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Drive To Survive

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indented italics - flashbacks, display other than interview, screen changes

February 14, 2025

The screen is dark as the newest episode of Drive To Survive plays.

The title read “The Rookie.” It was finally time for the episode that everyone had been waiting for since the 2024 season ended.

The opening scene starts with multiple flashes of cameras. If people watched the 2023 season, they would know exactly what circuit it was. The Elvis impersonators would give it away as well.

Standing in a circle was the current world champion, two Ferrari drivers, and the Papaya duo. They smiled forced smirks for the cameras. Yet, they dropped them once they realized the cameras were not pointing to them. The Netflix camera filmed them all turning to face the front. Most of the drivers had confused looks.

“I didn’t know Checo was a Cars fan,” the microphone picked up the words from the red clad Spaniard.

Max smirked, the camera zooming in on the Dutchman.

“He’s not.”

The camera angle changes to the back of a young woman, blond hair bouncing with every step. A red scarf flowed behind her, white body suit sparkling under the flashes of all the cameras.

The screen flashed the title before a producer chair was put in a spotlight. The camera angle switched to a back view as a driver walked around and sat in the chair. Their face is completely nonvisible from the camera angle, but people know who it is.

The lights dim before brightening, and the camera angle is back on the chair with the driver. Blond hair reflects the lighting, as well as a nice smile. The episode clapper is in her hands.

“Please state your name and team for the camera.”

The woman in the chair took a breath.

“My name is Y/n L/n and I drive for the Italian team, Scuderia Ferrari.”

She clapped the black and white box. A loud beep sounded in the studio as the camera crew started to laugh. The girl in the chair started giggling as well, before acting serious again.

“Yeah, that was a lie. I drive for the best, the Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 team. Red doesn’t look the best on me. I prefer navy.”

She smiles, trying not to laugh once more.

The camera quickly cuts to black and then fades into a clip, that looks similar to a home video. A young girl is smiling for the camera, tiniest helmet in her hand.

“How old were you when you started karting?” a voice sounded over the video.

The blond cocked her head in thought. She smiled at the nostalgia that was running through her mind.

“I was five.”

The same little girl was now in a kart, doing donuts on a driveway.

“My parents had gotten me a kart as a present. They had been talking about starting me as soon as possible. I mean, I had toy cars before for practice. My first one was a bright pink Barbie car and I got that when I was 3.”

The clip changes to a different scene. This time, it was of a karting circuit. Multiple kids were aiming for the first place spot, but a singular pink kart was going around the outside, taking it from them.

“I remember my first time winning. It was 2008, a few months after I got my kart. All the boys there looked at me weird when I showed up with my hot pink helmet.”

“Where you scared?” the interviewer leaned in, awaiting the answer.

“Of the boys? Not one bit. They should have been more scared of me.”

It was now a black screen, but multiple voices shouted over it.

“Y/n L/n wins her first feature karting race.

“That is another win for the female karter!

“Y/n L/n wins the European Division for karting in 2010!

“L/n takes the 2012 Italian Karting Division Championship!”

“Karting will always be a part of me.”

“Who kept you going?”

The girl gave a sad smile to the camera as she looked down at her hands. She knew she had given them permission to talk about the subject. She just didn’t know that they’d go right off the bat.

“My godfather, Lorenzo.”

The screen changed to a clip of the small girl running to a taller man. The man was knelt down in the grass, arms open wide to catch the running girl. A gentle smile was on his face as he looked at the trophy in the child’s arms: almost too big for her to carry on her own.

“I believe that without him, I wouldn’t be in this chair. I owe it all to him.”

The scene changes once again, to multiple clips of an F4 and F3 car crossing the finish line.

“Y/n L/n wins her first F4 race of the season!

“Is she going to take home the championship today? Yes she does! Y/n L/n is the 2018 Formula 4 Champion!

“It is a new year and we are seeing a lot of new rookies in Formula 3. Hold on, is that Y/n L/n? Ah it is! So glad to see the girl here today especially after last year!

One of the regulars on the show, Will Buxton, was now in the seat.

“What are your thoughts on L/n’s rise in Formula 3?”

Will leaned in, getting focused.

“You have to have such a good foundation in your family and close friends, to be supported, to be good like that. Because without good support, a driver cannot be a good driver.”

“L/n is across the line to take home her first F3 race win. We were seeing her looking a bit down earlier, so I hope this brings her spirits up because she is making history today.”

“So, I was disowned right before that race that I won in F3.” The blond shrugged. “I really never had any good support other than like three people. At the time, two of them were just staff too.”

She giggled at the revelation, knowing what Buxton had said beforehand.

“Another win for L/n, making her the 2019 Formula 3 champion. Ladies and gentlemen, you do not want to miss watching this racer ever again.”

Somber music now plays in the background.

“How nervous were you when you made the jump from the Formula 3 division to Formula 2.”

The girl gave a nervous scoff. “I was terrified.”

Clips of pictures filled the screen.

“I had just lost the only person in the world who I know still cared for me.”

“Heir to the Alessandrino Fortune Has Died”

“Former Italian Karting Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Has Passed Away”

“Lorenzo Alessandrino, 2001 Formula 2 Champion, Is Dead”

“Y/n L/n Makes Motor Sport History as the First Woman To Start in Formula 2”

“L/n Takes the Formula 2 Feature Race”

“Y/n L/n, History Maker: First Female To Win a Formula 2 Race”

The headlines fade into a video of the podium. A 25-year-old Max Verstappen is visible, holding the 1st place trophy. He is seen watching the 17-year-old Y/n L/n shed some tears during her national anthem, while pointing to the sky when it finished. He gingerly stepped out and handed it to her when cued. She graciously took it from his hands and offered him a wide smile. Max stepped back, watching the young girl openly cry in front of thousands. On the inside, he wished he had that strength.

“I could tell something was off that day.”

A new driver was in the chair. Male, blond, and in the same team uniform as the female was. Anybody who’s anybody knew exactly who that was.

He sucked in a breath. “Obviously, I didn’t know her or what she had been through at the time. Now knowing, I wish I had given her a hug.”

Max let out a chuckle as he reminisced on that day.

The screen flashed and the woman was back in the chair.

“I knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was.” Her hands waved around. “Max Verstappen, probably one of the greatest drivers to grace the grid. No one just skips most of F3 and all of F2. You have to be great. And that was Max.”

“Was he your favorite driver on the grid at that time?”

She let out a snort. “Oh gosh no.”

Everyone in the studio laughed.

The scene changed to you sitting next to Charles at one of the debriefs in Las Vegas. You had no clue why they put you there, because last you knew, you weren’t driving. However, they had said something about wanting the pole sitter and you (who had done the fastest lap in FP1) to talk for a bit.

Your cheeks were a bit heated as you were truly sitting next to your hero. Charles could only smirk at your very shy nature next to him. He watched you rattle off about some part of the car and the balance.

The Monegasque cut in.

“See, this is why she is perfect to be Max’s teammate. They could talk all day.”

Everyone around them laughed, along with you who gave some quiet giggles. You rolled your eyes.

“Let’s not talk about the fact that you have your own ‘Leclerifying’ hmmm?”

The girl smirked at the camera. “There was a certain McLaren driver that always tried to get the attention of a select Spaniard. If Lando was obsessed with Carlos. I was obsessed with the other Ferrari driver. I tried to get his attention on Twitter, er, well now X a couple of times. It was still Twitter when I was using it.”

“Of course I noticed her tweets.”

A new driver was now in the seat once again. This time, he wore the iconic Rosso Corsa team polo.

Charles smiled as he looked down at the multiple rings on his finger. His hand came up to his neck to fidget with a certain necklace. His smile grew as he thought on the memories.

“I thought it was sweet. A young driver was trying to keep up with the big leagues. I’m pretty sure I responded a couple of times. And Sebastian had put in a good word for her.”

“Sebastian?”

Charles’s eyes widened as he smirked.

“Vettel. He’s known her for longer than anyone here has.”

The scene changed again.

The girl was back as she clapped her hands.

“Charles made my day whenever he responded. To me it was probably like if Harry Styles responded to a fangirl’s tweet or Instagram. I always hoped that I’d make it to Formula 1 and could maybe drive beside him.”

“We were told that you know retired driver Sebastian Vettel.”

The blond smirked, not nervous but confident.

“Yeah, I know him. He was really good friends with my godfather.”

She leans forwards and fixes her shorts.

“It’s kind of how Max was close to the Schumacher family. Lorenzo worked with Seb multiple times in the very early 2000’s when Seb was still in karting. I want to say probably even before I was born as well. He was a little bit older than Seb, more like a mentor. I was able to catch up with Sebastian around 2020 and I got to meet a few more people.”

“People such as?” they prodded.

“Kimi, Nico, Mark. I’m pretty sure I met Lewis like once though when I was pretty young. Like probably around 2015. I got to watch a couple of Formula 1 races with them in 2020.”

The camera cuts to a man wearing the Mercedes logo on his polo. His braids are kept nicely as he smiles at the camera. They hand him a picture of you and him in 2015. His eyes are wide as he keeps looking at the photo and then to the camera.

“This was her?” Lewis questioned, letting out a small laugh. His eyes squint as he tries to get a closer look in the dark room.

The scene changes once again, the female driver back in the seat.

“Were you nervous that you might not have made it? To Formula 1 after what happened in 2020?”

The blond looked down at her hands.

“There were a few years where I was convinced that I wouldn’t.”

The screen fades to more headlines.

“Y/n L/n enters a second year of Formula 2 with PREMA”

“The Future for F2’s Only Female Driver is Uncertain”

“L/n Is Out of the Last F2 Race of the Season”

“PREMA Drops L/n for Her F2 Final Season?”

A clip of a meeting of some sorts flashed on the screen. You were looking quite down as you picked at the end of a table as someone read off a paper. You didn’t even want to pay attention as they were nailing the final nail into the coffin.

“Prema Racing has decided to let go of driver number 89, Y/n L/n. After the 2022 season, she will no longer race for or have any affiliations with Prema and will be replaced by Ollie Bearman.”

You spoke up. “But I have a contract until the end of 2023.”

The representative glared at you, before looking back at the page and kept reading. “Since driver 89 has underperformed in the past 2 years, Prema has decided to break contract. Compensation will be sent at a later time.”

Vito had silently grasped your shoulder to offer you some comfort, but the hurt had already been done. You were going into a season for the first time since F4, you didn’t have a secured future in the sport.

Ollie was sitting on the other side, watching you sadly as they basically read your death sentence. The camera zoomed in on you playing with a pen. If one were to look closely, they could see tears streaming down your cheeks.

Will was back in the seat.

“A driver without a contract or team cannot drive.”

The scene changes back to the driver.

“I mean. I had other options. On the side I was talking to Sebastian and even Nico. I was trying to keep my eyes open for something, anything. Except, it turned out that I didn’t need to.”

More headlines flashed.

“DAMS To Sign Both Leclerc and L/n for 2023”

“Y/n L/n Wins First Two Races of the 2023 Formula 2 Season”

“L/n Wins Her Third Race with Teammate Arthur Leclerc Behind Her”

“Y/n L/n Makes History Once Again: First Female To Win Formula 2 Championship”

“Y/n L/n: Youngest Driver To Win F2 Championship”

The girl is back in the chair, the spotlight on her.

“I didn’t know that I’d get the championship my final year. I was skeptical. I really thought that I wouldn’t be able to, since it was my final year, I had been dropped, and I had a new teammate. But I had a really good teammate and a better team. They really put everything into me being the best driver.”

“What did you think would happen after everything was over? You had won the championship with 1 race to spare.”

The girl swallowed before speaking. “Obviously, I thought I didn’t have many options. At the time, it seemed as though every door was closed. I kept talking to my manager about it, and every time he said he would come back empty handed. I even talked to him that morning, and he just had a sad smile on his face.” She paused. “I knew that even though I could be the champion, I had nowhere to go after that.”

The person in the chair changed.

“So, that was all a lie,” Vito spoke to the camera, a smile on his face.

The scene had changed. Vito Accardi, Y/n L/n’s manager, was seated in a chair. It looked like he was stressing over his laptop. Stella, L/n’s race engineer at the time of 2023, was seated across from him. He was silently tapping a pen on the table as he looked over the words on the screen.

“Too many junk emails?” she teased, settling into her chair.

The male shook his head.

The screen showed multiple contracts up at once, lines upon lines were highlighted. The headers at the top of each contract showed very recognizable logos.

He smirked as he looked directly at the camera. “I couldn’t tell her anything until I knew that there was something for certain.”

“How many teams wanted her?”

“All of them.”

The scene changed to a past driver’s get-together: one that no one had seen before. The group consisted of Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, Daniel Ricciardo. An odd group, but they were just waiting around (or hiding on a Wednesday).

Charles was looking down at his phone, while Max was watching him closely. The Monegasque’s fingers were typing at a lightning speed.

Lando was the one to point it out.

“What’s got you in a tizzy?” the Briton asked, pulling Charles out of whatever fog he was in. He quickly turned his phone off.

“Ferrari is wanting to sign someone else, but wouldn’t be able to do so until 2025. Except her manager insists on a seat for 2024.”

