#they look a lot alike at this angle

[loseractivities]

laurie metcalf was the perfect casting for billys mommm...

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  ꜰɪʟᴍɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ꜱᴇx ᴛᴀᴘᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ 𝆬 𓏸

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma, Mushitarō, Jōno, Tetchō, Tachihara

❥ content: f!reader, nsfw, filming/photographing during sex, (rough) oral sex (giving and receiving), facials, degradation, possessiveness, breeding, outdoor sex, mild spanking

❥ this was commissioned by beloved @queenquixotic yippiiie i love you sm thank you again!!! 💜

The second you bring the idea up to DAZAI, he's honestly all for it. Really, who's he to complain when you want to film parts of your sex life? He's absolutely unashamed, too; no kink is too wild for him to capture on camera, no position is too revealing. His absolute favourite, however, is whenever he gets to hold the phone you're recording with, tilted downwards to get a good angle at you — first with your pretty lips wrapped around his dick, then with your face covered in his cum.

It'd be a relief if he knew when to stop running his mouth — or, well, at least that's what you tell yourself; the way your cunt's dripping wet between your thighs while his cum drips down the bridge of your nose tells another story.

“That's a nice shot, bella; my, you're so photogenic. Just look up — that's right, good girl. Now, why don't you lie down and spread those legs for me, hm? I need to get on camera just how wet you are already.”

While CHŪYA doesn't mind the idea — he has to admit he thinks of it as hot, even —, his cheeks still flush with heat when he nods, agreeing. Even though the mere thought flusters him, he doesn't hesitate to lie down between your legs, pushing your thighs apart with calloused fingers digging into soft skin and, really; by then, he cares more about your pretty cunt rather than the camera still recording you both.

You're all but mewling by the time his tongue flattens against your wet folds, struggling to hold onto your phone until, eventually, he's quick to put it down on the nightstand so you're able to grab red hair between your fingers. He knows just how to make you arch your back off the mattress and, hah, he already knows that's going to make for a nice shot. When he eventually pulls back, his lips curl into a smirk, saliva and your arousal alike dripping down his chin as he briefly gazes at the camera and, well — he wouldn't mind you returning the favour.

“You're so pretty, babe. Especially when you fall apart because of my tongue so easily. Hah, now, what do you think will be a better shot; you sucking me off or should I bend ya over and fuck you properly? Hm, baby?”

FYODOR's views certainly are rather traditional. It takes a lot of begging to convince him of your idea in the first place, though he mostly just means to tease you by denying you for so long. As long as the video stays between the two of you only, and he'll make sure that it will, he doesn't mind it. But, unfortunately, he's also a busy man, meaning he won't see it as necessary to move from in front of his many monitors to basically create pornography with you.

You're stuck warming his cock until he decides he's done and, well, a longer wait does make for a better reward, does it not? Unbeknownst to you, the camera's already on, watching the way you squirm and whimper in his lap. Later, he's got you in a mating press with the intent to fill you up, to breed you, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment when he angles the camera just so to film the way his cum drips out of your cunt.

“My, my, what a mess you are making, dear. The camera is going to record it all, remember? Perhaps you should clench some more. If you don't manage to keep it inside, though, I will just have to help you, hm? We did buy toys just for this occasion, after all.”

You don't seriously believe that NIKOLAI will be anything but overjoyed at your idea, now do you? He's scrambling to get a camera before you're able to elaborate and, a mere thirty minutes later, you're on your knees, your clothing strewn across the floor, your hands pushing your own tits together while his dick thrusts in between them. Your skin glistens with precum, and it's an absolutely perfect picture when you, albeit a little hesitantly, stick your tongue out to give a kitten lick to his tip. He's all too glad he's got that on camera forever.

His gleeful chuckles and giggles are only interrupted by the occasional moan when you squeeze tighter and, honestly, you can't help but squirm in place in need, your own arousal covering your inner thighs by now. For a moment, you're tempted to sneak a hand between your own legs, the thought of rubbing your throbbing clit tempting, but you're all too sure Nikolai has something planned for you already. Perhaps it'll even involve the video; an idea like fucking you properly while you're watching this exact moment on video is rather likely.

“Ah, look at you, look at you; you're so eager, hm? That's so cute. Come on, stick your tongue out again, yeah? I'll come soon, 'm close already, dove; want me to do it on your face or tits, hm? What's gonna show up nicer on camera, what do you think?”

There are no words to describe properly just how flustered the idea alone causes SIGMA to feel, though, well — he's never been good at denying you anything. While it takes a bit of convincing for him to prop up a camera the next time you're getting intimate with each other, he doesn't even seem to remember it by the time he sinks into you, your tight heat squeezing his dick so well he forgets everything but your name, which falls from his lips all too often.

Despite not actively trying, lewd moans and barely coherent strings of praise leave his mouth when he sets a slow but steady rhythm, his narrow hips slapping against your plush ones. He's putting on a show without even meaning to, the camera recording his every passionate thrust, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat until he eventually comes inside of you, panting. If you ever want to watch the video with him, his cheeks flush pink the moment you press 'play'.

“Ah—, you're so tight, God; you always feel heavenly when you're around me. And—, hah, you're so pretty, too. Absolutely breathtaking, and—, ah, and you're all mine, yes? Say it, please. Say you're mine, just like I'm yours.”

Even though MUSHITARŌ is awfully embarrassed by your idea — he's blushing and sputtering, feeling offended and flattered alike —, he's all too easily convinced when you sink down onto his lap, your smile all too confident. The red light on the camera is on, indicating it's recording already, and he's all too aware of it, though he suddenly finds it difficult to focus on anything but you when your wet heat sinks down on his, notably already hard, dick.

He's left utterly defenseless; really, what can he do but moan and whimper when you all but bounce on his lap, his hands uselessly squeezing your hips, his eyebrows drawn together and eyes squeezed shut? You're all too good at this and you both know it; even though all eloquence leaves him when your wet walls pulse around his dick, everything necessary is conversed through high-pitched mewls and whines — both yours and his. In the end he might be too shy to ever watch the video with you.. though you might just be able to convince him otherwise.

“God, ah, that's good, please, don't stop, dear, I'm close already, so close. May I—, fuck, may I come inside? You feel so good, so good around me, ah, hot and tight and—, please—”

JŌNO's smile is awfully smug when you first meekly voice your idea, but, really, who is he to deny you? He doesn't mind it at all when you prop your phone up to get a good angle of your side profile before sinking down onto your knees and closing your lips around his cock, gently sucking on the tip before sinking down further.

If you believe he's kind about your depravity, however, you're thoroughly mistaken; demeaning and teasing words leave his mouth with such ease that it seems like you're barely sucking him off at all. His hand finds it's way into your hair, grabbing at soft strands and pulling you closer until your gag reflex kicks in, tears welling up in your eyes and whimpers falling from spit-slicked lips.

“What a terribly lewd idea you had, love. Ah, but the aspect of me filming you in such a situation seems to quite excite you, hm? You're so eager today. Careful, now; you'll end up choking, and I did say I won't let you come if you have to pull off, did I not?”

Honestly, TETCHŌ merely shrugs when you propose the idea to him. He doesn't care that much either way; if you're interested in that, he's fine with it. He's not the kind to put on some act while on camera, though, luckily, you don't want him to, either — it works perfectly fine when you both moan when, finally, he sinks inside of you after bending you over the closest flat surface; in your current case, the dinner table.

Rough grunts and raspy groans leave his mouth when he thrusts into you, his pace so hard you're afraid the table's going to crash underneath you, and you wouldn't be able to stifle your high-pitched whines even if you tried to. Dirty talk isn't something he bothers with too much; if anything, he moans about how good you feel when you clench so tightly around him and, occasionally, he snickers as you flinch when his hand comes down hard on your ass.

“Fuck, that's good. You're so damn tight, feels fuckin' heavenly. Ah—, God. Hah, can't wait to see what you look like on video. Can't be better than the real thing for sure.”

TACHIHARA's eyebrows raise in surprise when you tell him what exactly you'd like to try, though, as long as the video stays between the two of you, he himself is surprised to find that he doesn't mind it at all. The first time you do it after you've suggested it isn't planned; he simply grabs his phone from his pocket after pushing you against a wall, camera angled just right so that it gets a good shot of the way your pussy clenches around his dick while he thrusts into you almost erratically.

The sound of skin slapping against skin, paired with lewd squelching noises, makes your cheeks flush with heat, and you're only grateful that he's focused on recording your cunt rather than your face. You're biting down on your bottom lip, trying hard to stifle your moans and mewls given how you're still in public, but, really, your voice is still heard loud and clear on the video, as are his own raspy groans. The video is blurry, really, but you both enjoy watching it afterwards, especially when his hand sneaks underneath your shirt again.

“Fuck—, fuck, you're so damn tight. God, you feel so good around me. Hah, we gotta be quiet, huh? Would suck to be caught like this. We're in public, after all, baby. Though, well—, I do love the way your voice sounds. Kinda wanna get it on video.”

notes: a reminder that my commissions are open!! please dm me! 🌸 also, i really ache to write full fics/drabbles again; hopefully i'll get to that soon!! 🫶🏻

tags: @pigeons-are-rad @cicada-teeth @dzaixchuu @hanakotheghost @shinwifexx @rhaeena @moonssandstars @irethepotato @beandaifuku , @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @alicesblog @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @alice0blog @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @Irethepotato @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha @xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann

@Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat @yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore

@ItsSara-chan @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646 @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur

[moonbaetarot]

Pick a pile

Random things about your future spouse

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Your future spouse dates to marry they don’t go messing around with people they want their wife/husband and nothing else. Your person has been wanting to be married since they were a little kid their parents set a really go example of what love is. They could still be friends with people they met in elementary school and this is because They are really friendly and good communication. Your future spouse could love sending cute little text or writing love letters to you. This person could have a love for cars or has a really nice car they love. (They could also love cats because I kept typing cats instead of cars lol) They only do things that makes them feel good if anyone or anything makes them feel bad they are quick to cut them off. You and this person could’ve had a past life together you two are very much soulmates. Your future spouse likes change they get bored quick. Your person is one of a kind they bright up a room. Your future spouse believes everything is connected, everything happens for a reason and it’s all going to be ok so when you are unsure about something they are going to reassure you everything is alright. Oddly specific Someone future spouses name could be Ryan or you could know someone named Ryan. Your future spouse loves summer, the beach, the sun and summer food. Your spouse could be Leo, Gemini, Sagittarius, Taurus, Aquarius or Capricorn. Your future spouse could be a twin or is a lot like their dad. They love fishing going out on a boat. You or your future spouse dad likes to ride Motorcycles and or has a tattoo of a cross or angle wings Im getting a lot about someone’s dad here there dad was a big part of their life as a kid they really look up to them.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

Your future spouse is successful they have achieved a lot in their life I feel like some of there achievements there parents helped with they may come from money. They are a goal getting if they want something there are going to get it. There love language is gift giving They love buying you whatever you want I’m seeing you walking out the mall with bagssss baby lol (I’m seeing the pink and Victoria secret bags the pink ones with white dots, I know not everyone is going to know what I’m talking about but if you do then you know lol). This person has a loved one that passed away that watches them I feel that they were really close with them as a kid and now watch over them. Someone’s favorite number could be 17. You and this person may move in really quickly When you and this person meet things are going to be moving really quickly. Your future spouse could be a real estate agent sells house, designs house, builds houses or decorates homes something of the sort. Your person is traditional they want to provide for you. They have a good intuition they know how to use their higher power and skills. All this long hard work this person does will pay off. This person knows how to take an L they grow from failed situations they don’t let it get to them. Your future spouse is an hardworking boss man you just have to sit back and see their vision being with this person your not going to have to work if you dream of being a stay at home mom or don’t wanna work in general this person will let you and y’all will with be just fine money wise. I see people being jealous of you two because yall have it all. Your future spouse could have an unusual unique name.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

Your future spouse loves making memories with you I see you two being 80 and y’all’s grandchildren come over and your future spouse pulls out a huge box just of pictures of fun things and memories y’all did over the past decades. your person is at good at manifestating if they really put there mind to something it can become there reality. You and your future spouse may look alike they don’t look like your siblings or nothing lol but yall share the same features. They come from a big family and have a lot of siblings I feel like you may be an only child or only have 1 or 2 siblings tho. Someone’s future spouse is a red head or a ginger or you are. You and your future may meet after you are going through a breakup your going to be like 3 weeks or months post break up and your going to meet your future spouse and your going to be closed off for good reasons but your going to realize why this past relationship didn’t work. This person may struggle with a bit of anxiety. This person visits you in your dreams a lot I feel like even when you meet this person you’re going to have very detailed dreams about your future spouse. You or your spouse could be a water sign Pisces, cancer, Scorpio. They are in touch with their inner child they are really creative and just have a really innocent image of life. Your this person whole world this person loves you so much yall are bestfriends if there was a map of there heart of how much you fill up there heart it would be full (this is such a sweet strong message). Your future spouse may like rock music. You and this person could have a baby boy and girl together. This person is taller than you. Your person may wear glasses or contacts. You or your person may be a bit scared of commitment.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

[tealvenetianmask]

Check out these visual parallels between Blitz and Loona during their fight in Spring Broken. Even early in season 1, the team behind this show wanted us to know that these two characters are very alike- and maybe that's part of why they fight so much but also why they work so well as a family.

I set out to write a much deeper meta about their father-daughter relationship, but I noticed this when I was looking for screenshots and just couldn't let it pass by.

