's Earth's. The odds of another planet having the same rotational speed is basically 0.

Again since most places in my setting are not on Earth and therefore axial tilts are different... and also most megastructures and space habs don't have seasons at all...

I've got a planet that rains diamonds. Okay sure I'm just borrowing it from reality but people can go there and do things.

Most planets have more than 1 moon, turns out.

One of the human Clann's homeorlds is a gas giant. It has rings. Several planets have orbital ring habitats, but I don't think that's what you meant.

I have this, but the world is uninhabitable without bleeding edge shield technology.

I've got the star roads. They're invisible, does that count? TLDR; they're a FTL system that pushes craft in them faster than light by using a spinoff of gravitational drive technology to sort of ripp off mass effect but instead of sling shots it's based on the US highway system.

The Runi use wood for some of their jewelry.

The Thymrai don't use anything for wedding band type signifiers of marriage. They use their words "We're one." or "I have my mate." and if you don't respect that they'll probably stab you because you're calling them a liar and that's fighting words in their culture.

The Glorin always make a new name from select syllables from both prior names when they wed. They're also nano-hiveminds with each individual having 3 bodies, so most of their scocial things are odd.

I have several robotic species which genuinely would not be able to grock the idea of bastardry. "But... they manufactured you. You are their creation. Circumstances are irrelevant."

Most of my aliens do not use binary sexes. Many of the monosex species don't have a concept of gender at all because WHY WOULD THEY?

The Glorin again. They discount other gods as gods because they know they're just extradimentional entities that live in hyperspace. Their god does not live in hyperspace and seems supernatural to other gods. She also dosn't do the normal god things, she shows up like your cool aunt coming back to town and will do things like make your whole species immune to cancer and call it a "bug fix".

Again, the Glorin's god. She's very lovecraftian in appearance unless she specifically takes on a humanoid form for whatever reason (but she'll complain the entire time about how painful it is to "scrunch up like this")

Given designer organisms are a thing for Terrans, I've got this one. Because many of them are reskined other critters! (I may work on this one later today)

Plot? You assume I worldbuild to tell a narrative? Lol! I'm that wierdo who worldbuilds as their main hobby and sometimes you get a story out of it because I got bored.

I've got this one. What? This is a science-fantasy setting. Not sci-fi. TLDR; you can get a journal that will tell you everything friends that have willingly touched the journal did yesterday. It resets every time you sleep and fills you in on the previous day with every reset. This is, in fact, communication. Its just not real time or intentional. Yes this thing can end friendships, but its popular with Terrans because Terran society is about authenticity in 4269 and if your best friend actually thinks you're lame you want to know so you can terminate the friendship and find someone else (also their whole family would shame them as being inauthentic is as big of a social taboo as incest is today).

Books don't exist anymore. All information you want is either a direct download to your brain, or a VR experience. So... Yeah I've got this covered. Its not even a "well I love old things, so I still read books!" type of deal. If you read a book someone would look at you with the same incredulity that you would look at someone trying to light their bong by rubbing two sticks together. You'd probably also alert Central to a mental health crisis.

Many species communicate by psionic or digital telepathy. But sign langauge dosn't exist outside of millitary applications anymore. Not because "screw deaf/mute people!" but because genetic engineering has eliminated those conditions entirly. No one is born with physical disadvantages anymore. And even if they were, they'd be able to have them removed for free any time after they turn 16 since medical technology can reshape your body howeaver you please and has hit the "IRL Korean MMO character creator" point of "no further development necessary". (Yes that is a cornerstone of Terran culture. Part of that "be authentic" deal is your expected to live in a body that is "you" rather than whatever you were born as.)

Most of my alien species are not omnivores.

Small fantasy worldbuilding elements you might want to think about:

A currency that isn’t gold-standard/having gold be as valuable as tin

A currency that runs entirely on a perishable resource, like cocoa beans

A clock that isn’t 24-hours

More or less than four seasons/seasons other than the ones we know

Fantastical weather patterns like irregular cloud formations, iridescent rain

Multiple moons/no moon

Planetary rings

A northern lights effect, but near the equator

Roads that aren’t brown or grey/black, like San Juan’s blue bricks

Jewelry beyond precious gems and metals

Marriage signifiers other than wedding bands

The husband taking the wife's name / newlyweds inventing a new surname upon marriage

No concept of virginity or bastardry

More than 2 genders/no concept of gender

Monotheism, but not creationism

Gods that don’t look like people

Domesticated pets that aren’t re-skinned dogs and cats

Some normalized supernatural element that has nothing to do with the plot

Magical communication that isn’t Fantasy Zoom

“Books” that aren’t bound or scrolls

A nonverbal means of communicating, like sign language

A race of people who are obligate carnivores/ vegetarians/ vegans/ pescatarians (not religious, biological imperative)

I’ve done about half of these myself in one WIP or another and a little detail here or there goes a long way in reminding the audience that this isn’t Kansas anymore.

[transmcytshowdown]

Joel Smallishbeans^4:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

Joel Smallishbeans^4:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

[foreveia]

director’s cut ⤨ tsukishima kei

⨭ genre; college!au, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst like its there if u squint

⨭ pairing; tsukishima kei x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 17.3k

⨭ description; when you convince your best friend into being the male lead of your film project, you don't expect for it to make you question your whole relationship.

⨭ warnings; profanity, alcohol, smoking

⨭ a/n; this has been in the works for quite a while now and it is defff the longest fic ive ever written (not saying will ever write yet bc who knows), but i think i like it. i am a sucker for best friends to lovers, ESPECIALLY childhood best friends to lovers, so i hope u guys like it :)

one. 

The universe has a top-tier sadism kink, and its living proof is Tsukishima Kei. 

You know this to be a fact because 1) aside from his bachelor of science in anthropology, he’s pursuing a PhD in sarcasm and uses his learnings primarily to eviscerate your self-esteem, 2) The Umbrella Academy doesn’t come out with another season for another few months so your life choices have become the pinnacle of his entertainment, and 3) despite being your Bestie™ of twelve years, he still makes you beg for his benevolence, even if he does have the annoying habit of showing up when you need him most.

It’s deeply unfortunate that he’s all you’ve got, universe be damned. 

“Name your price. Cake? Head? Money? C’mon, just tell me what you want!”

Tsukishima peers at you over his laptop with disdain, the blue glow of his pirated PDF of The Communist Manifesto reflected in his glasses as he squints at you. His lips are pursed in annoyance, face scrunched up as he seemingly contemplates whether to put himself out of his misery or squash you to little smithereens. “What I want is for you to go away.”

True love, honestly. The golden standard for kindness and affection. A picturesque image of camaraderie. Lo and behold, everyone, your best friend.

“Oh my god, Kei, please,” you whine, hands clasped together as you look up at him through batted lashes. He doesn’t even flinch, looking completely unimpressed—how pretentious of him. “I’ll literally pay you whatever you want.”

The blond rolls his eyes, looking back down at his laptop screen as he briskly retorts, “I’m not a prostitute, idiot. You can’t pay me to star in your stupid movie.”

He ignores the several judgmental stares that turn in your direction at his response. You, on the other hand, are praying the library’s studious occupants don’t assume you’re a pimp preying on broke college students. 

In all honesty, you probably should’ve chosen a less populated spot than the library’s first floor seats in front of Crow’s Coffee, especially if you actually had any intentions to get work done. But with just a few months left until the end of second semester, you have way too many dining dollars left and not enough places to spend them; in this capitalist world, you refuse to let more money simply be pocketed by the greedy hands of the school. It’s how you managed to tempt Tsukishima out of the comfort of his apartment in the first place—with promises of free coffee and shortcake, courtesy of your four-star meal plan. 

“Technically, that’s a pornstar,” Yamaguchi supplies unhelpfully from his spot buried amongst stacks of math and science textbooks. He’s the only one of you who’s effectively completing his assignments because he won’t pass his classes unless he’s in constant fight-or-flight mode (you thank every deity you can think of that you weren’t born to be a STEM girlie). “You know you’ve got the time to, Tsukki.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to,” he shrugs. You promptly deliver a swift kick to his shins. “Ow—well, now I really don’t want to.”

“Be honest, do you hate me?” you sniff dramatically, letting your head hit the table with a soft thud; Yamaguchi pats your head tantalizingly, as if you’re a fuckin’ child, and you want to scream at them both.

“Yes,” Tsukishima snorts, not even bothering to glance up. “It’s your own fault for being a film major.”

You shoot him a glare, but no threats come to mind because he’s sadly right.

Being a film major is basically being in a perpetual state of begging: begging your friends to star in your work, begging your professors for an extension because your lead decided to quit the night before shooting, and begging your parents for forgiveness because they didn’t send you to college to become a “professional movie watcher.” 

Sure, you get to watch artsy film-bro movies for homework, but you also spend half your time pulling all-nighters to finish scripts and survive solely off a diet of Shin Ramyun and its complimentary mushroom flakes. Tsukishima likes to tell you how you reek of constant desperation; you concur because no one has a real penchant for the arts these days. In a world where everyone dreams of being the next Spielberg, nothing is truly original, and you’re just barely holding on with the kind of boundless optimism that can only be fueled by sheer willpower. 

So here you are, offering bribes of cake, coffee, and cold hard cash, trying to convince your best friend—who has the emotional range of a teaspoon and the patience of a sleep-deprived toddler—to star in your magnum opus so you can pass the semester. You’d ask Yamaguchi, but he’s got civil engineering exams and an actual promising future to worry about. Meanwhile, your future, desperation and all, hinges on whether Tsukishima will stop being a pain in the ass for ten minutes and agree to be your leading man.

Luckily, because you’ve been #pairbonded for twelve years, you know exactly what buttons to push. You let out a sorrowful sigh, before loudly declaring, “Fine. I’ll just ask Shoyo then.”

That does it. Tsukishima’s jaw twitches, his fingers pausing over the keyboard; you know him too well because the mere thought of the red-head starring in your movie is enough to make Tsukishima reconsider his stance. You never did understand their beef, but Yamaguchi tells you that they’re just inverse idiots, which seems pretty likely considering they’re actually both easily provoked and highly competitive. He looks up from his laptop, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Absolutely not,” he says flatly, closing the lid of his computer with a decisive click.

Yamaguchi snickers, clearly sensing victory in the air. You, on the other hand, suppress your triumphant smile and put on your best wounded-puppy look. “But he’s so eager to help,” you say, your voice dripping with faux innocence. “He’ll do anything for me.”

There’s a moment of silence as Tsukishima contemplates this. His fingers drum lightly on the table, a sign that he’s weighing his options. And then finally, he lets out a long, suffering exhale, head rolled back in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I swear to God, if this film ruins my life, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“You already hold me personally responsible for most things,” you chirp, practically beaming with delight. “But thank you, Kei! You’re the best.”

Yamaguchi looks up from his mountain of textbooks with a bemused smile. “That was a quick turnaround. You’re like a married couple.”

“Only in spirit, ‘Dashi,” you purr, blowing him a playful kiss. The freckled boy pretends to catch your kiss and presses it to his cheek in a dramatic gesture; no wonder he’s your favorite. He really is such a sweetie.

“Stop encouraging her,” Tsukishima groans, pushing himself up from the table. “And stop saying things like that. People might believe you.”

“Wow, not you denying our love,” you scoff, sticking your tongue out at him. “I want a divorce.”

The blond ignores your threat. “I need air. Bye, Tadashi.”

He gives you an unimpressed but telling look, so you roll your eyes and promptly start packing up your things, shoving notebooks and pens into your bag haphazardly. The last things you do are run over to give your beloved ‘Dashi a light squeeze goodbye, swipe your laptop and Owala into your arms (because you are a broke college student who cannot afford to get a new laptop and your New Years’ Resolution is to be more hydrated), and skip to catch up with your friend, already halfway out the door. The evening air is a refreshing change from the stuffy library you’ve been in for hours; you’re sure if you had any free hands right now you’d bend over and grab a handful of grass, just for the sake of it. 

‘Tis is the life of a film major, you guess. You’re bitchless with a capital ‘B’ and spend the other half of your time with your equally bitchless friends. And all they do is abuse your dining dollars and mock your miseries in life, so honestly, it’s a good thing you’re in school to write and produce rom coms. You can live vicariously through them, at least.

But whatever. Pathetic love life aside, right now, Kei has agreed, and you’re already one step closer to a successful final project. 

two. 

The walk home with Tsukishima is as comfortable as ever, the silence between you two punctuated by the soft crunch of gravel under your shoes and the distant hum of campus life winding down for the night. He doesn’t pull his headphones on, but he also doesn’t start up a conversation; being alone with him is simply being able to exist. 

He’s walked you home everyday since the beginning of middle school, when his mom found out he hadn’t waited that day and you had walked home alone in the dark. From your bedroom window in the house next door, directly mirroring his, you had overhead her lecturing both him and Akiteru about the importance of manners—and to Kei’s credit, he’s dutifully picked you up after your classes and chores ever since, even if he grumbles the whole way home. For some reason, this habit carried over when you, him, and Tadashi committed to the same university, even if it meant standing outside a frat house at two in the morning because you got too fucked up to walk home on your own. You puked out half your stomach on his sweatpants, and he’d made you do his laundry for a month as punishment, but he still waits patiently at the café by frat row every time you get coerced to go out by your roommates. 

As you reach your dorm building, Tsukishima steps aside, holding the door open for you; you roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. “Such a gentleman, Kei. What would I do without you?”

He smirks, letting the door swing closed behind him as you head towards the elevator. “Probably get kidnapped or something. You’re too trusting.”

“The only person I’d let kidnap me,” you say dreamily, pressing the button for your floor with a dramatic swoop. “is Oikawa.”

You’re only half joking because Oikawa Tooru, the president of Sigma Epsilon Iota (SEI), is in fact extremely pretty and volunteered to be in your film last semester. You later found out that it was because he’s an astronomy major and thus felt compelled to star in your movie (which, yes, was titled Stars); he convinced you to spend many extra weeks in After Effects making sure the sky imagery looked ‘as perfect as him.’ He’d actually been a really good sport about learning his lines and cues, but you’re pretty sure neither you nor your 2014 Macbook Air would survive that experience again. 

“Right, fall for the guy who does keg stands at every party,” he drawls, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Smart.”

You huff and stick your tongue out at him, earning yourself a half-shrug and an amused snort. The elevator ride is brief, and soon you’re at your door, fumbling with your keys; as always, Tsukishima stops and stands to the side, waiting for you to invite him in, because again, manners. You turn to him with a playful grin. “You know, you don’t have to stand there like a sentinel every time. You can come in.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

You laugh, pushing the door open and gesturing dramatically. “Oh, please, come in. Make yourself at home.”

Not that you had to tell him that. He slouched past you and kicked off his shoes as soon as you gave him the cue. He’s honestly just as relaxed here as in his own studio, already stretching and making himself comfortable on the couch with your favorite decorative pillow tucked under his head. 

You two have settled into a pretty comfortable routine. It’s a Friday night, so chances are that he’ll yank out his phone, scroll through his email. You’ll put something on the TV and he’ll critique it through mouthfuls of popcorn, only to have it ruin his appetite for whatever you end up ordering for dinner; later, if he’s tired enough, he’ll give up on the thirty minute drive home and collapse next to you in your Twin XL. It’s a mess of limbs and limited space, but you two manage—you always have. Your suitemates, Yukie and Kaori, have already texted that they’re bringing home Chinese takeout for four, so you decide against your usual snacks because your twig of a best friend needs actual sustenance.

Swinging by your room to drop off your bag and laptop, you take a pit stop in the kitchen on the way back to pluck two bottles of soju from the fridge. You toss him one; he catches it neatly and observes the flavor with scrutiny. 

“You hate strawberry,” he points out. “Why are you drinking this?”

You shrug, walking over to plop down on the couch by him. “Because it’s your favorite.”

His head is right up against your thigh because he’s too tall to fit on your shitty university furniture, even with his legs half-dangling off the armrest. You click through Netflix, nursing your drink with a slight pout until you make the executive decision to put on The Bachelor.

“Trying to prove you can love both me and Oikawa at the same time?” Tsukishima comments, watching the screen as he pops open the cap of his bottle. He’s referring to Ben telling both Lauren and JoJo he loved them in season 20; you lowkey love the series and he highkey loves the drama. There’s just something about people finding their supposed soulmates after knowing each other for like a month that really makes life entertaining.

“Don’t ever compare me to Ben,” you frown, because you think he was a massive asshole for doing that to JoJo and then not even picking her in the end. These bitches really be throwing each other under the bus. “You’re so mean to me.”

“You just bribed me with strawberry soju.”

“It’s not bribery if it’s out of love. Plus, I can tolerate it for one night,” you roll your eyes, taking a sip of the drink. “So, you wanna know what the film’s about or not?”

He looks at you over the rim of his bottle, eyebrow raised. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” you grin, patting his head affectionately. “Okay, so, the film. It’s a romantic short about the progression of a college relationship. Like, from the first meeting to the final stages of being together. It’s dreamy, very aesthetic—y’know, all those soft hues and hazy shots. A smoking scene thrown in there somewhere.”

“Sounds like every other indie film ever made.”

“Shut up. This one’s different,” you insist, lightly tugging on a strand of his hair. “It’s got a great cast—Yachi’s playing the female lead.”

He nods, seemingly interested. “Yachi, huh? What’s my role, then?”

“The male lead, obviously,” you say, not even bothering to look away from the screen. The opening credits have just finished and you’re instantly sucked into the magical world of Malta; God, what you would do to be there right now instead of in your overpriced residence complex.

“Oh, great. Falling in love. My specialty,” he deadpans, taking another swig of his drink. “What do I have to do?”