Lewis had his interest piqued. “It is Y/n L/n?”

“Yeah. My brother has put in great words for her, along with Sebastian. Pierre also says that Alpine is thinking of options too. She’s,” he huffed, “very good. Almost a little too good.”

The other Mercedes driver took a sip of his drink. “Toto was just talking to me about that, but he said the same thing. There aren’t any seats available until 2025. But he wants her.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “So we’ve all gotten the talk about how all the team principals want to sign her. Even McLaren is speaking about how to get her a seat somewhere. Testing driver or something like that.”

The older Spaniard spoke up. “It would be foolish not to. She has generational talent. Stroll is looking at her as well.”

“So are we. Except there aren’t any seats,” an Aussie added.

Max was quietly reading almost every article he could get his hands on about her. In the back of his mind, he knew that Checo was going to retire after this year (especially after what happened at Mexico). He quickly sent one to Christian, only getting a thumbs up.

Daniel bumped Max. “You’ve been quiet over there. What are your thoughts on the potential rookie?”

The Dutchman looked up. “What rookie?”

The scene changed back to the Italian man.

“I’ve been her manager for years. I knew exactly what she needed at that moment. Sure, I could have told her, but I knew she wanted to race in 2024 and not wait. I’m not her manager for nothing.”

“How did you get in touch with Red Bull’s Christian Horner.”

The man adjusted in the chair. “Well, even though she wasn’t on their junior team, the actual brand Red Bull was one of her sponsors in karting.”

The scene changes once again, this time the Team Principal of the currently reining team was now in the seat.

“Vito had gotten in contact with me when she first started F2,” the older Briton said. “But we wanted to see what would happen. We took a chance at Max, way back then. But this was a bit different.”

The interviewer asked, “Because she was a girl?”

Christian shook his head.

“Because she was 16 at the start: younger than Max was by two years. Sure, she turned 17 at the end of the season due to a later birthday in October. But, we took a step back to see what she could do, especially now that they changed the age rules after Max. She was dropped by PREMA, and we almost took the chance then to maybe bring her in as a development driver. But, Vito was adamant about her wanting a championship. She wanted records broken, and she did.”

“How did everything go down? Before she knew.”

He smiled.

“I called him right after I got the article from Max. Youngest to win an F2 Championship and a female on top of that.”

“Was everything pretty smooth sailing?”

He shook his head. “I was advised not to sign her, but I was told ‘no’ for Max and you see where that got me. I wasn’t going to let her go to a team that wouldn’t let her shine.”

The scene changes to the RB19 being driven out at the mock track for training. The girl’s white helmet was a stark contrast against the deep navy of the car. The camera panned to the mock pit wall. Multiple people pressed buttons as they watched you take lap after lap.

A much older man just looked on with pinched eyebrows, not really interested in seeing what the girl had to offer.

After the final testing times had been clocked, he stood up and slammed his papers on a table, before he left the pits. Christian smirked as he watched him stalk off. He knew he made the right call for the second time.

“How did it feel being in the seat for the first time?”

The girl, back in the seat, responded, “It felt surreal.”

She kept talking as the screen faded into clips of the car.

The aerial view watched as the car look several laps: getting close ups and shots of the car going around the corners.

“I went from having the door slammed into my face to the door being blown to bits.”

“Did Vito ever tell you that he was talking to multiple people at once?”

She looked at the camera. “He did. But he knew what I needed. That’s why he’s been my manager since 2018.”

The scene changes to multiple flashing cameras as the girl walked into the paddock for the first time in Vegas. The cameras followed as she straight up walked to the group of older guys, introduced herself, and followed Max as he walked away. The rest of the guys watched her animatedly talk to the man who hated every second of the Las Vegas Grand Prix.

“The beginning of your season was filled with a lot of highs,”

The screen flashes to multiple clips of you raising trophies, especially highlighting your podium in Bahrain.

“And lows.”

The female’s eyebrows raised. “No kidding.”

The scene changes to your car flipping in Suzuka before panning to people’s reactions. Many people immediately stood up. Others put their hands over their mouths. Many stayed sitting, frozen in shock over what they just saw.

The screen fades to black, but radio messages can be heard.

“Kid, you have to answer me.”

“Tell me you’re ok. You need to respond.”

“I can’t lose you too.”

Charles was back in the chair. Tears could be seen in his lash line as he exhaled a shaky breath. He closed his eyes, trying to get over his emotions.

“A crash like that doesn’t happen every day. It was awful, just waiting to hear back from her. Really took me back to 2014. Reminded me of Jules. On the same track. Rain. I don’t think I would have finished the season if she hadn’t made it.”

The scene changes to multiple marshals standing around the car, trying to get to you. Except, you were trapped. They didn’t want to start cutting, just in case there was a fuel leak. They did not need for the car to catch fire.

“I remember watching Lewis just turn around,” George said, now that he was in the seat. “He kept shaking his head and muttering. I couldn’t stop crying.”

“Y/n is a driver who was shy at the beginning, but then got more comfortable with you as time passed. She became precious to everyone on the grid.” Oscar offered a smile, but it fell short as he remembered Suzuka.

“There hadn’t-” Lewis began, but cut short. He swallowed before he kept going. “There hadn’t been a crash like that since 2014. And the last time it happened, he didn’t make it. I was honestly preparing myself for the worst.”

Max shrugged his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant. Yet, anyone could see that his hands were shaking just a bit, his fingers picking at his skin.

“She just wouldn’t answer. And then they got Arthur Leclerc on the radio, thinking that he could get to her. Even then, she didn’t respond for what felt like hours. We were all waiting, on the pit lane, just hoping that she’d start talking soon.”

“What did it feel like for you in the car?”

The female was back in the seat.

“All I really remember was seeing the sky and the grass as I rolled, and then nothing. I had totally blacked out. When I was coming to, I just remember hearing so much through the radio, I didn’t know what to make of it. I think I laughed as I answered. I was just happy to be alive.”

“We know that was your first DNF. Thankfully the second wasn’t as bad.”

“No kidding,” she laughed. “My car just doesn’t have very good balance.”

“You’ve had lots of podiums. Which one was the most fulfilling?”

The girl looked up in thought. Her eyes narrowed, truly going over her options. She didn’t want to have to talk about certain matters, but she didn’t want it to be brought up later.

She answered, “Imola.”

“What was so special or daunting because of it?”

The blond harshly inhaled, before smirking a bit. “Well, lot of people knew how it ended.”

The scene changes to multiple police cars around the paddock. The camera barely caught a glimpse of two people being let away in handcuff before panning over to the group of drivers. The lens zoomed in on your face, a big bruise forming by your eye. Max was standing protectively near you as Christian was still yelling at the people in the car. The other drivers can be seen hovering around the scene.

Max gulped before he sighed.

“I knew it was bad, but not this bad. I’m just glad that I had gotten to her in time.”

The female stretched. “Except I got a trophy out of it, so, I wasn’t too sad.”

The scene changes to the next race, where most of the drivers were waiting for the parade. They could tell that someone was missing. Except, right when Lando was about to bring it up, you walked in. Sunglasses were on your eyes, trying to hide the ugly yellow and purple blotch on your face. Except, it didn’t do too much to actually hide it.

“Afternoon,” you said, sipping on a drink that you brought. Your fingers took off your glasses, multiple drivers wincing. “It’s not that bad.”

Lando rolled his eyes before muttering, “They shouldn’t have been allowed back in.”

Max handed you an icepack, which you grabbed immediately. Logan brought you into a side hug and let you rest against him.

The Dutchman let everyone know that you had finally gotten your restraining order approved. Smiles adorned the rest of the drivers’ faces at the news.

An older Aussie was now in the seat.

“I wasn’t there when she met everyone. But I watched Max let her follow him, in Vegas. It was cute, ‘cause I’ve never seen Max act like that before. But she’ s been a good teammate to him. Not trying to be rude, but I’m also putting myself down when I say this: she has been the best teammate that Max has ever had.”

The scene changes to you and Max in a car on the way to a race. The two of you are seated next to each other and phones are in your hands. A sudden gasp from you has you reaching over to Max, your hand smacking his chest.

The Dutchman winces. “What?”

“Taylor Swift broke up with Travis Kelce. Fernando has his chance.”

Viewers would have thought that Max would seem uninterested, but his eyes widened and he was suddenly leaning over, trying to get a good look at your phone.

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not. See?” You just handed your phone over and Max was instantly enthralled with the device, fingers scrolling quickly.

“It’s definitely like they have a competitive sibling relationship.”

Max watched as you were talking to Oscar, the afternoon after you hit his car. Max smirked as he walked past and bumped you on purpose. Your head whipped around, trying to find who did that. Once you saw Max’s shoulders shake as he walked away, it was over. You quickly said goodbye to Oscar before running up to Max.

What he did not expect was for you to jump on his back, almost sending him face first into cement. He stumbled but his arms were quick to grab your legs. Your giggles were loud next to his ear, but Max guessed that he’d let you stay.

“I know for a fact that it’s been good to see Max a bit more carefree. Y/n really brings out the good in him. She really does that to everyone though.”

Rain was pouring down in Brazil, due to a hurricane in the area. The race had been canceled and Max was just chilling in the garage. His eyes caught your figure walking out into the downpour. He watched as you just stood there, getting drenched. That was until you started dancing to no music at all.

Max got up from his seat and walked over to a manager.

“May I?” he asked, the manager nodding his head.

He plugged his phone into a jack and clicked on a specific playlist that the two of you had made together. Normally, it would be playing while the two of you warmed up to get ready in the car. But now it was playing as you continued to dance.

Max quickly joined you and bumped you with his hip. The cameras caught you looking up at your older teammate, whose body was quickly getting drenched. Before long, the two of you were dancing in the rain.

And very possibly, the other drivers joined in too.

“She really cares for him. It was like they met and clicked right away.”

Clips of you and Max filled the screen. Walking together in the paddock, signing things for fans, doing stupid things for media day, congratulating each other after races.

It showed you checking on him after a DNF, wanting a legitimate answer if he was okay or not. Once Max gave the thumbs up and Mitch told you that he was, the cameras in your car showed how your body visibly relaxed after know that he was ok.

“Sure, they’ve had their troubles.”

The scene changes to Max passing you in Monaco.

Your voice was heard over the scene. “What an asshole.”

The scene changed to you not letting Max pass and him hitting the back of your RB20 in Belgium.

“That was a rookie mistake.”

The viewers knew that they had deliberately cut a certain action out of the scene, but it was something that they were actually thankful that Netflix cut.

“But they always apologize and get back to it. I think that’s how she got her first win. She needed to know that they could truly work as a team.”

The scene showed you and Max giving each other a big hug in The Netherlands after Max won the Dutch Grand Prix.

The scene changes once more.

“How was it? Winning in the city of red.”

“Words cannot express.”

The screen showed you walking in on that fateful morning, bright orange car in the background. You waved to the crowds, who seemed to get louder with your attention. Your smile brightly shone as you kept walking, only stopping momentarily for a few autographs and pictures.

“Y/n L/n On Pole in Monza – Youngest Pole Sitter in F1 History”

“There she goes! Y/n L/n has won the 2024 Italian Grand Prix. She was starving, but now she’s been satiated. The youngest pole sitter and turned that into a win.”

“Y/n L/n – First Female To Ever Win a Formula 1 Grand Prix”

"Y/n L/n Hailed as 'The Long Awaited' by Italian Fans"

The camera pans to the girl standing on the nose of her car, hands stretched up reaching for the sky. Max, who had DNF earlier, came over. She grasped him tightly, legs around his waist. Christian was behind them, joining in the celebrations. Soon, the entirety of the crew got over the barrier and flooded the area. The two Ferrari drivers, in a respectable P2 and P3, watched as the female driver was almost covered by people. If it wasn’t them, then they were glad it was her.

The blond returned back to the seat.

“Let me tell you, the after party was probably my favorite part of the weekend. Well, besides the winning part.”

“After Monza, how did the rest of the season go.”

“Well, I did go on to win 3 more races.” The girl smirked.

Clips of the number 89 car crossing the finish line cover the screen.

“Y/n L/n takes her second win of the season after Monza in Mexico!

It showed you waving to the crowds of Mexico, flag draped over your shoulders with a sombrero on your head..

“A homecoming of sorts, Y/n L/n wins a third race under the lights of Las Vegas!

Your fists were clenched as you shook them while your knees were bent. The while Elvis suit kind of glowed against the night sky.

“L/n wins her fourth race of the season in Abu Dhabi. Ending a perfect rookie year on a high!”

The crowds watch you get on your hands and knees before your car. Your hands outstretched in almost a mock bow to the machine.

The scenes show the you hoisting up three more trophies, all while pointing to the sky after each one.

The interviewer looked down at their questions, before glancing back up at the girl.

“What was your worst race? One that you didn’t DNF.”

The girl didn’t even hesitate. “Qatar.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged. “I thought it would be cooler.”

