#ty cyan!!!!!!

[furymint]

19. playing with each others' fingers!!!

hand holding meme | header | wc: 1,562 | wwi au so welcome to austria-hungary

The nurse that led Elliot into the room was little more than a child. She had the brightness of inexperience and the voice of a teenager; she was probably a poor man's daughter or a foolish man's wife; she believed Elliot when he told her that he was a medical professional. That was all he needed.

In return, he gave his attention. The girl glowed and stood at his ear to chat. Mr. Feran had recently returned from an appointment with the doctor. He'd met with a new addition to the hospital: a specialist from Vienna who professed great interest in concussions. He and Mr. Feran had spoken for hours.

Elliot could only imagine what that meant.

Although it was late in the afternoon, the curtains were loosed about the pair of windows. The girl indicated the bed in the corner and the man heaped upon it. Mr. Feran had been asleep for hours. Sometimes his legs moved involuntarily as he slept. Faradism had no effect so far, but with consistent treatment that little problem was certain to melt away. Her trust in the doctors was absolute.

Elliot agreed. Taking off his coat and folding it over his arm, he assured her that he was familiar with this patient, and that he had visited at the perfect time, then. May he be left to observe those same leg tremors?

She acquiesced with a wide smile. Like a nodding flower, the girl turned in her skirts and blew away. 

If only it were always so easy. Elliot gave one solid sigh before he approached Nolanel’s bedside.

He folded his coat, set it on the floor, and lifted Nolanel’s small side table atop it. Although Elliot grunted with effort, the wooden dresser scuffed almost silently down upon wool instead of stone. He sat atop it.

Nolanel lay undisturbed on his side. The gloom did not disguise the dark circles around his eyes, or the pinch of a frown even as his mouth gaped for shallow breath. He wore pale, unclean clothes marked with soil stains and sweat, and at the end of his bed, his greatcoat was bunched up atop his feet where he'd kicked it away like a blanket.

Elliot silently cursed the men who were privileged to take care of this man. 

No doubt they found things of clinical interest in his manner: his embroiling passion, coarse patience, and frequent fears. But psychology would not bring a solution to a battlefield problem.

His nerves were the traitor. Those doctors put their hands-on him, felt muscle contract under their coarse fingers, and knew the power of that body. They wanted mastery over ligament and sinew, to dig their syringes deep to the bone and pull at the marrow. There must be something there--some malefaction that was not the mind but something physical and real.

When they touched his back and pushed their fingertips into the divots of each anatomical plane, did they wonder about the birthmark on his shoulder? Did they test for sensation in every shrapnel-bitten gouge before they found the nick in his ear, and did they notice where the sun had tinted the skin at his hairline? If they made Nolanel wrap his tremoring hand around a measure to test the force of his grip, did any of them fear how intimately those hands knew death?

Aide, specialist, nurse, assistant, cleric, trainee--How many had witnessed Nolanel’s angry blush when the doctor interviewed him for nervous lineage, decadent habits, old phobias and misdeeds? Could Nolanel have told them what he'd confessed to Elliot, drunk on morphine and broken with regret, so that his fears could be blamed when "D8 FALL: PSYCHOSIS-NEURASTHENIA. LEUTNANT, 23." appeared in publication?

It was not a story he could ever tell. Privacy was not just the word for it. Neither was security or shame. But deep within him, he felt the weight of a childhood under surveillance, of a parent's crimes, and a desire to maintain the soul's mystery. Too often, a misplaced 'how' or 'why' turned knives against the innocent. Too often, Elliot wondered when his luck would run out like Nolanel’s had.

He resisted the impulse to draw his leg atop the dresser with him. He stretched his arms over his head and surveyed the unchanged room: a dull, brown and chipped collection of furniture shoved against walls to clear space for empty beds. There was a side table drawer stuffed with discarded letter drafts beside one bed, and a neat stack of river stones on the windowsill nearest the other. Nolanel had nothing--but Nolanel was awake.

Nothing but the cowl of sleep prevented him from flinching at the sight of Elliot. "Dear God," he whispered, rubbing his face with his sleeve. The bed groaned as he shifted against the hard mattress.

Elliot stopped him. "Please, don't get up for my sake. Stay as you are."

Nolanel blinked slowly and forcefully. It took him a few moments more to process the message, then he slumped back down. His arms rested in front of him, and Elliot leaned forward to take one of his hands.