You hum absentmindedly. “Learn the lines, cues, whatever. Yachi said she’s free tomorrow, so maybe we can get coffee with her in the afternoon and run through the working script?”

Tsukishima groans. “We already have to get started?”

“Yeah, there’s a lot to do,” you retort, giving him a gentle punch on the shoulder. He frowns up at you disapprovingly, and you mockingly frown back. “Get over it. You’re my main star.”

He shakes his head as you both watch the girls line up in knight costumes to compete in the episode’s extra-time competition. Modern television is truly unreal. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you love me.”

You flick your eyes from the TV to him, gauging his reaction. He’s rolling his eyes, of course, but the small smile and faint blush creeping up his cheeks tells you everything you need to know.

three. 

The prior night, your suitemates eventually came home with the promised takeout; Kaori even brought home boba orders courtesy of her friend Bokuto closing shift at the campus Broba Tea, so it’s safe to say you have the best roommates ever. 

Turnabout is fair play, so you and Tsukishima agreed to clean up—therefore, even after your suitemates retreated to their rooms, you two lingered behind in the living room, sorting away recyclables and compost into their respective places and watching your favorites get eliminated. Friday nights like this are nice: just you and your best friend, making three-pointers with empty soju bottles into the blue plastic bin. Even after you finished the season’s finale, you put on some nature documentary (courtesy of his Disney+ subscription, which he exclusively uses for National Geographic like a fuckin’ weirdo) and argued about which ugly fish looked more like each other the whole hour and forty minutes. You must’ve crashed no earlier than one A.M., but the specifics are hazy: you don’t actually remember falling asleep.

So the miserable blaring from your phone right now is truly, in short, cruel. Apparently, you forgot to turn off your alarm for your usual Friday 11 A.M. lecture last night, because you’re currently being rudely awoken at a completely unnecessary time on a Saturday morning. Groaning, you slap around the bed until your fingers find your phone, silencing the alarm. As you roll over, you find yourself face-to-face with Tsukishima, who’s occupying the other half of your twin XL bed, looking every bit as disgruntled as you feel. His hair is a mess, and there’s a faint crease on his cheek from your pillowcase; his arm is slung loosely over your waist as he grumbles and tries to hide his face from the light. He must’ve carried you to your bed after you dozed off on the couch.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters. His voice is hoarse with sleep. “Why do you set alarms on days you don’t have class?”

“I forgot to turn it off,” you mumble back, burying your face in your pillow. “Sorry for waking you up.”

He sighs, rolling over onto his side and squinting at you as he makes out the hazy figure of your silhouette through his shitty impaired vision. “Move over. Your greedy ass is hogging all the space.”

Ah yes. Truly, a dreamboat. You roll your eyes, but scooch closer to the wall nonetheless; his grip tightens slightly around the curve of your back as you make space, and you can’t help but smile into your pillowcase. Despite his grumpy demeanor, there’s a warmth to his presence that you’ve grown to appreciate over time. 

“Better?” you ask, your voice muffled by your cotton pillow.

“A little,” he grumbles. He shifts closer, his body warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your pajamas.

You lay there in comfortable silence for a few moments, listening to the quiet sounds of the morning outside and the soft rhythm of his breathing. Your head kinda hurts; you haven’t woken up this early on a Saturday in forever. Maybe in another life, you’re born as one of those matcha latte girls who get up at 6A.M. for a run and have their lives sorted out by noon, but in this one, you love procrastinating and Netflix far too much to have yourself in order like that. Truly, you run off caffeine and spite and Google Calendar reminders—and as if on cue, your phone buzzes with a reminder about the meeting with Yachi. 

Tsukishima, recognizing the sound of the notification, leans over and hands you the device to read, giving you a minute before he asks, his voice soft to match the stillness of the room, “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Crow’s with Yachi at one,” you murmur back. Normally, you’d be giddy to meet with your beloved angel of a friend (you would literally give Yachi your whole life), but truthfully, you don’t really want to get out of bed. Kei’s fingers, lightly tracing patterns on your back as he processes the information, feel so comforting and warm. You’re tempted to cancel and spend the day here, in bed, with him, but you know just as well as he does that you can’t.

“Right,” Tsukishima sighs. “Guess we should get up soon, then.”

“Mmm, in a bit,” you reply, savoring the warmth of the moment. “Just a few more minutes.”

He doesn’t argue, instead allowing the silence to stretch on comfortably. But eventually, it does slow. “We should get going, or we’ll end up being late,” he says, though he makes no move to get up.

You groan in response, but you know he’s right. 

“Fine,” you mumble, reluctantly sitting up. The room is still dim, the curtains drawn, and you glance over at Tsukishima, who’s also making an effort to get up; he grabs his glasses, neatly folded on your nightstand, and puts them on, blinking back into consciousness. He looks far too composed for someone who’s just gotten up, but of course he would be.

What a lovely, familiar sight. You hope this, these Saturday mornings with him, never end.

***

The campus is slowly waking up, students milling about, heading to the library or the better of the two dining halls, the one that serves freshly-made waffles on Saturdays. The other one only serves the world’s runniest scrambled eggs that’s held together with the most plasticky cheese, so even if it’s a ten minute walk further, it’s worth it.

You secure a table near the window; the dining hall overlooks the square and you like watching the way people narrowly dodge the campus seal. It’s a superstition that you won’t graduate if you step on it—and especially now, in the second semester when everyone gets pretty desperate, you gotta respect the grind. Tsukishima has already gone to order at the counter with your dining card, so you’re left alone to ponder about your impending project; you go over the working script in your head, running the lines and dialogue over and over. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when he returns with a tray loaded with waffles, two matching cups of coffee, and an extra serving of fruit for you—because he claims you need to eat healthier. You think he should eat more, period, but whatever.

“Wow, I’m impressed. Fruit? Did you find it hard to carry all this food without your arms falling off?” you tease, as he takes his seat across from you.

He rolls his eyes, picking up his fork. “Someone has to make sure you get at least one vitamin today.”

You stick your tongue out at him and dig into your waffles because you never wake up early enough on a Saturday to actually have them often. 

“When we finish eating, I need to go back and get my laptop,” you announce over a mouthful of waffle, ignoring the disgusted look Tsukishima gives you. “And then we’ll head to the library.”

“I am begging you to chew with your mouth shut,” he groans, throwing a well-aimed napkin at your face. You catch it with a dramatic flourish and quickly dab at your mouth, before you ball it and toss the napkin back at him; he ducks violently, almost knocking over his cup of coffee. You fight the urge to laugh at him and instead stab your fork into a piece of cantaloupe. 

“You need to eat,” you declare, promptly sticking the fruit in his direction. 

His eyebrows arch slightly as he glares at the fork held out toward him, but after a beat of silence, he leans forward and bites off the melon with a grumble. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you beam, popping a grape into your own mouth. “So, Crow’s at one. We can read for like, an hour? And then you’re free to go home and do whatever you do.”

“Study.”

“So boring,” you sigh. “Don’t you have any friends, Kei?”

He scoffs, sawing off another meticulous square of waffle. “I have you. That’s enough socializing for a lifetime.”

“Lucky me, I guess,” you roll your eyes. 

He smirks in response, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, lucky you.”

four. 

After breakfast, you head back to your dorm to grab your things. Tsukishima scrolls through his phone, making an occasional snide comment about whatever nonsense he comes across on Twitter. You pack your bag with your notebook, laptop, and a few pens—desperation fuels organization, and you can’t afford to leave anything behind.

The walk to the library is filled with light-hearted banter, and soon enough, you spot Yachi waving at you from a corner table. She’s already got her laptop out, a notebook filled with neat handwriting open next to her, and you skip up to the table. 

“Hi baby girl,” you coo lovingly as you give your friend a hug. Tsukishima gives Yachi a polite nod before sliding into the seat across from her, leaving you to fill the middle one. “Thanks for meeting us before your shift.”

“Of course! I’m really excited about this project,” Yachi beams, her cheeks slightly pink from your affectionate greeting. “I’ve been reading over the script and it’s just so lovely. I can’t wait to get started.”

And this, everyone, is why you adore Yachi Hitoka with your whole heart. You would actually dropkick your best friend off the face of the earth for her, and that is not an exaggeration.

Tsukishima sighs, reaching into your bag to pull out your laptop; he settles it on the desk and pries it open for you. “Let’s get started.”

His impatience makes you roll your eyes, but nonetheless, you click to the latest draft of the script and slide it over for your Blondes™ to see. “Here’s what I’ve got so far,” you say, pointing at the section still titled SCENE 1 DARFGT :P from when you wrote the first six pages over the course of an all-nighter. “The first scene sets the tone for our whole film, and I’m thinking of having it outside the library, so get used to this café.”

“As if we don’t already spend half our time here,” Tsukishima deadpans, but he leans closer to the screen anyway. You watch the way both of them take in the script, their gazes fixed on the document as they read through the lines. 

He looks visibly relieved as he scrolls through the very short document; it’s a mess of director and action notes because you have a very specific vision in your head that you want to execute. “It doesn’t have much dialogue because I want it to be focused on the little details that show your initial connection,” you say as they near the end of the script. “Y’know, body language. The way you look at each other. Your expressions.”

Momentarily, you pause to read their reactions; you’re minorly concerned because acting is actually the hardest part of the job, even if memorizing dialogue does suck. Thankfully, Yachi’s eyes visibly light up, and she chirps cheerily, “I love that! It feels very natural and genuine; I think that’s beautiful.”

Her reassurance makes you kick your feet like Sofia the First because she says it in a way that feels completely real. 

Tsukishima, on the other hand, does not acknowledge this statement: he’s too busy raising his stupid eyebrow and smirking as he reads scene four. He drags his finger over the screen, where the line reads Interior - Dorm Room - Night. “Okay, first of all, very original,” he snorts. “But second, you volunteered my place without asking me? How very presumptuous of you.”

“Well, I have roommates,” you say, really emphasizing that last word because you want him to feel as stupid as he looks smirking like that (he looks very annoyingly pretty with his cat-like simper). You know he doesn’t actually care about the usage of his studio: he just loves seizing the opportunity to mock you.

Your internal irritation clearly goes ignored by him, because he just grins as he continues to blissfully dissect your script. “And ‘they kiss passionately’? Really going for the heartstrings, aren’t you?”

“It’s called intimacy, Kei. It’s a crucial part of developing the relationship on screen.”

Yachi, ever the peacekeeper, nods eagerly. “I think it’s really sweet. It’s important to show the depth of their connection. The close-ups will make it feel very personal.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Tsukishima says, raising an eyebrow, his expression still amused. He gestures to the next few pages—blank sans the text DJEJSJSJDJ PAIN, because again, you spend a lot of time writing during deranged all-nighters. “But what’s with the cut to black right after? Did you run out of ideas?”

You bite your lip. “I haven’t finished the ending yet. I want to see how you two portray the characters and their chemistry before I decide how it concludes. It’s not just about the script; it’s about the emotions you both bring to the roles.”

“You mean you’re winging it.”

“Creatively winging it, yes,” you roll your eyes. “It’s a work in progress, and I trust you two to help bring it to life.” 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But if I have to make out with Yachi and you cut it short, I’m going to hold it against you.”

Yachi blushes, but she’s smiling too. “I’m sure it’ll be great. We can practice and make sure it looks natural.”

“Thanks, guys,” you beam at them both, grateful for their willingness to dive into your project. 

As antsy as you were, the film’s got a lot going for it—Yachi is a sweet, earnest cutie pie and Tsukishima is… well, him, so their contrast will hopefully make for compelling cinema. And the word compelling is honestly enough—those three syllables are truly music to a film major’s ears.

***

By the time you finish at Crow’s, the sun has already dipped below the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the campus. Tsukishima predictably gets ready to walk you home; he shoves his hand in his jacket’s pocket and tries to look nonchalant, so obviously you tell him he looks stupid, to which he promptly flips you off. Rude. Some people just don’t know how to appreciate honesty.

Yachi’s already headed off to her shift at the café, so you two are left alone, navigating past other tables to the library doors. The evening air is cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the crowded café; you walk in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and the distant chatter of other students.

He walks you to your gate, and you’re honestly about to just head inside, but you pause in your tracks because he deserves to hear it twice. 

“Kei,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “Thanks again. It really means a lot to me.”

He looks at you, his expression unreadable. “I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

You blink up at him, momentarily thrown off by his directness. Tsukishima isn’t the type to say things he doesn’t mean—he’s never been one for flattery or unnecessary kindness. And yet, there’s something about the way he says it, the quiet certainty in his voice, that makes your heart do something stupid in your chest.

Tsukishima Kei cares about you. No matter how much he pretends otherwise, you know he’ll be there for you when you need it most. If twelve years have taught you anything, it’s that he’ll do it reluctantly, begrudgingly, but he’ll be there for you. 

He always has.

five. 

The first day of filming is, somehow, going smoothly.

You’re not sure if you should be suspicious of this. Typically, film shoots involve at least three things going horribly wrong within the first twenty minutes. A mic cutting out. A location suddenly getting overrun with people. A key actor arriving late because they forgot their costume at home.

But today? Today, things are working. The morning light is perfect, the sound equipment is cooperating, and most importantly, Tsukishima and Yachi are actually… really good together.

Which is a huge relief, because you were honestly half-convinced you’d have to wrangle the emotional chemistry out of Tsukishima with sheer force. But watching them run through the first scene on the bench outside the library, you realize you don’t have to do much at all.

He’s relaxed, leaning back with an elbow draped over the back of the bench, his eyes sharp and calculating as Yachi speaks; she’s perfect for the blushing, hesitant-but-artistic old soul character you want to portray and he takes to his role just as quickly. There’s something natural about the way they interact—the slight hesitations, the way he looks at her before speaking, the subtle smirk that plays at his lips when she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear.

It’s not forced. It’s not awkward. It’s just real.

You bite your lip, watching through the camera screen as Yachi delivers her next line, her voice soft, a little unsure. Tsukishima’s response is barely above a murmur, but it carries, even in the open air. The way he’s looking at her—that’s what makes it work. It’s the kind of gaze that makes people believe in love stories. 

Holy shit. This might actually be good.

“Cut!” you call, your voice a little breathless as you lower the camera. Yachi blinks up at you, a little startled, before breaking into a smile.

“Was that okay?” she asks, a hint of uncertainty in her tone.

“More than okay,” you say, grinning as you step over to them. “You guys are killing it.”

Yachi lets out a relieved laugh, cheeks pink. “Oh, thank god. I was worried I looked weird.”

“Nope. You look like the perfect indie film love interest.” You pat her on the shoulder before glancing at Tsukishima, who raises an eyebrow at you.

“What?” he drawls.

“You’re actually trying.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, because I’m not going to embarrass myself on camera.”

“Right,” you deadpan, smirking. “Nothing to do with the fact that you two have, like, the easiest natural chemistry I’ve ever seen.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but you catch the way his jaw ticks slightly before he stands up, stretching. “Are we done here? Or are you going to keep talking?”

Impatient idiot. You snort and go to collect your camera and sound system, and together, you all head off to film scene two.

***

The second scene of the day takes place in the small, naturally-lit art studio on campus. It’s not often used, especially not on the weekends, now that the university’s built the big fancy modern art building in the north campus, but it’s perfect for this scene. You wanted something intimate, somewhere that made the world feel smaller, quieter, to parallel the deep intimacy of a relationship (wow, look at you talking like a true film bro). A space where the characters could be alone, even if they weren’t saying much.

Tsukishima sits at the table, his hands idly flipping through a sketchbook that’s just a prop, though you think it suits him weirdly well. Yachi’s holding a paintbrush, standing near the window, looking at a half-finished canvas, the soft glow from outside catching the strands of her blonde hair just right.

“Alright,” you say, stepping back behind the camera. “Tsukishima, this scene is mostly you watching her. Yachi, I want you to look like you’re lost in thought. You’re thinking about something big, but you’re not sure if you want to say it.”

Yachi nods, exhaling as she settles into place. Tsukishima just leans on his elbow, glancing at her through his glasses, waiting.

You call action. And for a moment, the room changes. It’s not just a studio anymore. It’s a quiet, suspended moment in time.

Tsukishima watches Yachi, and you can’t look away. The way his gaze lingers, not quite analyzing, not quite soft, but something in between. The way Yachi’s fingers trace the edge of the painting, distracted, unaware of the way he’s looking at her. The way they look so perfectly together, like halves of a whole, like something that’s meant to be.

It’s... breathtaking.

You swallow, suddenly feeling warm.

They’re good. Too good.

“Cut,” you say softly, your own voice sounding a little distant.

Tsukishima looks up at you immediately, brows slightly furrowed, like he’s searching for something in your expression. Yachi, however, simply exhales a breath of relief, breaking into a small laugh. “That felt really real,” she says, beaming.

“It was really real,” you admit, trying to shake the weird feeling creeping up your spine.

Wow, honestly. They must be some of the best actors you’ve ever met. If you didn’t know better, you would think they were actually in love.

six. 

The blinking cursor on your laptop is mocking you. 

It’s a tiny, relentless metronome ticking away the seconds, reminding you of your failure to move forward. You glare at the half-finished sentence on the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, willing your brain to conjure anything—literally anything—that makes sense.

You had an ending in mind—of course you did. The perfect, soft, cinematic conclusion to your film. A final shot drenched in golden light, delicate and lingering, like a whisper against a bruise. The kind of scene that settles into the chest like an old song or a half-remembered dream, stirring something deep and unshakable. The culmination of all those quiet, electric moments between your leads, woven together into something fragile and honest.

Except every single draft you’ve attempted so far? Complete garbage.