The screen goes black, but then changes to a very busy scene. People could see medical personelle holding onto a driver by their arms. Their legs all but dragged along the concrete. Lights flashed around as they brought her to a makeshift cot. Her helmet was ripped off along with the cloth under it. You gasped as you tried to catch your breath. Your cheeks were red and your hair matted with sweat.

“I need an IV and cooling towels now!”

“Her blood pressure is dropping, she’s going to pass out again.”

“Hey, you need to stay awake. Do not close your eyes.”

“Her breath is more shallow, she needs to cool down. Get buckets of ice and water.”

It changes to a podium, but only two drivers are present. It was supposed to be a Papaya sandwich after Oscar had gotten his first actual race win. They looked worried and barely stayed for the celebrations.

The cameras followed as the orange drivers as they ran to the Red Bull garage once the podium was finished. They expected to see you still unconscious, since that was the last they heard before the podium. Yet, they were surprised to see you upright and smiley. An IV was connected to your arm, but you were awake.

Oscar ran, before wrapping his arms around you.

“Do not do that again. I can’t believe that you kept racing.”

You smiled up at him and Lando.

“What can I say? I’m indestructible.”

“She’s impressive.” A German voices his opinion now that he’s in the seats. “I don’t wish to say it, but I’m glad she’s at the different team. I don’t know if we would have been able to give her the car that she needed.”

The interviewer looks a Toto for a moment, before continuing. “You think she’ll leave Red Bull at some point in her career?”

The Mercedes Team Principal shakes his head. “No. She’s going to stay until she retires. I’m sure of it. But who am I to talk about staying with a team forever.”

The scene changes to you and Max, both casually hanging out. You sighed as you looked down at your phone. Max quirked an eyebrow, but stayed silent, giving you the go ahead to spill.

“They’re asking again if I’m going to be staying past 2026.” Your arms waved around before you huffed and they fell at your sides.

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “Are you wanting to stay past that?”

You grinned at the older driver. “Can’t go anywhere when I have the best here.”

The scene changes to the blond female Red Bull racer, back in the chair once again.

“Do you think you’ll ever move teams?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I will. It seems that every racer’s dream is to drive for the team in red, but not mine. I’ve always wanted to just race for the team that will get me places, and I think that Red Bull can stay on top for many years to come.”

The interviewer continued. “What do you think you’ll do after Formula 1.”

She smirked.

“After, I want to collect. I’m thinking the triple crown. Probably go to endurance racing and then 1 year of Indy. I know I’ll be able to do it.”

“If you could have your dream team for Le Mans, who would it be?”

“Either Leclerc in addition to Max. I don’t think I could be anyone else’s teammate ever.”

Clips of Charles, Arthur, Y/n, and Max showed on the screen. They might look like an odd bunch, but they worked somehow. Arthur had been promoted at the end of 2024 to actually drive for Porsche in the 2025 Qatar endurance race. Late in the editing, they were able to sneak in a clip of the four of you celebrating after he podiumed.

“So, we heard that you and Max were able to sign new contracts at the end of 2024. How long are the both of you going to stay.”

The girl thought for a moment, trying to think of how to word it correctly.

“Well, we both have kind of open ended contracts like Charles signed in early 2024. Christian said that he’ll do his best to keep us there, but we aren’t bound. I plan to stay for a while and so does Max if they keep giving us good cars that can still dominate.”

“Do you plan to break any more records? You sure had a lot in the past season as well as early years.”

“How many do I have?” she asked.

The interviewer counted. “Five.”

She smirked for the final time for the episode. “Five? That’s hardly enough. Let’s make it interesting and get 6.”

Everyone in the room laughed at her joke.

The screen cut to black and the episode ended. Yet when the female racer retired, they went back and added one more thing.

“Y/n L/n went on to be the most decorated racer of all time. She ended up breaking 22 records in the duration of her entire motorsport career, that no one has been able to touch since.”

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ruershrimo · 4 months

Text

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 1: nostalgia

ao3 link for additional author's notes | playlist | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise. The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.'--- ' It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I'm thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)'

word count: ~5k; tws: none for now

2-4-2015

Dear Fushiguro Tsumiki,

How are you today? I’m so sorry that we haven’t talked in so long.

Forgive me for asking so many questions in this letter— I know too little about writing them; my mother is the one who asked me to write this saying that it would help me keep in touch with my friends or write better (either of the two, I can’t quite remember).

Between an urban area or a rural area, which would you prefer? I’ve had to go all around the place because of my mother and I’m still all the way in Tanegashima now. If you were to go from Tokyo to where I am, you’d have to either go for a drive lasting more than 20 hours or book a three hour flight.

I’ve only stayed in the city once— that was when we were still in the same school, and we could all fit in my aunt’s apartment since my father was outstationed for the whole year. But I digress. Personally I prefer the city. It all feels so modern, and so much less empty than how it’s like here on this little island. I mean, we have the space centre, so I can always visit that, but after the third or fourth time you’d probably get a little bored of it too.

I wish I could go to Tokyo again one day, though. I’d definitely take the time to visit you, too. I read on a pamphlet once of how pretty everything gets in Tokyo during winter time, especially during Christmas. We don’t really celebrate Christmas here but the pamphlet reminded me of that one December when we spent it at my aunt’s, we ate lots of KFC and had a little party while my aunt sang songs and drank enough alcohol to prove she had a liver of steel a million times over.

It’s nice to reminisce on these things, and it’s nice to reminisce on when we were still there too. I know I never told you this enough, but I was so happy when you walked up to me on the playground that day and asked if you wanted to be friends. I really, really liked your hair and wanted to ask you the same. I was just too shy to do it, and thought that if I would I’d end up messing things up and mortifying myself. I miss that and you and I miss 2010 and I miss Tokyo, and walking back from school with you and Megumi (you were like my cool older sister), and I really, really miss doing each other’s hair. It was the most joyful I’d ever been in my then 8 years of life and every day was a new fragment of happiness to keep in my heart like a picture in a locket.

Now I really want to go there again, and maybe go to the Shinjuku-Gyoen, or see the lights at night. I wish I could stay for a whole year and see how the trees can change from being highlighted cherry blossom pinks, to lush greens with summer dew on them, to golden ginkgo leaves. I’d keep them with me, too. I hope you can take me there one day and we can see everything together again. My apologies if I’m asking too much of you.

Also, how is Megumi? I miss him too. Is he the way he was, still? Is everything okay between you and him, still? Unlike elementary school, the boys in junior high are all taller than the girls, so since we’re the same age do you think he’d be taller than me too? Is he taller than you, or are you still one of the tallest girls in junior high like how you were in elementary school?

It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I’m thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)

28-2-2011

The train to the airport is arriving in a minute, and you’re sure your mother won’t let you just wait for the next one, so you’re stuck clutching your little luggage bag as you look at Tsumiki and Megumi, that inseparable pair, and their snowy-haired “benefactor” (whatever that means. You think he’s more like their father sometimes, though).

Even if you knew it was inevitable and that this day would eventually come, especially with your leaving Tokyo being pulled even earlier than you thought it would, a part of you pretended that you’d still get to stay with them for a little while longer. In Tokyo you’d solidified your place and built your roots— you had friends, were doing alright in school and had even begun to be less anxious about everything. Now you’d be uprooted again, you thought as your fists trembled, Now you’d be back to square one.

2011 had started as a busy year— your father had begun preparations to move somewhere else where you and your mother could follow him and the three of you would be together again. It was busy for Tsumiki, too, who had more school matters to tend to due to her being one of the best, most well-rounded students in her year (you didn’t know much of the details).

…it had also begun with you seeing a dog when you were alone with Megumi once. It had these unique markings on its head, with alabaster fur and jaundice-hued eyes. And Megumi then had a panicked look in his eye, asked how and why you could see them as well as whether you’d seen them before, which you suppose caused him to be busier after that, too. Tsumiki and Megumi’s benefactor visited you and your mother the night after, asking to speak with your mother and your mother alone. He paused before you, almost shocked, you supposed, but you couldn’t see through his pitch black sunglasses (he was one weird guy, seriously— pitch black sunglasses? Really?). To which she frowned, as the man uttered that you could be a “window”, but that you could still be able to use “cursed energy”, or something. You’d heard of neither of those, and weren’t able to eavesdrop or discern anything else they’d said.

Then nobody else mentioned the dog anymore.

If you questioned any of them, you’d only be told that the dog was a stray, and that those markings must have been a particularly special birthmark. Yet you knew it was all a lie, but after multiple tries you gave up on wondering.

When you’d first learned you’d be moving yet again, you cried and screamed for your mother to let you stay, and for what felt like hours. After relaying this to Tsumiki, she just put her hand on yours before hugging you— always wise, always kind, always smiling, you can’t say this enough about her. Megumi patted your back before she pulled him in as well, and for once he didn’t shove her hand away. You couldn’t even bother to be confused at that— you just continued to weep as Tsumiki comforted you, whispering, “I can’t promise I’ll always be able to talk to you, but I’ll try my best to keep in touch when I can. And even if we don’t, we’ll always be friends, okay? So we’ll meet again someday, don’t forget that, okay, [Name]?”

A day after that Megumi told you to stay safe. Nearly ordered you to swear you’d stay safe and protected, always. He said that the world was dangerous since it was full of dangerous creatures and people who could kill you at any moment, but as long as you were on an island like the one you were moving to, you’d be fine. You furrowed your brow at that as he held your hand and felt him squeeze it— subconsciously, most likely.

“Well,” Tsumiki starts, a tinge of sadness in her tone, her eyes slightly swollen. Megumi’s expression is unreadable but his fists are balling the fabric of his shirt and his leg is shaking. It makes you want to sob and cling to both of them and you know if you did they wouldn’t ever let go, “I guess this is goodbye, [Name]…”

Before you realise it, tears start pooling in your eyes and soon they’re trickling down your face uncontrollably, just like the day when you’d first met her. “We’ll still be friends, right?” You won’t leave me, right?

“Mhm!” Tsumiki smiles— she was always smiling, always, even when she was about to cry along with you. Her lip was trembling and for a second you swore you could detect that in the ever-stoic Megumi, too. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. We’ll be friends forever, so we’ll surely see each other soon enough,” Tsumiki assures you, close to sniffling, “We made a promise to always be friends, right? So you’ll see the two of us again in just a few years’ time no matter what.”

“Okay,” you sniff, “I’ll see the two of you when we’re all grown up, and… and I’ll be taller, too! I promise I’ll visit Tokyo next time!”

“...that’s good,” Megumi says, his leg still shaking discreetly, joining you and Tsumiki’s conversations in a way he’d rarely done.

Tsumiki nods, “Yeah. That sounds really, really good, [Name]. Wait—! Let me give you something. You can call it a gift!”

She takes it off, and her hair unfurls like flowers from bouquets after they’re untied, placing the red-ribbon hair tie securely in your palm.

“Your hair tie?” you ask, “No, it’s okay—!”

“Please, just… just keep it, okay? It’s a gift from Megumi and I to you, [Name]!”

Then you’re in her embrace again as you clutch the hair tie, while after a little hesitation Megumi joins in and you swear you can see their benefactor smiling— not just the smile he had when you first saw him, this one in particular seemed proud, fatherly, the same way your father did when you told him about how you were able to read through a whole book with beginners’ kanji in it.

“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise.

The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.

15-3-2011

The phone continues to vibrate in your hands as you anxiously tap your foot on the ground. You’re sure it’s going to end up sore. Frantically, you press it almost forcefully to your ear when it stops ringing. “Tsumiki, Megumi!”

“[Name]!”

“Are you alright? I saw the footage of the earthquake on the news, are you safe? Were you and Megumi evacuated, are you all safe? Please tell me whether you’re safe—!”

“Megumi, it’s [Name]!— Don’t worry, we’re safe now.”

Relieved, you sigh, “That’s good, that’s good,” you say, “It must’ve been really scary…”

“Mhm— everything started shaking as if we were on some boat in the middle of the sea and the waves started getting wilder, and it was like the ground was rumbling.”

You shiver. “That sounds so scary…— I’m glad you’re safe, though. I don’t know why stuff like that has to happen so quickly sometimes, and so suddenly, too. And it takes so many people along with it. I thought I could’ve lost the two of you.”

“Well, we made a promise,” she tells you, “So don’t worry. —Oh! Megumi wants to talk to you. Here, Megumi.”

“Are you alright?” he inquires, “Have you seen anything scary in the countryside?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I haven’t seen anything. Why?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to know.” Now that sounds like a bold-faced lie.

“Uh-huh, okay.”

-20-5-2011-

“Hello? Is this Tsumiki? I need to ask if she’s alright—”

“Oh, little [Name]?” a man says over the phone— the benefactor, you remember, “So sorry, she’s pretty busy right now… call next time, okay?”

-21-5-2011-

“Hello? This is the Fushiguro house contact, right?”

“Sorry, Tsumiki’s busy at the moment. Me too, actually.”

“Megumi!” you smile, bringing the phone closer to your cheek in excitement, “How is everything?”

“Good, to say the least,” he replies, “We’re just a bit busy. Sorry, but I’ve to hang up soon.”

“Oh, oh-okay! Bye bye, Megumi!”

“Bye.”