The skin was hot and dry. Nolanel flexed his knuckles against Elliot's palm, then gave no resistance as Elliot seized a patchy finger to inspect. His short nails were blackened with dirt.

At once Nolanel interjected, "You promised no questions."

Elliot glanced to Nolanel’s tired, taunting face. "I remember. I'm not here to talk about that." He needed a different name for shell shy.

Nolanel scoffed and pressed his cheek deeper into his pillow. His hair was a stark flurry of ink strokes against the aged cream cloth. "Just to stare and wonder?"

"Precisely." Elliot jammed his fingernail under Nolanel’s and scraped out the soil.

"Christ!" Nolanel yanked back his hand and tucked it against his chest. "The fuck was that?"

Elliot remained nonplussed. "Next time you assist in the hospital garden, wash your hands before you slip back into bed. Do you like carrying germs with you everywhere?"

"Couldn't help yourself in asking?" Nolanel's upper lip raised. He twisted under his blanket to inch closer to the headboard. "I like the smell."

Elliot stared. His mind raced to stop his tongue. There were infinities in the world less confusing than this--and as many things he wanted to blame. Nolanel was lucid, frustrated, embarrassed, but not mad. As much as Elliot preferred to condemn that thing for each of their disagreements, he knew he could not blame mind and emotion for everything.

And it was his fault Nolanel was agitated from the first. Elliot reminded him that he loved someone. There were fewer passions more shameful than that.

"The smell?" Elliot echoed.

"The earth," Nolanel averred.

This time, Elliot understood. In Galicia, the ground was disfigured. Craters sucked rain water and blood into the soil. Each trench was stuffed with chalk, rusted wire, and human rot, buried together by raucous shells. A layer of chemical powder topped no-man's-land and rioted into plumes when the wind dared to blow. Before the dugout had collapsed over Nolanel’s body, the Etes quarries had replaced the sky.

Nolanel knew how bombs could rip open the earth, exposing its veins and hollows, and how men could pick it like carrion until its toxins killed them. But he had also hauled horses from the tunnels and into the summer air, where their hooves could scrape against grass and dew instead of rock, and the mud on their coats was warm and fresh atop the coal dust. His hands had ripped thick, meaty mushrooms from patches of unseen death, and he had washed the dirt from them in cold rivers.

"I'll take you to Nógrád," Elliot swore.

"You won't," Nolanel countered, "It won't do any good."

"That girl--if by any kindness she may be called a nurse--would never notice your absence."

"It won't do me any good."

Elliot pulled a leg up and propped his chin upon his knee. "Something in this world will do you good if you allow it to find you."

Nolanel scratched the sand from his eyes, causing Elliot to hiss at him.

"Ah, that," Nolanel said.

"No, no," Elliot stalled. He couldn't grasp what Nolanel meant, and he wouldn't allow himself to guess. "I can find a fragrance--"

"Tell them to give my gloves back. If the hospital must grow its food, and I must pull weeds from between the beets, then I should have gloves to do it."

"The doctors are quite prejudiced against them. A maladaption," Elliot pouted.

"I know what they said. They told me my head was cracked. I'd like them to say the mill has no stone, and be done." Nolanel laughed roughly. His eyes flashed darkly as he sat up and grabbed Elliot's hand back.

"The doctor asked if I believed my senses were dying: if I heard less or tasted little," he said. "Yet ever since Volhynia I've felt more. Your voice is like a thunderclap in this room. There are hurts in my body, deep in my ribs and under my scalp, that ache in every second. I want less. It's a curse to feel."

Elliot pushed his fingers between Nolanel’s and squeezed. For a moment, foreboding hushed him. It seemed as though Nolanel were hollow, or something that talked but was not there.

"Sensation can be holy," Elliot whispered.

"Return my gloves to me," Nolanel repeated.