You groan and throw yourself back against your chair, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. Why does this feel impossible? You should’ve known writing the ending would be the hardest part. You’re always better at beginnings—openings are easy. Openings are full of possibilities. But endings?

Endings mean making a choice.

And right now, you have no fucking idea what choice to make.

As if on cue, summoned by your misery, your door swings open without warning, and Yukie strides in like she owns the place. Which, to be fair, she practically does—she and Kaori have an open invitation to barge in at any time, and they use that privilege liberally.

“Please tell me you’re taking a break from that thing,” she says, nodding toward your laptop as she flops onto your bed. “You’ve been staring at it like it’s personally offended you.”

“It has personally offended me,” you mutter back, head caught between your hands, visibly in distress. “I’ve rewritten it like five times, and it still feels wrong.”

Yukie hums, but her attention drifts toward your open script document, skimming the words with the sharp, practiced gaze of someone who enjoys knowing things before you tell her. A beat later, her eyebrows shoot up.

“I still can’t believe you’re letting Yachi and Tsukishima film together,” she says, lips curving in a smirk.

You glance at her, confused. “Uh, yeah? They’re the leads? Kind of an important part of the whole thing?”

She rolls onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow, expression downright mischievous. “No, I mean… you don’t think it’s a little risky?”

You blink. “Risky how? Like existentially?”

Yukie snorts. “No, dumbass. I mean, don’t you think it’s easy for co-stars to catch feelings for each other? Like hello? Zendaya and Tom Holland broke the Spiderman-MJ curse cause of it.”

“Oh c’mon,” you scoff immediately. “Kei and Yachi? Please. He’s the human equivalent of a hazard sign, and she’s literally an angel.”

“And opposites attract,” Yukie sing-songs, wiggling her eyebrows like she’s just cracked some grand conspiracy.

“Not like that. It’s literally just acting.”

Yukie tilts her head, looking entirely too entertained by your dismissiveness. “You say that, but it’s not uncommon. You spend enough time pretending to love someone, and eventually, it stops feeling like pretending.”

You open your mouth to retort—but for some reason, your brain short-circuits. The words are there. They’re on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come out. Because now you’re thinking about it.

Tsukishima and Yachi. Together.

It’s ridiculous, obviously. Tsukishima is sarcastic and emotionally constipated, and Yachi is sweet and nervous and actually respects people’s feelings. They make sense on screen, sure—chemistry is chemistry, and that’s what acting is for. But in real life? You can’t even picture it. Matter-of-fact, you shouldn’t even be picturing it.

And yet, something uneasy churns in your stomach, and you shift in your seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in your own skin. No, this is stupid. You’re overthinking. Yukie’s just stirring up unnecessary drama because that’s what she does when she’s bored.

“It’s fine,” you say, voice forcibly even. “They’re just acting. Besides, you really think Tsukishima of all people would catch feelings for someone just because of a film?”

“Mmm.” Yukie hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “You say that, but you’re weirdly defensive about it.”

“I’m not defensive,” you snap, too fast, too sharp. A mistake.

Yukie’s smirk deepens, and you hate her for it. She swings her legs off the bed, stretching like a cat. “When you’re done pretending you’re not in denial, dinner’s ready,” she chirps, sauntering toward the door.

You roll your eyes. Classic Yukie. Your roommates are simultaneously your greatest strength and your worst influence; they know you inside and out, and unfortunately, that means they never let you run from your own feelings. They’ve been convinced for years that you’re in love with your best friend, which is laughable. Delusional, even.

And yet.

The thought lingers longer than it should, trailing after you like a shadow as you trudge to set for the first day of filming.

You tell yourself it’s just curiosity when you glance Tsukishima’s way. Just morbid fascination when you catch the way his gaze lingers on Yachi between takes. Just professional interest when you watch how his sharp, unimpressed scowl softens—barely, just a fraction—when she nervously stumbles over a line, and he mutters a quiet correction, his voice steadier than you expect.

It’s just good acting, you reason. Nothing more.

Because Tsukishima is your best friend. And that’s all he’s ever been, all he’s ever going to be. You tell yourself that, over and over and over again, trying to make it feel like the truth. But for some reason, despite all your effort, it doesn’t, and it bothers you in a way that it wouldn’t bother friends that are purely just platonic.

seven.

“You look like shit.”

You rub your eyes, very conscious of the fact that you’re sporting dark eye bags and a goofy-ass fit. Your hoodie is three sizes too big, your sweatpants have a suspicious stain on them from an unknown source, and your hair looks… actually, you don’t even want to talk about it because it really is that bad. You blink up at Tsukishima, who has somehow managed to find you after your afternoon lecture, looking disgustingly well-rested and put-together as always.

“Thanks,” you deadpan, shouldering your bag. “Great to see you too, Kei.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes but doesn’t move out of your way. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you with that keen, observational gaze of his. “Seriously. Are you okay?”

You pause, thrown off by his genuine concern—normally, he’d just mock you and move on, but there’s a sharpness to his tone today, like he actually cares. Maybe it’s because you’ve barely been outside in the last few days, much less seen him and Yamaguchi. Now that you’ve made it through over half of the film’s scenes, you’ve already started editing it together (arguably the worst part of being a self-produced film student: the excessive time spent with Adobe Creative Cloud). You hesitate, then sigh. “Just tired. I’ve been working nonstop, and I still haven’t figured out the ending.”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh, crossing his arms. “Why do you always do this to yourself?”

“I thrive under pressure.”

“You thrive off caffeine and bad decisions.”

“Same thing,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “Look, I’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

Tsukishima doesn’t look convinced, but instead of pressing further, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys, holding them up with a lazy shake. “C’mon.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“You clearly need a break. Let’s go.”

You frown at him, confused. “Go where?”

“Does it matter?” he counters, raising an eyebrow. “I swear to god, if you go back to your dorm and stare at your screen for another five hours, you’re gonna lose whatever brain cells you have left.”

You open your mouth to argue, but you know he’s right. Your brain is fried, your eyes are starting to blur from staring at a screen all night, and you could really use some air. So, with a dramatic groan, you give in. “Fine. But if you take me somewhere boring, I’m jumping out of the car.”

“Noted,” he says dryly, shoving his keys back in his pocket before turning on his heel. “Now move it.”

***

The drive is familiar, comfortable. You don’t even ask where he’s taking you because, honestly, he’s right: it doesn’t matter. Being in his car like this feels natural, like muscle memory.

You remember when he first got his license, the first of you three to do so. Akiteru had gifted him a car to use once he did, an old but functional, clean and simple one, much like him. At the time, it had felt like the biggest deal—suddenly, Tsukishima had a ticket to freedom, and by extension, so did you and Yamaguchi.

You can still picture those early drives vividly: the three of you packed into the car, Yamaguchi in the passenger seat nervously checking the map while you sprawled in the back, shouting ridiculous directions just to mess with Tsukishima. He always acted like he hated it, threatening to pull over and leave you on the curb, but he never actually did. 

There were the late-night drives to nowhere, just because none of you wanted to go home yet. The ice cream runs in the middle of winter, sitting in the parking lot with the heater cranked up as you argued over movie rankings. The way Tsukishima always kept one hand on the wheel, the other fidgeting with the volume knob, adjusting it up or down depending on whether he was feeling indulgent or annoyed by whatever you were blasting through the speakers.

You remember one time, when a storm had rolled in suddenly and you got caught out in the rain on the way back from a late study session; he’d picked you up after you spam-called him seven times. Tsukishima pulled up to the curb in front of your house, the wipers barely keeping up with the downpour, but for some reason, instead of rushing out of the storm into your apartment, you’d just sat there for a while, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain against the car roof. He hadn’t told you to get out, hadn’t asked why you were lingering. He just turned up the music, leaned back, and let you stay.

The cityscape blurs past the windows as the car hums beneath you, the low rumble of the engine mixing with the sound of the playlist Tsukishima has quietly playing in the background. You recognize the song instantly—it’s from one of your old shared playlists, one you made together back in your first year of high school.

You glance at him, but he keeps his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily against the gearshift. His sweater is vintage, made of a gorgeous dark green wool that you had been ecstatic to find when you first took him to your favorite thrift store back home; it looks good contrasted with his blond hair and fair skin. His usual stoic expression is softer in the evening glow, illuminated by the street lamps lining the road. 

God. Have his eyes always been able to capture the city lights like that? 

***

Tsukishima drives for what feels like forever, but when he finally pulls over, it’s basically where you started: an empty parking lot, outside of your favorite convenience store because they’re open late and always stock freshly-made to-go onigiri. It’s owned by a sweet old woman, so double points; you two have been coming here since the start of your freshman year. 

He throws the car in park and gives you a look. “You coming?”

You sigh dramatically but unbuckle your seatbelt, stepping out into the cool night air. The store’s neon sign hums quietly, casting a soft glow over the pavement.

As soon as you step inside, the familiar scent of warm rice and miso greets you, and you immediately relax. Tsukishima heads straight for the onigiri section, while you linger near the drinks, debating between a matcha latte and a cappuccino.

“You’re getting the matcha,” Tsukishima calls over his shoulder, barely even looking up.

You roll your eyes but grab it anyway, because yeah, he’s right. You join him at the counter, where he’s already placed two onigiri on the register—one salmon, one tuna mayo.

“You know my order,” you say, amused.

He shrugs, handing over his card to pay before you can argue. “You never change it.”

The words are casual, offhanded, but something about them settles deep in your chest. You look at him, at the way he’s effortlessly familiar with your habits, your preferences, your life.

And for some reason, that makes your stomach twist.

eight. 

You tear into your onigiri, letting the familiar taste of salmon and warm rice settle on your tongue. The quiet hum of the city surrounds you both as you sit on the hood of Tsukishima’s car, drinks resting beside you. The neon glow of the convenience store sign flickers in the periphery, casting long, gentle shadows over the pavement; the night is cool but not biting, the breeze rustling the stray napkins you’d forgotten beside you.

The conversation flows lazily, touching on everything and nothing at once—complaints about professors, Yamaguchi’s latest doomed tutoring attempts with Hinata, Tsukishima’s upcoming project on primate evolution that he absolutely does not care about. It’s easy, the way it always is, but there’s a weight pressing against your ribs, something you can’t quite name.

Then it slows. After a beat, you sigh, staring out at the dim glow of the streetlights. “I think I might change the ending.”

Tsukishima shifts beside you, glancing at you briefly before turning back toward the night sky. You don’t even have to specify: he knows what you’re talking about. “Yeah?”

“I wanted a happy one,” you admit, your fingers picking at a loose thread on your hoodie. “But I don’t know if it fits. Every version I write feels fake. Too neat. Too… easy.”

He’s quiet for a moment, taking a slow sip of his drink before shrugging. “Then don’t force it. If it’s not working, make it ambiguous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he argues, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “People like things that feel real. If you’re struggling this much, maybe that’s your answer.”

You chew on his words, considering. Maybe he’s right. Maybe an open-ended conclusion is the answer—letting things linger, unresolved but full of possibility. But something about that unsettles you, like leaving something unfinished, like waiting for something that never comes.

And then, it clicks: how to leave it ambiguous without being unfinished. 

You exhale, pressing your phone’s power button and watching the screen light up, a blank notes app staring back at you. Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you start typing, the inspiration finally clicking into place. You can already see the scene in your mind—the way the light will filter in, the subtle expressions, the carefully chosen silence between words.

Tsukishima watches you with mild amusement, his lips quirking up just slightly. “Are you seriously writing right now?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, furiously typing. “You said something smart for once, and now I have to take advantage of it.”

He snorts. “You wouldn’t survive without me.”

You roll your eyes, but deep down, you know he’s right. The thought lingers, unspoken. How many times has he done this? Pulled you out of your own head before you spiraled, pushed you to do better, reminded you—without ever really saying it—that you aren’t alone?

The words on your screen blur slightly. Maybe it’s just the neon lights. Maybe it’s something else.

Then, softer, almost offhand, he says, “You know, if it’s really bothering you this much, maybe it’s because you want it to mean something.”

Your fingers still over your screen. The words sit heavy in the air, pressing down on you with a weight you can’t quite place. You look up at him, but he’s already turned back toward the city, his expression unreadable.

nine.

You think that you need a distraction. A long walk, or a snack, maybe. Or better yet, what you actually really want: a frontal lobotomy. 

Instead, you have filming.

Which is, honestly, the opposite of helpful when your current goal is to shove all of your weird, unwelcome, inexplicable feelings into the deepest recesses of your mind. It’s awful, but now that you’ve started to see your best friend in a whole new light, it’s really all you can think about. Therefore, you cope as you always have: running from your problems. You’ve been distant the last few days. You’re responding less, cancelling on your weekly study sessions, sprinting out of your lectures before he can catch up to you. You’ve even been ghosting Yamaguchi out of proximity. 

But you can’t do that today. Because today, you’re shooting one of the final sequences—the rooftop scene. The one drenched in soft intimacy, lingering glances, and unsaid words thickening the air between them. The one where Tsukishima and Yachi have to act like they exist in their own world, where nothing and no one else matters.

You try not to think about it too hard.

The rooftop set is perfect. The city sprawls beneath them, lights flickering like stars, a mirror to the actual night sky above. Yachi’s already in position, sitting at the edge, her posture relaxed but poised. Tsukishima is beside her, long legs stretched out, hands lazily resting on his lap. The camera is set up, framing them beautifully against the endless stretch of buildings and sky.

You call action, and for a while, it’s fine.

Yachi takes a slow drag of the cigarette (a prop one—she refuses to even come close to tainting her lungs), the smoke curling up between them. Her voice is soft, contemplative, as she delivers her lines. Tsukishima exhales smoke into the night, his face not particularly expressive but not detached. He’s… engaged. Focused. Too focused. There’s something in the way he looks at her that makes your chest tight, even though you know, know, it’s just acting.

Still, the words he says don’t feel like lines. Not when his voice dips just slightly, not when his eyes linger on her face.

“Maybe,” he says, his tone quieter than rehearsals, “but some moments leave imprints on our souls. They’ll last forever in our hearts.”

The air shifts.

Yachi leans her head on his shoulder. The city hums below them. The scene is exactly as you envisioned it, the kind of moment that pulls people in, that makes an audience believe.

And yet, it feels like you can’t breathe.

The worst part is that it isn’t even that bad—no, you get through the scene just fine. No one else notices the way your stomach churns, or the way your hands tighten around the back of the director’s chair. No one notices that the words aren’t just dialogue in your head anymore, that they feel… wrong, out of place, too much.

It isn’t until Tsukishima reaches out, without prompting, without direction, and brushes a loose strand of hair out of Yachi’s face that you realize you actually feel sick.

It’s not scripted.

The camera catches it perfectly, a soft, natural movement. The kind of instinctive touch that makes a scene feel real. Your breath stutters in your chest. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he leans in slightly, pressing the briefest kiss to her forehead before pulling back, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Not in the script.

Not in the goddamn script.

“Cut,” you say, too quickly, your voice tighter than you mean it to be. You clear your throat, forcing a neutral expression onto your face when both of them glance toward you. “That was—good. Really natural.”

Yachi beams, a little shy but pleased. “It felt nice, actually. He made it really easy to stay in the moment.”

You swallow down whatever the hell it is that rises up in you at that.

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, sharp and unreadable.

Your fingers curl into your palm. “I think we’re done for tonight,” you announce, forcing a yawn into your voice like exhaustion is the reason you need to leave so badly. “I’ve got a migraine coming on, and we still have to film the passion scene this weekend.”

Yachi nods easily, already stretching out her legs, but Tsukishima’s expression darkens slightly.

“You sure?” he asks, low enough that only you hear it.

You nod quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Just need sleep.”

He stands, brushing invisible dust from his jeans, and you know what’s coming before he even says it. “I’ll walk you back.”

“No!” you panic, waving your hands wildly. “Kaori’s picking me up.”

It’s a lie, an obvious one, but you don’t care. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder before he can question it. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Then you leave, practically sprinting out, before he can say anything else. Before you have to deal with whatever the hell this is, whatever it means.

Because if you stop to think about it, even for a second, you’re pretty sure you’ll break.

ten. 

Midway through your most recent homework assignment (dissecting the art behind the glorious film Cars—the best Disney movie out there, fight with the wall), your phone vibrates against your nightstand. The screen flashes the text message that’s popped up, but you don’t even need to check to know who it is: it’s a notification that you already know you don’t want to see.

(11:12 PM) kei :P: are you avoiding me?

You stare at the text, thumb hovering over the keyboard, your mind spinning with an answer that won’t sound like a complete lie. The problem is, you are avoiding him. You’ve been practically stonewalling him, dashing away inconspicuously whenever you know he’ll be nearby, and it’s getting obvious. He knows it. There’s no use pretending otherwise, but the idea of confronting it—confronting him—makes something anxious curl in your gut.

You sigh, flopping onto your bed, one arm draped over your eyes as you try to gather your thoughts. Your fingers type out a response before you can overthink it.

(11:15 PM) y/n: no? y/n: i’m j busy lately u know that

The three dots appear, then disappear. Reappear, then disappear again. He’s debating his response, and for some reason, that is terrifying. Then it buzzes.

(11:21 PM) kei :P: right.

It’s short. Barely anything at all. But you know him, and you know exactly what that one-word response means. He doesn’t believe you. He’s letting it go for now, but he isn’t letting it go entirely. The thought unsettles you more than you want to admit.

Your room feels suffocating suddenly, like it’s pressing in on you. You glance around, searching for something—anything—to keep your mind occupied, but all you find are pieces of him.