Take this moment where the conflict between Loona and Blitz escalates way beyond the current situation ("Because I adopted you!" ". . . you're not my real dad!").

Their body language is the same when they're yelling at each other. Leaning forward, eyes glaring and strained with sharply angled brows, mouth wide open, teeth showing. A little feral and out of control. Giving the yelling their all, words as weapons and all of that . . . and you know, not in a way where they're wielding power. Unmistakably upset, frustrated, at a loss as to what to do.

And then when they turn away, we see them mirroring each other's body language in real time.

People have said it a lot, but these two are the same. They lash out, but they're not truly mean- they're hurt and afraid of getting even more hurt.

We're also shown here that despite all of this, Loona understands on some fundamental level that, even after they've fought and both behaved badly, Blitz will continue to be the dad she needs.

And I'll explore in a future post at some point how this understanding they have (partly because they're alike, and partly because Blitz is always showing Loona how much he cares) is very powerful in both of their lives.

But for now, enjoy a screenshot where, sure enough, Blitz comes through on "getting over it," and all is forgiven:

"fat fucking car in our fat fucking space"

<3 <3 <3

[muniimyg]

omg u should definitely do a scenario where oc is on some kind of business trip away from zion and jk and they are both sulky or arguing w each other all the time and they facetime oc (although with her taking off work for a year it might be too late for this but it could always just be an in the future thing!)

jungkook feels defeated.

he’s over it.

he’s fucking done.

it’s well past zion’s bedtime and he has tried everything. from stories, warm milk, even a short lullaby—still, zion is tucked stubbornly under the covers, his little face buried in the pillow.

jungkook sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, when his phone buzzes. it’s a facetime call from you.

he swipes to answer, and your bright smile fills the screen, the familiar warmth in your eyes immediately lifting some of the stress from his shoulders.

“hi honey,” you say softly, “how’s it going?”

jungkook groans, turning the camera to show zion pouting into the pillow.

“he won’t talk to me. he won’t even look at me,” jungkook says, voice laced with frustration. “he only wants you.”

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. “isn’t it past his bedtime?

“that’s the least of my problems,” jungkook whines. “i genuinely think our son hates me.”

you gasp. “you’re exaggerating.”

“i’m not.”

taking jungkook’s stern face seriously, you sigh and attempt to put things into perspective for him.

“honey, you two are too alike… that’s the problem.“

zion’s little head lifts at the sound of your voice, his big eyes peeking out from the pillow.

“mommy?”

“hi, baby,” you say, your tone softening instantly. “what’s going on? are you giving daddy a hard time?”

zion pouts. “he’s mean to me.”

jungkook’s eyes widen. mean to him? when? in between playing with him, feeding him, and bribing him with ice cream and new toys—mean fits in where?

you snicker at jungkook’s reaction. “zion, you have such a big heart. i know you do, my love. i think you can make some space for daddy for be in it.”

“but why?”

“zi, i love daddy… so i want you to love him too.”

zion fidgets, his face scrunching up as he mumbles, “fine…”

“zion…”

“i don’t know, mommy! i just… i miss you. i don’t like it when daddy reads my bedtime stories! it’s boring. he can sing good but he doesn’t even know the words to my favourite songs!”

your heart melts as you watch him pout, and jungkook sighs, clearly sharing the sentiment.

“zion, you know daddy is trying his best, right?” you say gently. “and i love him very much, so i need you to be nicer to him, okay?”

zion shifts, looking guilty.

“i’m sorry, daddy,” he whispers, glancing at jungkook through the screen. “i don’t know why i’m being mean… i just miss mommy a lot. she’s gooder at bedtime than you.”

jungkook softens, his earlier frustration fading.

“i miss her too, buddy,” he says quietly, reaching out to rub zion’s back. “but we gotta be a team while she’s away, right?”

zion nods slowly, finally sitting up. “okay… i’ll be nice now. i’m too sleepy to be mean.”

you smile, warmth spreading through you at the sight of the two most important people in your life working it out.

“that’s my boy. thank you for being so sweet,” you say, and then look at jungkook, who gives you a grateful smile.

“we’ll be fine,” jungkook reassures you, his voice softer now. “just… hurry home, okay?”

you laugh, nodding.

“i’ll be back before you know it.”

jungkook looks at you, gaze soft and heart full. he knows you’re right, but he kept help but feel uneasy. he truly misses you.

“goodnight, honey. i love you.”

you blow him a kiss and then lower your camera angle to your baby bump. smiling, you pat your tummy.

“goodnight honey. we love you too.”

[tsuvvy]

Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 1

Your Chance

The Batfamily is getting intel and weapons back from a dangerous villain. But he had a bodyguard. A child bodyguard who didn't really seem interested in their task of guarding the villain. You seemed more interested in killing Cassandra.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, talk of killing, talk of weapons, use of weapons, use of electricity in fighting, cussing, ik Jason and Damian are skilled and can adapt to many different types of fighters, but for the sake of this, they were caught extremely off guard..

Word Count: 3.1k

You looked down at your palms, letting the volts of electricity flicker and surge around your hands. You let out a breath.

This was your one chance. Your one chance to prove to your dad that you weren't a failure. You could kill. You could kill more efficiently and quickly than Cassandra ever could. And you could do it in cold blood, unlike Cassandra who was left disgusted with her first kill.

And you would prove it by killing her.

The moon was bright in the sky, just as the bat symbol was. You stared at it through the window with a kind of hope most didn't have. The hope that you would kill someone that answers to the bat symbol in the sky.

You struggled with speech. You grew up sheltered, only being taught to kill from the moment you were put on the ground to crawl. You were a lot alike to Cassandra. But you were a quick learner. You could quickly pick up on the speech of others, and the body language to decipher a little bit of what the words might mean in different situations.

The words you knew were a small amount that you couldn't get out of your mouth without a bit of struggle.

“No, that Cain guy sent this kid,” you glanced over your shoulder to look at the desk behind you where a man in a nice suit sat. He was lazing around in his chair, his legs kicked up on the desk as he looked at you. You remember your dad calling him Kerrim. Kerrim didn't realize you were looking back, “one creepy ass kid,” he added the remark onto his statement from before. “He said they're one of the best, but I won't buy it till I see it.” He smirked in doubtful amusement.

Orphan, Red Hood, and Robin worked diligently to avoid the cameras of the building and avoid guards that walked around.

Though it wasn't easy.

“I wasn't expecting the guard to be so high up..” Red Hood grumbled, peeking around the corner at a few guards that were speaking in the hallway.

“And what did you expect?” Robin grumbled back, looking up at the man, “That this guy was dumb? No. Someone can't make it this high up into the drug business by being dumb.” He sent a scowl at Red Hood from behind his domino mask.

“Aww, did you just call me smart?” Red Hood smirked from behind his helmet, looking down at Robin.

“Focus.” Orphan reminded the two, “We have to take the guards out, we can't get past them any other way..”

“On it.” Red Hood said.

“Wait-” Red Hood was already turning the corner, immediately alerting the guards to his presence.

“Huh.. Guess someone can get up the drug business by being dumb.” Robin remarked as he watched around the corner with Orphan.

“Intruder!” One of the guards had yelled into his walkie talkie clipped to the breast pocket of his vest. “Intruder in sector G!”

Red Hood was fighting with the other guard. Knocking him off of his feet by kicking under his legs and knocking him unconscious by kicking him in the head.

“Shit!” Red Hood yelled when alarms started going off and red lights started flashing everywhere.

Orphan and Robin looked to the camera above their head they had been in the blind spot of. It was now angled directly towards them.

‘What did you idiots do!?’ Tim yelled through the coms in their ears.

Red Hood had started fighting with the other guard, having a bit of trouble before Orphan rushed forward.

“‘You idiots?’ It was Red Hood!” Robin retorted back into the coms as he too moved around the corner.

Orphan had rushed past Red Hood and landed a flurry of well calculated hits and kicks to the guard. One of the kicks that sent him colliding into the wall knocked him out as well. He slid against the wall falling to the floor.

The three looked down the hall at the sounds of footsteps. Many of them.

“You are an imbecile. An imbecile!” Robin yelled at Red Hood before he turned around the corner again, already running down the hall before Red Hood and Orphan followed.

“Well sorry I was taking initiative!” Red Hood yelled at the kid in annoyance.

“In here!” Orphan called, beckoning the two into a room that looked to be for something like storage. It was big and barren enough to hear an echo.

“They went this way!” The three stopped in the middle of the room, turning to look at the door in anticipation when the guard had yelled that. They expected anyone to walk in at any moment. But they heard a group of bounding footsteps pass the door.

Your head whipped around at the flashing red lights and the alarms sounding throughout the whole building.

“Shit!” Kerrim screamed, jumping out of his seat in an instant, his hands on the desk. “How the hell did they get in without getting noticed!?”

You were practically already at the door. “Hey!” He screamed at you, “Where the hell are you going!!?” But you didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge you. “Get back here, you little rat!!” And you were out the door.

“Damnit!” Kerrim slammed his hands against the desk before whipping around and kicking his swivel chair, which went rolling. His kick barely did anything to the chair. “Cain said you were one of the best!” He yelled after you. Or.. More at the door you had just exited through. “But the best know how to follow orders!”

Kerrim started pacing around the room, grumbling and screaming frustrated curses that also held anxiety for the situation with intruders in the building.

All you could think about was the chance you had just gained. You knew it was her. Or at least someone from the accursed Batman vigilante group. But even if it wasn’t Cassandra. You could get her attention by killing another she cared for.

This is your chance

You have to take it while you have it.

You can't pass this up.

Despite not expecting to meet the intruders almost right outside Kerrim’s office, just down the wide hall. Neither looked to be Cassandra to your disappointment. But you recognized them to be Robin and Red Hood. People affiliated with her.

The three had taken a moment to regroup and catch their breaths before they had slipped out of the storage room door and listened to Tim’s directions to get to Kerrim's office.

Red Hood and Robin froze at the sight of you, but you had already unsheathed your sword with the swiftness and speed equivalent to that of a bird's. They weren't expecting a kid to come out of Kerrim’s office. Especially not a kid that looked to be the same age or younger than Robin.

“What the hell!!?” He screamed, just barely dodging the slashes of your swords. Robin had unsheathed his own sword, raising it and bringing it down to attack you. But you ricocheted the attack, blocking it and throwing the direction of his sword in another before you raised your leg, kicking him in the side and sending him colliding with a wall.

“Who in the hell is this kid!?” Red Hood shrieked, dodging slice after slice of your attacks. For a little kid, you were extremely strong, agile, and obviously professionally trained in fighting. Well enough to be able to have a chance at winning a fight with a grown man twice your size and a boy trained to be an assassin since birth.

‘Their fighting style's familiar..’ Tim muttered into the com. ‘Wait, where did Orphan go?’

You let the electricity conduct into the grip of the sword. It didn’t take too long for it to travel up into the blade, starting to wrap around it. Red Hood raised his gun up, having the intention to use it to block the slice of your sword. But he hadn't expected it to cut through. He felt a shock in his arm, and soon it went numb and tingly for a moment. The half of his gun he still held fell from his hand and collided to the ground.

He jumped back, staring at you from behind his helmet in shock.

The electricity in your sword had traveled into his gun and then his hand to produce the effect that it did.

“Red Hood, are you okay!?” He heard through the coms in his ears.

“Cassandra..” You spoke in a somewhat shaky and strained voice, like you were struggling to speak. “Where.. Is she?” Your voice, apart from the struggle it took to find the words, was somewhat muffled due to the cloth of the mask you wore over your mouth.

“What..?” Red Hood asked, confused. The struggle you had with your speech took him aback.

“Where..” You swallowed, “where is Cassandra.”

Red Hood was at a loss for words. He was confused on how a kid like you that appeared out of nowhere was so skilled with a sword and a power as adept as electricity. He knew children could be good fighters, Cassandra and Robin being prime examples. But you? Something was different about you. Your fighting style was familiar, just like Tim had noticed. But the other thing was.

“How do you know Cassandra?” Robin spoke coldly behind you. Yeah.. That was what Red Hood had been getting to.

You didn't respond, which caused Robin’s brows to furrow and his eyes to narrow on you behind his domino mask.

“Fine, I'll say it again. How do you know who Cassandra is?” His voice was more stern, growing a venom in it that could kill like a Cobra’s.

“Where is she?” Your voice still held that shake and struggle in it.

Something about you reminded Robin of someone. But he couldn't place his finger on who.

Neither of the two watching you noticed the way you were charging up a surge of electricity within your hand. Neither noticed it before you were throwing your arm out towards Robin, shooting it at him.

Robin was caught off guard. He hadn't been expecting you to be able to charge up your ability so quickly. He couldn't move quick enough to dodge it.

Just before it touched his middle, he was being tackled from the side. He looked up in surprise at Orphan.

She was already standing up, directing her attention to you.

“I’m right here,” She told you.

Your eyes widened somewhat, and you turned to look at her better. You couldn’t believe it. There she is. And not in some old picture or low quality one your father had managed to get someone to take. It was her in front of you in the flesh.

You’re taking your chance.

Red Hood lurched forward, thinking your attention was fully on Orphan. Though it wasn’t. You had made sure to keep both Robin and Red Hood in your peripheral vision. A surge of electricity started to travel through your arm before getting to your hand. The surging light seemed to wrap around your arm and now your hand as it traveled. Your palm collided with his stomach. Your touch seemed more gentle, but the powerful shock that seemed equivalent to a defibrillator shocked Red Hood’s insides. He stumbled backward.