-13-7-2011-

“Hi, [Name] speaking. I called twice last month and a few days ago. Are you still busy?”

“A little— well, Tsumiki is,” the voice on the other side says. You know it’s not Tsumiki, not yet at least. “She’s really sorry, [Name].”

“No, no, it’s okay! I don’t want to bother any of you either, so thank you for telling me!”

“Well, if you want I can try to get Tsumiki right now,” the voice offers.

“Really? Thank you so much!”

The pause that ensues after is followed by the fifteen happiest minutes of your life since February this year.

“[Name]? Is that you?”

“Yeah! Hi, Tsumiki!”

She gasps slightly in the way that children do when in awe or when someone finds out they’ll be eating their favourites for lunch. “Hello!”

“How are you?” you ask.

“I’m good! Really busy, though, so I’m really sorry if I can’t call you as often… but everything’s been alright. You?”

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head even if she can’t see it, “I’m good, too!”

-18-8-2011-

You don’t know when you started heading to the phone and keying in the number, doing everything but ringing it. You’re busy, too— you’ve less time now to ring them up, and the last time you did, Tsumiki still apologised but sounded a little distant, just that one bit too busy to be able to tend to you. One step farther away from you. And Megumi was seldom ever the one by the phone. Still, you could understand why. You supposed they always had something going on that you never understood or never asked about. That would explain the incident with the unusually marked dog. No, they weren’t sketchy, but there was definitely something they must have known about the world that you didn’t.

Now you don’t know if you can even muster the courage to talk to you or write to you. The distance between you has widened exponentially and you hesitate just a bit more every time you hold the phone and press its buttons.

Then the phone rings, and after you hesitate once more, you put it down.

9-2-2016

If there’s one thing you remember from about half of your life ago, it’s that your first crush was probably Fushiguro Megumi.

You’re honestly surprised it wasn’t actually his sister. That over Tsumiki and her abundant compassion and beautiful soul, you’d feel your heart leaping and overflowing with warmth because of him instead. Constantly angry, never for once not irascible, always serious and aloof. You’re sure that if you’d met him now instead of back then you’d find him some asshole who you just wouldn’t be able to understand— why’d he always have to seem so angry?

Yet it was a struggle, trying to understand him. It really was. Maybe you didn’t really have to understand anyone, much less Megumi. He never ceased being so serious and easily angered but you could tell from his eyes that he must have not intended to hurt anyone; half of the time you understood him: like when you could see that glint in your eyes that replaced what would have been a ghost of a smile on his lips, the other half of the time you didn’t: like whenever he shoved Tsumiki’s hand off his shoulder, and Tsumiki just continued to smile. Now, that really confused you. You’d thought about that for days before coming to the conclusion that you’d probably never find an answer.

Conversely, Tsumiki was kind and patient. If you’d met her now you’d have fallen in love with her immediately and she probably wouldn’t even notice in that terribly goodhearted, unknowingly innocent way of hers.

In retrospect it should have been more obvious: he scowled at you and if it were anyone else who did so to you back then you would have merely cried and closed in on yourself, yet you never did when it came to him. You just continued to stick to him like those kind of glue residuals left behind after you take a sticker off a table or a price tag from the back cover of a book. You were probably annoying like that. And to some degree you suppose he’d given you his own form of special treatment by letting you do so anyway.

If you’d known what you were feeling back then you probably wouldn’t have admitted anything, anyway. Probably you would’ve kept it all within you, quiet and unnoticed, trying to drown yourself into life’s backdrop like an insect engulfed in resin.

But you’re older now, more mature and slightly more outspoken; you’re going to try to be confident and meet someone, this one person alone who you can only meet now without his sister there just because you used to have a crush on him and—

You don’t think you’d be able to admit anything either. Yet to yourself he’s the first. He always will be, and you’re not sure whether that sounds pathetic, miserable or disgustingly, hopelessly delusional, considering you don’t even want to pursue anything yourself.

It’s going to be Valentine's Day soon and you’re quite sure that most of your school friends are making Valentine’s chocolates for their boyfriends or their crushes. In all truthfulness, you might as well not feel blue about it— you’re 14, that’s still pretty young, you don’t have to rush things like relationships or confessions through and you’ve been told to focus on your studies instead— but the thought that you’re going to be alone is still kind of depressing.

10-4-2015

Dear [Name],

Don’t apologise— it’s partially my fault. I ended up being really busy that year due to something we had to deal with.

But anyway, it’s been so long! I miss you every day as well!

Megumi and I’ve been great, and I hope you’ve been too. It’s been a long four years since we last talked (it’s already 2015, how time flies!), but you still sound the same. It’s like you’ve got better handwriting now, though!

Aside from the fact that I’ve been swarmed with stuff to do (I joined the student council, yay!), junior high has been okay, to say the least— and hey, I’m still pretty tall, you know? Plus, a lot of the teachers say I’m surprisingly tall for my age, heheh. Things are going the same as always. I’ve got accustomed to the loads of homework we have now too. But it’s like Megumi’s been having a problem lately— he’s getting into fights, beating people up, things like that. I wouldn’t call him a delinquent, though: moreso someone who beats the delinquents up instead. I know what he wants to do and why he does it, but I don’t want him to fight other people and get himself or others hurt.

I’ve tried to tell him this before, to be honest. I’ve tried it many times but each time I must sound more annoying to him than the last— I don’t want to force him to do anything, though, and I understand that part of why he does this is because of his own ideals. I just want him to not raise his hand against others. So I have to resort to this.

Sorry for spilling it all on paper like this… I just wanted someone to talk about this to, and I thought you would listen to me, I suppose. Sometimes it’s hard— sometimes I really do feel like his parent instead of his sister and it makes me feel so lonely, really.

Oh dear, what do I do to make him hear me, seriously…

Anyway, I totally get what you mean— I’ve stayed in Tokyo all my life, but I’m sure that if I was uprooted and had to live somewhere else I’d have lots of trouble. Tokyo to me is my home, and my whole life is here. Moving somewhere else would probably shatter it completely, I think.

And please visit when you can! Maybe if your mother allows it, we can come to us instead, one day! And it’s not like we can’t visit you either. Our door’s always open. Once this school year ends, perhaps we could stay with you for a night or two! (If you would have us, of course).

Besides that, I don’t really have much to say. I did have a good day today, though. I went out with some of my friends from school after our classes ended and we ate some donuts. They were so tasty!!! Honestly, whenever you have the time, I really recommend going there with some of your friends after school!!

Regardless, I think this is all I have to say in this letter. I promise I’ll try my utmost best to always set aside time to write to you!!! Get some good rest whenever you can, okay? Miss you always!

Sincerely,

Tsumiki

(P.S.: Do you have an email or a phone number of your own yet? If so, please shoot me an email or give me a call! I can reply more there since I have those now and can use those instead of always relying on our house contact. You can keep the hair tie, too, by the way! It can be like a memoir (*^▽^*). And it’s for you, after all!)

13-3-2015

You remember seeing a little dog one time back in your hometown when you were around six or seven years old.

It was a tiny little thing, with the fluffiest black fur you’d ever stroked, and though every second it was barking louder than your mother could ever handle, it was adorable and seldom threatened to bite anyone. And it liked you— it never barked at you and let you shower it with pets despite how much it had frightened you initially.

He was irritable but calm, someone who frowned and scolded but never raised his hand against anyone— not even that “benefactor” of his who you’d never heard him talk about without mentioning how much he’d like to punch him someday. You genuinely don’t think he’s ever done so, either. He doesn’t seem like the type: from what you remember, if he were to think he’d hurt someone he knew or evidently cared about— as much as he’d like to deny this, however— he would blame everything on himself, you think. He’d feel the guilt rake through his body and lacerate his skin, piercing through his ribs. Yet he’d keep living, and he wouldn’t tell anyone about it; he’d be so quietly miserable.

That’s what he was like: quietly miserable. There’s a certain sorrow in the way he does things; you could tell this from the start despite how young and inept at articulating yourself you were at that age. But you’d always known and sensed that there was a sadness running through him, coursing through his veins, one that you could feel like heat from the warm blood beneath one’s skin.

Today you wonder if he’s the same, if he still seems like the saddest person you’ve ever met, if he still seems like he would have been the saddest and most doleful had he not always tried to act as if otherwise, living defiantly against it. If he hadn’t always been able to keep living while suffering quietly like a child with nothing but muffled sobs in the desolate corner of an empty classroom.

But at eight you thought maybe you could liken Megumi to a puppy. Or something like that. He certainly reminded you of that all-bark-no-bite puppy from the past. You wondered how it was now, whether it was still being fed and taken care of.

Tsumiki was vastly different, though— the kindest girl you ever knew, with neat, soft hair and the type of handwriting all the girls in her class wanted to have. She was always smiling, always kind— you thought she was immensely wise for a girl around your age; you always wanted to be as amazing of a person as she was: always hardworking, always clever, always kind and forgiving, no matter what.

…you don’t even know why you’re thinking about some kids you met once who you’ll probably never see again. Just two kids who you never kept in touch with. Or at least never tried to. You had their contact— you tried talking to Tsumiki a few times, but for some reason she could only ever reply once or twice (she apologised profusely for not being available any time she picked up as well), and as time passed the way the distance between the two of you grew, by the summer of 2011 you’d begun holding a telephone close to your ear without keying any number in it, as if clinging onto it would provide you with any sort of closure.

You miss them, though: smiley Tsumiki and frowny Megumi.

Leaning back into the mattress, you trace your fingers over the hair tie on your wrist, fingers rubbing against each thread of fabric in its red ribbon.

Could you even talk to them or face them anymore after ceasing contact with them for years, though? Heck, you don’t even know whether they’re alive or not. Would they be angry at you? Disappointed? Feeling as if they’d been wronged or left behind?

Still, you miss them. You really do.

Your mother’s calls bring you downstairs, and you eat until your stomach is full before washing your plate. The only other step in your routine now is to head up and retreat to your room again.

“Come down, [Name], could you?” your mother says, interrupting your trip back up, “I just want to talk to you for a second.”

Now, that… that was a bit strange. Your mother rarely ever asked you to talk to her. You spent enough time with each other as is, doing almost everything else besides being in school or at work in the same house, even if it never meant asking about each others’ day. It just was never part of the conversations you had with each other. You’d ask where she wanted you to throw things or how you could cook something, but she’d never go out of her own way to learn about your own day since you were about nine or ten, and it wasn’t like you ever did either. Perhaps she was trying to make the effort to?

“What is it?”

“You like writing, honey?”

“I mean, I guess so?” you reply hesitantly, “As long as it’s not for school or my grades don’t rely that heavily on a task, writing can be pretty fun.”

“Good, good,” she remarks, nodding her head, “Actually, I recently found something you may be interested in online. You still have your friend and her brother’s house contact, right?” she questioned. Instantly you know which friend she’s referring to and say yes— how could you not, after all? “Ever heard of pen pals, darling?”

Which brings you to where you are now: your mother leaning by the door frame of your room as you’re hunched over the table writing the letter. Surprisingly, she really seemed to care about this, even preparing the prettiest paper you’d ever seen, with pastel pink patterns printed on the paper’s edges, and though you struggled with what to say it first the words have begun spilling out of you despite how late it’s started to get.

You wonder whether she’ll reply. She probably will, though, but a fragile part of yourself surmises that she may not, and although you’d like to talk to her again you fear that because of the time that’s passed things may just not be the same anymore. You wonder if the years have made the three of you infinitely different than your eight and nine year old selves.

But that was growth, right? So you had to grow and learn how to talk to her, learn how to face her without thinking that she’d be angered or frustrated, or anything like that. And even if she did, even if it would hurt you, you’d be able to live. The world would keep spinning and all that would be lost were two friends who you lived without for about four years, ceteris paribus. Who could claim that the seventy or so years after those four would be any different?

That’s why you took the pen and paper and started to write, telling yourself you’d face it and finish the letter no matter what. Even if it was short. Even if it wouldn’t be enough to express four years’ worth of unspoken words, from funny things that had happened in school, or what you thought of whatever was on the news, or how your parents had gotten you a new phone.

As your eyelids gradually grow heavier, you watch how you fill two whole pages in the handwriting you have— you wish it could have been at least a tad bit more similar to Tsumiki’s, who never needed any boxes or lines to write completely straight and uniform for each character as if copying excerpts from finely printed books to the letter.

Soon, you’re reaching the end of the letter, determined to keep the handwriting legible even if you feel like plopping your head on the table and falling asleep— to some degree you still need it to look presentable, after all.

“(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)”

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you’d like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#it's finally up :)#yayy #take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi angst #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #fushiguro tsumiki #fushiguro megumi #megumi #ruer writes

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pookie-mulder · 2 days

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May 2024 fic roundup

I’ve decided to post a list of some of my favorite fics I’ve read each month, kind of like a reading journal. I’m terrible at remembering details of the fics I read (they all blend together in my mind), so I thought this would help me be able to look back on them in the future. Plus, maybe it will help you guys find some new stuff to read! (I’d love to chat about fics with you guys.)