[baba-is-blog]

BABA IS SHOCK

BLOG IS WHAT

BABA ♡ 

[brick-rolled]

helloo I've been busy sorry but here's some Impulse and Skizz redesigns I did for class !! everyday I stray further and further from their og skins lmao

[baekhyunnybyun]

Yunho — 【ZERO : FEVER Part.1】 Concept Photos ↳ for @jwooyoung ♡ send me a request

[nuclearanomaly]

R O O K

These fantastic rooks are:

Tirena Mercar (my rook!) | Mori Ingellvar @frenchy-and-the-sea | Johari Laidir @urdnotgrunt | Doe Ingellvar @bioelectriccell | Cecília Ingellvar @blackestnight | Firanni Laidir @pocket-cat | Rhodes Ingellvar @aethernoise

[dinosizedmintz]

Superstitional Realism was one letter too many, so I got rid of the 'al', but still happy, yay

[edns]

Cyan is real now. Cyrus (aka this guy post timeskip) coming soon hopefully

[knight-enchantrix]

WIP Whenever

received a very kind tag from @girlwonderers for a dragon age themed WIP. as I am not currently working on a fic I plan on posting to AO3 (for now lmao) have a cute snippet I jotted down the other day of Cullen and Madelena visiting his family~

----

The three of them walked out into the village square, Cullen only half-listening to the stream of scolding that was coming out of Mia’s mouth, instead scanning around for Madelena.

His eyes settled on her — she had apparently purchased a flower from a local child, who had tucked it charmingly behind one of her ears — as his brother let out a low whistle. “Andraste’s eyes, that’s a beauty. Wonder what she’s doing in South Reach?”

A quick glance revealed that both of his siblings had spotted Madelena at the same time he did. Not that he blamed them — she stood out, her dark hair, pale skin, and black-on-white outfit standing in sharp contrast to the tawny-haired, earthy Fereldans around her.

“Branson Rutherford, need I remind you that you are married?” Mia replied, tartly. “Besides, that woman is so far out of your league that it’s laughable.”

“Oh, shove off, Mia. There was nothing in my vows about looking. I was going to suggest you go talk to her — offer her a place to stay, maybe you’ll get lucky, and she likes women.” Branson’s grin made it plain this was an old joke between them, but from the way Mia went faintly pink behind her freckles, it was not an untrue one, and Cullen filed that particular tidbit away under the mental heading titled things I did not know about my siblings.

Suppressing an irritated grumble, Cullen settled for clearing his throat. “As it happens, I have it on good authority that that is not the case.”

At that moment, Madelena turned and met his gaze, face brightening immediately in a way that still made his knees a bit weak, even after more than a year together. She began making her way towards them, and then a small hand smacked his upper arm, jolting his attention away from her — and making him realize that he’d been smiling in that particular foolish way that always earned him teasing from Dorian and Varric.

“Wait, is that her?” Mia hissed at him, eyes bright with interest and amusement.

Branson, at least, had the grace to look a bit abashed, and shot Cullen a mouthed sorry over Mia’s head, that he easily waved off.

Before he could respond, Madelena walked up, leaning over to brush a kiss against his cheek before pulling back, her eyes sparkling in that way that always set off alarm bells in his mind. “You know, you’re a lot harder to spot in a crowd when there’s not a gaggle of simpering noblewomen following you around,” she said breezily.

As both his siblings perked up at that statement, Cullen began to realize that he may have terribly miscalculated his beloved’s propensity for teasing him when he’d agreed to this reunion. Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh, he ignored the light-hearted jab. “Mia, Branson, may I introduce Lady Madelena Trevelyan?”

He received an unsubtle hip bump at the inclusion of her (most innocuous) title, then she leaned over and offered her hand to Mia. “Just Madelena is fine. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

As she turned to Branson, his little brother leaned in conspiratorially. “I see Cullen must have gotten better at talking to women than he was the last time I saw him, to have managed to catch the attention of such a lovely lady.”

A retort sprang immediately to the tip of his tongue — of course he was better at talking to women than he’d been at thirteen — but it died unspoken as Madelena shook her head and giggled. “Not really. But that’s part of his charm.”

Both Mia and Branson immediately burst into laughter, and his older sister reached over to loop one arm through Madelena’s, tugging her over to her side. “Oh, I like you.”

“Maker’s breath, Lena,” Cullen muttered. “You could wait five minutes before you start trying to embarrass me, you know.”

[jaerockyaoi]

🔧one of the CLMC guys i miss them!

the carmy!

[kodapi]

     [ What's Your Love Pawsona? || Tagged by: @bloodxhound ]

    「 Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this! Please feel free to freely take this, it's so much fun! 」

[eva-cybele]

tag meme time~ ty to @blackestnight for the tag!