His limbs felt numb, the room was spinning, he couldn’t focus and his whole body was in pain.

“Red Hood!” Robin and Cassandra cried, so did Tim within the coms. Red Hood stumbled a bit more.

Your attention was already back on Cassandra. You held your sword in both hands, rushing forward and slicing at the black haired vigilante. She moved quickly, you couldn’t deny it. Quicker than the first two did. Though you could tell you had only caught Robin off guard, you knew he could fight better. But that didn’t matter. Now Cassandra is here. Now she is your priority.

Again, she was quick. She dodged your countless attacks you threw at her with your sword. Robin had gone to Red Hood’s side, checking his pulse.

You swung your sword, but Cassandra slipped under it and rushed forward. Your eyes widened as you saw her hand was going for a pressure point in your wrist, crap. No.. It’s okay. You’re fine. You were trained just like her, if not better. And you have an advantage.

You threw your sword to the side, it was the only option so you could keep control of your hands. If you held onto it, she would have paralyzed your wrists for as long as she felt necessary. Electricity surged and wrapped around your calf, traveling down to your foot. You pushed backwards with that foot, putting your weight on the leg you didn’t have electricity rushing through. You raised your foot, kicking Cassandra with a strength that could knock down one of the heavier training dummies at the Manor’s gym.

Cassandra couched, stumbling backwards for a moment while holding her side you had kicked. She had winced in pain, closing an eye tightly to somehow deal with it. Her side was throbbing, and she knew the electricity had traveled into her arms and legs because she could feel her fingertips throbbing, and her legs had felt weak for a second. But, she recovered quickly. The two of you looked at each other, in some sort of a stand off like you see in those western movies. But two of you were now fighting hand to hand.

“Orphan,” Robin called from the side, Red Hood had recovered some, being able to stand now. But he still looked a bit disoriented.

“Go,” Cassandra said, “I can handle this.”

Robin and Red Hood listened, heading towards the door behind them. You didn’t care. Again, Cassandra is your priority, not them.

“Right.” Robin said, going towards the door. You didn't care about protecting Kerrim. It's not like he meant anything to you. Plus, your father will be proud when you kill Cassandra. Far prouder than if you kept some random drug lord alive.

You lurched forward, immediately catching her attention again. You threw a kick at her which she had dogged and you ducked under the punch she sent at you. You winced when she kicked your side and you caught her leg. You pulled it forward roughly, also pulling Cassandra towards you and let go of her leg; you punched her in the face. Your fist collided with her jaw.

Cassandra ignored the slight pain radiating within her cheek and threw her arms out forward and around you. She wrapped her arms around your middle tightly. You tried to push against her, but she was strong. Stronger than you were really expecting. She pushed you forward until your back hit against the wall of the wide hallway roughly. It hurt and knocked the wind out of you, but you recovered quickly. You raised up your own leg and kicked the heel of the boot you wore into Cassandra’s abdomen. She stumbled backwards, holding her abdomen with one arm, and the other arm was at her side.

She looked at you with a wince on her face, her jaw clenched. You rushed forward and started sending electrified punches and kicks at her, but she dodged them all, some just barely. But she dodged them all.

You were growing more and more frustrated. And with that, your attacks just grew more and more aggressive.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she blocked a kick of your’s with her forearm. She couldn’t see your whole face because of the mask you were wearing to at least hide the bottom half of your face. But she could see your eyes. And she saw the way your brows furrowed. She recognized it. She recognized the dim look on your face. She realized it was the one she used to have when she was about your age.

She realized you couldn't understand what she was saying. She felt a pain of empathy fall through her body, landing in her stomach.

You had no idea what she was saying. It sounded like gibberish. But you could tell she was holding back. She wasn’t fighting as well as she could have. Your father made you watch videos of how Cassandra fought when she was your age. She was incredibly skilled, you knew that. And how she was fighting now was that you’ve seen from a novice from the League of Assassins.

Your father realized not long after you grew more of a consciousness for yourself that you had a short temper. You get frustrated easily. And he also realized your meta human ability might be tied with your emotions. You and your electricity got stronger, more relentless, and faster.

And Cassandra had noticed this too. She was amazed with you. You were so young, no older than 14 or maybe 13 and you were already so in control of your abilities. And you were quick. Very quick.

You were about to high kick her in the side of her head, but you made a mistake. You slipped. The foot you put all of your weight on slipped on the ground. Your eyes widened. Cassandra grabbed your wrists and decided on falling with you.

You winced when your back hit the ground roughly. You felt your head knock against the ground roughly as well. Her forearm was against your neck, and she had both of your wrists pinned to the ground above your head. You felt one of her knees pressing firmly against your abdomen, and her other foot was on the ground next to you both, holding her up.

You felt your head pounding, and your eyes grew heavy, no doubt because of it’s collision with the ground. You looked around. Your vision was mixed with spots of different sizes as you looked at the walls and dim lights on the cieling that seemed greatly bright now. Soon, your gaze landed on the woman above you.

Cassandra. Crap.. Cassandra had you pinned to the ground. You need to get up. You need to fight. You need to kill her. You can’t lose, not like this when you’re so close to your mission.

You tried to push against her grip on your wrists, and you tried to push your abdomen up to maybe push her knee off of you, but it wasn’t any use. You were too weak, and you were too tired.

The most you could was charge up a weak volt of electricity into your arms and send them up to your wrists. All Cassandra felt was a tiny shock like static shock from a door or clothing.

Then everything went black..

Chapter Two ->

[m1ckeyb3rry]

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

BLLK Masterlist | Part Two | Otoya Version

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Total Word Count: 41.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you like my train?” he said.

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

“My favorite,” he said. “Light blue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked at you. “Get your own.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” you said.

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

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

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

“What’s the matter?” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you said.

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

“No, I’m an only child,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he said. “Is Yayoi coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Aoyama?” you said.

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

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

“The teacher’s sick,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“He’s so weird,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” he said.

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

“I’m not crying,” he mumbled.

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

“No,” he said.

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

“No,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he said.

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

“You’re not like Yayoi,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a little kid!” he whined.

“Sure,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good luck with that,” Yayoi said.

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

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

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

“She’s making it up,” Tabito said.

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

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

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

“That’s true,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You promise?” he said.

“Yes, I promise,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you said. “Scare what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did it!” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not—”

“L/N, hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” Tabito said stiffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aoyama?” you said.

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

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

He grunted. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

“Secret to what?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” he said immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s got you down?” you said.

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

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

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

“You tell me,” you said.

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

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

“I’d never abandon him,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I try,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, I see how it is,” she said.

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

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

“Not even our parents?” Yayoi said.

“Obviously I wasn’t counting them!”

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

“Hello?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you do,” you said.

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we allowed to?” you said.

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

“If you say so,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, that sounds cool,” you said.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell you what?” you said.

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

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

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

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

“Really?” he said.

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

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

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

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

“Your phone number,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “Bye, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s it to you?” Yayoi said.

“I want to, too,” he said. “Can I?”

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

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

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

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

“He’s my favorite,” he said.

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

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

“No,” Yayoi said.

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

“…Okay, then,” Tabito said.

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

“Oh,” he said.

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

“Is he a bad boyfriend?” Tabito said.

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you are a baby,” you cooed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I will, you promised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” he said stiffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[littlelightfish]

Something I loved from the anime adaptation on episode 5:

They made a summary about Mick's and Kuro's characters and relationship from what they saw in this two panels on the few seconds this scene taked place.

Just this. Kuro and Mick both surprised on the first. Kuro looking at Mick like he's worried about something, and Mick eating bread in silence, looking in distrust at the guy.

The anime makes it so rich on subtle expressions, I'm in love here. They're just on the background of the scene. But what they do says really a lot about them.

When the guy first comes to scene, Mick looks a bit confused but nothing else. "Who tf this guy?" They're not planing on paying him any mind.

When he sits besides him, he gets uncomfortable, you can see it on his face he doesn't want to sit beside a stranger. He wants to get up and change places. "What's with this guy? What does he want? Why is he so close?" Kuro notices this and looks at him. He saw him flinch (off camera because guy is covering him). Mick is scared of this guy.

Mickbell is a naturally untrusty person because of his backstory. He gets uncomfortable when new people starts acting friends because "well that can't mean good, can it?" Kuro knows this because they share a life together and proceeds to try and calm him the best he can in this situation.

Kuro puts his hands on Mick's back. He already has them there when the camera changes angles. "I got you. I'm here. Nothing is going to happen to you. Calm down." Mick now looks confused at the guy, but it's still clear he's very uncomfortable there. He leans towards Kuro a bit "I feel safer by your side and this guy is wierd".

In seconds, as soon as he sees him grab food from their table, he changes his mood. He jumps in surprise at the audacity. He's now annoyed and pissed. That's their food! How dares he... But he isn't the one to say anything, and from this alone you could tell he's quite introverted outside of their friends group (or that he didn't pay for the food idk). Kuro keeps his hands in there, knowing he's nervous.

Mick just looks at him eat, annoyed, maybe angry, and silent. He isn't probably paying any mind to what this guy is saying. He is stealing food. He should go get food somewhere else. Kuro seems to think something alike, but he is a bit surprised this guy has the balls to steal food so openly (he isn't paying atention either ot he doesn't understand)

He thinks a lot of thinks but says none, eating in silence. Kuro is staring with no good intentions behind those eyes. Only murder. Food robber. Mick disturber. Deserves death.

[20dollarlolita]

A lot of the stuff that I've learned so far about wearing lolita fashion and using a wheelchair:

I get some questions about this, so here goes:

Tip #1) No one is going to be better capable of knowing what your comfort and safety limits are than you. It's normal and pretty much expected that lolita fashion is going to be less comfortable to wear than cozy pajamas or sweat pants, but you're the person who has to decide if something is too uncomfortable. Also, any rules or guidelines should be ignored if following them would put you in an unsafe situation. You (and your medical care team) are the one who is responsible for your safety.

Tip #2 You are the person who is also the most capable of determining what does and doesn't count as disability accommodation. You're the person who can say, "I have to wear these kinds of shoes for safety reasons, and so I'm going to wear coords with these shoes," and that's the only justification that you need. "I'm doing this because it is a healthy decision," is a full sentence and does not need any additional justification. Disability looks different for everyone and what you need and what someone else needs are going to look different.

I've also found that people who aren't disabled don't actually have a place to say, "this is an okay accommodation for disabled lolitas, but it's not okay if you're not disabled, because that's really fucking shitty and 100% ableist. Everyone's disability is different, and it's not possible for one disabled person to make rules about what's okay for another disabled person to do. It's definitely not possible for one non-disabled person to make rules about what every disabled person is allowed to do. It's not acceptance to make different rules for disabled people; it's acceptance to listen to disabled people and help them in ways that they need and want. Every disabled lolita I know actually cares a lot more about, "how do I wear this fashion with my disability needs taken into account," than any abled person I know, so let's not have another Ballet Flat Spammer incident over here.

Okay, so now that we have the disability disclaimer for disabled and not-yet-disabled alike, we can get into:

Tips and tricks that I've learned about wearing lolita while using a wheelchair!

Part A) Petticoats:

This is the most often asked question I get: how do you fit the petticoat into the wheelchair?

The answer is that I don't. The lolita silhouette relies on the petticoat to get the right shape, when you're standing. It can contribute to getting the right shape when you're siting on a chair that does not have arm rests. If the skirt can drape over the sides of the chair, the petticoat will help poof out the hem, and keep the extravagant look with the hem fullness.

The petticoat does not contribute to the lolita shape if you're in a chair where the skirt cannot hang over the edge. This is probably pretty obvious, but if your beautiful lolita skirt is hanging over the edge of your wheelchair while you're scootin' around, you won't have a beautiful and clean lolita skirt when you get home. When we're talking about disability accommodations and safety, your clothing's safety should not be on the top of the list, but it should be somewhere on the list.

So, what does lolita look like in a wheelchair, when you're actively going out and about, moving and going places?

Pardon my "I'm not ready for you to take my picture yet," face. I don't look like I'm ready to take the picture, because I'm not ready to take the pictures.

This is how I tuck my skirt back to that it's out of the way and I have maximum mobility. My side guards aren't super tall, and later one of them cracked in half, so I have to really shove things under my backside to keep them out of the way.

There's a little bit of strategy that I've learned here, which is that if you can keep your knees covered, it looks much better. It's also usually a slightly more flattering angle to have someone take the photo from a bit above you (not normally a problem since everyone's taller than you in the wheelchair). When your skirt is above your knees and someone's on your level, you start looking a bit like everyone's taking an upskirt shot of you, which isn't really great.

I've gotten pretty used to sitting on a bunch of fabric, but it's not the most comfortable thing in the world, so when we've stopped for a while, i usually un-tuck the skirt.

Lolita dresses have a lot more volume at the waist than some other fashions, and having all of that volume hang out of the top of the skirt doesn't usually look super great. If it's casual, I'll pop the hem of the skirt out and then leave the back tucked behind the side guard.

In terms of doing a big, dramatic drape, some skirt shapes just lend themselves to that a little bit better than others. Skirts with a wider frill at the bottom, tiered skirts, and flared skirts tend to do a little bit better than gathered rectangles. You can make it work, but anything where the hem circumference is bigger than the waist really just shines.