Anyway, here’s my first one! I didn’t add these as I went (oops), so there’s definitely a bunch I’m forgetting. I’ll hopefully be better about it next month.

(If any of the untagged authors have tumblrs that I didn’t know about, let me know and I’ll add them.)

🏝️🚢 Erlona’s Heart by MD1016

Oh boy, this one has everything. Cancer arc angst, a vacation gone wrong, whump aplenty, intense UST, fascinating world-building, and some good old fashioned booty-smooshin’. I loved it so much! I’m so glad that I can read classic fics like this one that were published before I was even born.

🏕️🐻 Last Chance Falls by @slippinmickeys

Another oldie but goodie! This scratched my itch for a nice survival fic. Give me all that sweet, sweet hurt/comfort and cuddling for warmth and taking care of each other’s injuries and just-in-case love confessions.

❄️🧥 got you covered by @thursdayinspace

An excellent little fic based on a prompt I gave where Mulder wears Scully’s clothes. Idiots in love my beloved!

🏨📔 Blinded by White Light by @dashakay

I read the first installment in April, but I didn’t get to the follow-up until May, so I’m still counting it!

This post-colonization fic absolutely blew my mind. I was deeply obsessed with YA dystopian books in the 2010s, and this fic gave me major nostalgia while still being fresh and original. Honestly, it’s best if you go into this one not knowing much. Just read it!!!

#my fic roundup #txf #the x files #msr

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 months

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Hi there Steph! I’m violia.

I was a diehard BBC Sherlock & Johnlock fan back in 2011-2012. I read fic voraciously and adored the show. Those months after series 2 aired were such a fun time to be in fandom and I remember it fondly! I eventually moved on from the fandom, (dropped back in briefly for series 3 & 4), but now for some reason, ten years later, I find myself being drawn back to it. I’m definitely feeling nostalgia for those first two series of the show, the excitement, creativity, fic and meta in fandom at the time, and just generally that entire early 2010s era. It was a different time.

Naturally, back then, I didn’t bookmark any of my favourite fics, and I’ve forgotten nearly all of them now. But I was delighted to stumble across your blog in my search for fics! So I’ve come to ask for some recs, if you have them! There are two different types of fics I’m looking for:

Fics that explore/feature depictions of London as a city. Descriptions of different parts of the city, Sherlock and John exploring the city (maybe in casefic), etc. I’m really interested in reading fics that are firmly and specifically situated in their settings.

Fics that stand out as having particularly strong British/English characterisations, dialogue, mannerisms and cultural references.

I’ve been using the search function on Tumblr to look for fics, which I will continue to do. But any help you could give would be greatly and gratefully appreciated. I hope you have a lovely day!

(submitted by vi-olia)

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Hi Viola!!!

Ah, welcome back again to the fandom!! I’m happy you have found your way here and have taken joy from my blog!!

Ahhh, this is a good question re: fics... for the first one the only one that comes immediately to mind is this one:

Darkling, I Listen by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 73,254 w., 8 Ch. || Fairy Tale AU || Loosely Based on Beauty and the Beast, Magical Realism, Suicidal Themes, Romance, Creepiness, Adventure) – No one who enters old London ever comes out. They say that the beast devours them. When his sister disappears, John ventures into the dead zone beyond the wall, and finds a brilliant madman under a terrible curse... Part 1 of Darkling I Listen + Extras, Deleted Scenes

And some other AUs that the names are escaping me, sadly D: I recently just read one that focussed a lot on London as a city and I can’t remember what it was, OOF.

As for the second one... Ah..... every fic kind of is that for me primarily because I’m an ignorant Canadian 🙃 hahah.

If anyone has something particular to suggest for either request please do!!

And thank you for your ask, Lovely!! Hope you’re enjoying your time here!! :D

#steph replies #johnlock fic reqs #help steph find fics #london fics #british fics #i'm the worst sorry :(

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dollsonmain · 1 month

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Still going through old photos to purge things and I remember how angry it made people that I would fix BJD for free.

I legit just wanted to get to see dolls in person without having to buy them.

(some of these are the owner's pics, some are mine)

This one (my pics say 2010) in particular got a couple folks on DoD really riled up.

I don't remember who it was, but someone was like "You doing this for free is going to encourage people to destroy their dolls!" and me thinking that was just ridiculous. I do understand people being upset about doing this extensive work without charging, though, because it sets a precedent and people are more likely to ask the person doing it for free than to pay someone else charging a reasonable wage.

I remember this repair. The owner had tried to sand the whole doll themselves but didn't really have the patience, was upset by how it turned out, and was afraid to keep trying because they'd already sanded down her face a bit.

I did a full body and head sanding for them.

I also remember warning her owner about a thin spot in the eyelid, and then the owner snapping the eyelid off at that thin spot right after the doll got home, giving up, and selling it.

Kind of a melaoncholic nostalgia remembering I used to have the energy to do this sort of thing really fast and really well, and now it's been about a year and I haven't finished the Dollzone body I'm working on, though that's mostly due to the weather.

If it's not warm and dry outside, I'm not outside.

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firephoenix23 · 1 month

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So I know a lot of the pilots of Disney shows have been going around but someone sent me the pilot of what slugterra was going to be and I thought I would talk about it because it is interesting. First off it’s really short only about 3 minutes but basically it’s Eli or Elias Stone chasing what looks to be Dr. Blakk with Pronto or Pinto as he is called in the short

I want to apologize in advance some of these photos are not the best quality but I did what I had to. First off Slugterra was not originally called that it was called Subterrainea which thank god they changed it that is kind of a mouth full and it was a lot more western than sci-fi western we get later. Like even the blasters look like guns.

But let’s address the elephant in the room, why does Eli looks so ugly in this show 😂😂 and so much younger too. I feel like in the current show they make Eli look younger by making everyone around him look jacked as fuck even though all the younger male models look buff as well. But in this show he literally looks like a middle schooler. And I guess Trixie is like his friend from school who is the only one who knows about his adventures to Subterrainea. We don’t know if she goes with him or not but she at least knows. But thank god they changed Eli’s color scheme to blue, orange, white, and black. He’s a little better to look at than green, red, and pale yellow. I do wonder why all the changes though. I’m going to be wondering that the whole time

Which is the other thing I want to address is that Eli or well ELIAS and BEATRIX go to SCHOOL! We don’t know if Elias is like the protector or just goes down for the lols but we do know that he is trying to juggle this secret double life of going to school like a normal kid but also protecting the secret of Subterrainea like wow NEVER heard that premise for a kid show before 😒

That’s why I’m glad they cut out the surface all together but kept the secret part. I think it makes more of an impact in slugterra especially since it’s like who knows what. Also it just makes more sense. Like what kid would escape the world of slugterra travel 100 miles up just to go to middle school. Like nah fam couldn’t be me. Also I don’t actually know if they are in middle school but come on look at them.

Pinto is literally just Pronto even down to the voice acting. I like that they had the comic relief character down first before the main character. Also funny note did you know that Pronto in canon has a twin brother named Pinto. In ROTE Will Shane says like oh I’ve met you before and Pronto says no you’ve met my identical twin brother Pinto. I just think it’s funny that it’s a little nod to his pilot name

Uh Dr. Blakk kinda looks the same except for the hat and the mecha beast. It didn’t look like he was using ghouls just regular slugs so I’m not sure what Elias is chasing him down for. Elias shows Beatrix that he got a slug from him and then she touches it and the school lights go out which brings in SOOO many questions. Like is the surface electricity powered by slug energy???

I was gonna mention the slugs next but they are relatively the same except design wise. They look a lot more stylized and detailed than in the show which makes sense gotta save money where you can. Be honestly I’m glad they changed them some of them are kinda ugly like the joker looking one.

There are so many other things like why did they change Eli’s last name, why did they give him a white wolf mecha instead of the white horse (probably because it looks cooler not gonna lie), why is Elias Stone so ugly 😂😂 so many questions. But I think it’s just cool what slugterra could have been. It gives me such nostalgia for the late 2000s/early 2010s DisneyXD shows like Randy Cunningham, Kick Buttowski, Max Steel. Like all the EdGy boy cartoons that I somehow ended up watching as a little girl 😅

I mean I just looked and season wise and success wise Slugterra stomps them all. I mean which show has its own Roku channel the one and only Slugterra baby! 😂 But anyway I’m glad they made the changes that they did.

#slugterra #I think there were some people who posted about the old slugterra a long time ago on tumblr #I gotta find them I know I liked them a long time ago

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lonelyroommp3 · 2 months

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would you share the video essay? i also would like to be doing nothing rn

honestly it was not very good so i won't share that particular one lol but my favourite casual watch channels in general include -

if you want to get a recap of drama you would otherwise not know or care about:

emma in the moment - craft/fibre arts related drama (think dodgy yarn dyers, crochet plagiarism accusations, etc)

treacle tatts - tattoo related drama; mix of longer drama recaps & tiktok reaction vids. you could definitely waste an entire afternoon just watching the tattoogate series

izzzyzzz - very much in the sarah z/strange aeons school of "old fandom drama i almost forgot about" but i find izzzyzzz's videos tend to focus more on fandoms i'm not as familiar/don't have history with (my little pony, creepypasta, deviantart in general, etc) so it kind of fills a different niche for me in terms of learning something new as opposed to getting a cursed nostalgia hit. their mary sue video is a particular fave

if you like messy pop culture drama throwbacks:

casey aonso. honestly one of my fave youtubers in the game atm as someone with a big interest in 2000s/2010s pop culture, i've mentioned it before but her fifth harmony video is quite possibly my number one comfort watch of all time. cracks me up every time without fail

if you are a public transport enjoyer:

both geoff marshall and jago hazzard do very interesting & informative videos mainly focusing on the transport for london network but also going further afield. mostly shorter form content but there are a couple of interesting longer ones like geoff's video about riding every tfl bus

i find noel phillips' videos interesting from a pov of exploring various niche airlines but i can't lie him talking to camera on an otherwise silent plane & also surreptitiously recording his interactions with airline staff DOES give me potent second hand embarrassment and genuine moral qualms respectively so tread carefully on those ones i suppose

if you REALLY want to turn your brain off and just have some background noise i am a big fan of 1) level crossing videos. just search "uk level crossings channel" and go wild. 2) livestreams of planes landing in various airports. pairs well with flightradar24 in another tab especially if you happen to live somewhere underneath an airport's flight path so you can get what i like to call the "dual monitor experience" of seeing the plane irl and on the stream

if you want oddly satisfying content

HOOF TRIMMING VIDEOS!! if you just want something clean and satisfying watch horse hoof trimming vids. if like me you don't mind or arguably even prefer complex & occasionally graphic medical cases then cows are where it's at. the big two cow hoof youtubers - mootubers, if you will - are the hoof gp (scotland based, mix of straightforward short form trims and longer vlog style videos, more comedy & banter sprinkled throughout) and nate the hoof guy (usa based, more straightforward and calm delivery, come for the hooves stay for his commenters' absolute vendetta against the hoof gp under nearly every single video)

i love girl with the dogs for dog/cat grooming videos. she has two channels, one with very short (2-5 min) grooms and another with longer (15-20 min) more in depth videos

back in my last year of undergrad i got really into soap making videos. mainly watch royalty soaps who can be... a bit gratingly cheerful in her delivery but if you don't mind that the actual content is very relaxing to watch

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grutadodaibo · 13 days

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Write based on Lily Orchard's criteria for fictional works

I watched a lot of 2010's critics when I was younger and out of them I think Lily Orchard was probably one of the worse ones, in the sense that even for 12yo me the arguments on her videos were flawed in every way possible and that's coming from someone who thought that Doug Walker/Nostalgia Critic's reviews were great and smart around the same time. I took notes from her videos and made a criteria list for what can be considered good writing based on her own opinions

- Characters need to be as vague and shallow as possible so actual characterization can be dismissed in favor of headcanons and other assumptions of what they are like, depht can sometimes lead to people misinterpretating your material so be careful

- Your characters' morality has to be gray and complex but also it needs to be extremely black and white so discutions about a character's actions can't be made or questioned

- Redemption archs only work if the character you are writing can't me considered a villain in the great scheme of things, even if their previous characterization says otherwise, other than that, kill every villain point blank, no remorse, don't think about it.

- The plot should be in your face and straightforward and as possible, so everything considered "filler" can and should be thrown out because engaging with fiction takes time and being patient is a sin, so make sure you don't waste your audience's time with whatever you want to do that isn't the main goal of your story. The journey doesn't matter as long as you take your audience to Point A to Point B

- Everything needs to be taken literally, nothing is allowed to have a symbolic, allegoric or metaphorical meaning, surface level is the only way, trusting your audience is a categoric error

- At the same time, surface level things that are just there to be cool are horrible things to have because it makes people question why is it there in the first place and why should we care about it

- Fanmade material is more important than the official thing and it's related works, not because you like the thing but because the actual thing you like is flawed and bad, fans always give what the audience wants to see, that's why it's good

- Serialized stories are inherently bad and episodic stories are the superior form of storytelling, if an episodic series transitions to a serialized one, or even bounces between the two, that's bad because the stakes are so unrecognizable from when they were serialized and your investment is already destroyed by the time it changes that happens... That's for every piece of fiction ever, don't take into account how it happens or how it worked in the context of existing pieces of fiction, avoid it at all costs and don't even try it

- It doesn't matter if what you are writing is targeted at a younger audience, if you decide to put something remotly mature in your work, even at a superficial level, it should be treated/analysed for a mature audiece and not something bound to the limitations of the actual audience it was inteded

-Take advice from Tv Tropes the same way you read The Bible

#lily orchard critical #anti lily orchard #lily orchard

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sweetmariihs2 · 2 months

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In some days, you're watching Sofia The First because it's the fandom you're part of, because you like to make analysis of the characters, simping over some of them, making fanarts, edits, fanfiction. You interact with people on Tumblr and in general you have your debates about certain topics inside the show, have a more critical view of it.