I tag uhhh @cassandra-allegra @foamofthe-sea @sie-sharp annnd @karoiseka! also anyone else who wanna

last song: according to spotify, the John Oeth (acoustic guitar) cover of Twilight from FFXVI, because that's just where I was in my writing music playlist when I went to bed last night. last song I intentionally listened to was I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young, because it's my favorite Cullen song and I'm like 7k words deep into a fic from his POV. been finding a lot of new music lately perusing other people's dragon age playlists on spotify. ty hyperfixation.

last book: I do NOT read as much as I used to, unfortunately, so probably Tevinter Nights? oh wait, I also worked my way through two graphic novels of Fine Print by Stjepan Sejic, which was... okay. not as good as Sunstone.

last movie: watched Good Will Hunting with the husband the other night! I don't think I'd ever seen it in its entirety. I miss Robin Williams with the fire of a thousand suns.

last game: lmao. Dragon Age: Inquisition. because what else would it be. I do need to resub to XIV and poke my head in my FC before it demotes me though

last tv show: started watching Utena with my FC! this is my... third time through? maybe fourth? I love showing it to other people, because the reaction is always half "oh this is just like [insert one million other media here] wow utena inspired a lot of stuff" and half "what the FUCK is happening right now."

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet. god I have the worst sweet tooth in the world, it's kind of a problem lmao. last sweet thing I consumed was the mug of chai that's in front of me as we speak. last savory was some cashew chicken (springfield-style, specifically, because it means something else everywhere else I guess lmao) yesterday and last spicy was uhhh prob some chips and salsa. medium salsa. because I am a baby.

relationship: am married! am possibly the most married person you will ever meet, tbh. I've been with my husband for uhhh 20 years now and that makes me sound so old I promise I'm only 35

fave color: I have several, but the whole spectrum from teal to blue to indigo to violet to purple is where I live. I like darker colors/jewel tones best. if forced to pick ONE, I'd probably go with a nice rich plum purple but I'd also cry because you made me pick.

last internet search: my doctor's phone number because I needed it for a prescription refill request. god that's such an old lady answer. before that it was checking what was announced at the state of play yesterday (nothing) and attempting to find out the name of the alcohol iron bull drinks after killing a dragon because I needed it for a fic (to no one's surprise) (it's maraas-lok btw)

[kheprriverse]

How did I NOT notice that you put a rainbow overlay in Ko'jins hair?? It's so pretty now that I notice it!

Thanks so much! If his hair is white and semi-glowy there's usually some sorta overlay/filter on it. Especially since I'm pretty close to defaulting on the rainbowy version.

Below the cut are some examples of where its used and what it actually looks like xD

Young Ko'jin Moon Serpent Ref [before vs after] The ref I'm working on now will have a better version tho using the method in the next images. (I'm not actually that much of a fan of this design rn but not much will change I promise. But I do like how it turned out regardless considering I didn't know how I wanted to do this.)

[older] Ko'jin's white hair -> flat white with grayish-blue shading -> then the rainbowy layer overtop before filter -> then after. Its not always overlay but it works well for the effect I like going with. The colors I place are usually kinda random? depends on the vibes ig and what looks good. I also feel like doing them randomly over using a pre-made image/gradient looks better too.

His younger design also has a slight overlay? but not rainbow. Sometimes I put a little red or orange in his hair to make it semi-glowy. It's never as drastic as his older counterpart tho.

In flat colored images, I just color pick already finished work and not bother with fancy blending modes/filters. Makes it easier on me. Kinda like the images here? Or maybe his current older ref?? idk lol.

Anyways I'm glad you like it! Sorry for the rambling :'D

[lady-protector]

trick or treat!!! 🦇

from Choices, my 3.2 pre-grand melee fic:

With unsteady hands Kaede unbuckled the harness that secured her greatsword, Deathbringer, to her back, and leaned it against the wall. Her fingers trailed down the leather-wrapped hilt like a lover’s caress, before turning away and dropping heavily onto the edge of her bed. The dark arts had served her well in Ishgard, both when she first arrived, and when grief had crippled her after the events of the Vault – the rage and the anguish and the darkness had been as a crutch, holding her upright, allowing her to keep moving forward, ever forward. When Haurchefant’s shield had shattered under Zephirin’s assault, so had her faith in the strength of her own, and so she had forsaken chivalry and virtue in favor of vengeance. And her vengeance she had taken, leaving a trail of blood in her wake, from the Garleans that had taken Ysayle from her, to the knights that had stolen Haurchefant, to the True Brothers who had attempted to do the same to Aymeric. But when Artoirel had handed her a shield, glossy black enamel emblazoned with the Fortemps unicorn, and proclaimed it “fit for a true knight,” and asked her to be a sister to him, she had felt… unworthy. As if he was honoring her for carrying on Haurchefant’s legacy, when she had all but cast it aside in favor of her own darkness. Perhaps it was time to step back into the light.