Tsukishima had helped you move in, so he has a fundamental part in the whole place already, but when you look even closer, he’s really in the details. There’s the framed picture on your desk from your high school graduation, his hand resting lazily on your shoulder as Yamaguchi beams from besides you. There’s a hoodie draped over your desk chair, long since stolen from his closet during a late night out that never got returned. There’s a battered copy of Normal People by Sally Rooney tucked into your bookshelf, its pages creased and worn from the way he always mindlessly flipped through it when he came over. 

It never seemed evident until now, when you’re trying so hard not to think about him, to not let him occupy a space that he’s so clearly always kept filled, but now that you see it, it’s simple: Kei has been a part of your life for as long as you can possibly remember. He’s always been there, from the very moment your family moved into the house next door to him when you were seven. He’s in your daily routine. If you turned on your phone right now, it’d open to a picture of you three; if you were to open Spotify, you’ll find your blend at the very top of your pinned playlists. 

He’s everywhere. He’s everything. Tsukishima Kei is worn into your very bones, into every single cell, written into every little part of your being. 

Your fingers tighten around your phone, and for a moment, you consider texting him back. Saying something real. Something honest.

Your gaze flickers to your desk, to the script sitting on top of a stack of notebooks. The ending you rewrote stares back at you, the words bold and final.

Scene 6 Exterior - Rooftop - Sunset Yachi returns to the rooftop, now alone. She sits on the edge, looking out at the city. The sun sets, casting a warm glow over everything. She takes out a cigarette and lights it, inhaling deeply. Cut to: Tsukishima, walking through the city streets, the sunset reflecting in his eyes. He pauses, looking up at the rooftop where Yachi is sitting. The screen fades to black. Text on screen: “We’ll be there at the end of the world, together as the stars go out.”

The moment your professor read it, she called it striking. Said it felt honest. That the ache in the words felt real, like someone had lived it.

But you didn’t just write it. You felt it.

Because if the world were ending, if the stars were truly burning out—there’s no question where you’d be. Who you’d be with.

And yet, here you are, running.

You inhale sharply, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes.

With the weight of twelve years of friendship comes the obligation to not let it go to waste: you are terrified of what a confession could do. You can’t even imagine what a world without Kei looks like; you would honestly rather die than lose him. And well… admitting your feelings could very well mean losing him. 

Then again, you could very well lose him too if you keep ignoring him and running away. You just need to come up with some way to either 1) get over your feelings, or 2) explain to your best friend that you’ve suddenly started having inexplicable dreams about him and feeling the urge to kiss him. 

You mean, how hard could it really be?

eleven. 

Evidently, very difficult. 

You’re standing outside the door of Tsukishima’s flat for the first time in days, feeling like you might actually throw up. You have the horrible urge to cancel. Maybe you should turn around. Maybe you should fake food poisoning. Maybe you should suddenly develop an urgent need to flee the country.

But no. You can’t do that. This is your film, your project, your fucking grade on the line. You can’t just run away forever.

So you’re here. And you take a deep breath before you knock, because your heart is hammering like you just ran across campus, and it only picks up when the door swings open.

And then he’s there too—Tsukishima, standing in the doorway of his apartment, hair still damp from a shower, hoodie hanging loose on his frame. His glasses slide down his nose just slightly, and for a second, he just looks at you, eyes scanning your face, your posture, like he’s already found something off about you.

“You’re early,” he says, stepping aside to let you in.

You nod, stepping over the threshold, hyperaware of the way the air inside feels different—warm, his, thick with something you don’t have the words for.

“Wanted to set up before Yachi gets here.” Your voice is steady, detached, the way it should be.

It’s not a lie, not entirely, but it’s not the truth either. The truth is sitting in the space between you, glaring and heavy, pressing in like the weight of an oncoming storm.

He hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. Tsukishima doesn’t move, doesn’t drop his gaze. His arms are crossed, his posture lazy, but there’s something pointed about the way he’s looking at you—sharp, analyzing, like he’s cataloging every tell, every avoidance, every reason why you’re standing here instead of texting some excuse from the safety of your dorm.

You drop your bag near the couch and move to set up your camera, your hands moving automatically as you avoid his gaze. The apartment smells like him—coffee and citrus, faintly like that stupid expensive detergent he swears isn’t a luxury purchase but definitely is. The scent is so him, so familiar, that it makes your stomach flip.

And then he speaks.

“What’s going on with you?”

You freeze.

It’s not accusatory, not sharp, just… careful. Measured. Like he’s trying to get an answer without pushing too hard. Which, honestly, is worse than if he had just called you out directly.

You force yourself to keep your hands steady, adjusting the camera’s angle. “Nothing. Just busy.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Bullshit.”

Your stomach twists. The air in the room shifts, thickens.

He’s always been quick. Always been able to pick apart your bullshit before you even finish spinning it, before you can even convince yourself it’s real. And now, with those gold-flecked eyes trained on you, burning through every excuse you try to build between you… well, you’re drowning.

His voice is steady, but edged with something dangerous. “I don’t know what your problem is, but if you think I haven’t noticed, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Your breath hitches in your chest.

For a second, you want to tell him. Everything. The thoughts, the jealousy, the confusion that’s been clawing at your throat for weeks. You hate that he knows you this well, that he can see through you so easily. You hate that he’s giving you that look, the one that says I’m waiting for the truth, waiting for you to finally be honest, and you hate, hate, that you don’t know what to say. 

But then, the door swings open. Yachi steps in, breathless and smiling. “Sorry I’m late!”

The moment shatters.

You exhale, stepping back, forcing a smile as you greet her, ignoring the way Tsukishima is still watching you. He goes still, expression unreadable. And then—just like that—his face smooths out, his posture relaxes, his hands sink into his hoodie pocket like nothing happened at all.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mutters.

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Let’s start.”

If you want to make it through a whole scene of them making out for three minutes, you have to stop looking at your best friend. His amber eyes, under his layer of concern, confusion, and annoyance, are filled with hurt, and your stomach feels like it’s being ripped out, torn to fucking shreds, to see him like that. 

So you avert your gaze, stubbornly keeping your eyes on Yachi and your camera, and set up to film the scene.

***

The camera is steady. Your breathing, however, is not.

The apartment is dimly lit, the soft hum of music playing through the speaker, some indie song with melancholic chords that you once added to the shared playlist, long before this—before all of this—became something unbearable. It filters into the space like a ghost of a memory, like something familiar that you can’t quite place.

Yachi sits on the edge of Tsukishima’s bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting for direction, waiting for him. Tsukishima stands in front of her, tall and composed, his fingers flexing at his sides like he’s testing the weight of the scene before stepping into it. His shoulders are loose, his stance easy, his face unreadable. Too unreadable.

Too casual.

Like he’s trying to make it look effortless.

Like he’s making it look effortless for you.

Your grip tightens around the camera. The frame is perfect—low lighting casting long shadows, the soft golden glow from the bedside lamp catching on strands of Yachi’s hair, the curve of Tsukishima’s jaw. It’s intimate. Close. Exactly what you wanted.

It should be fine. This should be fine.

The scene is simple.

Close-ups of hands, of fingers grazing over fabric. Of a breath caught in the space between them. Of a moment stretched too thin, heavy with something unsaid.

And then, they kiss.

Your stomach lurches.

It’s instinct—the way your body reacts, the way something tightens in your chest like a vice, the way your nails press into your palm where you grip the camera. You tell yourself to look at the screen, at the framing, at the way their silhouettes fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

But you’re not looking at the shot.

You’re looking at him.

The way his head tilts slightly, the angle just right. The way his hand ghosts over the small of Yachi’s back before settling, fingers barely pressing into fabric. The way he moves slow, deliberate, like every part of him has been designed for this moment, like he’s meant to be here, kissing her, making it look real.

Making it feel real.

Your fingers tighten around the camera, but you don’t move.

The shot is perfect.

Tsukishima is slow, careful. One hand cups Yachi’s jaw, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheekbone, his other resting against her waist, anchoring her in place. He leans in, the motion seamless, practiced, lips pressing against hers with just enough pressure to make it believable.

Your chest feels like it’s caving in.

It’s nothing. It’s just a film. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care.

But you do.

The words sit at the back of your throat like acid, thick and burning, because this is what you wanted—this is what you asked for—and yet you can’t seem to convince yourself that you’re okay with it.

You should be focusing on the technicalities. On the way the lighting frames them, on the way the movement aligns with your vision, on the way Yachi’s fingers twitch against his hoodie like she’s nervous, like she’s fully immersed in the moment.

But all you can focus on is him.

The way his eyelashes flutter for half a second before he closes his eyes.

The slow exhale against Yachi’s lips.

The way his grip shifts against her waist—just slightly, just barely, like he’s grounding himself. Like he’s steadying his breath, like he’s trying to remember it’s acting.

Something inside you twists, sharp and visceral, something so wrong it makes your stomach ache.

Your fingers are shaking.

And then, the worst part: Tsukishima tilts his head further, deepening the kiss.

Your breath catches.

It’s instinctive, automatic, the way your entire body tenses. You barely realize what you’re doing until the words leave your lips, unbidden, a little too fast, a little too urgent.

“Cut.”

The word slices through the air like a blade.

Tsukishima pulls back immediately, blinking, like something had momentarily snapped.

Yachi exhales, touching her lips, a little dazed, but then she laughs, easy and light. “That felt really natural.”

Natural.

The word rings in your ears, cold and foreign, something heavy and nauseating settling in your stomach.

Natural.

You feel like you’re going to throw up.

Tsukishima is still looking at you. Not at Yachi, but at you.

His expression isn’t unreadable anymore. It’s something else—something unread, something searching, something sharp enough to make your skin burn under the weight of it.

You swallow, forcing your voice into something neutral. “Yeah. That was good. Really… natural.”

Yachi grins, stretching her arms. “I have to run—I promised Hinata I’d help him study tonight.”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

She gathers her things, slings her bag over her shoulder, completely unaware that the air in the room is thick with something else, something unspoken, something unraveling.

The door clicks shut.

You inhale.

You should leave too, right now. You should grab your bag, make up some excuse, and go.

But before you can even think about moving, a hand wraps around your wrist, and drags you back in.

twelve. 

The door clicks shut behind Yachi, but the weight in your chest doesn’t lift. If anything, it gets heavier, pressing against your ribs like an iron hand squeezing the air out of your lungs. You force yourself to breathe, force yourself to move, force yourself to not think about the way Tsukishima had looked at her, had touched her, had—

A hand wraps around your wrist.

You freeze.

Tsukishima tugs, firm but not rough, pulling you back before you can escape.

Your heart stutters.

“What the hell is going on with you?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s something underneath it—frustration, confusion, anger.

You try to twist your arm away, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers tighten slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to anchor you, to keep you here. You force yourself to look at him, to meet the sharp, burning gaze that’s demanding answers.

You swallow. “Nothing.”

His jaw clenches. “Try again.”

“Tsukishima—”

“No.” His voice cuts through the air, low and unyielding. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks. Avoiding me. Lying to me. Looking at me like I fucking killed your dog or something. Not even calling me Kei anymore. And then tonight—” He breaks off, exhaling sharply through his nose. His grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen. “What is your problem?”

The words sting, sharp and cutting, but the worst part is that he’s right. He’s right.

And you’re tired.

Tired of pretending it doesn’t bother you. Tired of biting your tongue. Tired of shoving down every ugly, twisting, unbearable feeling that claws at your throat.

So, suddenly, recklessly, you snap. “You! You’re my fucking problem!”

The words burst out of you like they’ve been waiting, desperate to escape, and suddenly, there’s no going back.

Tsukishima’s eyes widen—just slightly, just enough for you to see the flicker of shock before his expression hardens again.

“What?” His voice is sharp, almost mocking, like he’s daring you to say it again, to spell it out for him.

You rip your wrist from his grip, shoving him back a step. Your hands are shaking. Your heart is pounding.

“You don’t get it, do you?” The words come fast, breathless. “Do you even see what you look like? How easy this is for you?” Your voice wavers, thick with something too sharp to be just frustration. “How you can just— just kiss her like it’s nothing?”

His brow furrows. “It was a scene.”

“That’s not the fucking point!”

You shove him again, hands pressing against his chest, but he barely moves.

“I had to watch you,” you spit, voice cracking at the edges. “Watch you hold her like that. Watch you look at her like that. And I hated it, Tsukishima. I hated it.”

Something shifts in the air between you.

The anger is still there, but beneath it—something else. Something fragile and aching and real.

Tsukishima doesn’t speak. His lips part slightly, but no words come.

He’s staring at you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes.

You inhale, shaking, your hands balled into fists. “I don’t know when it happened, or how, or if I’m just an idiot who took too long to figure it out, but I—” Your breath stutters. Your throat feels tight. Fuck, you shouldn’t be saying this. You shouldn’t be saying this.

But you do.

Because it’s too late.

Because there’s no running now.

“I love you.”

The words drop between you like stones in water, sinking deep, sending ripples through everything.

Silence.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, erratic and deafening.

Tsukishima stares at you. Gaping. Frozen.

Like the world just tilted on its very axis. Like the entire sky is tumbling down, like gravity is the sole thing keeping him on the ground. 

And then you panic.

“I—I didn’t mean—” Your voice shakes, your fingers twitch, you need to fix this, you need to take it back before you lose him, before you ruin everything—

But then he moves.

Fast.

His hands are on your face before you can breathe, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head back.

And then he kisses you.

It’s not careful. Not controlled. Not measured, the way he was with Yachi.

This is something else entirely.

This is desperate. This is frantic. This is a storm breaking after years of tension, of longing, of something building between you that neither of you had the courage to name.

His lips crash against yours, stealing the air from your lungs, pulling a sound from the back of your throat that’s more relief than surprise. He kisses you like he’s been holding himself back for too long, like the second he let himself move, he couldn’t stop.

Like he’s been waiting.

Like he’s always wanted this.

The heat of his body devours you, swallowing you whole, pulling you under like a riptide you don’t want to escape. His hands slide down, fingers spreading against your waist, gripping tight like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his grasp. He tugs you forward, flush against him, so close there’s no space left, no room for doubt, no hesitation—only him, only this, only the way he’s holding you like he never intends to let go.

His mouth moves against yours with intent, deliberate and thorough, a silent demand, a confession with no words, just the press of his lips and the desperate, aching pull of his hands. He’s tasting, memorizing, mapping out every gasp, every shiver, every fragile part of you that has ever been his without either of you realizing it.

You make a sound against his lips, something caught between a sigh and a plea, and that’s all it takes—his grip tightens, his fingers pressing into your skin like he’s learning you by touch, like he needs you closer, closer, closer.

You melt into him. You break into him.

There is no hesitation when your hands reach for him, twisting in the fabric of his hoodie, clutching it like a lifeline, because you are terrified he’ll stop, that this will disappear, that he’ll come to his senses and—

But he doesn’t.

Because when you part, just barely, just enough to let air slip between you, Tsukishima chases after you.

His lips find yours again, softer this time, reverent, like he needs to remind himself that you’re real. That this is real.

That you’re not running anymore.

His forehead rests against yours, his breath uneven, warm, fanning over your lips in slow exhales. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, just lets the silence stretch, heavy and fragile and trembling with meaning.

Then, his voice—low, hoarse, something wrecked and beautiful.

“Say it again.”

Your heart stutters, something sharp and sweet twisting in your chest.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, amber eyes burning, raw with something you’ve never seen before, something almost pleading.

Your fingers loosen against his hoodie, but you don’t let go. “What?”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, his jaw tight, his gaze steady, searching yours for something unspoken.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, quieter this time.

Your throat is dry. Your world has shrunk to the space between you, to the way his hands still hold you, to the weight of his gaze pressing into you like an answer he already knows but needs to hear anyway.

You swallow once, then again. Then, soft but steady, you let it slip. “I love you.”

The way he exhales, sharp and shaky, is enough to undo you completely.

And then he kisses you again.

Slower this time. Deep. Intentional. Like he’s taking his time, like he wants to make sure you understand.

This isn’t a mistake. This isn’t something he can write off as an impulse, something fleeting or meaningless or careless. This is him. This is him choosing you.

He kisses you like he’s learning you, like he’s memorizing the way your breath hitches when he moves a certain way, the way your hands tremble when they slide up to cup his jaw, the way you—God, the way you kiss him back like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

Like you love him, and you’ve always loved him.

Like he loves you, and he’s always loved you.

And maybe it’s too much, too late, too terrifying, but when you pull apart, he still doesn’t let go.

His fingers linger against your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, swollen from his kiss.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snorts.

You laugh, breathless, and it comes out half-shaky, half-dazed. “Excuse me?”

He shakes his head, his lips curving slightly—soft, unbearably fond, annoyingly smug—but his eyes stay serious, stay warm.

“I love you too,” he says, just like that, like it’s simple. Like it’s easy.

And for once, it is.

thirteen. 

You wake up in a panic.

Your heart is a drum in your chest, erratic, wild, out of sync with the soft pre-dawn quiet of your dorm room. The weight of last night presses down on you all at once—the argument, the confession, the way Tsukishima kissed you like he’d been waiting, like he meant it, like he wasn’t going to let you take it back.

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhale sharply through your nose. It doesn’t help. The air is too thick, your limbs too restless, your thoughts too loud.

What the fuck did you do?

You sit up, shoving the blankets off you like they’re suffocating you. Your hair is a mess, the hoodie you slept in (not yours—his, fuck) twisted around you uncomfortably, but you don’t bother fixing it. The digital clock on your nightstand blinks 6:04 AM, and outside, the world is just beginning to wake.

You should be asleep.

You should be anything but this.

Blindly, you reach for your phone, thumb swiping over the screen to unlock it. The notifications hit you like a brick.

— 17 missed calls — 3 new voicemails — kei :P: pick up your phone — kei :P: are you serious right now — kei :P: we’re not doing this — kei :P: text me back

Your stomach lurches.