But in other days, you're watching because it gives you that warmness in your heart that you're needing so much recently. Suddently, you're a little girl in the early 2010's sitting in front of your TV watching Sofia The First, surrounded by Barbies and Disney Princesses' themed stuff. You're in your pajamas and messy hair, dreaming of being turned into a Disney princess just like Sofia, and Rapunzel, and Cinderella, and Belle... Your world is just your toys, your princess dresses and your Blue Ray DVD player. Nostalgia hits hard. And don't even get me started on old Barbie movies or else I'll cry

#sofia the first #princess sofia #disney #disney princess #disney princesses

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soyouareandrewdobson · 6 months

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Nintendo-vember Level 3: Dobson and his Toxic Nintendo Nostalgia

Nostalgia can be toxic. Now bear in mind, I did not say that it IS toxic, but that it can be toxic. This assumption that because we have pleasant memories of something, that it was always good all the time. A desire to get that back, ignores all the good that’s come since then. As well as all the bad stuff that was there too. And it poisons you. Making you more suggestible to deception and your own greed. Who is to say that your own past is more important than someone else’s future? And because you want something that may not have been real at all, the farther the goal post gets. Because you can’t really reclaim it. So it just gets worse and worse and you get greedier and more desperate for it, because what you really want is never going to come. Until in the very end, you become the thing you hated in the first place. Lewis Lovhaug – March 2018, Infinite Crisis

Everything I did for this month so far, was going to lead directly into today’s , actually long in the works, post. Cause today we go over the comic, that as far as I see it, may actually be Dobson’s most (in)famous one out there. The one that painted the public’s opinion of him more so than anything he would ever do when starting to draw “political comics” under Trump. The one that defined him for all of deviantart and kiwifarms from 2010 onward. A comic that will always show up, whenever someone online even remotely talks about him. The one that I have seen more times than any other being used for threads on /co/ for Dobson. A comic that is neither about politics, feminism or even part of any of his comic series. A comic that is truly centered around the concept of toxic nostalgia, rather than whatever Andrew Dobson was going for and that fits perfectly to the theme of this month.

Ladies, gentlemen and inbetween… I give you, the Localization one.

Released in 2010, a time when Dobson was still trying (and failing) to sell himself more on the image of just being a quirky nerd and Nintendo fanboy whose work you should support because he only wants to make others happy, this became a comic that genuinely cemented further in the eyes of others, how much of a self-indulgent and extremely manchildish prick with dumb taste he really was.

How, some here may ask who are a bit too young? Well, let me give you context…

For starters, by the time Dobson released the comic, he had already quite a bit of a reputation online for being a prick to other nerds. His infamous “West vs East” comic which he created “as a joke” to vent about the popularity of anime in the mid to late 2000s had been published three years prior and had, in combination with a lot of derogative journal entries and posts on deviantart and other pages, earned him the ire of many people. In addition, his failed or outright aborted “original” content had painted him as a quitter, who despite wanting all the fame someone could muster online, was not willing to put the necessary work in it.

Dobson was, for a lack of a better word, a bully among nerds who tried to use his platform to shame people for being “nerdier” than him or enjoying stuff he didn’t, while also playing the victim card for people not interested in purchasing his product or calling him out on his hypocrisies and flaws in opinions.

In that regard, Dobson was pretty much ahead of the curve to some “woke” companies. Insulting your customer and then being surprised when no one wants to buy your shit.

The other thing to be aware of, has to do with the history and popularity of Nintendo characters at least pre-1995 in America.

For the few not quite aware and as a quick reminder to everyone: Videogames back in the 80s and very early 90s (like 1990-92) did on average not necessarily have what we can call “complex” lore when it came to videogame stories and characters. At least not to a degree as we would get later in the mid-90s and onwards. Aside of (J)RPGs most games were simply focused on moving a character from one end of a level to the next and the story as to why we even bothered for Megaman to fight the Robo Masters and who the heck Dr. Wily was, was printed in the manual on a small page.

And Mario and Link were no exception to that. Mostly because they also had only very few genuine main titles under their name. By 1989, The Legend of Zelda had only two NES titles under its name, while Mario had (if we don’t account for non-jump n’run games in which he was shoved into because of his status as Nintendo’s mascot) the three main Mario Bros games for the NES, one game for the Game Boy, Mario Bros and the two Donkey Kong titles.

Lacking quite a bit in characterization game wise, Nintendo of America in order to sell the stuff had to partly make the characters appeal to the audience via localization done through merchandise and non-game related products. And early fans of these characters would obviously crave for it.

Enter The Super Mario Bros Super Show, a cartoon series produced on order of Nintendo of America by Haim Saban and DIC Enterprises (the same ones who would give us “The Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog”, “Captain N” and “Inspector Gadget”) that ran from September 1989 till December of 1989. Using the first two Mario Bros games for the NES as basis for the character design of the show, the show itself had otherwise little to do with the games. Ignoring the live action segments, the actual animated episodes would have plots in which Mario, Luigi, Toad and Peach (the later going by the then American official name of Princess Toadstool) traveled into whatever territory and had to deal with Bowser (or King Koopa as he was known) in a plot that had elements of some book, movie or anything else to parody.

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In addition the show would later have Legend of Zelda based animated segments, of which 13 were produced. Those featured Link living in Hyrule castle with a more active “power woman” Princess Zelda and a fairy companion named Sprite and the two having to deal with Ganon, who was more of a dark wizard than a warrior based demon.

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Overall, the shows were not really all that great compared to other stuff that existed cartoon wise, with some aspects of the characters feeling jarring nowadays. But honestly, for the sake of this article, I watched some of them and frankly they were not that terrible. They were typical 80s cartoon fanfare, which among other things included some animation errors and dumb slapstick. Especially the Mario segments were very slapstick heavy and Mario and Luigi were mostly characterized by Luigi being a bit of a scaredy cat even before the games did show him like that, Mario being rougher than you would think and dumb jokes about Luigi and Mario loving pasta and other Italian dishes. Because you know, Italians are only known for their cuisine!

The Zelda segments also had a bit of an “odd” character dynamic imagined for Zelda and Link. Zelda was a bit of a jerkass commanding bitch and Link could be a horndog trying to always flirt with her or trying to get a kiss.

There is one moment in an episode for example, where Zelda sits on Links bed after just having stopped some condor from stealing a piece of the Triforce guarded in Link’s room. Right then Link enters the room, sees the Princess sitting there and immediately says “smooching time” and tries to jump her to make out.

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Minute 3:15 – 3:20 more or less Yeah, I think Pepe le Hyrulian would not really sell well with more modern audiences and sensitivities.

All that said, I can understand people having a soft spot for the show and enjoying it unironically. It is just that I think most of them would also be intelligent and understanding enough to see, that these shows did NOT give the ultimate interpretation of who or what these characters and their games were. Truth be told, even back then those things weren’t really acknowledged by Nintendo. Sure, Nintendo of America may have given the okay to do those things. But in Japan, global headquarters gave more or less a rat’s ass about it. They were busy making the NES and Gameboy profitable and worked on Mario Bros 3.

Truth be told, the most “characterization” Mario even got in Japan at the time was as followed: Shigeru Miyamoto thought he should be Italian and from New York. The former because he “looked” Italian to him (as a result of the mustache), the later because Donkey Kong, the game Mario originated from, was inspired in part by King Kong and King Kong is set in New York. Mario didn’t even have a name originally, having been known by Jumpman once. The origin of his Mario name is, that after Minoru Arakawa (president of Nintendo of America at the time) got into an argument with a real estate developer named Mario Segale, who Arakawa owned rent money, the game developers decided to name the character Mario. Which may or may not have been meant as a “take that” against Mr. Segale. But if so, it’s one that backfired.

But I digress. Point of that entire elongated history lesson is, that Mario and Link were in terms of characterization mostly defined to some 80s kids, by their depiction in the American cartoon, which had however very little in common with what the games were about. It was e.g. the cartoon who popularized heavily the entire idea of the brothers being from Brooklyn and having been transported via a magic pipe into the Mushroom Kingdom, while in the actual games, such a backstory was never really given. As evident by even the actual American instruction manuals for Super Mario Bros 1 and 3 I checked out online for this. Look them up.

And again, most people, even the kids, could accept that the animated show and what the games were, differed.

Then came the 90s, and with more titles under their belt, Nintendo of Japan decided to flesh out their mascots more to increase their popularity, resulting in Mario, Link and others getting “official” personalities as shown by their behavior in games and not just the inofficial ones via non-canon foreign material. And again, most kids and people were okay with that. After all, the games were what really mattered to them in the long run. Plus I think that as long as the games would simply “capture” the spirit of whatever they liked in the characters iand games n the first place, they would be okay with it.

But not Andrew Dobson.

Born in 1981 and likely not owning a NES up until the cartoon aired, he jumped onto the show as an eight year old and became a fan of it. In fact he enjoyed the Zelda cartoon so much, even as an adult he would draw fanart about it

Nothing at all wrong with that in my opinion. You like something, you have the ability to create fan content for it, go for it.

But as we more or less already established via the Howard and Nester comic, Dobson was as a person dead set that only the thing he liked or was first exposed to counts and not whatever others thought. Something that supposedly may explain why he genuine hates Bowser Jr and Yoshi, as evident by these tweets made a few years after the Localization comic was made.

And yeah sorry, but how can one hate Yoshi? Yoshi is an adorable pet dinosaur you can ride. You know how many kids would have loved someone like that in their life? Gues if Yoshi was less into vore and more into inflation, Dobson would have liked him more.

Speaking of the comic -and to finally get back to it- even Dobson admitted years later that the entire point of it is to simply piss all over Nintendo and that he was annoyed that his “beloved” American continuity got erased in favor of the “dirty Japanese” one. Despite the fact that the Japanese one is, as he himself admits, official.

And boy does he take the piss on it. To the point I want to call him R. Kelly.

So lets dissect how his stand is just the typicla strawman affair, unfunny and at times quite frankly outright homophobic, sexist, hypocritical and racist.

First, the art. As always, it is just “great” to see the degree in animation being fully utilized here. No background but skyblue, everyone looking more like a doodle, the use of the fillbucket, the director having 5 fingers on his hand in the second panel, but four in the fifth, getting the numbers of fingers on Mario completely wrong, missing out on Peach in the last panel and so on… brilliant! How come Disney would not hire someone who could draw like that! Oh right, because standards. Though those have gotten quite low over the years

Every single person working on this needs to be blacklisted.

But of course, the true brilliance comes through the writing. Starting with the strawman executive coming off as if what he does is something new. That he is the “evil soulless corporation” who doesn’t care for his employees and creations true personality and forces them to fit into some mold for the audience to enjoy. The “audience” and consumers also being more or less indirectly insulted by the way Dobson presents the entire affair, as he seemingly wants to blame “those damn kids” for ruining his favorite childhood characters.

But Dobson, I thought you loved corporations hating on fans.

Then we come to what the characters are supposedly changed into.

(warning, upload of the comic for the third time, so you cna always see what I refer to)

First, Mario being no longer from Brooklyn and that he is supposedly an Italian stereotype. As a non American, I have to ask: Why is it so important that Mario has to be from Brooklyn? I get the feeling the only reason people like Dobson or Moviebob care about it, is because they want to deep down culturally appropriate the character. Assure he is in some way of American culture and doesn’t belong to some “dirty, foreign country”, even if they have to go for a compromise and make him a dirty half blood Wop. I mean, I will say this: Yes, Mario has an accent that is stereotypical. And? I take a stereotypical accent and being otherwise a determined but friendly everyday hero over him being stereotypically obsessed with pasta and no personality conveyed through his actions aside of being a bit mean and bossy to his brother, as was the case in that dang cartoon.

The thing here is, Dobson was genuinely convinced that Mario’s portrayal as given by Charles Martinet, Mario’s VA from the early 90s up until August of 2023, wasn’t just stereotypical, but also racist, harmful and culturally insensitive. Something he believed even back in 2017 and resulted in a minor twitter meltdown

Look, I will say this here: Yes, Martinet’s voice for Mario is kinda stereotypical. And I did my research. Unlike Martinet, Lou Albano, the original voice of Mario in the Mario Bros Super Show, was actually of Italian heritage. Born in 1933 in Rome, having immigrated to the USA shortly after he got baptized in the Vatican (you can’t get more Italian than that!), he certainly was more authentically Italian than Martinet, who was born in California. Heck, Martinet’s father is actually French and he spend more time in France in his youth than in America or Italy. The story of how Martinet got his gig as Mario is also well known and painted by a rather stereotypical joke involving Italian food.