I'm also ambulatory, so I can take pictures outside of my chair. In all the wheelchairs I've been using in these posts, I had somewhere between 0" and -4" of wiggle room in the seat width, so that didn't always showcase my skirts to their best of powers. I managed to get better coord photos by finding somewhere to sit or to stand for a few minutes. In the standing picture up there, I'm holding my skirt out so that it's not as obvious that I don't have the petticoat going on.

So that's the petticoat issue right there: I don't wear one, I just pretend I am.

Some other wheelchair lolita stuff:

Soap doesn't get wheelchair dirt out. Oxiclean doesn't get wheelchair dirt out. You need to get a brush and mechanically scrub it out. Good luck.

Shoes: I have to walk to the back of my car to get my wheelchair out, so I have to wear shoes that I can stand in and lift an awkward and bulky thing with. I like wearing fun platforms and I think they balance out looks pretty well, so I'll put my socks and shoes on after I get the wheelchair out of the car. If I'm wearing tights, I'll wear cheap socks over the tights and take them off before putting my shoes on.

If you're getting a new wheelchair and lolita is of a concern to you: If your wheelchair fitting or your doctor says to get a chair the exact size of your ass, you can still wear lolita fashion with it. There's a little bit more care that has to go into tucking it in, and a little more wrinkles to get out of the back of your skirt when you're home, but it's doable. I have a 17" butt that was in a 14" chair for a lot of these pictures, and it was great. However, if you're considering getting a new wheelchair and one of your concerns is lolita fashion, it can help a LOT to have a tiny bit of wiggle room on the sides. Tall side guards really help.

I don't like arm rests, but when I was borrowing a wheelchair with arm rests, they did really protect my clothes pretty well. If you're getting a wheelchair for yourself, and you know it'll have arm rests, get ones that flip back. This way you can get them out of the way when you want to drape your skirt for photos.

My first wheelchair was sour apple green and I never felt like it held my coords back. Get a wheelchair in the color you love, because it's not going to ruin your coord to have a pink dress and a green chair.

If you're picking between low profile side guards and taller side guards, you probably want taller.

If you really want to wear a petticoat in a wheelchair, you should probably do a late pledge on Puvithel's kickstarter for the accesible petticoat.

Anyway, that's about it for wheelchair lolita stuff on my mind. Just remember that EGL fashion is open to everyone that wants to wear it for the joy of the fashion, and that being disabled in lolita fashion means that you sometimes have to do things differently, but it doesn't mean that you can't do it.

[viriscribe]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ - ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ - ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ x ᴀғᴀʙ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - "ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ɪs ᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ."

ᴋɪɴᴋs : ᴅᴏᴍ! ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ, sɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ, ғᴀᴄɪᴀʟs.

(ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ)

The position you found yourself in was downright pornographic. 

“Pluh.. please, Johnny..” You could barely register your own words. You were stripped bare, kneeling on the mansion’s cold marble floor. Johnny was sitting across from you, leaning back comfortably in one of his many lavish chairs. He was fully clothed, still in his suit from the award show you’ve arrived home from.

“No way, babe. You made your choice, now it’s my turn to have some fun.” The actor spoke down to you, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “Think you can just play the innocent princess around those showbiz bastards?”

You shook your head, unable to come up with a retort. Mere hours ago, Johnny was accepting an award for his latest movie. His first one fully written and directed by him, it was a huge event for your lover! As he was swept away by adoring fans and paparazzi alike, you wandered to get anywhere but there. The lights, the glamor, it was a lot.. to put it simply. These events weren’t that special to you, but for Johnny you’d sit through them all. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t come up with your own fun, though. As the sea of reporters and cameramen flashed away, you cozied up to Johnny. A normal thing, a cute pose to assert your status as a couple. The position was like this, you’d stand in front of Johnny, your fronts facing each other. You’d look over your shoulder and give the cameras a big smile, the works.  This time, however.. you ‘accidentally’ place your leg between his. The perfect angle, not enough to send suspicion your way from any passing guests, but close enough for Johnny to feel your plush thighs right against his crotch. The silk fabric of your slip dress made it oh so easy to slide your leg back and forth, providing that sinful stimulation. 

Johnny flashed his Hollywood smile, trying to keep his cool. “Damn..” A breathy plea left his lips. “You vixen, in front of the crowd..?” You could feel him stiffen through his pants. “Fucking wait until we get home.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, quick to pull your body flush with his. You swallowed hard, not sure if the right feeling was to be scared or satisfied with your little stunt. 

That brings you back into the present, where your pussy is dangerously close to the chilly floor. Johnny knew what the temperature would do to you, but he also planned for your current brattiness. He made you kneel with your legs slightly spread, a hard position to hold for long. Sooner or later that cunt was going to meet the ground. Seeing you suffer in the meantime was a bonus.

“Please what?” He scoffed, “You didn’t give me a choice before you started rubbing on my dick.” The man pulled out his phone, taking a lewd shot of you. You tried to turn away, but it was no use. 

“I just wanted to have some fun..” Your breathing was labored, you legs were beginning to shake. “You know how I feel about award shows..” 

Johnny was quick to fire back. “And you know how I feel about disobedient sluts.”

Your mouth hung open, a tinge of pleasure sparking in your sex. Dominant Johnny Cage was something you’d never get over. As sweet, cocky, and secretly nerdy he was… the man was kinky. A pervert behind those sunglasses, but anyone could’ve guessed that. 

“You have a choice.” He called out your name, his words dripping with desire. “We can go to bed now and talk about this in the morning.. Gods know how fucking tired I am.” A beat passes, and you almost don’t catch Johnny unzipping his fly. “Or, you can show me how sorry you are. Earn my forgiveness for that stunt.” 

Even in his half asleep horny state, Johnny had the mind to give you an out. Fuck, you’re gonna marry this stupid guy. You decided to answer by looking up at Johnny with doe eyes, “I’ll do anything to be forgiven, sir.”

A throaty groan came from the man, and you knew you were in for it now. Your mind raced with the thought of your punishment. Was he going to make you kneel while he fucked your throat? Made to show the camera how much cum he can pump into your little mouth? Or was he going to take your over his knee, giving you spanks until your tears coated the floor along with your wetness. The possibilities were endless, and you were more than eager to please. 

“Stay there, princess.” Johnny got up, leaving you to kneel in the living room. As he wandered off, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Not because you were fully naked, but due to the huge outlook right onto the city. That fucker probably designed his mansion with that view in mind, and all the dirty things he could do with that in the background. 

You struggled to keep the kneeling position, tempted to give yourself a break while your lover was gone. Though, maybe this was part of the game? He had cameras everywhere and you didn’t want to risk being caught disobeying again tonight. 

Johnny’s footsteps alerted you to his presence, the predatory aura sending shivers down your spine. In his hands was a favorite of you both. A quite sizeable fantasy dildo, one you’ve taken many times. It was large from the tip to the base, only becoming wider the way down. You gulped upon laying eyes on it, getting a good idea of where this was going to go. 

“H-Honey..” You shifted, your pussy dribbling right onto the tile. 

Johnny quickly shushed you, not pleased that you were speaking without permission. 

“Up.” He spoke and you obeyed. “You’re going to ride this cock until I know you’re truly sorry for what you did.” You nodded, turning your head to look for the bottle of lube that usually comes along with the toy.

“Oh, no.” Johnny laughed, “You’re not getting that luxury tonight. Plus..” He stepped forward, dragging a finger through your folds. “It looks like you’ve got enough down there already.” He couldn’t deny it, he was impressed. The effect he had on you was otherworldly, one the man would never take for granted. Johnny watched as your essence slowly ran down his finger. 

“Mmph!” You startled as he suddenly shoved the coated finger in your mouth, making you taste yourself. Johnny bit his lip as you began to suck on his digit. 

With a ‘pop’ he pulled back. The toy was then placed securely on the tile, a convenient suction cup keeping it in place. 

“Go on.” The stage was set, Johnny was going to enjoy this. If you did a good job to please him, then maybe you’d get the privilege to as well. “Put on a show for me.”

You sunk to your knees once more, squatting over the sizable toy. You didn’t dare look up at your lover, you already knew the fucker was recording. 

The tip of the dildo was thick, providing a sharp pleasure as you rubbed it along your cunt in an attempt to get some sort of lubrication. Your folds gave way to the toy, coating it in your slick. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the penetration. This was quite the task to do without a warm up, but it was your punishment after all. As the dick breached your cunt, you immediately cried out. It looked fucking massive in Johnny’s hands, now you can only imagine the view he was seeing. Your size difference was a massive turn on for the man, awakening the need to push you to your limits whenever he could. 

“Look at that, it’s stretching you so nicely for me.” Johnny smirked at you, angling the camera to perfectly frame your stretching pussy. 

Your vision blurred, the feeling of taking such a huge dick was heavenly. Pathetic half groans involuntarily slipped past your lips. Once the tip was inside, you paused before continuing your descent. 

Johnny hummed, mocking your predicament. He had all the time in the world. Seeing you so willing to please him was intoxicating. You took the shaft of the toy with ease, whimpering as you neared the base. Your breathing was labored, your eyes blown wide with need. As your cunt hit the base, a wave of fullness washed over you. Being oh so full, stuffed with cock… it suited you. The feeling of being pushed to your limit and then some, it was addicting, to say the least. And that was just on the receiving end. Describing your lover as ‘turned on’ was a severe understatement. The whole time you were sliding down on the toy, Johnny was stroking himself. One hand holding the phone recording your debauchery and one sating himself. 

“Ride it, bitch.” Johnny commanded, drunk with the authority he had over you. 

You didn’t need another moment. Your hips began to move, grinding on the dildo. Every inch of your cunt was being rubbed by the silicone. A steady growing ball of pleasure began to build in your core. You let all of your inhibitions go, humping it like a slut. The pace you set for yourself was relentless, wanting to give Johnny the show he wanted. He made sure to zoom in on your breasts, their bounce only made your act more vulgar. 

“Feel sorry yet?” He laughed at you, degrading you. “I want to hear it.”

You looked up at him, showing a hint of embarrassment. Johnny wasn’t going to let shit like that slide and you knew that. “Don’t act shy while you’re fucking yourself. Apologize to me as you fuck yourself.” 

Who were you to deny him? You knew your place, humping the toy as your lover pleased himself mere inches away from your face. If you stuck your tongue out far enough, you could get a taste of his dick. 

“I’m..” You began to bounce up and down the dildo, chasing your own orgasm. “I’m so sorry.. I’m sah..” Broken apologies fell from your lips, sad attempts at forming a sentence. “I’m so sorry, Johnny..!” Your legs twitched, you were close. Johnny knew this of course, but didn’t say anything. He was curious to see if you’d ask to cum, or risk further punishments. 

“May..” Your walls clenched around the cock, barely letting it go to fuck yourself. “May.. I.” Johnny huffed, pretending to not understand your gibberish. 

“May I please cum, Johnny!” Screams and moans errupted from your drooling mouth, “I’m so fucking sorry for what I’ve done, see! Please let me cum..” 

With a single word, Johnny allowed you your precious release. You fell forward, holding onto his leg as you fucked yourself to completion. It was a display of pure love and submission, you had never felt more safe and more vulnerable as you were in this moment. The pleasure snapped like a tense wire, and you felt your orgasm flow from your cunt and onto the floor. 

“The camera loves you, that’s it right there.” Johnny framed your face in the recording, catching your climax in real time. And if you humiliating yourself under him wasn’t enough, Johnny came as well. His cock shot ropes of semen all over your face, painting you for his final act of dominance. 

You smiled at the camera, wiping some of his cum off your face. With a dazed chuckle, you licked your fingers clean, blowing a kiss to the camera before the recording ended. 

 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚________________

“Babe.. do you really not like award shows?” Johnny held you steady against his bare body, massaging shampoo onto your scalp. His aftercare consisted of a nice shower, one where you’d never move a muscle. After this, he’d wrap you up in blankets and hold you close as you drifted asleep, or maybe put on a movie. It depended on how spent you were. 

You shifted in his grasp, turning around to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Honestly, no. Though, I like you. I love you. Seeing my handsome boyfriend get recognized for his talent makes all of the screaming fans and flashing cameras worth it.” 

“Hah.. you called me handsome.” Johnny hummed a tune while he finished cleaning you both up. Of course, that’s the part he heard.

[artbyblastweave]

If youre still doing it, heroify Lex Luthor

The fish-in-a-barrel answer is Tony Stark, but the intuitive answer, not to mention the version I've actually seen executed at least twice- is that you ask the question- what if he's right, about Superman being bad news?- and then you go from there.

I'm actually going to take this opportunity to talk up one of the few Mark Millar comics that I recommend wholeheartedly, Jupiter's Circle, which is interesting in that the setting's Luthor analogue, Jack Hobbes, is essentially playing Luthor's cope-and-seethe angle completely straight, as a thing which he legitimately believes and which he's ultimately basically correct to believe in spite of most superheroes being at least decent people.