Your fingers twitch over the screen, hovering, hesitating, and then—fuck—you lock the phone and throw it onto your desk like it burned you.

You can’t deal with this right now.

Not now, not when you’re still caught in the aftermath of what happened, not when the ghost of his lips still lingers on your skin.

You need a distraction.

You push yourself up from the bed, dragging your feet to your desk, where your laptop sits untouched from the night before. The screen glows as it wakes, casting a pale blue light over your desk. You click open Premiere Pro, fingers moving on autopilot, pulling up the final cut of your film.

Something to ground you. Something to keep you from spiraling.

The editing timeline stretches before you, a mess of layered clips and audio tracks. The cursor blinks, waiting. You set it to the last scene you worked on—the rooftop scene, Yachi and Tsukishima against the night sky, the cigarette smoke curling between them like something ephemeral, fleeting.

You press play.

The footage unfolds in perfect clarity.

Yachi sits on the ledge, her fingers wrapped loosely around the cigarette, her expression thoughtful. Tsukishima is beside her, arms draped over his knees, his profile sharp against the neon haze of the city below.

She turns to him, voice soft, hesitant. “Do you think it’ll last?”

There’s a pause.

Then—his response. 

“As long as we exist, it will.”

You exhale sharply, the words hitting you harder than they should.

The scene plays through, Yachi taking a slow drag of the cigarette before exhaling toward the sky, the glow of the embers casting flickering light over her features. Tsukishima doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay forward, locked on something distant, something unseen.

Your fingers twitch over the keyboard, and without thinking, you hit the spacebar.

The scene rewinds.

You play it again.

“Do you think it’ll last?”

“As long as we exist, it will.”

A lump forms in your throat.

You rewind it again.

Again.

Again.

You don’t know why you keep watching it, why the words keep lodging themselves deeper and deeper into your chest.

Maybe because it doesn’t sound like acting. Maybe because you remember the way he said it, the way he delivered the line so effortlessly, so quietly, like it wasn’t a scripted moment but something real.

Maybe because it reminds you of last night.

The way he kissed you, the way his hands held you firm, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. The way he told you, Say it again, like he couldn’t believe it, like he needed to hear it over and over to make it real. The way he looked at you when you did. The way you let yourself believe, just for a second, that everything you wanted wasn’t impossible.

Your breath hitches, sudden and sharp, and then— you’re crying.

It’s not dramatic. There’s no sobbing, no wretched gasps for air.

Just silent tears, slipping down your cheeks, slow and unrelenting, as the weight of it all crashes into you.

Because you love him. Because you’ve always loved him. Because you can’t remember a time of your life where you didn’t, and because you can’t imagine a time where you don’t.

And you’re terrified.

You don’t know how long you sit there, shoulders curled in, fingers gripping the edge of your desk like you need to physically hold yourself together.

The sun creeps through the window, light spilling over your room in soft golds and oranges. Outside, the campus hums to life—doors opening, footsteps in the hallway, distant laughter.

You should move. You should do something.

Instead, you hit play one more time.

“Do you think it’ll last?”

“As long as we exist, it will.”

The tears keep falling, and you don’t know why you’re crying anymore: whether it’s because you believe it, or because you don’t.

fourteen.

Your hands are shaking as you pull up your contacts list.

It’s barely past 6:30 AM, the sky still tinged with the last remnants of dawn, but you can’t stay here. The weight of your realization—your love for Tsukishima—is suffocating, curling around your ribs like something clawed and desperate, something that refuses to let go.

You need to talk to someone, and there’s only one person who will actually pick up at this hour. So you press the call button and wait.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times.

Then, a groggy voice, scratchy with sleep but undeniably familiar.

“This better be good, or I swear—”

“I need you.”

A beat of silence.

Then, rustling sheets. A sigh. And finally.

“Where?”

***

The tiny café is quiet, still waking up alongside the rest of campus. The smell of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of vanilla and warm pastries. Sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden rectangles onto the worn wooden floors.

You sit in your usual booth, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, though you haven’t taken a single sip.

You barely register the sound of the door swinging open before a familiar figure drops into the seat across from you, yawning into his hoodie sleeve.

“You look horrible.”

You huff out a weak laugh, your throat still tight from earlier. “Good morning to you too, ‘Dashi.”

Yamaguchi stretches his arms overhead before slumping against the seat, blinking at you with the exhaustion of a man who has spent way too many nights buried under physics equations. He eyes you carefully, then his gaze flicks to the untouched tea in your hands.

“You called me before seven in the morning,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Which means either the apocalypse is happening, or you did something monumentally stupid.”

You drag a hand down your face. “Both.”

His lips quirk up slightly. “Alright. Start talking.”

You open your mouth, but—where do you even start?

The confession? The kiss? The fact that you spent half the night crying over your laptop, replaying Tsukishima’s voice like some deranged, lovesick film major cliché?

Your hands tighten around your cup. “It’s about Kei.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t even blink. “Figured.”

You exhale, shaky and uneven. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

He leans forward slightly, forearms resting against the table, his expression turning serious. “Okay. Take it from the top.”

So you do. You tell him everything.

About the jealousy—the awful, gut-wrenching feeling that took root in your chest the second you saw Tsukishima kiss Yachi, the way it spiraled into something uncontrollable, something you couldn’t suppress.

About the fight—the way Tsukishima saw right through you, called you out, made you snap. The way you finally admitted the truth you’d been running from for so long.

And then, the kiss. The way he grabbed you, the way he pulled you in, the way he kissed you like he was starving, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had. 

And the way, afterwards, you panicked.

The silence stretches when you finally stop talking. You can’t bring yourself to meet Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“I left,” you whisper, shame curling in your chest. “I—I freaked out and left. And now I don’t know what to do.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches for his coffee, takes a slow sip, and then sets it down with a soft thunk. Then—finally—he speaks.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Your head jerks up. “Excuse me?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like you’ve personally caused him actual, physical pain. “This is literally the worst case of mutual pining I’ve ever seen.”

“Mutual—?”

“Yes,” Yamaguchi says, exasperated. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t realize he’s been in love with you since we were, like, fifteen?”

You choke on air. “What?”

He gives you a flat look. “Oh, come on. You think he just puts up with people like that? Have you met Kei? He barely tolerates most human interaction, but you? You’re different.”

Your stomach sinks.

Yamaguchi leans back against the booth, studying you carefully. His voice is quieter when he says, “Now he’s waiting for you.”

And suddenly, it all comes rushing back.

Like that summer when you were fourteen, sprawled on the grass in his backyard, swatting mosquitoes away while he read some ridiculous philosophy book he’d scoffed at but couldn’t put down. You had called him pretentious, poked fun at his stupid little annotations, and then—just when he was about to snap back—he had looked at you. Really looked at you. And for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

Or the time in high school when he stayed up with you, sitting outside your house at two in the fucking morning, just because you had a nightmare and didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t say anything about it, didn’t mock you for it, didn’t act like it was a big deal. He just let you talk about stupid shit until you weren’t shaking anymore.

Then there was college. The night he drove across town just because you were too drunk to make it back to your dorm. The way he let you ramble about some stupid movie you had watched for class while he carried you—actually carried you—up the stairs because your legs had stopped working.

And then, of course, last night.

The way he kissed you like he had been holding himself back for years.

The way he whispered, Say it again, like he needed to hear it more than anything.

The way you had run.

Because maybe, deep down, you always knew.

Yamaguchi watches you, then exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “You love him.”

It’s not a question.

It's a fact.

And you know that, of course. You’ve always known that. But hearing it out loud—having someone else say it, no doubt, no hesitation—it does something to you.

Your fingers tighten around your cup.

“I love him,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I love him, and I’m scared.”

Yamaguchi hums, tapping his fingers against the rim of his coffee cup. “Why?”

“Because if this goes wrong, I lose him,” you say, staring down at the caramel liquid in your cup.

He tilts his head. “And if it goes right?”

You swallow.

That’s the terrifying part.

If it goes right—if you actually let yourself believe in this, in him… then everything changes. You can never get it back. 

But then again, if you don’t, you’ll never move forward.

Yamaguchi leans forward, voice softer now. “Look, I get it. Kei is… a lot. He’s a pain in the ass. But you don’t have to be afraid of this. Not with him.”

You swallow hard. Your thumb hovers over his name on your phone. But you don’t call him.

Not yet.

Instead, you look at Yamaguchi, heart hammering, voice barely steady.

“What do I do?”

He smiles, small and knowing.

“Go to him.”

fifteen.

Your heart is pounding.

Your pulse is an erratic drumbeat in your ears, your breath uneven as you stand outside Tsukishima’s apartment at 7 AM like an absolute psychopath. The hallway is empty, most of the residents still asleep, because normal people do not show up at their best friend’s door at the crack of dawn after confessing their feelings, running away, and then ghosting them for a whole night.

But here you are.

You raise a fist to knock. Pause. Lower it.

Your mind runs through every possible thing that could go wrong. What if he’s still asleep? What if he’s awake, but he’s pissed? What if you just turn around and pretend this never happened and never speak to him again and maybe flee the country?

But no. No more running. You’re done with that.

You exhale sharply, grit your teeth, and knock.

There’s no response at first.

Then, a very loud, very irritated groan.

Footsteps. A thud as something (probably his knee) collides with something else (probably his desk), followed by a mumbled string of very colorful expletives.

And then, the door swings open.

Tsukishima is standing there, half-asleep and thoroughly unamused.

He’s not wearing his glasses, which is so much worse, because without them, he looks—soft. His blond hair is a complete mess, sticking up in every direction, and he’s wearing that stupid old hoodie that’s two sizes too big, the one you’ve definitely stolen at some point but returned because it stopped smelling like him. His sweatpants are loose around his hips, and his expression is pure murder as he squints at you.

“…The fuck?” His voice is rough from sleep. “It’s seven in the morning.”

You should probably say something. You should probably apologize. You should probably explain why you’ve lost your goddamn mind and decided to show up here like some dramatic main character in an early 2000s rom-com.

But instead, you go on your tiptoes, yank down him by his hoodie, and kiss him. 

It happens fast, and at first, he completely freezes.

Like full-body shutdown. His entire frame locks up, his hands hovering uncertainly, breath caught in his throat.

For one horrifying moment, you think you’ve made a mistake.

But then… then his hands find your waist. And suddenly, he’s kissing you back.

It’s slow at first, tentative, like he’s still processing this, still trying to believe it’s real. But then his fingers tighten against your skin, pulling you closer, and you can feel the exact moment he gives in.

The exact moment he stops thinking.

And God, you feel it everywhere.

The heat of him, the slow, deliberate press of his lips, the quiet, shaky exhale against your mouth before he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. He’s warm, solid, real, and for the first time in weeks, your head isn’t a tangled mess of doubt and fear.

For the first time, everything makes sense.

You pull away first, breathless, heart hammering.

His hands linger on your waist. He keeps his face close to yours, just centimeters away, and when he finally opens his eyes, they’re dark with something you’ve never seen before. Something raw. Something completely, utterly unguarded.

You swallow hard. “I—”

His thumb brushes over your hip, the smallest, barest movement.

You inhale sharply. “I’m sorry.”

Tsukishima doesn’t move. He just watches you, eyes sharp, unreadable. “For what?”

“For—” You hesitate. Your fingers tighten against the fabric of his hoodie. “For running. For taking so long to figure this out. For—”

He sighs, but there’s no real annoyance in it. His gaze softens—just slightly, just enough.

“You’re a dumbass,” he mutters.

You let out a breathless laugh. “I know.”

A pause. Then, he asks, “Do you wanna go for a walk?”

You blink up at him, caught off guard. “A walk?”

“Yeah.” Tsukishima shrugs, stepping back, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you gonna walk me back to my dorm? Because I literally just dragged myself here for nothing if that’s the case.”

He rolls his eyes. “No, dumbass. I just—” He exhales, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Just wanna walk somewhere.”

Your lips twitch. “…How romantic of you.”

He scoffs. “Shut up.”

But he doesn’t deny it.

The air is crisp, the early morning quiet—the kind of stillness that only exists before the rest of the world wakes up.

You walk side by side, the distance between you not much, but enough. For a while, neither of you speak.

“I meant it.”

You glance at him. “Huh?”

Tsukishima doesn’t look at you. His gaze is fixed ahead, his hands still tucked into his hoodie, his jaw set. But his voice—low, certain—doesn’t waver.

“I meant it,” he repeats. “When I told you to say it again.”

Your breath catches. He keeps walking, staring straight ahead like this isn’t some life-altering confession, like he’s just casually commenting on the weather. But his hands are tensed inside his hoodie pocket. His shoulders are tight.

You swallow. “Kei…”

“I don’t like a lot of people,” he says bluntly. “I barely tolerate most people. But you—”

He stops walking. You stop too.

Finally, he turns to you, and God—his eyes. They burn, golden in the morning light, open and completely unguarded.

“You make me feel like I belong in a movie.”

Your breath stutters.

He exhales, shaking his head, voice quieter now. “And I fucking hate movies.”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, sudden and unexpected, and you can’t stop smiling.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely making it a thing,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder. “My grumpy, six-foot-four, emotionally constipated best friend just confessed he’s been hopelessly in love with me for years.”

His ears go pink. “I didn’t say that.”

“You did.”

“Shut up.”

You grin. “Make me.”

A pause. Then, he does.

This time, the kiss is gentler. No urgency, no desperation—just warmth. Just him. And as his hands settle against your waist, as your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, as his lips move against yours with something quieter, steadier, you realize something very, very important.

For the first time in a long, long time—you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

With him.

But then, the moment stretches, and a thought occurs to you. An extremely essential thought.

You pull back slightly, blinking up at him. Tsukishima frowns. “What.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Then, after a beat, you blurt out, “So… does this mean we’re dating?”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable—half amusement, half exasperation. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his thumb brushes absently along your waist, his grip shifting slightly, like he’s still getting used to the fact that he’s touching you.

Then, flatly, he says, “I don’t know. Do you plan on kissing other people?”

“No?” You reply, your nose scrunching. 

“Then yeah.”

You stare. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

You gape at him. “Kei, you are the most unromantic—”

But then something flickers across your mind, something bigger, heavier. A thought that makes your stomach tighten, your fingers twitch against his hoodie.

You inhale. “Hey,” you say, softer this time. “How long?”

He watches you. “How long what?”

You swallow hard. “How long have you loved me?”

A pause. A long pause.

Tsukishima doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. But there’s something in his expression that shifts—something softer, quieter. His fingers tighten just slightly at your waist. And then, voice low, steady, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, he sighs.

“I can’t remember when I didn’t.”

Your heart stops. Your breath catches, your fingers clench around his hoodie, and God—what are you supposed to say to that? Because there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. Just him. Just this. Just the reality of a love so deeply ingrained in the both of you that it has no beginning and no end.

You exhale—shaky, breathless. “You suck at romance, you know that?”

He rolls his eyes. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You laugh, bright and full, and before you can think about it, before you can overanalyze, you’re kissing him again.

It’s easier this time.

Because now, you’re sure. 

And maybe the universe really does have a thing for sadism, because somehow, against all logic, it made him your person. The same Tsukishima Kei who laughs at your mistakes and misfortunes, who calls you out for your delusions and idiocy, who makes fun of your collection of Smiskis and love of reality TV. But at the same time, this Tsukishima Kei would do anything for you, even if you have to beg and beg. This Tsukishima Kei has held you through the worst days of your life, has seen you at your lowest moments and stayed, has waited for you for years to see him the way he has always seen you.

And you think, feeling his hands tighten at your waist and his lips linger against yours like he’s memorising the feeling, that maybe, just maybe, the universe got this one right.

⨭ closing notes; i adore tsukishima kei so much. tbh i rly struggled w this work bc i had this concept fleshed out for so long and j cldnt execute it the way i wanted, but thank u to @kinaskorner for beta reading and for the reassurance <3 i hope u guys love this too!! if u made it to the end of this super long fic lol then thank u sm and i hope u have the loveliest day

[buddiebeginz]

There's been a lot of discussion lately about when will Eddie come out and when Buddie canon will happen. I think a lot more people are feeling optimistic that it actually will happen now so the conversation has shifted into people being worried how this is all going to play out. I've seen people saying that if Eddie comes out and Buddie is fully confirmed this season (i.e. they confess their feelings/ there's a kiss) that would be way too fast. I have some issues with that line of thinking though.

For starters after Buck came out in season 7 we had a lot of new people join fandom (even more join during the summer hiatus), which I'm glad for all the new people who have found 911 particularly because the majority are now rooting for Buddie. Still I feel like a lot of the newer fan's opinions (on this topic) are being heard over some of us who have been in fandom for years.

I'm not saying if you're a newbie that your opinions on the show don't matter but I do think you should take the time to listen to those of us who have been around longer. The fact is if us long time Buddie fans hadn't been rooting for this ship for years we wouldn't even be as close to them becoming canon as we are. Buck likely wouldn't have had his bi awakening if not for us either. We've supported the show and pushed them for years to give these characters the storylines they deserve. That should matter when you're talking about something like how and when Buddie canon will happen.

I understand that people want Buddie to get together in just the right way but I think we all need to realize there is no one right way this will happen. We need to make peace now before it happens that there will be things about them coming together we won't expect even things we may not exactly like. All that matters is they finally get to take their relationship to that next level. That both Buck and Eddie get to realize their person their soulmate has always been right beside them. The other mains have had their person for years it's beyond time for Buck and Eddie to (consciously fully) have that too.