[purple-space-aliens]

crazy how so many people thought this was a good post /gen,pos

“go to bed, humans need at least 8 hours of sleep!”

erm ackshually i am a creechur soooooooo

[somethingpersonarelated]

🤩?

Okay so I have a short-long story-ish for this one. I was really into idol rhythm games and vocaloid. And anime but that was less important. I owned a Vita which didn’t have too many games at the time, and played the original Danganronpa 1 on a psp emulator. I got a demo of Project Diva X and Danganronpa 2 and chewed through those super quick so I bought P4D and P4G on sale. This was literally just because P4G had banger music and P4D had hatsune miku. I also heard it was visual novel styleish so I was like cool. And i completely fucking ignored P4G because I wanted to play the rhythm game first because above all else I really did just get into Persona music first. (fun fact i also bought 5D and 3D in the OG jp bundle release before 5 Vanilla lol) And I liked p4g but disliked a lot of things about it so I got through Vanilla up until I hated Sae’s palace (something about Akechi?? Idk). But anyway I was pretty consistent in listening to the music and then Royal went on sale on Steam. And then I played third semester and never came back out the rabbit hole 👍

[kitasuno]

i'll keep every promise (if it's a promise with you) | oikawa tooru x reader

oikawa tooru has a bad habit of breaking promises and running from his first love. or: the four times oikawa breaks his promises and the one time he keeps one

( a / n ) - oh my god this is my magnum opus... my baby.. its a little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff and a little slice of life. u go through ages 6 to 28 LMFAO. iwaizumi + you + oikawa were such a fun trio to write for and i hope u guys enjoy !!

gn! reader | 2k words | happy birthday OIKAWA

Oikawa Tooru has a guilty conscience and a bad habit of breaking his promises. 

For every promise made and every promise broken, Tooru repents: 200 yen slid in a saisen-bako, a ninety degree bow, two wishes at a shrine. An offering to counter every promise he breaks, ample water to wash away his sins, and apologies written on wood.

 ( Iwaizumi has made the grand suggestion of: Maybe not breaking your promises? on several occasions, but Tooru can’t help it. ) 

He’s broken four promises and made eight wishes so far: four on blue Tanzaku and four atop Ema boards, followed with a prayer and an offering if the promise broken was particularly heinous or particularly his fault. 

He breaks his first promise at six years old– one made with you and Iwaizumi when the three of you were four and freshly neighbors. It was Tooru’s birthday, and he had promised this: 

I swear that I will take us all to the Ryokan before I turn six.

It’s a small promise: one that neither you nor Hajime had expected him to follow through with. But Tooru believed it, and Tooru had tried. He takes every single chore and odd job in the Oikawa household, scraping together a two-year-old Ryokan trust fund with mismatched coins and crumpled bills. He saves his allowances and puts everything in a glass jar next to his bed, and dreams.

Two Julys pass. Oikawa blows out four candles and then five, the jar gets bigger, you start Elementary school, and you and Hajime forget about the Ryokan. And then, on the third July, when Tooru turns six, you and Iwaizumi find Tooru mumbling about a broken promise— courtesy of his failure to take the three of you on an all inclusive trip to that Snow Monkey Ryokan that Iwaizumi wanted to go to. 

So he apologizes through prayers at a shrine and two wishes under a red Torii gate. It’s a thirty five stair climb to the neighborhood shrine: Hajime and Tooru race up and you come last, but the view is gorgeous and Tooru feels considerably less guilty.

It is 100 yen for each wish on a colored paper strip. Hajime says they’re called Tanzaku. Hajime drops one coin, Tooru drops four, you drop two. Seven thunks, four wishes. 