What was interesting to me about this portrayal is that Hobbes eventually decides that he miscalculated, that he can do more good by working with the Utopian as his friend and confidant than by fighting him every step of the way. It's a straight-up Lex Luthor redemption story. But the thing is that the setting of the comic as a whole is predicated on the idea that he was actually completely correct- although he doesn't live to see it, although he dies thinking he was initially misguided, the long-term trajectory of the setting is that superheroes eat the world, politics and activism alike subordinated to their petty grievances and soap opera idiocy. A major plot point of the second volume of this was that Not!Batman's turn towards militant leftism gets completely written off by his 1960s contemporaries because they're so used to reading his behavior through the lens of whiny rich-kid superhero interpersonal drama that they just can't parse it correctly. The comic advances that there's a self-centeredness and egotism inherent to the superhero that makes them suck ass at effecting long term positive change, but they also aren't going away, and they can blow up skyscrapers. At the point where I stopped reading, the setting was implied to be caught in a kind of boom-and-bust doom cycle where the superheroes gradually create a singular hegemony, then collapse into hyperdestructive infighting over what to do with that hegemony once they run out of conventional supervillains to fight- the aftermath of which clears the board for a new wave of the classic silver age cops-and-robbers game, which then gradually hegemonizes, ad infinitum. (This is a line of thinking that crops up in a lot of Millar's capepunk work once you know what to look for- Wanted, Old Man Logan, and to some extent The Ultimates all being examples.)

Another example of Heroic Lex Luthor, which I've written about before, is the comic Edison Rex, a comic whose pitchline is that the setting's Luthor analogue, the titular Edison Rex, turns out to have been completely correct that the setting's Superman analogue was an unwitting sleeper agent for an alien invasion, and steps up to replace him as Earth's foremost protector after finally neutralizing him- but since all he really knows how to be is a supervillain, his management style and problem-solving methodology from his time as an ends-justify-the-means anti-superman crusader translate to the new job with extremely mixed results. The comic ran 18 issues and remains unfinished, but it was pretty good.

[ao3-rex1223]

TᖇᗩᗪE Iᑎ - ᖴᗩTᕼEᖇ-Iᑎ-ᒪᗩᗯ ᒪEOᑎ

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Pairing: Father-in-law!Leon Kennedy x Married Fem!Reader

Summary: You marry who you believe is the man of your dreams. At your wedding, you meet your extremely sexy father in law, Leon Kennedy. When your husband becomes neglectful, Leon is there to be a friend...and perhaps even more.

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Cheating, Reader is married but her husband is a neglectful prick, father-in-law sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Size Kink, Creampie

Special thanks to @lipglossanon for the graphic! <3

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest happily announces, raising his hands up and rejoicing for the beautiful union he's just officiated. 

Your husband, Chase, pulls you into him for a deep kiss. You wrap your arms happily around his neck, pressing your body to his. Your heart soars as you finally get to call the love of your life your husband…or at least you think he's the love of your life.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of photographs, hugs, and greeting your guests. The wedding dress was comfortable when you tried it on at the bridal shop but, damn, it was getting hot now. The tight bodice doesn't help, either. You're relieved when the night finally arrives and you can sit down to eat at the reception. You happily gobble up the dry chicken breast and steamed veggies. 

When dinner and all the speeches are done, you share your first dance with Chase. God, he looks so handsome in his tuxedo. You can't wait to rip it off later. He gently peppers your face with soft kisses and your panties are getting wet. “I love you so much, baby,” you purr, gently whispering in his ear while your guests all look on. You look longingly into his eyes, as if there’s no one else in the room. 

Chase smiles and kisses you deeply. You lose yourself in the heat and passion of his lips. The first dance ends and the dance floor fills with guests; your friends and family alike! You grin widely as you celebrate your beautiful union with your loved ones. 

Finally, a very handsome looking man who reminds you of Chase approaches you. His straight, brown hair hangs slightly around his forehead, topping off a square face. His jaw is sharply angled and speckled with stubble. It’s ruggedly sexy, just like your husband when he forgets to shave. “I'm sorry, I haven't gotten a chance to meet you, yet. I'm Leon. Chase’s father.” He smiles warmly at you.

Clasping your hands together in front of your chest, you light up, excited that you finally get to meet your father-in-law. Leon is an agent with the government and is gone a lot so the stars just never aligned for you two to meet until now. “Oh! Mr. Kennedy! I'm so glad to finally meet you!”

“Please, call me Leon,” he corrects politely and reaches out his hand for yours. “May I dance with my new daughter-in-law?”

You blush with happiness and glee. You're thrilled to have such a sweet father-in-law! Your own father was absent most of your life. He and your mother split when you were little and he’s been gone ever since. You're not even sure where he is. “I'd love to!” You take his hand and follow him to an open spot on the crowded dance floor. He gently places his hand on your waist while holding your hand with his other. You place your free hand on his shoulder and begin dancing. “Chase has told me so much about you!”

Leon chuckles, his charming laugh and easy smile the same as his son's. “Hopefully all good things.” He flashes his pearly whites and looks at you with warm eyes. 

You giggle. “Yes. Chase really looks up to you. He always talks about how hard you work. You've saved a lot of lives!”

Leon shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “It's not really a big deal…”

“You saved the president’s daughter! That's a big deal!” you argue playfully. 

“Anyone could have done it.” He twirls you around as you dance then brings you back into his arms.

“Oh come on now, you know that's not true!” you smirk at him, charmed by his humble attitude. 

“Well, thank you.” His smile fades. “It's been a double edged sword though.”

“Oh?” You ask, your face mirroring his. 

He nods solemnly with a guilty sigh. “I was away a lot. I missed a lot of big things in my son's life. Chase’s mom, my ex-wife, didn't like waiting around for me either.” He smiles sadly. “My marriage ended because I was never around. So I took a partial retirement and now, I just take a few missions here and there so I can be there for Chase…and my new daughter-in-law,” he explains, a more cheerful expression returning to his face.

“I'm glad to hear that! I know Chase has a few business trips coming up so I could definitely use some help renovating the house.”

“Won’t you be busy at work?” Leon asks, his head cocked to one side. 

“Chase and I talked and I decided I wanted to stay home. Chase makes more than enough to support us both…” you begin and blush brightly, “and our future children.”

Leon lights up with a bright grin. “Are you…?”

You chuckle with a wide grin. “No, not yet. Chase and I decided to wait until marriage.”

Leon swallows hard, a look crosses his face that seems almost guilty, but he quickly masks it with another smile. “That's…so beautiful…you waited for him…” He can’t help himself. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m so happy for you two. My son is the luckiest guy in the world.” He twirls you again. “I promise, I’ll be around for you both AND your kids…my grand kids.” He lets out a shaky laugh and drops his gaze to the floor for a moment. “Man…I’ll be a grandfather.”

Your eyes sparkle with endearment. “You look too young to be a grandfather.”

Leon’s cheeks blush. “Yeah…Chase’s mother and I were pretty rambunctious teenagers…She got pregnant when we were seventeen.”

You try to keep your eyes from widening. You knew Chase’s parents were young when they had him but… “Well, I guess I can’t blame his mother…with a boyfriend as handsome as you…”

Leon smiles again, cute dimples forming on his cheeks. “You’re sweet. I see why Chase married you. You remind me a lot of me and Chase’s mother.” He frowns and shakes his head when he realizes he may have implied that you two won’t last. “I didn’t mean…that came out wrong. I just mean, the way you look at him and the way you talk about him, it’s just like how my ex-wife and I used to look at each other. You two will be fine. Just make sure Chase stays home once in a while,” he jokes with a wink. 

You chuckle. “I will.” 

You continue to dance with your new father-in-law and when the song ends, you peck a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m so glad we have you in our lives, Leon.” 

He picks up both your hands and kisses your knuckles. “Likewise, sweetheart.”

At the end of the night, you return to the bridal suite, but are surprised to find it empty; you had planned to meet Chase here at midnight. Oh well, you think to yourself. He's probably just having fun with his friends. You sigh and turn to head into the bathroom to wash up and change out of your dress. You don the sexy, lacy lingerie set you bought to wear for him for your first night together. You smile as you look at yourself in the full body mirror, excited that you'll both be losing your virginity to each other. An hour passes and there’s no sign of Chase, but you know he had been having a great time with his groomsman. 

After another thirty minutes, Chase finally strolls into the bridal suite, surprisingly less inebriated than you expected him to be. You let slide the fact that he made you wait for an hour and a half and instead greet him with a warm smile. “Hey, handsome,” you coo, standing up from the bed to show him your lacy bra and panties. Your body thrums with anticipation for finally joining with your husband in every way possible.

He looks at you with mild interest, not that you realize it right now. “Hey,” he replies with a lukewarm tone. “You look nice,” he compliments, though it’s forced. He calmly walks inside and doffs his tuxedo jacket, gently laying it across the armchair. 

“I got this for you, baby,” you explain with a hopeful smile, gesturing to your revealing outfit. 

He forces another smile and kisses your cheek and replies, “Thank you.”

You tenderly grab his hand. “Are you ready to… go to bed ?” you mutter suggestively. 

Chase smirks lightly and nods. “Sure.”

You crawl into bed and wait as he takes off the rest of his clothes. He sits on the edge and strokes his cock a few times; it slowly hardens. You tremble with excitement as you stare at him…he looks…well you’re not sure if it’s big or small…you haven’t seen many before…

He crawls on top of you and kisses you gently as he guides his cock to your entrance. You feel a sharp pinch as he invades you, stretching your walls. You wince. I thought this was supposed to feel good , you think to yourself, feeling disappointed. He glides into you further, the sharp stinging only increasing. Tears pool in your eyes from the pain. “S-slow d-down,” you plead. 

“Sorry,” Chase mumbles and slows his pace. He pumps a few times, then groans. He stills, holding himself inside you as he cums. He flops onto the bed next to you and rolls over, your marriage officially consummated and your virginity officially gone. 

You love him, you really do, so you’re naturally very upset with yourself when all you can think is, Is this it? You lay awake staring at the ceiling in the hotel suite while you feel Chase’s warm cum sliding out of you. Finally, exhaustion takes you and you fall asleep. 

When you wake the next morning, Chase is gone. The sun beams in through the thin curtains of the suite. You rub your eyes, still sore and puffy from such a long and exhausting day yesterday. You slowly crawl out of bed, trying to feel happy about finally being married. You put on your best smile and get dressed for the day, hopeful that everything will only get better…

But it doesn’t. Chase is almost constantly away for work. Your mood slowly declines. Is this really all there is to marriage? You had hoped Chase would be around long enough to help you paint the guest room, but no such luck. You remember how enthusiastically Chase’s father, Leon, offered to help out if you needed. You contemplate for a while but eventually call him.

He answers after a few rings. “Hey, there!” he greets cheerfully. “How’s my favorite daughter-in-law?”

You chuckle. You’re his only daughter-in-law. “Hey, Leon. I was wondering…could you help me paint the guest room today? I promise I’ll pay you!”

You hear Leon’s soft chuckle. “You are not going to pay me. I’d be happy to help.”

You sigh with relief. “Thank you!” You brainstorm for a second, trying to figure out a way to thank him. “How about I cook you a nice lunch instead?”

“Only if you join me,” he replies happily. 

You chuckle softly with a bright smile. “Of course!”

“I’ll be right over,” Leon confirms. 

True to his word, he arrives a few minutes later, engulfing you in a big hug. He looks handsome in his tight gray T-shirt and old jeans. His thick biceps peek out from the sleeves. “Let’s get started, yeah?”

You nod and lead him to the guest room, already taped, tarped, and ready for a coat of paint. The afternoon flies by as you work and talk with your father-in-law. You laugh more than you have in weeks, your entire marriage so far. 

“So what do you and Chase like to do for fun?” Leon asks innocently. He reaches up with the roller and carefully swipes another stripe of paint onto the wall. 

You pause, trying hard to think of an answer. Chase is hardly around. The last time you did something together was…before you were married really… “Well…Chase has been busy. He’s away a lot for work,” you explain, making excuses for your absent husband. 

Leon frowns and looks at you with sympathy. “Do you want me to have a talk with him?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that! He’s gotta make the money for the two of us, you know? And our future kids!”

“Any developments on that front?” Leon asks casually with a hopeful smile. He resumes painting but periodically turns back to look at you as he does. 

“Well, no…we haven’t really been trying. I’ve wanted to…I’d love nothing more than to be a mom…but Chase is usually pretty tired when he gets home…we just haven’t had time.” You avoid looking at Leon, realizing how sad your explanation sounds. 

“My son is an idiot,” Leon declares frankly as he returns to painting. “When I first married my wife…I couldn’t keep my hands off her…we were at it every day…sometimes more than once,” he reveals. 

You chuckle. “I love Chase. We’re just getting settled right now…that’s all.”

Leon hums affirmatively in reply. You finish painting the guest room and enjoy a nice lunch together, talking and laughing like old friends. He stays all day and you even end up cooking dinner and watching a movie together. 

When it’s finally time for him to go home, you embrace him tenderly. “Thank you for everything, Leon!”

He returns the hug gladly. “No problem. Call me whenever you need me, when my knucklehead son is too busy to be with his wife. ” He gives you a content smile, but there’s more emotion behind it. You can’t see it now, but he’s jealous of his son. You’re so beautiful and kind. He can’t help but gravitate toward you. He pulls himself away, knowing he can’t allow himself to lose control and do something he will regret for the rest of his life. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he adds softly and kisses your forehead. 

The weeks go by and Chase continues to be away on business trips for days at a time. When he is home, he barely pays attention to you. You practically throw yourself at him and he still barely makes love to you and when he does, it’s devoid of the pleasure that you’ve heard comes with making love; the feeling that your friends and all those cheesy romance books describe. Surely you’re missing something or doing something wrong. Every night you're in bed alone, you cry yourself to sleep, plagued with loneliness. As time goes on, you start to look forward to Chase being gone; that means you have an excuse to invite Leon over. He makes you feel whole, warm…loved. When he's around, there are no tears, only happiness and laughter.