-----

I've seen people say that Eddie deserves a long journey to figuring out his sexuality and he needs to work on his mental health before being with Buck. And while I do think Eddie deserves more focus and screen time I don't see 911 doing a long drawn out thing with him. 911 typically does smaller 1-3 ep arcs for their characters. There's also the fact that they've been dropping hints for Eddie's coming out these past two seasons. Ones I'm positive they will connect back to other things throughout the series, like why it never worked out with him in his relationships with women.

I'm also personally not a fan of the logic that someone needs to do all these things to change themselves to be ready for love. Buck and Eddie have seen each other through their best and their worst. The show has literally made it a point to tell you that's what love is on numerous occasions. They said that love is about stepping into someone's mess with them. Why is it that Bobby didn't need to be a perfect person before he was worthy of Athena's love? Go back and watch season 1 Bobby was not in a good place when they got together. He was getting better but he was still struggling and up until the end of the season was still thinking about ending his life. But we see Athena "step into the mess" with him. She starts by going to church with him and we see them in s2 (early on in their relationship) talk about his past at different times.

I just feel like this fandom sometimes holds Eddie to unfair standards. He's been struggling for the past couple of seasons but I honestly think we're going to find out in 8b that it's connected to him having not felt able to live his truth. We saw in 806 that Eddie is starting to embrace joy and taking steps to fully be himself. That he's starting even in small ways to take ownership of what he wants and doing things for himself not because he feels obligated to.

I think him going back to Texas is not just to get Chris but the shows way of giving him a rebirth of sorts. They're bringing him back to where he's from and it's where I think Eddie is going to realize who he is and what he wants (Buck) and that him and Chris don't belong in Texas they belong in LA with Buck and the rest of their found family. And this time Eddie will get to make the decision to leave not based on fear or desperation or running away from his life but based on knowing where he truly belongs.

I know there's also a worry that if Eddie comes out in 8b it will feel rushed but the length of the story being told shouldn't be the main concern it should be how well the show tells it.

They could have him realize his feelings for Buck (because I do think him figuring out his sexuality is going to be tied to that) while he's still in Texas. That could be one whole episode just Eddie (like they did for Bobby in s7) or have it play out over a few eps. Then Eddie comes home and Buddie canon happens by the end of s8. I also feel like people are forgetting we have quite a few eps for 8b left to go so it's not like Eddie coming out and Buddie canon are both going to happen in 1 or 2 eps right after the other. It's very likely Eddie realizing his feelings will happen earlier and Buddie canon will happen in one of the last eps of the season.

Also even if they have Eddie come out in one ep that doesn't mean it's the end of him ever talking about his sexuality or facing any struggles with it. We haven't seen Buck facing much struggle when it comes to his sexuality but I think it will be different with Eddie. Even if Buddie officially get together in s8 in s9 we could still see things like Eddie having mixed feelings over being out especially when it comes to stuff like pda. Maybe we could even see Eddie talking to the priest again. Eddie coming out and Buddie canon happening doesn't mean it's the end of Eddie's sexuality journey it's just the beginning.

Like I said before we need to make peace that every part of these stories isn't going to make everyone happy but I think the last thing we should be doing when Eddie comes out and Buddie canon happens is look for reasons to criticize the show for how it happens. They will inevitably receive hate from bummys and people who will accuse them of making the show too gay. We can't add to that by complaining that a storyline didn't happen in a perfect way. If they actually finally go there with these characters we need to celebrate the show and be louder with our praise than any bs they'll get.

-----

On the subject of Buddie I've seen people say that if they confess their feelings for one another by the end of 8b it will feel rushed that the general audience won't get what's happening because the show hasn't set the groundwork for their relationship. I feel like I'm seeing this argument more from newer fans which I guess makes sense because to you it probably does seem like everything is moving fast. But for those of us who have watched Buck and Eddie's relationship develop over years and years this has all been a long long time coming in fact it's beyond overdue.

Some of you need to remember that Buck was supposed to come out in s4 (the shooting was likely to be the catalyst to him realizing his feelings for Eddie) and Eddie in s5 which means Buddie canon was likely to happen that same season. How can s8 be too soon when they were supposed to get together three seasons ago? They have literally been through almost everything Madney and Bathena have been through or some variation thereof. If Buck and Eddie were a straight couple they would have been married already. Buck and Eddie have spent 7 years building their relationship. Building a life and family together. Them finally admitting they're in love with each other is simply the natural progression their relationship should be taking from best friends (that have always been more than friends) to lovers. I think another reason people question if it's too fast for this to happen in s8 is because a queer couple like this has never happened on a show like 911 before. There's been plenty of slow burn straight couples. Which is why I'm positive if Buck and Eddie were a guy and a girl there wouldn't be this big debate over if it should happen now, people would be saying what the hell is this show even doing? Why haven't they kissed already?

-----

A big point about all of this that I feel like is being left out of the discussions is that 911 is made in the US and is first and foremost made for US audiences. I bring this up because as someone who is from the states it's very apparent there's a huge uprising of anti lgbtq rhetoric and legislation here right now. I know it probably seems unfathomable to some people that the US government could do something like ban lgbtq people from TV but there's already been pushes to ban things like lgbtq books on a state level so it could happen. But what is more likely is networks and companies have already started to capitulate to trump to protect themselves and their money. We have no way of knowing how bad things will continue to get with trump and how a network like ABC will behave in the future. We don't have the luxury to sit back and say let's wait until s9 or 10 for Buddie to officially get together when there's no certainty of what will even be happening in the US by the time those seasons are made.

Connected to that same topic of what's going on not just in the US but in other countries too. This attack on lgbtq rights means it's more important than ever for Buddie to finally be together. I know that 911 has always had queer characters and ships and they should always be respected for the important representation they've given on the show since day one (particularly characters like Henren and their family) but Buck and Eddie are ground breaking in a way we really haven't seen on TV before. Two men who are best friends and who have come out later in life. Who have fallen for each other over years of building their relationship. Who have spent years raising their son together. Who are an interracial couple. Buck and Eddie in a loving relationship together as a family with Chris is vital representation the world needs to see right now. That lgbtq people need to see. We need to see more depictions of queer joy in the face of all of this hate.

-----

I see people keep pushing back the time frame of when Buddie should officially get together when we were in s7 people were saying s8 now I've seen them say s9, I've even seen some people recently say s10. I need some of you to realize 911 is a network TV show and that this isn't the golden age of TV anymore. TV shows get canceled left and right sometimes for no reason at all. 911 itself was canceled from Fox after s6 not because no one was watching it but because Fox felt it was too expensive to make. 911 is a super successful show one that will likely go on to it's 9th season and that's an amazing thing when a lot of shows now barely even make it past like two seasons. But because 911 is so many seasons in and is so costly not just to make but also for the cast that means there's always a risk that it could get canceled again. I hope that 911 goes on for at least 10 more seasons but we can't guarantee that at all. The more we push Buddie back the more we run the risk of them not happening at all.

The other thing is I don't want Buddie canon happening at the end of their last season. I want to see how Buck and Eddie's relationship develops and changes once they're officially together. I want to see all the good and bad stuff they go through like moving in together and telling everyone (especially Chris). I want to see how their parents react. How that changes things for them at work. They deserve to have an epic love story just as grand as any of the other main couples have had.

To add to the point of us not knowing how long the show may go on for we also have no idea how long all of the actors plan to stay with the show. I'm not sure how long the contracts they've all signed are for at this point but they've all been with the show a very long time. It's clear they all love working together and I can't see any of them giving that up right now but that could change. We're lucky that Oliver and Ryan have continued to stay with the show after this many years but we can't guarantee they will stay forever. Eventually they could want to go off and work on something else or just get tired of playing the same character. The fact is everything is in the right place at the right time for Buddie canon to happen now. It has to happen now or it may not happen at all.

Also as much as some of you want them to drag out Buck and Eddie getting together I think you underestimate how long the fanbase is willing to hang on for. Like I said some of us have been waiting for Buddie to happen for years we're tired. I almost stopped watching the show after s6 I was that fed up with how they handled things. I'm positive if something doesn't change by the end of s8 that there are people who will stop watching.

I know some have said they want to see Buck and Eddie realizing their feelings and going into s9 pinning. I don't think the show needs to drag out their will they/won't they any longer. I've seen some people say well Buddie hasn't really had a will they/won't they because it wasn't explicit in the show. Buck and Eddie have never been written as just friends. Go compare them to Chim and Hen's friendship. There has always been more there between them always. Again if this was a straight couple people would be complaining constantly wondering why they weren't together yet. They don't have to be kissing for it to be a slow burn. They've done everything but though. I mean what do you call that scene in the kitchen in 3x09? Eddie literally put Buck in his will. He told Buck he trusts him above anyone else with Chris. Buck sobbed when he knew Eddie was going to be okay after he was shot (he's never reacted that way over anyone else on the show getting hurt). Eddie counted the seconds when Buck wasn't breathing. These two men love one another they just haven't admitted it yet.

We don't need more time to tell this story. 911 hasn't always gotten it right (see the weird Vertigo story) but when it's good it can be fcking amazing. The shooting eps are some of my fav eps of tv ever and not just of 911. I have faith in Tim and the show. Tim has wanted to put Buck and Eddie together for a long time and I know he knows he only has one chance to tell this story and get it right. I have faith that him and the actors and writers will do the story justice however it gets told. I know they know it means a lot to so many people. And you know the truth is we're lucky that our ship is even at this point. That we can all debate about how Buddie canon should happen because we're all so sure now that it is in fact happening. Cause the show was very close to ending on a finale that had Buck and Eddie ending up with other partners. Buddie would have only been able to continue to live on in fanon. Instead I truly believe we are months away from the show making history.

[sunnysidedump]

I've been rewatching the show bc season five is coming out soon and I wanted to be caught up again. and I can't help but feel like, every single time we queer folk get close to a meaningful moment in the show, it gets yanked immediately.

We get a character that challenges 80s stereotypical masculinity and shows an older man healing from severe trauma through an emotional pathway? nope, the moment he starts to heal the show just turns him into Tom Cruise.

Show gets us a proper asshole where we can have meaningful discussions about a whole array of discrimination and proper 80s commentary? nope, the first time they redeem him and never mention the slur calling again. And the second time, they kill his mini-me and then excuse his presence away so he's no longer on the show and his previous presence has zero impact.

We get a cool, awkward, extremely smart lesbian who has an established crush and an amazing dynamic with a character who previously showed to be homophobic and could use the growth. But noooooo, they dumb down her intelligence and instead of we getting proper character dynamics and growth we get the "ha ha we're PLATONIC with a capital P" joke over and over again.

We get two queer characters, but no they shall never have a single proper interaction, because forming a community with other people who are like you is a totally boring plot point.

Here is a character who society has decided deserves all the bad things they get, they're made to be hated by the satanic panicy 80s, whether on purpose or not wears the most recognisable form of flagging in the entirety of queer history, is the pinnacle of relatability especially for queer and nd people. GETS IMMEDIATELY KILLED AFTER GETTING ONE OF THE COOLEST MOMENTS IN THE SHOW.

If they don't pull through with season five and keep leaving these discussions undiscussed, it'll be such a huge "fuck you" to us queers. Besides, currently, Will's entire character post-season 1, makes me just so sad.

byler not being endgame would mean:

- an unsatisfactory ending for will byers

- the show reinforcing will’s belief that he cannot fall in love because he’s queer (a common belief among many queer people)

- his feelings being used to only benefit one of the many straight couples in the show

- the show going against it’s message of “you’re loved and valued for being different, embrace the differences, don’t conform to what society wants”

- the biggest gut punch and “fuck you” to queer people watching

[inchandescence]

How Minho is hinted to be endgame since XO Kitty S1?

(And they didn't randomly change the direction of S2 or suddenly made Minho important in S2)

Because since the very beginning, it is emphasized that Kitty has 3 main love interests, Dae, Yuri, and Minho, she will end up with one of them. XO Kitty is not very very obvious from the start like TATBILB and not back to back between brothers like TSITP.

Disclaimer: I have a job, I'm writing this on the weekend, please

1. S1 episode 1 Kitty-Minho-Yuri-Dae Relay

Series, or at least kdramas, always introduce the characters that will be the focus of the season in the beginning of the 1st ep of S1.

In 1x01 first 15 minutes (half the ep duration)

-Kitty is re-introduced: her current situation, her background aka family, her next goal, how to get to her goal, her first step to reach the goal which is arriving in Korea and then KISS

-Yuri is introduced: her current situation, daughter of a rich family, influencer, famous, potential to be a close person to Kitty cus she drove Kitty to KISS

-Dae is introduced (properly for the first time): his current situation, smart student, scholarship, not from a rich family, still in love with Kitty

Then the 2nd half of the first episodes, minute 15 until 28, Kitty and Minho and Q introduce themselves to each other, then Kitty meet Dae and Yuri again.

But the ODD ONE out of this formula, the first character Kitty met in South Korea was not Dae nor Yuri, but Minho. He bumped into her at the airport and then she bumped into Minho again at the party. The full introductions that we got were Kitty, then Yuri, then Dae, no Minho and yet Minho is the first person Kitty met in South Korea and they bumped to eo TWICE, at the airport and then at the party. So in this case, Minho's presence is also very important to the story, foreshadowing that with the focus being these 3 characters: Kitty, Yuri, Dae first, Minho will eventually "bump" his way in to the story, he is not just Dae's friend or side character bcs he had the FIRST INTERACTION WITH KITTY.

and this whole relay in S1E1 parallels the airport relay in S1E10.

2. S1 episode 10 Kitty-Dae-Yuri-Minho Relay

In the last episode of season, we know:

1. Kitty is over Dae, but Dae still has feelings for her

2. Kitty likes Yuri who is in a relationship with Juliana

3. Minho likes Kitty

So this brings us to the obvious airport relay, first Dae runs to the airport to confess to Kitty that he still has feelings for her but when Kitty meets him, she turned him down without him confessing and they officially break up. But they both said they are eo's first love, so they still care for eo.

Then Kitty turns back and meets Yuri, she wants to confess to Yuri but they get interrupted bcs Yuri is waiting for Juliana. Yuri and Juliana reunite and Kitty walk in to the boarding gate. Yuri called her mom to convince her not to expel Kitty, showing that Yuri cares a lot about Kitty (but she ofc loves Juliana very much yes).

Then Kitty arrives at her seat, sitting down while reading her mom letters and seeing the name "Simon" but then suddenly someone beside her nudged and it's Minho. Unexpected for both Kitty and the audience. They both talk and laugh showing their good relationship, a development from their 1st meeting at the airport. This scene is pretty long and has the longest duration compared to Kitty-Dae and Kitty-Yuri at the airport earlier. Then Minho confessed his love to Kitty. Kitty was shocked and the season ends.

This last ep relay scene is actually enough as proof that Minho will be endgame and how XO Kitty will do their love triangle/hexagon/rhombus or whatever.

XO Kitty is not the usual balanced love triangle but instead, the main character (Kitty) will experience a "relay" in her love life with the 3 main love interests, to simplify it they basically gonna take turns. First love is Dae, second love is Yuri, third love is Minho.

And this concept was actually mentioned in one of the episodes in season 1 by well.. Minho himself.

3. S1 Ep 9 a reason, a season, or a lifetime

Second to last episode. Before we have that episode 10 airport relay. Opening scene.

Minho:

"A reason, a season, or a lifetime. Every relationship fits into one of those categories. I read this in a magazine. The point is, Madison and I are over. And looking back, I believe I was with her for a reason. No, she showed me I was ready for something real."

This is one of the biggest foreshadowing ever in new TV era like... ok when people watched this scene the first time they prob didn't think too deep about it, including me, because the convo is random and not that necessary? Minho can just talk about him and Madison being over without throwing a relationship quote. BUT THAT IS THE POINT. The point is that quote is random yet it was the opening scene for Ep 9. If we compare it to other opening scenes in the 1st season, the opening scenes always indicate something important for the characters' story. And most opening scenes in Season 1 are about Kitty, Yuri, and Dae then in 2nd half Minho start to show up in opening scenes.

Ep 5 opening: Kitty Dae start officially become friends and roommates

Ep 6 opening: Minho Kitty (Minho's dream)

Ep 7 opening: Kitty Yuri (Kitty's dream)

Ep 8 opening: Kitty Dae start dating

Ep 9 opening: Minho's quote

Ep 10 opening: Dae cornering Minho about Kitty

Minho said being with Madison made him realize he was ready to commit into a relationship not just hook ups or one night stand, he was serious with Stella despite her being a rebound, but sadly his first committed relationship was "fake".

While with Dae and Yuri, Kitty fell in love with Dae first and dated for more than 4 years, a season, then she liked Yuri and discovered more about her being bi, a reason.

Minho's a reason is Madison, season is Stella, lifetime is Kitty

While Kitty's season is Dae, Yuri is reason, lifetime is Minho

All left is a lifetime for both Minho and Kitty.

So Minho's quote is definitely an important foreshadowing. And Ep 9 really shows how Minho is over with Madison, but actually he went through a failed rebound, and still cares so much for Kitty.

4. The whole episode 9 of Season 1: Kitty Dae, Kitty Yuri, Kitty Minho altogether

-This ep is meant to emphasized how these 3 are Kitty's main love interests like Kitty keep having moments with them in this ep but there is this specific scene:

Foreshadowing can be through many things, characters' lines or actions are two of them, but then it's better if cinematography supports it like in this scene where Minho is standing up alone facing Kitty sitting with Yuri and Dae while calling out Yuri and Dae & defending Kitty.

It's in 1x09 where Kitty already likes Yuri while still forcing herself to date Dae and Dae still loves Kitty, means these 3 are in a love triangle rn and Yuri sitting on the floor in between Kitty and Dae, makes their sitting formation like a triangle. In 1x09 Minho alr broke up with Madison and still very much in love with Kitty, meaning we now know he IS one of Kitty's 3 main love interests.