Tooru gets the honor of tying your tanzaku on bamboo branches as the tallest of your trio, and with it, the honor of reading your wishes.

Iwaizumi’s wish is messy and scrawled on bright red— Tooru tells him to Please work on your handwriting, but it’s legible and all well wishes for volleyball and you and Oikawa and cicadas.

Tooru’s got two wishes— a cyan one and a turquoise one, but he only lets you and Hajime read the cyan one. His cyan one is a little neater than Iwaizumi’s and reads:

Sorry I couldn’t take us to the Monkey Ryokan. 

He hangs the red one on his tippy-toes. Cyan next. Hajime cheers a little when Tooru hangs turquoise next to your pink one, and then asks: 

“Whaddya need two wishes for anyways?” 

He shrugs. 

“Guilty conscience, maybe?”

You’re thirteen when Tooru promises that he is going to ask you out in two years. Tooru is not allowed to date until he’s in high school, so he tells you under a blanket of stars that when the two of you are a little older, he will ask you out properly and maybe take you on a date. 

He walks you to school every morning. Hajime comes too, but the pink skies before the sun rises are for you and Tooru. Moments before you make it to Iwaizumi’s block are moments that Tooru gives you his scarf, and then his gloves, and when the wind bites at your cheeks too hard his jacket is draped over your shoulders. On rainy days, Tooru holds the umbrella and laughs as your fingers brush and your cheeks flush. Some mornings he brings you toast: and tells you in hushed whispers to eat it before Iwa-Chan sees. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi walk you home after cram school and volleyball practice. Hajime’s house is first— so Iwaizumi bows first, heads back inside first, waves goodnight first. When the door closes and the light turns on, the black sky and twinkling stars are for you and Tooru. He always says Good Night saccharine sweet with a smile like the sun that makes you feel like you really can’t wait to turn fifteen. 

Oikawa blows out fourteen candles. The three of you graduate in blue and walk home like usual. Summer passes, another July goes by, Oikawa blows out fifteen candles, and high school starts.

You learn several things in your first year at high school: you really like the student council, Hajime is actually pretty smart, and Tooru is afraid of commitment. 

Tooru is popular: he is athletic and tall and the Volleyball Club’s golden first year. He smiles at the girls in his class, he slings arms around their shoulders, he winks when he passes by the student council room, and he preens a little and shines a lot.

Oikawa is fifteen when he goes on his first date with a girl from another school: and when he tells you and Iwaizumi after he gets home, he plays dumb as Hajime gives him a look and takes you home, overhearing Iwaizumi’s apologies and your crestfallen voice as you say something about a promise.

Oikawa’s chest hurts that night so he walks to the shrine with 200 yen in his pocket and a sorry scrawled on two pieces of colored Tanzaku. 

Oikawa turns sixteen and goes to the shrine again. 

This time, it’s a broken promise with a girl in his class. She was popular– she smelled like cotton candy and reminded Tooru of strawberries and daisies, so when she asked Tooru out, he had said Sure, and he had smiled like she was the sun. 

But he’s a bad boyfriend– a terrible boyfriend– because he’s only there when it’s convenient and he ditches her for volleyball practice and maybe sometimes he catches himself thinking about a certain childhood friend when she holds his hand and buys him milk bread at lunch. 

She was sweet and she was terribly pretty, but he doesn’t feel anything when she kisses him or when she rests her head on his shoulder.

Iwaizumi asks him what he’s running from after practice one day. Tooru knows Iwaizumi is asking why he is running from you. 

Tooru is a little scared of how you make him feel too much. Oikawa likes being in control and Oikawa likes stability, so when he realizes that his heart thumps erratically whenever you’re around and he finds himself all consumed with thoughts of you and a burning desire to please you; he rejects and refrains. And runs.

His girlfriend dumps him after a few months. Tooru says sorry, removes her phone contact, and faintly remembers a promise he made with her four weeks ago. 