You grin with joy one morning when you hear a knock on the door, knowing your father-in-law is on the other side. You run to answer and jump into his arms when he walks inside. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he greets warmly, wrapping his strong arms around you and spinning you around. “What's on the agenda today?”

“I thought we could start a garden. I'd like to plant some tomatoes, cucumbers, and zucchini.”

Leon smiles. “No problem. Let's get started.”

You grin happily and lead him to the back yard. The day passes with laughter and inside jokes, time slipping away as the world around you disappears, leaving only you and Leon, the person who makes you happy. Truly happy. 

When you walk back into the house for dinner, you're both sunburnt and sore, but your joyous smiles persist, underpinned by the deep affection you share for each other. 

Leon groans a bit, carefully stretching. “Man…I'm not 20 anymore.”

You hand him a glass of ice water. “I couldn't tell by looking at you,” you compliment. He's incredibly handsome and it takes everything in you to try and ignore it. 

He happily downs the cold drink, his Adam's apple bobbing every time he swallows. The sight makes your mouth water. You're overrun with an urge to kiss his thick neck. You shake your head and swallow hard, trying to rattle the depraved thoughts from your mind. I'm married! “I'll go start on dinner.”

You glance occasionally at your wedding ring which right now feels like a prison. Why does it have to be this hard? Leon makes you so happy. You smile and laugh when he's around. You feel like yourself; you feel whole.  

You season and prepare a few steaks to grill for you and Leon. Your body aches for his touch even though sex has been merely a chore for you at this point. You take several deep breaths, trying to realign your thoughts with your morals, which are dangerously close to collapsing, anyway. 

You finish cooking and serve the meal. Leon is eternally grateful, unlike Chase whenever you cook for him. He simply eats and leaves. “This looks amazing! You're a real master chef!” Leon compliments. 

You preen from his praise. “Happy to cook for the best handyman around!”

“You sure you don't want me to scold my son and get him to stay around more?” He offers with genuine desire to help. 

You contemplate, but the first thought that comes to mind is if Chase is around more, Leon will be around less. You certainly don't want that! “Oh no, that's okay. I'll talk to him!” 

You won't. 

Leon smiles and relaxes back into his chair, returning to his delicious meal. After dinner, you take his hand and bring him to the living room for a movie. 

“What's on the docket for tonight, sweetheart?” Leon asks. He plops down onto the couch, settling into the soft cushion with a relaxed sigh. 

“You pick.”

“The Godfather?”

“I love that one!” You gleefully reply and quickly start the movie. Without thinking, you grab a blanket, snuggle in close to Leon and cover the two of you. It's as easy as breathing. He wraps his arms around you and you lay against him, secure in his warm embrace and happier than you ever have been. 

As the credits roll, you look up at him, eyes heavy with sleep. You spot a small smudge of soil from the garden on his chin. With a soft giggle, you gently wipe it away with your thumb. “Missed a little dirt.”

He smiles slightly from your touch and turns to face you, his eyes glazed with desire. Like magnets drawn together, his lips close the distance with yours almost by instinct. 

The softness surprises but excites you. His kiss is gentle, tender, everything you'd hoped for in a kiss. Your mouths mold to fit each other, like you've been waiting to do this your whole lives. As the kiss lengthens, your lips part, as if on cue, making way for your eager tongues to dance together. 

Your warm breaths mingle in the cool air along with the electricity surrounding you. You feel his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your face closer to his, his strong, calloused digits rubbing your scalp. You lean in closer and slide your hands by his face, cupping his jaw on either side. The soft pads of your thumbs gently caress his cheek. He lets out a soft moan. Dropping his hands to your waist he guides you onto your back on the couch without breaking the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him tight against you. He supports his weight with his forearms. You feel his hardening cock press against your thigh, causing red, hot desire to course through you.

A breathy whimper escapes your tender lips and your eyes slip closed as you surrender to the passion igniting between you. Just as the thrilling euphoria begins, it ends as Leon pulls away. Your eyes fly open, watching him retreat from you, then the couch. He heads for the door quickly, shoving his feet into his shoes and flying out the door without a word. 

You’re left alone, confused, your heart in a storm of passion, desire, and sin. 

Days go by without hearing anything from Leon. The silence slowly drives you mad. Chase is due home tonight and you feel as though you should at least have a conversation with Leon before you confess your transgressions to your husband. You sigh heavily as your period arrives right on time, a confirmation that you still have not conceived a child, one of your biggest life dreams. Your hope of happiness begins to fade as you feel tragically isolated once more, longing for even platonic companionship. Chase tries to engage with you but when he finds out you’re menstruating, he pulls away and leaves the house, his destination left unspecified. 

Alone and lonely are two very different things, the intricacies of them well defined for you at this point. Chase leaves the following week again and you’re left isolated in your home, your prison. You call and text Leon several times, just wanting someone to talk to, but he doesn’t answer. Finally, you leave a voicemail, in tears, on his phone. “Hey Leon…it’s me again. I just,” you let out a sigh, “I really want to see you. I know what happened was…not supposed to happen…but…” you swallow a sob, “I just…you’re my best friend,” you sniffle, “and I really need my best friend right now…please…at least call me…or come over…anything…please.”

To your surprise, you hear your doorbell ring a couple hours later. Hope fills you once more and you answer the door. Seeing Leon’s face on the other side is like a balm for your ailing spirit. Without thinking, you draw him into a warm, welcoming embrace. Your heart finally feels bright again. He tentatively returns your embrace. He missed you too, but there’s a hesitancy in his movement. 

“Leon…I-” you begin but he jumps in.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. He steps back from your embrace to gaze into your eyes. He looks just as lost and guilty as you feel. 

“No, I’m sorry,” you reply, your insides stinging with disappointment in yourself. 

“I shouldn’t have…kissed you,” Leon adds with a blush. He looks away, too ashamed of himself to look at you anymore.

You grab his hand, trying to convey your reassurance. “Leon…we’re both at fault here…” you lead him to the kitchen where you both sit across from each other. With a deep sigh, you confess, “My marriage is…not good.” Tears start falling from your eyes. You turn your gaze to the table, as if that will somehow prevent Leon from seeing your distress. “Chase is never around…he barely touches me when he is…and I just…I feel so lonely.”

Leon’s hand twitches, the desire to reach out and hold yours nearly uncontrollable, but he keeps it frozen in place. He wants to be there for you, but he doesn’t want to cross that line again or even worse, cross another…

“Can we just…” you wipe your tears away, “go back to hanging out and doing random stuff around the house and laughing like idiots all the time?” Your eyes finally climb back to meet his gaze and look at him with hope of returning to how things once were. 

Leon’s pained expression slowly melts into a soft, sympathetic smile. “Of course.”

You grin happily. “Thank you! I missed you so much!” You pull him into your arms again, even though that’s a slightly dangerous move. You blush slightly and withdraw just as quickly, knowing Leon will want to set some boundaries. “Sorry…”

Leon smiles placidly. “It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. I don’t mind…just…no more kissing, okay?” he asserted with a slightly humorous edge, trying to keep the mood light. 

You let out a light chuckle in reply. “Deal.” You wipe away the last of your tears and start cooking lunch together. It takes a bit of time, though not as long as you might have thought, to slip back into your routine. Before too long, you're eating lunch together, talking, and crying, this time from laughter. 

Another week goes by, every day spent with Leon, and the day before you expect Chase to return, he calls. “Hi, sweetie,” Chase begins. You hear a great deal of noise in the background, lots of music and voices. “I’m hitting another conference and I’ll be gone another week. Think you could bring my BMW in to get the oil changed?”

It barely even registers with you anymore when Chase says he’ll be away for longer. “Sure,” you answer. “See you next week.” You don’t bother adding ‘I love you’. You’re no longer certain it’s even true. Plus, it's not like he ever says it to you .

Leon glances over at you inquisitively. “What was that about?”

“Chase wants me to bring the BMW in to get the oil changed,” you reply with a shrug. “Guess I can bring it in tomorrow.”

Leon lets out a dismissing “Psh,” and waves his hand. “I can do it. I’ve got ramps in my truck.” He jumps up from the chair and heads to the front door. You smile and shake your head. He’s always willing to help. 

You quickly slip on a pair of shoes and trot outside to help move the ramps. He grins widely at you, eager to embark on another home improvement-esque project. You help position the ramps properly and then guide Leon as he drives the vehicle up onto them. You stick around while he begins working, watching his T-shirt ride up while he lays on the ground under the car. His delicious looking abs peek out just begging to be licked…

You shake your head. “Need me to grab you any tools or anything, Leon?” you ask, trying to get yourself back to a platonic mindset. 

“Uh, sure.” He describes a few tools around the garage he needs and you carefully search them out and deliver them. 

Whether it's a slip of his hand or a flaw in the car, you're not sure, but you hear Leon groan and curse. 

“Leon!? Are you okay?” You ask worriedly. You drop to the ground to look under the car. 

“Ugh…yeah…just spilled oil all over myself.” Leon’s voice is a mixture of annoyance and disgust. 

“Oh! We need to clean that off! That's hard on your skin!” You tug his foot, coaxing him out from underneath the faucet of motor oil. He emerges from underneath the mischievous BMW and you see motor oil has spilled all over his shirt, arms, and neck. Worried about the potential corrosive effects, you take his hand, smearing some of the offending substance onto your own skin, and lead him to the shower. You quickly help him out of his clothes. Leon blushes, acutely aware of his nudity in front of you, but he’s grateful that you seem to somehow not notice, genuinely concerned for his well being. Your eyes are fixated on starting the shower, shoving Leon under the cleansing water, and washing his naked body. 

“Y-you don’t have to…” Leon awkwardly sputters, his blushing reaching from his cheeks down his neck. 

“We need to make sure we get all of it! Two sets of eyes are better than one!” you argue. You ignore his stuttering protests, worried sick about the negative effect such a toxic substance could have on his health. You couldn't stand it if something happened to him! With gentle thoroughness, you lather him up with soap and scrub carefully, getting every inch, every nook and cranny. When you make your way down to his hips, his dick catches your eye. 

Fuck.

It's big. Bigger than Chase’s…by a lot…you blush and gulp. You force your eyes away from the tantalizing appendage and return your lusty gaze to his face. “Um…I'll let you clean…down there.” You hand him the washcloth with a shaky hand as the deep red hue staining your cheeks spreads like an aggressive rash throughout your body. You turn, facing away from the creature that appears to have been sculpted by the gods. In your haste to rid his skin of toxic chemicals, you hadn’t noticed his ripped physique. His thick shoulders were barely contained in his T-shirt before you ripped it off. His biceps were now fully visible and rippled with each flex. His taut abdomen built up his core like carefully laid bricks. Oh how you’d love to run your hands along it, despite the notion that you could cut yourself on abs so sharp and tight. Tingles bubble through you as you recall the recent memory of his long, thick cock. Your legs tremble, imagining Leon’s tender touch all over your delicate skin, his warmth seeping into every nook and cranny of your form. Your mind conjures an image of his fat dick sliding inside you, consequences be damned. Your heart gives in, your mind yields. Casting off the obligation you willingly accepted when you got married, you let your carnal desires flood the forefront of your consciousness. You’re no longer fighting to justify the craving, no longer desperately explaining away the lustful thoughts he stirs up within you with a mere glance. Your breaths are ragged and uneven as you allow yourself to be submerged in these feelings that have been tugging at your mind since you met. 

Your outward reactions to your own intimate musings don’t go unnoticed by Leon as he scrubs the last of the motor oil off of his skin. He’s apparently reached his own breaking point as you hear a low growl behind you only a moment before strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you into the shower with him. 

Your shirt and pants quickly begin absorbing the warm water cascading down on you from the shower. Before you can begin taking them off, Leon’s lips crash into yours. One hand snakes up the back of your neck, tangling his fingers into the hair at the base of your scalp. He tilts your head up to give him better access to your willing mouth. Your lips instinctively part, making it an effortless endeavor for his tongue to devour you. His other hand crawls to the hem of your T-shirt, slipping underneath to glide up to your bra-clad breasts. 

You can feel his hardening cock rising up and pressing against your clothed sex. Slick starts to pool between your legs, in quantities you had neither felt before nor thought possible. An icy hot tingle sizzles through you as your body ignites in a passionate blaze. A choked moan escapes you as his hand wraps around your breast, squeezing tentatively at first, but with more fervor as the moments tick by. He grips your wet shirt and peels it off of you with ease, breaking the kiss only for seconds before your lips collide once more. Pulling the cups of your bra down, he resumes his intimate massage of your plush breasts. He groans, his cock painfully hard. Your body responds in kind, the slightest friction against your swelling cunt driving bolts of delicious pleasure to surge through you. 

Realizing you’ve been stunned by the intensity of the moment, you finally let your own hands explore. You begin slowly running your hands up his thick chest, caressing his pecs and sliding upward to gently circle your thumb on his pulse point. Your kiss deepens, moans and whimpers swirling around in the steamy air. 

Leon reaches down, unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts. Without completely removing them, he uses the newly gained space to sneak his fingers into your underwear and tease your quivering folds. He groans like a starved man as he feels how slick and creamy your forbidden center is with only a few sensual touches. 

Feeling bold, you trail your hand down his body, stopping briefly to appreciate every rock hard muscle before reaching his cock. Leon’s breath hitches in his throat, a raspy growl tightening into a euphoric moan. His hips thrust into your hand, abs quivering as he succumbs to your erotic touch. His fingers still momentarily while exploring your depths, left without instruction from his brain, now almost completely drained of conscious thought by your ministrations on his steel shaft. He loves you; he fucking loves you and he can’t deny what he needs anymore. He knows his son is a bastard and probably nailing some slut in a high class hotel room, tainted with adulterous debauchery. Granted, he’s about to do the same with you, he knows you put everything into being a good wife; you gave it your all, but a human being can only take so much neglect. Leon knows you need him and he’s going to give you everything. 