And he is standing up while Kitty is sitting down with Yuri and Dae as a foreshadowing that Minho will have the "upper hand" after S1. And ofc he will get the "upper hand" by treating Kitty better (he defended her in this scene which is right).

"I wouldn't do that to a friend or someone I care about."

And in S2 Minho still cares so much for Kitty and also 2 of them become closer as friends.

5. More about Dae Yuri Minho as the 3 main love interests and their "relay" with Kitty or "switch up"

First half of season 1 Ep 1-5: Kitty loves Dae but Dae is fake dating Yuri and

Second half of season 1:

Ep 6 (the middle ep of S1, the first switch up)

1. Minho dreams about Kitty

2. Minho realized he fell in love with Kitty at the party (Minho switch up from not liking Kitty to loving her)

3. Kitty fell in love with Yuri at the party (Kitty switch up from Dae)

And that's why in S2 Ep 5 (the middle ep of the season) there's another switch up from Yuri-Minho to just Minho

Part 1 (Dae):

S1 Ep 1-5: Kitty liking Dae

S1 Ep 6-9: She still dated Dae while being denial about Yuri

S1 Ep 10: Kitty tells Dae the truth about her feelings for Yuri

Part 2 (Yuri):

S1 Ep 6-10: (switch up) Kitty start liking Yuri

S2 Ep 1-4: Kitty still likes Yuri

S2 Ep 5-6: Kitty and Yuri trying to fix their friendship

Part 3 (Minho):

S2 Ep 5-6: (switch up) Everyone ignoring Kitty and she spends time with Minho only, rain scene

S2 Ep 7-8: Kitty realized her feelings for Minho

6. The Families of the 3 Main Love Interests

Many people complained 💀 "why S2 is about minho's family and everyone else's families suddenly don't have problems"

Let me break it down for you sweetheart... the keyword is "family home"

Season 1:

Focus: Kitty, Yuri, Dae families + Minho's mom cameo

-Kitty: We saw her parents, Dan and Trina, opening scene of Ep 1 is at TATBILB house

-Yuri: We saw Yuri's mom right away on Ep 1 (Jina), then her dad (Sungjin Han) in Ep 2 and then her house, and throughout season 1 there are scenes at her house

-Dae: We saw Dae's father (Mr. Kim) on Ep 1 bcs well he is Yuri's driver and he works for Yuri's father, later on we saw Dae's little sister (Bora) and just like Yuri, there are scenes at his house too

-Minho: There are 2 scenes of him face timing his mother (Dami) and we saw Minho's mom face, and there is a scene where Minho telling specifically about her mother being an actress, there are scenes of Minho telling details about his family not just "my parents are divorced"

Juliana: mention of her parents, no faces

Q: told about his conservative family background, no faces of his fam, no names

Florian: told about his family problem which is the divorce of his parents, no faces of his fam, no names

Season 2:

Focus: Kitty, Minho families + a few scenes of Dae's father, mentions of Jina

Kitty: Jiwon, her great aunt Soonja, Margot, and Peter appearances throughout the season

Minho: Minho's dad (Young Moon) appearance from S2 Ep 1, one episode of the characters at Minho's dad ski cabin, one episode of the characters at Minho's dad house, Minho's step brother (Joonho), mention of his step sisters (Bianca, Soojin)

Dae: a few scenes with Mr. Kim as Yuri's driver then the accident/hospital scene, Bora cameo

Yuri: mention of Jina (i feel like Jina actress was planned to make a cameo but maybe scheduling problem)

Juliana: mention of her parents

Q: mention of his family being doctors who are strict, no names, no face

Jin: mention of his dad being athlete too, he got pressured from his dad in being athlete, no face, no names

Stella: mention of her parents wanting her to come back to Ohio, no face, no names

Praveena: mention of her parents and their job

Then in S2 last ep we know that Han family is going through lawsuit and Mr. Kim is affected positively by the lawsuit. Then Kitty is joining Minho's family summer tour.

So... Kitty, Yuri, Dae families are the focus of Season 1 and Kitty and Minho's families are the focus of Season 2. With Kitty's 3 main love interests: Dae, Yuri, Minho families are being introduced in details with their names and faces and background and specific jobs since SEASON 1. And of course in S1 we got Kitty, Yuri, and Dae houses and S2 Minho house and Kitty's family's house in Korea :)

7. The Family Plot

Season 1:

Fake dating between Yuri and Dae are related to their families, Yuri's Dad saving his face by using Dae and Dae is trying to help his family by paying tuition on his own (and his job is fake dating Yuri) and also so he wants to be a good son and brother.

Season 2:

Minho's father Young Moon is helping the school by being the new donor and opening art classes for the students, hold a kpop competition at the end of the season.

Kitty helping Dae, Yuri, and Minho with their families:

Dae, Minho, and Yuri all 3 have their family stuffs they can relate with Kitty's....

-Dae lost her mother like Kitty, Kitty gave him her mom's necklace permanently

-Yuri knew nothing about her mother like Kitty, together they found out about their mothers' friendship and Kitty helped Yuri reconcile with her mother and find her step brother

-Minho felt rejected by his family like Kitty feels rejected by her great aunt and Jiwon at first but then Minho helps Kitty and Kitty also helps Minho reconnect with his family

All 4 characters' (Kitty, Minho, Yuri, Dae) families are important to the story

8. Fate vs Minho-Kitty natural development

Kitty always talk about love as this big grand thing, sparks, MEANT TO BE, FATE.

With Dae and Yuri "fate" keep being mentioned, how she met Dae during her first Seoul trip and turns out he goes to her mom's school, how Yuri's mom is Kitty's mom best friends.

They made Minho and his family don't have any direct connection to Kitty's family. Minho and Kitty can relate to each other without having direct past connection. In Season 2, Minho understands Kitty's feeling of being rejected by her family because he felt that throughout his life. That's also one of the reasons why he keeps helping Kitty especially in the market scene. And at the end Kitty also help Minho reconcile with his dad and brother.

When Kitty met Minho, no fate no sparks. No direct family relation. They don’t have a crazy connection that forces them together because it happened naturally just based on their time together and their own values. And they both can relate to each other's family issues which bring them closer.

Minho and Kitty happen naturally and that is the whole point. He's the only one who doesn't have a specific perception of her. They met, they misjudged each other, they disliked each other, they got closer and knew more about each other through daily lives, they became friends, they finally understand each other, they fell in love.

No strings of fate, just their choices leading them to where they are now.

Minho and Kitty are breaking the kdrama's past connection trope 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

9. Minho for Kitty Moments

Minho is already written as a character who helps, saves, and do sacrifices for Kitty since season 1.

See this list I made:

-He also once again kept defending Kitty when he found out how Dae and Yuri fake dated and lied the whole time in S1.

-Minho will always be in love with Kitty. He had two rebounds (Madison and Stella) and at the end, he realized he will never be over Kitty.

-Minho's long plane confession scene with the iconic line "a little bit or a lot" which Kitty used as her line when she realized her feelings for Minho.

-Minho always hosting events in both seasons, 1st season is his party and 2nd season is the ski trip so he has always been an impactful character since S1. And both times Kitty kinda "ruined" his events and yet he still cares so much about her.

10. Mooncovey Direct Parallels with TATBILB in SEASON 1

-With Covinsky

Minho calling Kitty "Covey" like Peter calling LJ "Covey"

The Kitchen Scene

The Preference

-With Eve & Dan

The first ever parallel was in fact in S1, Kitty-Minho Chuseok and Eve Song-Daniel Covey March Thanksgiving.

Minho fell in love on Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving, emphasized by Kitty too on 1x05) just like Dr. Covey fell in love with Kitty's Mom on Thanksgiving.

1x05 XO Kitty is lit the episode that changed everything about mooncovey and it's a whole parallel to Kitty's parents love story, Minho made the homemade food and Kitty brought the odd one, mashed potato, her canned green beans.

Then the parallels continue until S2

11. CHUSEOK EPISODE

Other than the crazy parallels in 1x05 chuseok episode. Audience who often watch kdrama must have known how impactful is Chuseok as a Korean holiday. And they gave this whole important event episode, 85% of it to mooncovey. Like..... I don't even have to explain. They literally gave the whole Chuseok to mooncovey??? And people watched this ep thinking oh they prob just gonna be closer as friends at the end??? Mind you there is no episode special whether in S1 or S2 where 85% is Kitty-Yuri or 85% Kitty-Dae like they will always be mixes with other Kitty pairings. But this Chuseok ep is lit here you go Minho with Kitty and Yuri with Dae, done. And even in this ep Dae said Kitty hasn't contacted him at all during Chuseok, like damn girl enjoying time with Minho much??

12. Lastly, Kitty-Minho having their own theme, or The Mooncovey Leitmotif

All these songs have the same leitmotif in it and they have been played for mooncovey scenes since S1 until S2

(Kitty-Dae's leitmotif only in S1 is sad/bittersweet, Kitty-Yuri don't have any)

[gayofthefae]

Thinking about the little moments. The little unnecessary inclusions that tell us something. The little scripted moments in passing.

"Just please stop talking dude". So Lucas starts teasing about El. It doesn't lighten him like you'd think. He is not humored. "Yeah, real mature, Lucas".

It's reminiscent of season 1 to me, albeit Lucas' tone in it is different. Why doesn't he want to think about it?

He isn't even defensive in a being-teased way here, he just seems irritated and genuinely wanting to shut down the conversation. It's a contrasts from Lucas in season 1 that he's now trying to support and engage with their relationship, but Mike still isn't having it - so his irritability in season 1 then wasn't about Lucas' tone either. Here, it's like he comes here after making out with her and this is his time to not think about that. To distract from it. Don't bring that into this. I'm decompressing.

We know Mike's tone on the walkie while biking is weird. But we don't talk enough about how he shows up to the movies irritable.

"We're gonna miss the opening" "If you guys keep whining about it"

"Just please stop talking dude" "Real mature, Lucas"

The others have a reason to be grumpy, he left them waiting and they were anxious about missing it. He doesn't. He dismisses that anxiety and says 'Told you' when they make it. He was never worried they'd be late.

Another classic case of we have a point A, a point B, and one event in the middle. We can decipher what happen. Coming from making out with El made Mike irritable.

Which is especially odd, given we're directly shown how that exact event should have left a lovestruck teen:

(another case of matching energy. why does he match Will's romantic energy in season 4 in scenes but not even El's when they're dating? He's CONTRASTED even)

And it doesn't play as privacy. It doesn't play as "that's just between me and her <3". It plays as wanting to get his mind off it.

He's not annoyed by the teasing. He's irritable when he shows up and can't handle the additional reminder. This is where he goes to avoid that.

And it's also illogical given his other behavior this season that he not want to talk about her. His whole thing this season is that he pays attention to only El so much that it's a problem...but when she's not around he doesn't want to talk about her at all? It is a textbook smitten-sign to have someone talk non-stop about their partner. It's even a way in many shows that the friends will realize the character has feelings for someone. He doesn't feel that way. When he was grieving, it made sense, but now, he has no excuse. If he were smitten, he would want to talk about her. If the REASON he spends all his time with her and not the others were because he were smitten, he would want to talk about all his time with her. He would WANT to talk about *her*.

He should have shown up loopy like El was. Just like every time something in Mike about El is called out, we should have been shown it before it was mentioned. He should have shown up in a lovestruck daze to be commented on. He should have showed up how we last saw El.

He shows up in a lovestruck daze. They're irritated because it's clear exactly why he was late and that he wasn't worried about them being late while they were busy waiting. Lucas teases him about it. Mike responds with even just a much lighter delivery of the same line, some laughter to it. Instead?

He showed up irritable.

And we see the exact moment of shift. Because he found Hop's anger hilarious. We watched him laughing. He looks carefree.

She reminded him they'd do this all again tomorrow

His face hardened. And he showed up irritable. No events in between.

Looking through these gifs, actually, what used to seem like Mike wanting nothing to do with anyone but El now seems like irritability from her romantic presence. Especially given we see him be fine once they get into the movies with just the four of them.

The others beside him are both still interested and engaging to some extent. I'm making sure to emphasize that El, notably very smitten, is not behaving this way.

But look at the difference. It isn't the party he's irritable around. It isn't that he's irritated NOT to be alone with her. He's fine here.

it's quite the opposite. The idea of it is what MAKES him upset. Consistently throughout the season even. Here is him when Lucas takes action to get them back together and tells him he'll give him an opening to be alone with her.

He only relaxes once they actually talk and it's her to him again, not the concept of romance. He relaxes when they talk and it doesn't end in them getting back together. Because those are the two things he dreaded. Not being with her...and being with her. The m&m scene is sweet because he's in his perfect medium.

We need platonic Elmike because they deserve a relationship without resentment or anxiety. Because he doesn't resent her. He doesn't want to avoid seeing her. But there are associations to it that he dreads, and that's hurtful to both of them.

[homuraakemis]

Ok, I need to get this off my chest, because it really annoys me when people blame Vi for having sex with Caitlyn because they think she should have known that Jinx was suicidal and gone after her. And it also annoys me when people say that she is "stupid" if she didn't realize that Jinx was suicidal. Because no. She is not stupid for not realizing it.

People severely overestimate the amount of time that Vi spent with Jinx after she got out of prison. She reunited with her sister in that tower and spent less than five minutes talking to her before the Firelights attacked. Then, she meets Jinx on the bridge and they don't talk, Jinx only shoots at her. Then Jinx kidnaps Vi, and when Vi wakes up, they spend around 10 minutes talking before Jinx kills Silco and blows up the council, and Jinx is gone again. The next time Vi sees Jinx, it's in Janna's temple and they only exchange a few words before they start fighting. Before Act 2 of Season 2, Vi didn't even have half an hour to talk to her sister and get to know her again. She didn't get the chance to know her sister beyond the simple fact that her sister has changed into a terrorist that needs to be stopped, but she couldn't possibly know all the details of Jinx's mental issues from such a short time she actually had to spend with her sister. The longest time Vi actually got to spend with Jinx after being released from jail was when they went to get Vander and spent a few days in Viktor's commune. And during that period, Jinx was in a much happier and healthier mindset, so it would not have been obvious to Vi that she had been suicidal.

I've seen people give some arguments that Vi should have known because of a few reasons, but I really disagree with all of them. The reasons I see people give as for why they think Vi should have known are: 1) Jinx blowing up herself and Ekko; 2) Jinx telling Vi in the tea party "you're the reason I'm still alive"; 3) Jinx telling Vi to kill her by saying "Go on. I'm ready. I'm glad it's you. Had to be you"; 4) Jinx's grief after Isha's death; 5) Jinx saying that she will break the cycle. And I don't agree any of these are enough for Vi to know for sure Jinx is suicidal:

1) Jinx blowing up herself and Ekko - Vi didn't see what happened in that bridge. She was carrying Caitlyn and only turned around to look back after she heard the explosion. She didn't see that Jinx deliberately tried to kill both herself and Ekko; she only saw an explosion, but that explosion could have happened for any number of reasons during the fight. Jinx could have tried to kill Ekko and got caught up in the explosion by accident. Basically, Vi didn't know what happened.

2) Jinx telling Vi in the tea party "you're the reason I'm still alive" - this line doesn't have to be interpreted as someone being suicidal. Vi says pretty much the same thing to Jinx ("I spent so many nights in that shitty prison [...]. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you"), but that doesn't mean Vi was suicidal, only that Powder was the reason she kept going, kept hope. Vi probably interpreted what Jinx said the same way: she was the reason Jinx kept going, but that doesn't automatically mean Jinx was suicidal.

3) Jinx telling Vi to kill her by saying "Go on. I'm ready. I'm glad it's you. Had to be you" - Again, Jinx being suicidal isn't the only possible interpretation that Vi could have of this line. Jinx says this after Vi has her defeated and pinned down, so she could very well just be saying this as a way to accept death with dignity, not because she is suicidal.

4) Jinx's grief after Isha's death - a person can grieve and be sad without being suicidal. You don't jump to the conclusion that someone is suicidal just because they're sad.

5) Jinx saying that she will break the cycle - how exactly is Vi supposed to know what is this cycle that Jinx is talking about? Sure, we as the audience saw her conversation with her Silco hallucination, but Vi didn't. And even if Vi knew that Jinx was talking about the cycle of killing, breaking the cycle doesn't mean "killing yourself", it could simply mean walking away and leaving. Hell, when I watched the scene, I actually didn't think Jinx was going to try suicide, considering that right before that she had said to ghost!Silco that "killing isn't mercy", so I actually thought that she wouldn't think that killing herself would break any cycle. So if it wasn't completely clear that Jinx was going to kill herself even to me, who was privy to the whole conversation in Jinx's head, then I hardly blame Vi for not knowing.

I know some people might still argue that Vi should have remembered what Jinx said in (2) and (3) and pieced things together, as well as Jinx saying the line "doesn't matter what I do, I just can't seem to die" (this one does seem more concerning). However, not only they are not conclusive evidence that Jinx is suicidal, Vi probably doesn't even remember that Jinx said those things. Both were extremely stressful situations for Vi. During the tea party, she was focused on trying to apologize and get through to her sister, then she was panicked that Jinx might kill Caitlyn or that Caitlyn might kill Jinx. With all the stress Vi was under, I very much doubt that months later, Vi remembers the specific line Jinx said that might maybe suggest that she was suicidal. The same goes for what Jinx said in Janna's temple. Again, it was a highly stressful situation for Vi, and again it's highly likely she doesn't remember every detail of what her sister said after so many months.