But to paraphrase the twitter user Dobson argued with, I think that all things considered, Martinet gave Mario and all the other characters he voiced over the years just a certain warmth and fun to their personality with the way he delivered his lines, that he managed to convey and define the cartoonish true nature of Mario and Co for many generations to come. And even now that he has been retired from the role, he is still a name recognized for the character. A character no one, not even freaking nationalistic Italians, seem to have a problem with. So, mangia un cazzo, Dobson. You sound just like the assholes who tried to get rid of Speedy Gonzales and in doing so pissed off all of Mexico.

Next the way he talks about Peach. Okay first, the Popeye arms are again just something from the cartoons. Or at least he believes it cause…. Well

Does that look like Popeye arms?

Second, he is essentially saying that Princess Peach, unlike the cartoon version, is a bimbo. Why, because she is blonde and you have some sort of deep seated hatred for blond people? Also, Peach hasn’t fought with Mario together in really any NES videogame either, Dobson. Oh what, Mario Bros 2? Aka the reskinned version of Doki Doki Panic? The way he talks here about Princess Peach is just utterly sexist, as he essentially devalues Peach as a character, just because she plays a damsel in distress often times. Which doesn’t even necessarily mean, that she isn’t a badass in her own way, even in that role. I mean, she is still the sovereign ruler of an entire nation and in Super Princess Peach -which seems to be the game he references when it comes to her being “over emotionally”- she saves the day all on her own. Sure, she is emotional in the game, but the entire premise of the game is centered around everyone’s emotions going haywire along Vibe Island, including the villains. Bet Dobson hasn’t even played the game back in 2006 and just went off on some shitty rumor. Not to forget that this statement is utterly false. Peach has also been a great supporting character and fighter in games such as Super Mario RPG and Super Paper Mario, which were released BEFORE that comic. And nowadays she is also known as a great character in stuff like the Mario + Rabbids games plus she will get her own upcoming Princess Peach: Showtime game for the Switch. Lastly, let us not forget every game where, even if she played a damsel, was still important to the plot by defying the villain as best as she could. Not to forget the current movie, in which she still kicked ass while going out all in pink.

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So, after he has been racist towards Italians indirectly as well as sexist towards women embracing their brand feminity (boy, don’t want to know how 2011 Dobson would have then reacted to the Barbie movie of 2023), let Dobson be judgmental about anime fangirls and also rather homophobic, by the way how he tries to tear down “modern” Link.

There are four things I hate the most about the Link panel, which make it frankly in my eyes the one where Dobson’s hatred and own nastiness really shine through.

First, the accusation that the “changes” to Link’s design past “Link’s Awakening” can be attributed to anime fangirls. Showing both his true hatred for women when they don’t fall in line with his views and his stuck up shitty opinion about anime fans and combining it with latent misogyny. Look, I have seen thirst anime fangirls myself a lot over my lifetime. But they were not the demographic to “ruin” Link. If anything, I think that the popularity of Cloud Strife in general with others may have slightly influenced Link’s design for Ocarina of Time. Which in itself also had been in development at least since spring of 1996, till its release in November of 1998. And even then, that is a stretch I came up with, cause in my opinion someone in the development team likely just thought “Hey, what if we move on from the more cartoony look of the late 80s and early 90s and try some “darker” fantasy elements, without going full Berserk?” And that is how we got Link in that game. Because of some developers trying to appeal design wise to a general audience, not just a random group of made up strawmen. You want to see games pandering to actual Yaoi fangirls aesthetically? Play Enzai or Twisted Wonderland.

Second, again his hatred towards blond people. I really would like to know where that comes from, because I doubt it was only related to some random bully in school being blond.

Third, the way he uses the word effeminate and describes post Ocarina of Time Link essentially as “nonthreatening”.

For starters, considering Link rams his sword into Ganon’s skull in Ocarina of Time and slashes away at many of his enemies, which is way more threatening and violent than just poking them with a stick in 2D overhead view, I wouldn’t really consider him “non threatening”. I like to call him and many of his future incarnations, badass as fuck. Even the cartoonish, childlike Link from the Wind Waker continuity, who didn’t just stab Ganon in the head, but put his sword in there for good. It also is kinda laughable how Dobson uses the word “non threatening” in a negative manner, seeing how over the years ever since he sucked off Steven Universe, he would whine on twitter and other social plattforms again and again how males in media are always resolving conflict only via violence and are not in tune with their emotions. In other words, he once considered being more or less pacifistic a negative trait.

Also, “effeminate”? Okay first, Link looks like this in Ocarina of Time…

What exactly looks “effeminate” about male Link here, or at least let’s say more “effeminate” than for example in a character like this?

Second, we all know that if Link all off sudden looked more like Guts from Berserk or the protagonist of DarkSoul (you know, more “manly”), Dobson would throw enough of a hissy fit, he would likely come back from his sabbath and whine how Nintendo is embracing toxic masculine traits in his characters. All while also blaming PS3 games for some reason for that.

Third, how exactly would Dobson define effeminate here? I mean, the term is already defined as being derogatory, the most common definition I found by Merriam-Webter online being as followed

Effeminate: having feminine qualities untypical of a man : not manly in appearance or manner

Effeminate: marked by an unbecoming delicacy or overrefinement

So, Andrew “I hate all men” Dobson, has a problem with a character not being “typical” or stereotypical manly male? The same guy who praised the She-Ra reboot for its portrayal of Bow and fucking worships that fat fuck below as one of the best protagonists in a cartoon of the last decade…

Has actually deep down a problem with people embracing more female interests, qualities or just looking more feminine in appearance, even though the later may not be by choice but rather genetics? All while also having the audacity to say then this years later?

I find this just genuinely hate- and hurtful. Not just a simple complaint about a design choice regarding his supposed favorite fantasy game hero, but a “deep cut” towards people who just enjoy things not considered “stereotypically manly” or may feel not comfortable falling in line with gender expectations. I mean, what? Is a man now supposedly not manly in Dobson’s eyes because they like musicals, sweets are capable of showing empathy and other emotions or like to dress up in certain ways or take care of their appearance?

It is just disgusting to me, because I know people, both male and female, who had to deal with bullying and name calling a lot simple because they didn’t quite fall in line with expectations by others or struggle with their own identity partly because of expectations vs reality. And as evident by THIS comment TheHypocrisyofAndrewDobson received once it isn’t just “a joke” to people genuinely affected by that sort of mentality. And again, this derogatory use of the world and complaint towards “modern” Link comes from someone who years later would whine about toxic masculinity, put women on pedestals even if they are abusive, likely jerked it off to Link in Gerudo gear following Breath of the Wild and in the biggest ironic “twist”, loves the cartoon incarnation of Link, whose catchphrase is “Excuse me, Princess” and needs a restraining order as much as Warner Bros gave Pepe lePew.

And to finish this panel off (yes, we are still not at Samus), of course the next complain is how Zelda and Link are “no longer love interests” … now I apologize in advance towards any moderate shipper out here, but I am going full snarker mode now for this part. Okay?

Dobson… the fact that you cared so much about shipping two fictional characters in a series of children games, for a console primarily played by kids, while you were being in your 20s and above is pathetic as shit. I know that you have no one in life who genuinely loves you, because among other things you are incapable of either feeling or identifying true love while also being a selfish little shit, but to be so thirsty for affection that you project that need on some pieces of data or lines of color, makes you a bigger loser in my book than any republican who lost the primary against Donald Trump in 2015. The fact that you look at a piece of fiction and your immediate thought is “oohh, these two characters together would look very cute hugging, kissing and doing things I touch myself to at night”, while things such as plot progression and character development likely play second, third or fourth fiddle, only confirms to me that shippers (at least the once acting like you in that regard and other fields) are a fucking blight on any fandom and the world at large.

Now with that shit vented, I once again apologize for going that far, even for “comedic purpose” towards the people who actually can recognize when they go just a bit too far with shipping. But this isn’t just annoying in regard to this comic, it is annoying with Dobson in general. If you are even remotely aware of how he treats the LGBT subject for real as well as what he truly enjoys about Legend of Korra and Miraculous Ladybug, you know he is thirstier than someone stranded in the Gobi desert. Just look at his pic of Zelda and Linkle he made in honour of Hyrule Warriors.

I can kinda taste his urge to touch himself there.

To me it is just dumb to define any story out there and the characters in it by simply “are they getting together or not” because romance to me in storytelling is an additional flavor, not the main ingredient. It is one reason I really do not like Miraculous Ladybug for example. And the fact that Dobson seems to define Legend of Zelda a lot as a franchise by the “shipping potential” of Link and Zelda as implied by that panel, irks me in all the wrong ways.

I mean, for the most part the appeal of the Zelda games isn’t the “romance” between the two, it is traversing the land of Hyrule and saving it from evil while going on a big adventure. And let us be real here, Link and Zelda weren’t really an item pre-Ocarina of Time either. In the NES and SNES games they were essentially strangers to each other, with one filling the role of damsel in distress even a bit harder than Peach did. After all, Peach may be a princess, but she actually rules her kingdom. Zelda on the other hand is daddy’s little girl in those and other games post 1998. And the relationship they had in the cartoon, the one Dobson likes to call a “may they, won’t they” thing is in my opinion not cute, but toxic. She is a demanding bitch that calls him names at times, he is a horndog who needs a lecture by Sexual Harassment Panda and none of them improves character wise over the show.

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What a misogynistic piece of shit

There is a reason I consider Tetra, Zelda from Skyward Sword and the “Wild” Zelda the better interests, because not only do Link and Zelda here have better chemistry and are both nicer and more respectful to each other in a manner, they also support each other in very heroic ways. I mean, Zelda in Tears of the Kingdom willingly sacrificed her own conscious just so Link can have a shot at defeating Ganon and saving Hyrule in the future, while Link wants to do everything to save his friend. If that isn’t impactful, tragic and has so much romantic potential, I don’t know what else would count.

But hey, supposedly the cartoon is better. And the 365 Days Trilogy is a great love story with no unfortunate implications involving sexual relationships and abuse. *snark*

And then it is Samus turn. And I really have to wonder, if Dobson ever even played a Metroid Game before Other M anyway, as he hates games with scary elements and FPS.

Aside of once again whining about changing the hair color (Dobson seems to be something of a reverse Aryan enthusiast), he acts as if the addition of the Zero Suit in Metroid was a cardinal sin and “sexist crap”, to entice more men to playing her game.

Okay… for starters, the Metroid games were already enjoyed by a huge male demographic long before that or before even Metroid Prime. Samus wasn’t a “played by females thirsty for representation” only character, as that comic seems to imply. She was considered a female badass hero from the moment she first appeared and her design is deliberately inspired by Ripley from Alien. And skimpy? Again, Dobson doesn’t seem to know what certain words mean. Skimpy would be when the outfit would show more off her skin or was barely there. This is a skintight jumpsuit, that also has a function in the game as a less movement restricting suit compared to Samus armor. Heck, just watch this video, that guy gives some decent explanation on the suit itself.

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And yeah, I can agree that in certain cutscenes more so than the actual game, it does put quite a bit of emphasize on Samus “attributes” so to speak. But are we really trying to insinuate that the Zero Jumpsuit is more sexist than the character stripping off to her underwear as was the bonus ending content of the initial Metroid games?

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And if the issue is that the skinsuit makes Samus more “sexy” and that Dobson does not want to see sexy characters in Nintendo games…

He should reevaluate the fact that he enjoyed the above later.

There is also this little tweet I found after the fact, Dosbon would make later in 2015, where he actually more or less confirms the idea, that he thinks the Japanese only care for Samus in a “sexy skintight” manner, by making this dumbass “joke” comparison

Ignoring the fact btw, that the pic on the left was drawn by Samus original designer Hiroji Kiyotake. Again, Dobson trying to discredit the Japanese. And don't get me even started that he enjoys Other M or takes more offense to the shoedesign of Samus in Smash Bros than anything

Finally, and to wrap this thing up, we reach the final panel, showing the executive declaring that the “old” stuff shall from now on be brushed off like Dobson tried to brush off his fetish artist days, all while the “new and improved, but truly despicable” pretenders of his favorite childhood heroes are behind him. Mario lobotomized to say MAMA MIA while his eyes look like he is possessed by the retardation of Talus, Link being a “silly girl who makes silly movements with her hands and likely just wants to hang out with cute boys”, while Samus looks pissed and just wishes she was in something less degrading for her than this comic. Like Other M.