I swear I’m not in love with someone else. 

from: tooru (23:20) shrine time!!! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

from: hajime (23:21) You broke another promise?? Ur a piece of shit lol

from: tooru (23:22) iwaaa chan U￣ｰ￣U  ur so mean !

from: you (23:24) bro . don’t tell me it was about ur ex ur a manwhore !!!!

from: hajime (23:25) Average Shittykawa moment

from: tooru (23:25) i can’t help it !! (✿ ♥‿♥)  everyone wants a piece of me !!! ill pick u guys up and we’ll go to the shrine and ramen after plsss ☆

from: hajime (23:26) Ur treat?

from: tooru (23:27) iwa-chan’s treat !! i’m going through a nasty breakup, remember ? \_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

from: you (23:29) hajime we know his address we can burn his room down

from: tooru (23:30) OK FINE my treat! it’s on me!!! everyone say thank you tooru !!!

from: hajime (23:31) thank you tooooruuu chan (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

tooru and y/n reacted with: Scared !

from: tooru (23:32) um please don’t do that ever again

Oikawa’s fourth promise is one to himself and one to Seijoh. 

We will make it to Nationals. 

He doesn’t leave his room for a week when he breaks it. He’s inconsolable. He says he’s sick: he’s got a bad fever, it’s contagious, he’s bedridden, he’s fine. But the lights are never on in his room, his curtains are always drawn, and you know that Tooru devoted everything for a chance and a dream and a volleyball. 

He comes to you first. He’s standing in your doorway and there are bags under his eyes and he says, Hi, and then, I’m fine. He tries for a smile— and then you give him a look, and suddenly he’s in your arms and sobbing. 

He cries for two hours. Tooru ugly cries– his chest racks when he sobs and his arms are tight around you and digging into your back. Oikawa Tooru is not weak: but he is not a prodigy.  

He falls asleep in your bed with his head in your lap and your hands in his hair, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s shifting a lot and he’s probably having a nightmare. You call Hajime before gently shaking Tooru awake. 

He blinks up at you— all puffy eyes and tousled hair and swollen cheeks, but he sees you and he softens.

“Wanna go to the shrine?”

Iwaizumi still grumbles the whole way up the thirty five steps, but he’s quiet as Oikawa slips two coins into the saizen-bako. Hajime wraps an arm around your shoulder as the coins rattle in the box and you know he’s upset too— his hands are slightly shaking and he keeps sniffing. Nationals might have been Oikawa’s dream but Iwaizumi was also a dreamer, and sure, Oikawa was going to go, but they were going to go together.

Tooru hangs two Ema boards and for the first time, he bows at the Honden. Two claps. Head down and hands together as he prays. Iwaizumi joins him: and you watch as Oikawa apologizes to him and Hajime shakes his head- because it was Hajime’s promise too. 

Oikawa is twenty-eight and on a plane when he finally keeps his first promise. 

It’s a small promise: but a promise nonetheless, one that he made before he left for Argentina. He tells you he loves you at the airport but he has his boarding pass in one hand and his passport in the other. And you tell him you love him too, but also that he’s being unfair, and no you won’t go out with him. And Oikawa knew you would say that, but he still finds himself making a promise– a promise you laugh at because Oikawa Tooru never keeps his promises.

If we’re still single in ten years, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to ask you out. 

You cry, and Tooru wraps his arms around you and cries too— and then Iwaizumi’s there, and Iwaizumi’s crying, and you don’t know which part of you is Oikawa or Iwaizumi. Oikawa leaves for Argentina with a heavy heart but a hunger for the future. 

In the ten years that pass he plays a lot of volleyball. He tans a lot. He learns some Spanish. He tries beach volleyball. And then, he buys a plane ticket on his birthday. 

from: y/n (21:12) happy birthday tooru !! me n hajime r having an honorary drink for u. hope ur having fun in argentina!!! hajime and i say te amo !!!!

from: tooru (21:15) i’d like a hot sake plssss thank u!!! ( ˙▿˙ )

from: y/n (21:15) LMFAO. no. me and haji r drinking ASAHI DRRRRRRYYYYYYYY for u bro also hajime got BUFF wat the hell hope ur tanning good in argentina 

from: tooru (21:16) well tell BUFF iwa chan that ill be there in 5 and i want a HOT SAKE and also YES i tanned good SO EYES OFF IWAIZUMI

from: y/n (21:17) ? what? ur funny lol … TOORU?

Tooru is twenty eight and might retire soon. Thirty five stairs is too many to climb and keeping promises is far more fun than breaking them. So he taps your shoulder, hands Iwaizumi your bouquet, and takes your cheeks in his palms to tilt your chin over.��

“Hi!” He says. 

 Tooru bends down to kiss you.