Turning off the shower, he lifts you into his arms and brings you to your bedroom; your marriage bed. Though clinging to your skin, Leon manages to rid you of the rest of your soaking wet clothes. His soft lips briskly kiss yours before venturing further down, sloppily nibbling at your collar bone and eventually sucking as much of your pliant breast into his mouth as he can. His tongue swirls around your nipple and his teeth softly graze the sensitive bud. His fingers bury themselves in your sopping cunt again, continuing their earlier excursion. 

You feel like you're orbiting the moon right now, between the sensations on your breast and the ones between your legs, you wondered how you never knew intimacy could be this pleasurable. You’ve never felt anything even close to this with your husband. He takes no time to do stuff like this. He rolls on top of you, pumps inside you a few times, then finishes. There’s not much to it. He’s in and out like a doctor who’s on his last appointment for the day and already late for his 4 o’clock tee time. But Leon…he’s giving you sensations you didn’t know existed on this plane. Your body feels like it’s burning in the most delicious fire, blazing through your form and leaving scorching pleasure in its wake. His fingers hit a particular spot on your inner walls that rockets you into the stratosphere. An unrefined, guttural moan cuts through the air, fired from your parted lips as your back bows off the bed. 

Noticing your reaction, Leon amps up his ministrations, stroking your spongy pleasure center with expertise. You’re writhing in the throws of passion and euphoria. Having surrendered to your baser instincts, you arch your back again, letting every moan and whimper fly past your lips, unencumbered because, fuck it, you don’t even care if the neighbors hear. Every rub of his fingers on the sensitive trigger within your vault has you seeing heaven. 

“You're so beautiful,” Leon purrs. He drops his lips to yours again, swallowing your sweet, melodic vocalizations. His pace quickens, his strokes becoming quicker and more intense. The build towards something that can only be described as magical progresses rapidly. Your breaths are rapid and shallow; your heart races, pounding heavily in your chest. Sweat beads all over your body, leaving your skin glistening in the afternoon light. 

His thumb begins rubbing your clit, that sensitive bundle of nerves you hardly knew existed until it swelled as a result of Leon's expert touch, making you feel like a horny teenager. Finally, the fireworks explode, your entire body contracts, cunt squeezing down on the fingers inside you. Pleasure overflows in every cell as your brain floods you with dopamine. An ecstatic cry bubbles from deep within your lungs, surging through your throat and curling around Leon's tongue as it surges through your mouth. 

When the waves of rapture subside, you fall limp on the bed. Your pussy finally releases Leon's fingers and he slowly withdraws them. He brings the delicious essence to his lips, sucking your delectable juices clean off his hand, the act causing your eyes to overflow with lust and your jaw to slip just slightly open. His gaze bores into yours and you know this is only the beginning; the preliminaries. 

He gently crawls on top of you, capturing your lips in another decadent kiss. His tongue reunites with yours, tenderly caressing your oral muscle. He rolls his hips at a lazy pace, teasingly grinding his length against your drenched cunt. Your senses are on fire yet still hungry for more heat. One of his arms holds him up and the other glides softly down your perfect curves. “I need you, sweetheart. I can’t stop myself anymore,” he murmurs between kisses.

“Don’t stop! I want this! Please! Oh God! I need this!” you beg through heavy breaths as your tongue dances with his. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to feel your bodies pressed together even tighter. You feel Leon’s hand slide further down your lithe body, his fingertips leaving buzzing tingles behind. He moans your name like a whispered prayer in your ear, brushing his lips against the supple lobe. Your fingers tangle into his sandy blonde hair as a soft whimper slips out. 

Finally, his hand grips his thick, rock hard cock and guides the tip inside you. Your head digs into the pillow beneath; Chase’s pillow. A twisted sense of satisfaction fills you but disappears just as quickly as the exhilaration of Leon’s incredible dick gliding inside you replaces all conscious thought, lubricated by your natural, creamy essence. A long, desperate moan draws out of you, paradise within reach. Your breasts heave against Leon’s chest as gasps overtake your breathing. His lips dance across your face and jaw as he begins to pump at a teasingly slow pace. He nibbles on your neck, gently biting and sucking your creamy skin. Your back instinctively arches into him, each thrust of his cock along your sensitive walls sending bolts of pleasure up through your spine. 

Your heart is racing, pounding in your ears and hammering in your chest. Your cunt begins to quiver, submitting unconditionally to the pistoning shaft grinding against your inner vault. The warm, electric buildup you can feel inside your lower abdomen grows ever stronger until it’s impossibly tight, ready to burst like a rubber band stretched too far. Finally, you reach your peak, your pussy squeezing Leon tight like a greedy sinkhole of lust and sex. A deep gasp sucks in the thick air around you, replenishing the oxygen that’s been dragged from your lungs to fuel your earth shattering orgasm. “Oh God, Leon!” you cry out, your hands gripping his thick biceps as you ride out your climax. Your slick pussy squeezes his cock, a vice grip holding onto his manhood like it never wants to let him go. Your thighs tighten around his waist as euphoria rocks through you. His touch is like a drug and you’re already addicted. 

A low growl rumbles in Leon’s chest, manifesting to a guttural moan the erupts from his lips just as he thrusts inside you one last time to spill his cum deep within your womb. “Fuck…” he pants out with winded breaths. He collapses onto the bed next to you, sweat beading down his forehead. You both lay there recovering from the intensity of your tryst for several moments before Leon rolls to his side and props himself up in his elbow. Smiling affectionately, he leans down and kisses your forehead. “That was amazing…I…I've wanted that for longer than I care to admit…”

You gently cup his face, pulling his face back to yours for a tender kiss. “Leon…” you whimper, letting your voice drift away as your emotions overwhelm you. You're having trouble admitting to even yourself that you wanted him too…for a long time. 

He gleans your meaning anyway and rolls to cover you partially, capturing your lips once more as you both ride the afterglow.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 67

Part 1 Part 66

Time doesn’t pass for Steve, it washes over him. Everyone’s acting like staying busy will save him. Like distractions are even possible when there’s a buzzing beneath his skin, and his legs ache with the need to run from the thing he can feel breathing down his neck. Even here. Even now.

Still, he wakes up. He goes to school. He stays in line.

Carol stopped sitting by him in class. She just gazes at him across the room with moon eyes, begging to be let back in. As if the shitshow of his life is an exclusive club he kicked her our of and not life or death. Steve does him best to keep his eyes averted. It’s easy. Just like everything else, her attention washes over him.

Steve only really comes alive at lunch with Eddie by his side, but then it’s back to the drudgery. He changes into his gym uniform on autopilot, eyes unfocused in the bright light of the locker room. The bodies around him are meaningless, faceless things as they change around him, ribbing each other like any of this matters at all.

There’s something bubbling within him. It makes saliva pool in his throat. It feels a lot like rage, as he runs back and forth on the court, barely touching the ball at all. Even still, Hargrove stays up in his face, hands moving quickly, shoving him a little when the coach's back is turned. He’s goading, like any of this matters at all. Like Steve hadn’t gone to Hell last year. Like he doesn’t keep getting sucked back in.

“Jesus, do you ever stop talking man,” Steve demands, something sharp and angry coiling in his stomach like bile. It feels good almost. Alive. He’s in his body, can still feel his skin buzzing, but it’s with electricity now. “Come on.”

He passes the ball off, doesn’t even look where it lands. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who couldn’t even cut it in a little podunk highschool game,” Hargrove taunts.

He doesn’t know enough to aim where it hurts. Steve lets him rebound unopposed after someone misses. He runs to the other side of the court, something more frightening than Hargrove nipping at his heels. Still, he stops and puts his arms up, Hopper’s demands to act normal ringing through his ears.

Steve Harrington keeps his cool. He likes basketball. He wouldn’t let Hargrove just score. He wouldn’t run across the court, out of the school, and just keep running like something no one else can see is chasing him.

He plants his feet, hands raised as Hargrove fakes a shot, ready to slide with him, hand out for a steal.

There’s a foot behind his heel. He goes down, hard. The gym floors just as hard as last time. He smashes his face, feels something give in his nose, blood and tears instantly mingling on his cheeks as his eyes water with the pain. His eyes are squeezed shut tight against it, hand hovering over his nose with the need to make sure it’s still where it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t, afraid of making the pulsing pain worse.

His vision’s blurry when he finally opens his eyes. Tommy’s looking down at him, an unreadable look on his face as he holds his open hand down toward Steve’s prone form.

The gym’s gone silent around them. Steve can almost feel it pulsing in his head. He reaches out on instinct, slapping his hand into Tommy’s and holding fast as Tommy starts to pull him upright.

It’s just like when they were kids. Steve, knocked to the ground and breathless after failing the challenge posed by the monkey bars until Tommy runs over to pull him upright, using his hands to swipe off bark dust and pains alike until Steve’s good as new.

Steve was always falling as a kid, and Tommy was always picking him back up.

Steve feels carried, held, weightless for just a minute as his old friend pulls him up. Too soon, Tommy drops his hand. All the weight returns, and Steve’ still tilted at an angle, heels scrabbling for purchase until he goes down hard on his back.

It’s that same breathless feeling as the monkey bars, winded and aching. But Tommy’s looking down at him now, eyes squinted and cold. “Oops,” he says, breaking the strained silence.

Jeers sound, and Steve lays there, breathless, until the coach calls them all to order with a sharp blow on his whistle and a bellow of his voice.

“Go clean yourself up, Harrington,” he calls, barely sparing him a glance now that he’s not on the team.

Tommy knows where to hit so it hurts without using any words at all.

He goes.

He’s not even out of the gym yet before the sound of shoes squeaking and the ball bouncing resumes. Like the whole thing was a blip that didn’t matter at all.

The hallway is quiet and empty. Steve trails his hand along the cold metal of the wall of lockers, fingers pinching as he trails them over hinges faster and faster. There’s something chasing him, still. He’s just not sure if it’s the Upside-Down or the way his first friend’s eyes had gone flinty and cold.

He rounds a corner at a run, barreling into something warm and breathing, bringing them down with him as he falls to the hard floor for the second time that day.

“What the fuck?” It’s Carol’s voice because of course it is. He goes sprawling onto the cold ground as she groans, shoving Steve off of her. “What the hell do you think you’re–Steve?” Clearly having just caught sight of him, she crawls over to him on her knees, hands hovering over the mess of his face. “What happened?”

There’s something unfurling inside of him, a wild beast baring its teeth. He feels his own lip pull back as he asks, “why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” He slaps her hovering hands away, pulling himself painfully to his feet, Carol scrambling to follow him up.

Carol gasps, hand to her lips. “He did this?” Steve glares down at her, probably looking like a horror movie extra with the way she takes a startled step back. She purses her lips, meeting his eyes. He wonders what she sees as her gaze softens.

Steve curls into himself, arms wrapped around his wrist as he looks down at the smear of blood he’d left on the linoleum. He feels cold. He wants Tommy back. He wants to feel the way things used to, like the most complicated problem he had is wondering if his parents were coming back at all this time, or if he’d manage a B on his math test.

“He’ll come around, Steve.”

His hands shake where they’re still wrapped around himself. He digs his nails into his ribs, hard enough to hurt through the thin fabric of his gym shirt. “It’s been months, Carol,” he says, voice deadened. He’s still looking down at that same smear of blood, trying to make sense of its shape, how it got there at all. There’s something broiling inside of him. He lets it free. “Almost a year. How much longer am I supposed to wait?”

By the last word, he’s raised his voice loud enough that it cracks with strain as it echoes across lockers and windows and walls. It’s a surprise when no one comes to investigate.

“Steve–”

“Shut up,” he barks, finally raising his head to look her in the eye, clutching his ribs hard enough to keep his organs from leaking out. “When are you going to be on my side for once?”

She gapes, taking an aborted step toward him with her hand raised toward his face, before seemingly thinking better of it and dropping it back down to her side. “I’m always on your side.” She says it quietly, shrinking into herself.

“Not if you can be on Tommy’s,” he says, something curdling inside of him as she looks down at her own feet without any comeback at all. “When will you pick me over him?”

She doesn’t respond. Steve doesn’t expect her to.

Having the last word is supposed to feel good. He’s supposed to feel good, right? But it’s all curdling up within him, weighing him to the ground as he stalks down the hall toward the nurses office.

He leaves silence in his wake.

Part 68

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

[isagrimorie]

in case you still were unsure, the photo of the three female convicts is definitely AI! a few things i can list without thinking too much cause im a sleepy fella:

-the tattoos are all nonsense

-they would not have access to heavy makeup, hair styling products, and the hours of free time those looks require if they were in prison uniforms (they're not really, they're in tight orange t-shirts because it's "sexier", but they wouldn't all be wearing them if it weren't MEANT to be a uniform)

-there are a ton of supposed convicts in the photo with no security around

-the bench is just full of sexy convicts, and none of the legal staff that should be there

-theyre practically identical feature-wise, it would be nearly impossible for them not to be related; if this clickbait video contained a set of relatives being sentenced together, they would be using that fact more explicitly, as part of the bait

-if you watch the video they aren't there

-the "camera" is a weirdly high, glossy quality with an artistic angle and framing. it is not composed like a normal courtroom photograph

-it also can't be a painting, both due to the first reason listed (an artist of this caliber would paint real dang tattoos), and because this would be a several hundred dollar art piece commission & this is a cheap clickbait video someone edited from footage they don't own

-if you look through that channels videos you'll probably find a thumbnail somewhere that you CAN recognize as ai, and from there you can see all kinds of similarities to ones like this where you couldn't

ai art is definitely 'improving', but beyond just visual flaws, critical thinking and research can still help a lot with identifying it as it advances (but i know that's kind of a pain in the ass for most people lol, im just autistic and overanalyze everything anyway, figured i may as well lend that trait out to others who need it)

Thank you for validating my hunch! I thought they were too alike and had the plastic sheen of a CGI character at its second pass!