So to sum things up: Vi had around half an hour of actually speaking with her sister between the time she gets out of prison and the time they fight in Janna's temple. She didn't have time to actually get to know her sister and her mental problems beyond the surface level, and yes, while it can be argued that Jinx said some concerning things that might indicate that she was suicidal, many of them can be interpreted in different ways, and Vi might not even remember exactly what her sister said after months have passed. The next time Vi does manage to spend more than 30 minutes with her sister while looking for Vander and in Viktor's commune, Jinx is in a much happier and healthier mindset, so again, it would be difficult for Vi to see that she was suicidal before. So no, Vi is not "stupid" or "bad at understanding mental health" for not knowing that Jinx was suicidal, she simply never got the opportunity to actually get to know her sister again.

And as we see in the sex scene, it's clear Vi didn't know. She tells Caitlyn "I was an idiot to trust her", which suggests that she believes Jinx simply betrayed her, that she was wrong to believe that Jinx had changed for the better, and Jinx is yet again probably going to do something violent. She clearly didn't realize her sister was suicidal.

And I wish people had a little more empathy for Vi in this scene. Think about this from Vi's perspective: she spends 7 years of her life in prison, being beaten up, with the only hope of reuniting with her sister. Then, when she gets out of prison, that very sister that was her hope is working for and killing people for the man that killed her family and is ruining Zaun; and then her sister also tries to kill her, kidnaps her, emotionally tortures her with the idea that she might have decapitated her girlfriend, and then asks her to kill her girlfriend. Jinx hurt Vi a lot. Vi has many feelings of betrayal and resentment towards Jinx that many people in the fandom don't really recognize. But because Vi is Vi, she is very loving and forgiving towards the people she loves, and as soon as she sees Jinx showing empathy towards Isha, she is eager to believe that Jinx has changed and wants to forgive her sister. Only for her sister to punch her, lock her in a cell and disappear when Vi tries to help. Think about how betrayed Vi must have felt here. Jinx hurt her so much, and when she gives Jinx yet another chance, Jinx betrays her again.

Yes, Vi is wrong here: Jinx didn't really betray her, Jinx did change for the better and is actually thinking about Vi's happiness when she locks Vi in that cell. But from Vi's perspective, this is yet another time where she tries to reach out to Jinx and gets burned in return. So of course Vi is feeling hurt and betrayed. Of course Vi is not immediately thinking about whether Jinx is suicidal or not, because right now, Vi is actually focusing more on her own feelings of hurt. And I wish the fandom would have some empathy towards Vi and allow her to have her own feelings, allow her to feel hurt because of Jinx's actions, instead of demanding that Vi should be paying attention to Jinx's feelings instead.

When Caitlyn arrived and told Vi that she allowed her to free Jinx, that Vi didn't lose her, that Caitlyn didn't blame Vi for what she did, think about the emotional relief and happiness Vi must have felt. In Vi's mind, she felt hurt and betrayed thinking that she lost not only her sister, but that she would lose Caitlyn as well for having chosen to help Jinx. So learning that she still has Caitlyn's love and support? No wonder she was so overwhelmed with joy. No wonder she needed to seize that moment of happiness for herself and let herself enjoy it. Because just like Vi had said before, that she was done blaming herself for her sister's mistakes, she is now also done chasing after her sister if her sister refuses her help. So she chooses to stay with the person who, despite also having hurt Vi in the past (though not to the extent Jinx has), is choosing to stay with Vi and support her. After everything Vi suffered, and after all that she has sacrificed for others, especially for her sister, she deserves to have a moment to focus on her own happiness without having people in this fandom pointing fingers at her for not martyrizing herself and going after her sister yet again.

[rose24207]

Lando taps your car, sending you into a devastating crash that leaves you in critical condition, shocking the F1 world.

"And here we go, ladies and gentlemen! It’s an intense fight for P3 between McLaren’s Lando Norris and Aston Martin’s Y/N L/N! With just six laps to go, neither driver is willing to give an inch!"

"Y/N has been absolutely stellar today. She’s held off both Ferraris, she’s fought wheel-to-wheel with Hamilton, and now she’s desperately defending against Norris, who has the pace advantage on those fresher tires."

"Lando’s got the DRS down the straight—he’s closing in rapidly! Y/N moves to the inside to cover it off, but Norris feints left, then right—trying to force an error. She doesn’t budge! This is masterclass defending!"

"This is nail-biting stuff! Lando looks to the outside into Turn 9, but Y/N holds firm! Oh, she’s squeezing him wide, making sure he has no space to switch back! That’s absolutely brilliant racecraft!"

"You can hear the tension in the crowd, Ted. Every single fan is on their feet! They know how much this podium means to Y/N—she’s been fighting all season for this moment!"

"But Lando is relentless, Crofty! He’s going to try again—this battle isn’t over!"

"And here they come into Turn 10—Norris is going for it! He’s sending it up the inside—"

"OH NO! CONTACT! CONTACT! Y/N IS AROUND! SHE’S GONE STRAIGHT INTO THE WALL!"

"THAT IS A MASSIVE CRASH! RED FLAG! RED FLAG IMMEDIATELY!"

"Oh my god—Y/N’s car is destroyed! The impact—she’s hit that barrier head-on at full speed! This is a horrifying accident!"

"There’s debris everywhere, Crofty! The car snapped around instantly when Lando tapped her rear tire—she was a complete passenger! There was nothing she could do!"

"The medical teams are already sprinting to the scene. This does not look good."

"We have radio from Lando Norris—"

"‘No, no, no, no—oh my god—NO! Is she okay?! Please tell me she’s okay! I—oh my god—I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!’"

"Lando Norris is in absolute distress. You can hear it in his voice—he’s completely shattered."

"‘I touched her tire—I didn’t mean to! Oh god, please—tell me she’s moving! I—fuck, I’m so sorry!’"

"Lando is crying over the radio. He can barely breathe between his words."

"This is utterly heartbreaking, Crofty. He knows this is serious. He knows how bad this looks."

"‘I can’t—oh god, please, please let her be okay—’"

"His engineer is trying to calm him down, but Lando isn’t responding properly—he’s in complete shock."

"McLaren is calling him into the pits, but I don’t even think he’s hearing them right now, Ted. He sounds absolutely broken."

"You can hear a pin drop in the grandstands. No one is speaking. The entire pit lane is frozen, staring at the screens in horror."

"The medical teams have arrived, but we still have no word on Y/N’s condition. They’ve pulled a privacy screen up around the wreckage—"

"That’s never a good sign. We’ve seen it before, and it never gets easier. This is the worst-case scenario."

"Drivers are being told to return to the pit lane. Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton… none of them are speaking. Even over the radios, there’s nothing but stunned silence."

"This is the darkest moment we’ve seen in Formula 1 for years."

"We’re receiving an update now—Y/N is being transported to the medical center. Reports indicate that she is in critical condition. The impact was catastrophic."

"This is an absolute nightmare. Lando Norris, McLaren, Aston Martin—no one wanted this. No one."

"For now, all we can do is wait… and hope."

"All thoughts are with Y/N, her family, and the entire F1 community."

A/N: a little drabble because I had a shitty day :(

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom

[f1daydreamer]

Shattered Reflections – Part 1

Pairing: George Russell x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, heartbreak, (I am not good at warnings 😅)

Summary: The love you thought was unbreakable now feels like glass—cracking under the weight of unspoken words and hidden truths. You see the shift in George, the distance in his touch, the silence that lingers where laughter used to be. And when the truth comes out, it cuts deeper than you ever imagined.

---

The hotel room was suffocating, the air thick with something unspoken, something bitter and painful. The city lights cast long shadows against the walls, flickering like ghosts of memories you weren’t ready to let go of. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the hem of your sweater, fingers digging into the fabric as if grounding yourself in something—anything—before you lost control.

George stood near the window, his back to you, hands shoved into his pockets. He hadn’t looked at you properly in days, maybe weeks. You used to be his home, the person he always turned to, the one he sought comfort in. Now? You felt like a stranger in your own relationship, a ghost haunting a love that had already died without you realizing it.

"Are you going to say something, or are we just going to sit here pretending everything’s fine?" Your voice broke on the last word, your throat tight, raw from the unshed tears burning behind your eyes.

George inhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing. "I don’t want to fight."

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, now you don’t want to fight? That’s funny, because for weeks, you’ve been acting like I don’t even exist, George. You come home late, you barely talk to me, and when you do, it’s like you’re not even here."

His head dipped slightly, as if he hated hearing the truth out loud. "It’s just—things have been stressful. The season, the pressure, everything. I didn’t mean to shut you out."

"Bullshit," you spat, standing up so fast that the mattress shifted beneath you. "I was there for you when things were stressful, George. I have always been there. So don’t you dare use that as an excuse for why you’re pulling away from me."

He finally turned to face you, and the look in his eyes sent a cold shiver through you. Regret. Guilt. But worst of all—resignation. Like he had already made up his mind.

"You deserve better than this," he said softly, almost too soft, like he didn’t want the words to hurt as much as they did.

Your stomach dropped. A deep, aching kind of dread settled in your bones. "What the hell does that mean?"

George ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "It means I don’t think this is working anymore."

Silence. Deafening. Crushing.

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, slicing through your chest like a knife. You felt your hands tremble, your vision blur with tears, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet.

"You’re breaking up with me," you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

George swallowed, his jaw tightening. "I don’t want to hurt you."

A bitter laugh bubbled from your throat, sharp and jagged. "Too late for that."

Your hands curled into fists, your nails digging into your palms as the pain—God, the pain—became unbearable. "Why now? Why are you doing this? Just tell me the fucking truth, George."

He hesitated, and that hesitation was all you needed to know.

"There’s someone else, isn’t there?"

His silence was your answer.

It felt like the ground beneath you gave way, like the air had been sucked from your lungs. The tears came then, hot and fast, blurring everything until all you could see was his face—his guilty, tortured face. The same face you had loved so fiercely, so wholly, and now it was the face of the person breaking you into pieces.

"Who is she?" your voice cracked, but you needed to know. Needed to hear it.

"Y/N—"

"Who the fuck is she, George?" you screamed, your voice shattering between you like glass.

He closed his eyes, exhaling like he was carrying the weight of the world. "It’s not like that. I didn’t mean for this to happen."

"You didn’t mean for it to happen?" A sob tore through you, your chest heaving. "Do you hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’ve done?"

George stepped forward, reaching for you, but you flinched back, your entire body recoiling from his touch. "Don’t. Don’t you dare touch me."

He looked broken, but you didn’t care. He didn’t get to be broken. Not when he was the one who did this.

"You were my everything," you choked out. "And you just threw it all away like it was nothing."

Tears streamed down your face, but you didn’t wipe them away. Let him see the damage. Let him see exactly what he had done.

George took a deep breath, his own eyes glassy, but his expression was firm. "I’m sorry."

You let out a shaky, humorless laugh. "No, you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done this in the first place."

And with that, you turned away, because if you looked at him for even a second longer, you would break beyond repair.

But the truth was, you already had.

---

To be continued…

------

A Note from Me to You:

I wanted to take a moment to share something personal with you all. A close friend of mine recently went through a heartbreaking experience, and it’s been weighing on me. She was in a relationship for four years, a relationship she thought was built on trust and love. Unfortunately, she found out that her boyfriend had been cheating on her, and the truth cut deeper than anything she could have imagined.

What makes this situation even more complicated is that the other girl involved had no idea he was in a relationship either. It's painful to see two people hurt by someone’s betrayal—two people who never deserved any of this. It's a situation filled with hurt, confusion, and regret, and it’s been hard to watch my friend go through such an emotional storm.

To anyone who has been through something similar, know this: You are not alone. Betrayal leaves scars, but it also brings the strength to rise again, even when it feels impossible. The pain is real, and it’s valid, but you don’t have to go through it alone.

I’m sharing this not to draw attention to the hurt, but to remind us all of the importance of love, honesty, and the value of knowing our worth. If you’ve been through something like this, take time for yourself, lean on those who care for you, and always remember that your value is never determined by someone else’s actions.

This is for my friend and for anyone who’s had their trust broken. You will heal, and brighter days are ahead.

[clairerosetarot]

What’s your Dark Feminine Energy? PAC Tarot Reading

Decks Used:

Goddess Power Oracle & Intuition

Pile 1 ❤️

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Hi Pile One,

I pulled Persephone, Aphrodite and Morrigan for your cards, and right away what I’m sensing is that this represents a powerful arc in your story that you have gone through, are going through, or will get through. This story is of a young girl, carefree and full of naive passion who then through some from of external influences and relearned her true nature and powers within herself.

You could be someone who is discerning on the inside and calm/shy/quiet on the outside. Your energy is placed perfectly and with meticulous concentration, I’m hearing. And you might not even know it yourself?

Your dark feminine energy is war-ful and lush. What I mean by that is these goddesses aren’t afraid or back down from a fight, to protect those they love most, but perhaps weren’t always depicted that way. You might be the same, and could have had to ‘fight’ to get your way through things and recognition. I also sense loads of s*xual energy here. Your darker energies can take center-stage in those moments and your current/past/or future partners love it 😊.

I also don’t know if these speaks to anyone directly but you may feel a particular heavy-heartedness towards goddesses not being worshiped in the modern era as gods are. You could have a strong tie to powerful women and this manifested within you. You are the black sheep who is okay with not painting themselves white. Love that energy!

♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Angelina Jolie, Rihanna and Bollywood actress Rekha.

Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3

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Pile 2 ❤️

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Hi Pile 2,

I pulled Hathor, Lakshmi, and Hera for you. I am getting that you come across to others as a very joyous and even a bit innocent. You could have big doe eyes that unknowingly cause people to trust in you or over share to you. However, for your dark feminine energy, while it’s not as ‘dark’ as most women. I still get that with Hera being here, you have a very rigid, Virgo-esque maturity and knowledge to you that many overlook.

People might underestimate you a lot, and assume you are just 100% bubble and maybe even an airhead on the inside because of how you look/act/seem. However, you dark energy lurks beneath the surface and might never come up and manifest itself out worldly like many other women. It could your hidden superpower that no one really sees coming or your biggest secret that thwarts your haters and knocks them off their feet 🤭.

Some advice I would give to you is to keep your dark energy hidden. Not to be “fake” per se, but don’t show everybody the depths of your soul, and let them be fooled until you pull the rug from out underneath them at the last second. I’m getting that you are someone who doesn’t think revenge is sweet but trust me girl sometimes it is necessary!! ♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Selena Gomez and Character Edwina Sharma from Bridgerton Season 2. Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3 ——————————————————————————————————Pile 3 ❤️ -

Hi Pile 3, I pulled Maat, Artemis, and Persephone for you. You have similar energies to pile 1 so perhaps you feel the need to go read that one as well. I see one big difference in your energies however and that is you have reallly big “girls-girl” vibes, to the point where you might feel disconnected from other women because you either decanter what doesn’t serve or maybe even are an outspoken woman in a place where that isn’t accepted unfortunately 🥺. Oh dear, I’m also hearing you might even be closed off from your sexuality due to trauma reasons which causes you to disconnect with other women 🥺 Please keep a safe mental space for yourself bae

I think you might even be tomboy-ish either on the inside or outside or both and could see this whole dark feminine energy thing as sexist or as a joke.

Well i’m here to tell you that for you, your dark feminine energy is much less to do with looks and all about the thinks you say. You are a real truth teller in your community/ maybe even the world. Perhaps when you were younger you believed in a lot of societal lies society sells young girls but you have awakened and are reworking your mind.

You totally march to the beat of your own drum, and many are jealous. If I could give you one piece of advice it is to be humble and never look down on other women who aren’t as “free” minded as you, it your role to either help them or move on silently as talking/thinking bad about these kinds of women is dangerous because they have evil eye/ strong karma. Hope you be safe!

♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Malala and Emma Watson.

Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3

[fangdokja]

Rivals, fanboys, and haters all agree: your fanfic is a masterpiece… in the worst way.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Word Count. 494

♡ Yandere! Fanboy who has dedicated his life to success, power, and the complete monopolization of your existence. Who is, by all means, an untouchable CEO, a name that inspires fear and admiration alike—except behind closed doors, he’s the most dedicated, sleep-deprived, and utterly deranged fan of you to have ever existed.

♡ Yandere! Fanboy who owns every single piece of merchandise, every illegally obtained behind-the-scenes clip, every audition tape, and an archive of interviews that not even your own company has access to. Who can quote your lines better than you can, analyze your performances with the depth of a seasoned scholar dissecting philosophy, and who has, in his spare time, written a multi-chapter, 500k-word slow-burn angst fic of you that is currently the number one trending fic on AO3.

♡ Yandere! Producer who absolutely loathes fanfiction. Who has spent years perfecting your brand, crafting your public persona, and micromanaging your every move only to find out that some hormonal keyboard warrior had the audacity to make you submissive in a fic. Who is two seconds away from tracking the IP addresses of these degenerates and making sure they never write a single word again.

♡ Yandere! Rival who finds it hilarious. Who screenshots the most ridiculous fics and sends them to you at 3 AM with messages like "LMAO THIS U?" Who has no shame and will absolutely read smut aloud to your face just to watch you suffer. Who, after discovering Yandere! Fanboy’s fic, has immediately made it his mission to ruin his life by reading it in the most obnoxious voice possible.

♡ Yandere! Hater who pretends he doesn’t care. Who sneers and calls it cringe but has, in reality, read every single one of them and even left anonymous comments because he needs to correct these brain-dead interpretations of your character. Who treats it like a full-time job, dissecting each fic, criticizing bad dialogue, and complaining when a writer gets your personality wrong. Who definitely had an aneurysm when he found out Yandere! Fanboy wrote the number one fic.

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If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.