Honestly disturbing. Because we know technology improves and I hate where it’s going.

[cnestus]

i recently solved a fun little bug mystery at work and i thought it might be interesting to write up a step-by-step narrative of how i did so, as a sort of example of the kinds of things i get to do for my job. this is a stupidly long post because i have no editorial self-control so i'm putting the rest under a cut.

the above insect is a bark beetle, one of a series of 6 specimens i found in a drawer at work. they did not have species labels on them, and the collection labels indicated that they were collected in 1997 from "Chinese Cedrus used for artifical christmas trees." the infested wood had been intercepted and the beetles collected and pinned, but whoever was working in the lab at the time wasn't able to suss out the species, which is extremely reasonable because even IDing american bark beetles to species can be a massive pain in the ass, let alone ones from asia.

the beetles were clearly in the genus Phloeosinus based on the shape of the antennae and the large spines on the elytral declivity (the ass area), and whoever pinned them at least got them that far themselves, but determining the actual species was going to be a lot harder. even american beetles in this genus can be devilishly hard to confidently ID to species since they often look alike and also are quite morphologically variable in ways the bleed into each other. they are pretty cool though and those ass spines are usually critical in species-level identification

btw since i'm going to be writing out this word a lot in this post, it's pronounced roughly as "flea-o-sign-us" if you're curious.

determining bark beetle species is often made much easier by knowing what tree the beetle came out of since most bark beetles (but not ambrosia beetles, which are also scolytid/scolytine beetles but a whole other can of worms grubs) are highly host-specific, usually being adapted to only a certain tree species or genus or small group of related genera.

so Cedrus is the genus for eurasian cedar trees, and there is one species of Cedrus native to china, Cedrus deodara, but that seems like an odd choice of plant to harvest and send to america for artificial christmas tree trunks. most actual Cedrus species are from the mediterranean area. however there are also some chinese trees in the cypress family Cupressaceae (+Taxodiaceae) that are called cedars, and in fact most species of Phloeosinus are exclusively found in trees in this family. one likely species is Cunninghamia lanceolata, traditionally called "chinese fir" despite not being a fir but also more recently marketed as "chinese cedar" because that's how common names for species go.

oh and there is also the tree Toona sinensis in the family Meliaceae that's ALSO sometimes called "chinese cedar" for some reason but more importantly also called "beef and onion plant" lmao, but that was an even worse candidate for an artificial christmas tree trunk and also not a known host for the beetles. easily discounted but i had a laugh.

so my first angle of attack was to assume that the collection labels were correct and the beetles were in fact from a Cedrus tree. i was able to find a list of about a half dozen Phloeosinus species known to attack Cedrus cedars, but none of them were native to china. this would most likely mean that one of the mediterranean species had been transplanted to china for cultivation, which is entirely plausible. after digging though a bunch of literature i wasn't able to find a good key for Phloeosinus species in the entire area i wanted, but found a couple regional keys covering geographic ranges that when combined covered about what i wanted. for non-biologists, this is what a species key looks like:

sort of a choose your own adventure kind of thing but for determining a creature's true identity. anyway none of the results i got from these keys led to species who's descriptions matched the one that i had. i should also mention that my specimens had a rather distinctive feature unlike any other Phloeosinus species i'd ever seen before, which was an elytral vestiture consisting of these really funky little black explanate scales:

most Phloeosinus species have some kind of vestiture on their elytra but all the ones i'm familiar with have the hairs and scales light-colored and never shaped anything like this, so i figured that the description of the correct species would surely mention these scales.

so anyway dissatisfied with this avenue, i decided that the next most likely option is that whoever made the labels for the specimens was told that they had come from "chinese cedar" by the importer and had just assumed that meant Cedrus but it was actually one of the cypress family cedars. again most of the described species do in fact use Cupressaceae as hosts.

so next i found this UN report with a (hopefully) comprehensive list of all non-EU bark and ambrosia beetle species that attacked conifer trees. i culled from that a list of Phloeosinus species listed as coming from "asia." since that was too broad of an area, i then looked up all of these species in the species catalogues listed in the report, mostly Alonso-Zarazag et al (2007), though some were also listed in Wood and Bright (1992) or Bright and Skidmore (2002), which i happen to have physical copes of. from these i could narrow the list down to just species found in china.

now things became difficult because there are no keys to chinese Phloeosinus, or at least none in english. also even just written descriptions of many of these species were impossible to find because they were all written like 60-100 years ago and usually in chinese or german or french and had never been translated or uploaded anywhere online. likewise almost none of them had research-grade (or any) photos anywhere online.

so after hours of fruitless digging, the best i could come up with was a guide to scolytine beetles of korea (PDF link), which contained a key with a handful of the species on my list and did include english descriptions of these. now one of the species in the guide, P. perlatus, IS DESCRIBED as having dark scales, and my specimens did seem to land on that species when i ran them through the key. that's promising! and the hosts were on my list of possible non-Cedrus chinese cedars! also promising! buuuut something just didn't sit right with me. parts of the species description in that paper just didn't seem to quite match my specimens, like for example the size was a little off, described as being 2.4-3.4mm long, while all of mine were in the 3.3-3.6 range. plus the photos of the species, while distressingly low-resolution, just didn't look like mine.

okay so that was dissatisfying. i'd managed to whittle down my list of suspects a good deal from what little scraps of information i could find about them through my sleuthing, either the wrong hosts or the ones that did have english descriptions available online like in that korean guide didn't fit, but i was still left with several possible candidates and no way to narrow it down further, of course this all assuming that the beetles i had on my hands even were a species that had been scientifically described and named. bark beetles are a huge group of critters and many are quite understudied, especially in asia, and a bunch of new species are described every year!

i was about ready to just give up, but then by coincidence i had a reason to email a couple of high-level bark beetle researchers about a different beetle mystery i was also working on, which was in a group that they were the authorities on. on a whim, i mentioned my Phloeosinus conundrum to them to see if they had any ideas and they recommended i contact Dr. Roger Beaver. yeah, i know right? fucking kickass name i'm so jealous. sidenote: it's so funny how many bark beetle researchers have extremely appropriate names, like two of the biggest names in the field are Steve Wood and Dave Wood. no relation.

so anyway i contacted Dr Beaver, who had done some research on east asian Phloeosinus in the past and he was kind enough to send me an unpublished provisional key to chinese species that he had written up a few years ago. using that key, i ended up at "P. pertuberculatus (?=sinensis)" which means that there was some suspicion that P. pertuberculatus and P. sinensis were the same species, just described and named independently by two different entomologists (Hans Eggers and Karl Eduard Schedl respectively), as often happened, especially in the glory days of insane 18th-20th century european entomologists describing literally thousands of new species during their careers.

now these two species WERE both on my final list of suspects of chinese Phloeosinus species that hadn't otherwise been eliminated for one reason or another, and both had Cunninghamia "cedar" trees as known hosts. Dr Beaver was then kind enough to scan and send me the original descriptions of these two species:

which i was able to use google translate on:

not the nicest translation but still an admirable attempt on google's part to deal with all the entomological jargon, and most importantly the description of the elytral scales on P. sinensis definitely seems to match my specimens more than the pertuberculatus. plus i found a paper on taiwanese bark beetles (PDF) coauthored by Dr Beaver that had a (also distressingly low-resolution) photo of pertuberculatus that didn't seem to match my specimens:

aaand finally: i'd been trying for days to access the webpage of a chinese museum that popped up as the only notable result on a google image search for P. sinensis but every time the website would time out and the cached version of the image was too small to make out any details on, but it finally occurred to me this evening that the reason was probably because my work computer or work wifi was just automatically blocking chinese websites because of america's insane paranoia about chinese spying, and sure enough i opened it up on my home computer and it fucking worked!

that's a pretty fucking bang-on match for my specimens! the scales look right, the color is right, the size is right, the ass bumps are right, the host is right, the geography is right, and the translated description otherwise seems to match! here's mine again so you don't have to scroll all the way up:

so i'm calling this 26-year mystery solved! not all of the bug puzzles i've worked on have had as meandering of a path to their conclusion as this, but i thought that this one did display a good number of the different methods i use. the biggest thing that was missing was me wandering into my lab's massive library of old dusty entomology journals stretching back over a century and digging out some old article that never got scanned and put online, as often happens, but in this case since the bugs were asian and out library mostly covers north american entomology that wasn't going to be very fruitful.

hopefully this was interesting to... somebody besides myself. if you've read this far and weren't bored to tears then congratulations you probably have the same kind of brain damage as me!

[wewerebornsextuplets]

idk how but you draw in the Oso-san style so good i need to know your secret please

HAHA thank you very much!! im glad you think so :D unfortunately im not very good at explaining how i work, but ill try my best to show what i mean!!

once again this is long as hell. you know the drill at this point

to be honest, half the battle i fight with drawing in the osmt style is just. Looking at it. the ososan art style actually fluctuates pretty wildly depending on what you're looking for, whether that be the mobile games (for instance, tabimatsu and hesowars look nothing alike in terms of style despite both being the same source material), official art and merch, or even the seasons of the show itself!

using ichi as my example here since i draw him the most, but its pretty easy to play spot the difference with the varying styles. even within a specific season you can do this across episodes, especially with season 1!

when i draw, i tend to be a bit sacrilege and use references across different media; usually ill use the show [especially season 2, if only because its a bit more "uniform"] as reference for the actual features and colors/poses/etc, but i like to use hesowars to reference proportions, since they seem to be most consistent there.

SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO NOTE: theres a WEALTH of fanartists that have styles that are INCREDIBLY similar to the show, so be careful to check your sources! these artists deserve credit for their hard work, which they often don't get since their work is reposted under the guise of being official art.

once you've pinned down the exact style you'd like to emulate, and the character you're looking to draw, its really just a matter of finding references, which is pretty easy! you can scrub through different episodes for good angles/shots, or if you're going for one of the game styles the AU wiki has most of the games catalogued to my knowledge. if you're looking to draw an oc, use characters you think they would look similar to in the show. if you really wanna waste your time, though, you can always scrub through crowd scenes in the show to see if any background characters might look like what you're going for; the season 3 episode Mt. Takao comes to mind, there were a lot of cute mob characters there.

using keiko as my example here, you can see that i pulled her features from multiple different characters to get her to look right in the style. with ocs, its important to reference a number of different characters, since the likelihood of a background character being a 1:1 for your little guy is unfortunately pretty low. there WILL, however, be a lot of characters that look KIND of like them. the key is to figure out what parts go where!

to this point, most prominent ososan women have very similar stock anime girl faces with very minor differences, so if youre looking to make a cute girl oc, most of the womens' faces can be used somewhat interchangeably. if you want your cute girl oc to have a more unique face, though, the movie gave us some women with more unique faces in the form of the NEETs' old classmates! theres also no harm in referencing male characters faces in this regard. #butchswag #kiruminikuya

BUT. going back to the assumption that you're drawing a canon character, today I'll be drawing oso for my example

when you're first getting a feel for the style, tracing some of your references can actually be a really great way to acclimate yourself to the characters proportions and features. think of like when you were a kid, and would trace over pictures of pokemon or cartoon characters so you could draw them better. its basically the same principle! this was especially helpful for me when it came to eyes; they vary the most wildly of any other trait that characters have in ososan, so going over the different shapes to get a feel for each of them was very important.

when you trace, though, I recommend doing so a bit more loosely, sort of like if you're doing a photo study for anatomy; block out the basic shapes and do small markers for different features (i.e small lines to denote where the eyes start and and, distance from nose to mouth, things like that), and from there draw the rest on your own.

after long enough you'll get a feel for the basic placement of where everything should go! the eyes and nose are undoubtedly the hardest when it comes to the sextuplets, since they shift around a LOT between games/seasons/etc. so don't feel bad if you have a hard time with that, since there isnt really a "right" answer with how frequently it changes. i still fuck it up all the time myself!

as for some basic tips, heres some stuff i try to keep in mind when drawing them that just helps the finished product look a bit nicer!

when drawing the hair + fringe line, its important to swoop it downwards a little bit; the flat across look Can work, but if you're not careful you risk showing the tops of their eyes, which is um. ew! ick! nast!

when a matsu is facing forward, their hair will usually tend towards one direction to keep the silhouette. in most screenshots i saw, the bowl cut points left! that said, dont be afraid to point rightwards if its better for your specific drawing!

and lastly: USE THE LIQUIFY TOOL. LIBERALLY. i am not joking when i say this has saved my ass so many times, its hard to get the placement right on the facial features and even harder to get everything to LOOK good, so if its available to you i HIGHLY suggest just squishing everything around with a liquify tool until it looks right. you can always go back and correct the blurry lines. its really a life saver

BUT YEAH! i dont know if this was very helpful but i hope you're at least able to gain something from it :-))