Honestly, this comic just stinks of loser entitlement and as stated prior, toxic nostalgia. Dobson has never really been a creator of decent stuff, only a consumer who demands the next product as soon as he hungers for it and will be utterly judgemental to petty and spiteful degrees, when he doesn’t get what he wants or suddenly thinks he sees something “problematic” to it. And to him, already the fact that stylistic choices and aesthetics changed over time, a natural progression of things if you ask me, is “problematic” in his eyes. Dobson would have rather had for Zelda, Link, Mario, Samus and Co to be undefined postholders he could have projected himself on, or outdated 80s stereotypes and toxic men, because that is the first thing he was ever exposed to when it came to those characters. Why not go even further, Dobson? Erase the Switch, the Wii and any other game console post 1989 from history, so that gaming itself never evolves past the 8-Bit era. Let’s destroy Pokemon, God of War, Kirby, Sonic and many other franchises and characters, because they are not the “true heroes of the Golden Age of gaming”. Let’s see how you will like that, when they come for your beloved Skyrim.

Bottom line, Dobson is a nostalgic pig, stuck in a past he looks at through rose tainted, grease covered glasses and this comic more than anything written before and after that embodies the mentality quite as well. And even though he tried to play it off as a joke, anyone with half a brain saw through what it was really about. And they made Dobson know, partly through less words than I used here, why they thought his opinion and by extension he, sucked.

Dobson wasn’t just playing the overzealous Nintendo fan for shit and giggles. He was, this overzealous, almost destructive and utterly disrespectful fan, who believed in the superiority of his favorite childhood toy over the consoles of others, even if that included pissing off his own “kin” or accussing Nintendo of being problematic dirty foreigners. Just look at anything he would type in regard of Super Smash Bros for the Switch, like how pissed he was at the fact he had to put effort into getting his favorite character to play as. Essentially insinuating, the game and people enjoying it were crap, just because he was biased towards fighting games to begin with. And look, being critical of aspects of a game, is one thing. But some of the things Dobson found to complain about? Pathetic, childish and utterly irrelevant in the bigger picture of anything

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I want to punch him in the throat for this voice alone...

And if you think Dobson being an opinionated Nintendo fanboy is cringe, wait till we get to him being an opinionated PS3 hater.

But before that, I want to tear at least one of his shitty Zelda opinions a new one…

#andrew dobson #syac #so you are a cartoonist #tom preston #adobsonartwork #webcomic #youtube #adobsoncomic #nintendo #super mario #legend of zelda #link #samus aran #metroid #nintendo vember #Youtube

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uselessemos · 6 months

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I've been doing a lot of reflection recently about why dan and phil mean so much to me outside of like. 2010s nostalgia

and i think it's because they're role models to me. like they're two older gay people who are in a successful, happy relationship and MILLIONS of people support their relationship

so it just gives me hope i guess as a gay person, yknow?

#also they have my sense of humor #txt #dnp #dan and phil #sorry for talking about ur relationship dnp #i promise i'm not parasocial #we're in like. a healthy fan/mentor relationship #OR AT LEAST I TRY FOR US TO BE #anyways #dan howell #phil lester #almost said phan lester #great job zoey

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ruershrimo · 1 month

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 7: conversation

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | m.list

chapter synopsis:

' “I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy," she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even blink.

“I’m not.” You are. '

---

Megumi calls you back. You leave for Tokyo again, like a soul yearning for its body.

word count: ~6k; tws: none for now :)!!

19-6-2018

“So you’re really going to let go of them now?” your father asks.

“...yeah.”

“That’s good. I’ll miss that Itadori boy, though.”

You will, too.

In a way you suppose Megumi and Yuuji are very similar. They’d go well together, be good, fast friends and all that.

They’re both undoubtedly good people, no matter how they’ve beat people up before and how different their beliefs may be.

In Megumi’s case, everyone knew how good a person Tsumiki was, her younger brother included. Her kindness and virtue extended itself, inspiring other people around her. But Megumi was a good person, too— polite, patient (most of the time, unless it were Gojo— but who wouldn’t be annoyed by that man, right?), kind in his own way. He cared for you in all sorts of ways in the past, even then you could tell, gentle with animals and objects and your hand. Gentle in his own way. Giving you reminders despite the tiny calumniations sprinkled in (they barely do as much damage as comb bristles can), being sharp because he must have had to, kind because it was in his very nature. Easy on the eyes, tall, deep soothing voice— he ticked all the boxes for that, too. You bet that if things were different, and the two of you had stayed in touch with each other, you’d have fallen deeply in love with it by now. Yet that thought only makes you feel sour now that things hadn’t gone that way at all.

And Yuuji, too— there was no explanation needed for Yuuji. Even Megumi could tell he was a good person. And at some times he was almost like Tsumiki. You weren’t ever surprised that you’d caught feelings for him, because— who wouldn’t? He was always popular, even if he was ignorant of his own charm around others. But he wasn’t just a good guy with a ripped torso, he was honest, perceptive and smart in conversations. Smarter than he ever credited himself for. Smart in a way you could never be— people with cute faces, nice bodies and good social skills were in a league of their own, practically. You’d thought that for a long time.

Did either of them ever know how you felt?

Probably not. Your heart was guarded, intensely so, and you’d never lay your feelings bare and out so easily. You weren’t the type of person to say you loved people as easily as others did, even within your own family.

This, you presume, is probably an acquired trait, now that you think about it. You were much more different as a child, free with praise and love and unabashed affection as well as appreciation for the people around you. What changed?

(Everything.)

You miss 2010. You miss Tsumiki the way you miss your mother’s cooking, miss her the way you miss when you wrote emails and letters and text messages to her with multi-coloured pens or your old phone that eventually broke a year after. You miss the conversations the two of you had, miss how you used to be your parents’ little angel.

And in the end it all comes back to that, doesn’t it? 2010. Nostalgia. Reminiscing on old memories in a way akin to how the elderly do in their youth. That just made you seem more pathetic, because, weren’t you supposed to be making those memories right now, at this time of your life?

You’re a teenager. You should be going out with friends, and having fun, not rotting at home ruminating on the past, with the only friends you’ve ever had hundreds of kilometres away from you (you weren’t sure if you could even call one of them a ‘friend’ anymore), and your acquaintances not close enough to replace them (how could they ever? How could there ever be a replacement for Yuuji?)

In a way you feel your life is miserable: awkward, socially-impaired teenage girl with her only friend practically out of her life at this point; nothing special to your name besides a cursed technique that most times does you more harm than good; stuck not being able to completely get over friends she met at eight who left her as quickly as someone can blink their eyes; with the thinking process of a nagging, stubborn mother sometimes, or if not that then a blurry, mingled train of thought that gets delayed or lost when moving from station to station; someone not of use at all. Not miserable, you think to yourself like a slap to the face, pathetic.

You’re not sure how Tsumiki is now— maybe she has a partner, or better friends than you were, or she’s busy being president of the student council or something (she’d be a sterling leader, of that you’re certain, that girl who you’d always known was bound to go places in the span of her lifetime).

Hopefully, she’s alright, and doing the best she can in life. That’s all you wish for when it comes to Tsumiki.

At this point, there’s no point in wishing to join them, or to linger on them and memories of the past. It’s a mosquito in summer heat, which is why, if it stays, you decide, you’ll just suppress and ignore it until it goes away. Even if you didn’t know how long it would take you to get over them— weeks, months, but goodness forbid a whole lifetime or forever— you needed to accept that you’d be like this for nearly the rest of your life: pathetic, lonely— ah, that’s the word that so very perfectly delineates the situation you’re in— and then some.

So that’s why, when you hear your phone buzzing on your bed like a cicada during a balmy night, you assume it’s someone else. Yuuji must be busy settling in (he’s been texting you, and you took that as a sign that he wouldn’t call), and Megumi must be… —Well. Megumi has made a promise, and it’s not that you don’t believe in him, but it would be better to expect less than what you’d like to in order to evade disappointment.

Must be someone else. A prank call, or a scammer, or something. Or a telemarketer, but you’d be surprised if telemarketers were calling you and not your father. And you were never one to pick calls up mindlessly anyway, so if it were some stranger out to get you or swindle you, you’d just hang up or check the number.

If not either a scam or a telemarketer (well you suppose both of those could be scams in certain contexts), though, then you’d suspect it would be either Yuuji (Yuuji’s the one who has been texting you, after all, conversations strewn over checking in with the other over the past few hours or snippets of advice from you telling him not to bother Megumi very much, and to be cautious and keep himself safe) or Gojo— definitely not Megumi, and probably not Gojo either, but still it was more likely that Gojo was calling you instead of Megumi, so you’re considering it— and you can’t really remember Gojo’s number anyway, so what if an unknown number wasn’t a prank call or something—

You wonder if you should just pick it up instead of burying your head in your study notes and overthinking everything.

But you know it’s definitely not Megumi.

You check the phone.

Well, you’ll be damned.

It’s Fushiguro Megumi.

You know his number by heart, after all. Keyed it in too many times to forget, and it’s not like he’d have any reason to change it. Not with the way he cares for things, inanimate objects, not with the tenderly quiet, secretly caring, emotionally jaded way he maintains them.

“Ah… hello?”

Your heart thumps in your chest and heat flares up in your cheeks with a frenetic speed.

“Hi,” you blurt out, shakily. You’re sure your voice is quivering, yet your mind feels like it’s barely functioning, almost about to drown in a seven-feet-deep pool, so you can’t really tell. You can’t really hear yourself.

You don’t know why you feel like this— no, you know exactly why, actually. It’s because you haven’t gotten over him. Your thoughts are scrambled but you know, for sure, that you’re like this because you want to get rid of feelings like these but you can’t. Or because you’ve been saying that to yourself like a mantra, for so long, even though a part of you wants it to stay— out of what, that’s what you don’t know; maybe desperation or nostalgia or an inability to stop dwelling on days long gone. But you know what this is— you’ve seen the movies, read the manga, watched the dramas. It’s romance. Crushes. Something you’re not quite able to call love yet, something you’re too scared to properly name, still, but something you can understand is one-sided nonetheless.

“…hi. [Name].”

“Hello…”

What happens when two estranged childhood friends with a book’s worth of history behind their relationship that happen to be socially awkward teenagers actually have a conversation semi-beyond what keeps them estranged in the first place?

“Hi— no, wait… how are you?”

Pot, meet kettle, because you’re going off nothing but the fact that you’re at the very least surprised (the other emotions are too complicated to explain) that he’s speaking to you again, and not just on text, but he’s calling, and he sounds like he’s reading off a script, but the script is in a whole other language, somehow, and the uncertain nervousness in his voice is tangible, even for a deep, low voice like his.

Script or not, you appreciate the effort, though.

“I’m good, um… I’m happy you were able to call. It’s been a long time.”

“That’s good.”

There’s silence on the other line; time feels like it’s moving achingly slowly. But you’re mildly happy.

Not happy, maybe, but you definitely feel light, as if you’ve been severed from the heaviness of everything else that has happened lately. This is the first time in years something like this has ever happened.

“Ah, wait, I forgot to ask! Sorry, um.. how are you?”

“I’m doing alright, too. Oh, wait, I should apologise. I didn’t tell you— thanks for helping with my injuries the other day. Gojo told me about it after you left. You… you didn’t have to, though. You shouldn’t have risked your health like that.”

You shake your head. “Don’t mention it. You know why I do this, anyway.” Out of necessity or a need to be useful, you’re not even sure yourself, but he must know, to some degree, right? It seems as if he’d be the one to know the most of this, of you— at least, when matters came to this. “And I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Dr Ieiri probably ended up helping more with the bigger ones once the three of you got back. I mean, she did, right?”

“…no. She said that she didn’t want to waste her time, so if injuries were more minor like mine, she wouldn’t heal them fully.”

“...ah.” More minor? Seriously, doctor? You’d normally not question her judgement over matters that she had more expertise in dealing with, but seriously?

“I’ll be fine, though. Most of the bandages have come off, and all.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You wonder where he is now, on the bed, maybe, or sitting on the floor. You’ve seen the classrooms, but not the dormitories— you hope wherever he is, that it’s comfortable. That he’s okay.

“We’re going to see a new student soon.”

“Really? Have you met them before?”

“No, but Gojo said she’s from the countryside. But we’re meeting her in Harajuku, for some reason.”

“Oh, Harajuku! I miss it,” you let out a plaintive sigh, “I can’t wait to be back in Tokyo. You know, whatever happens, I still love that city like nothing else. I know how many people hate it, but I love it so much.” And you love it so much in the first place, mostly because of Megumi and Tsumiki. “Maybe she just wants to chase a bit of the sweet city life— I mean, you know how it is when country bumpkins go to the city for the first time… kind of. Or when they love the city— yeah, that’s a better way of saying it. I was like that, kind of.”

“...if you’re worried about the train ride here and want to travel alone, I could always pay for you. Uh… wait—”

“Oh, no, no! There’s no need, uhm— thank you anyway, it’s just—”

“It’s Gojo’s money anyway.”

“Pft,” you snort. Anything to seep out some of Gojo’s money like gluttonous leeches, right? “Nah, I’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t even think I’ll be able to come back in a few years’ time, and by then I won’t even be relying on my parents’ money for this stuff anymore— I mean, I will still be relying on their money, but I’ll be managing it as my own.”

He chuckles lightly over the line, the silent way he shows his emotions, the way that goes unnoticed if one is not attentive to it. It feels like he’s whispering directly into your ear, and the heat on your face (which you weren’t even sure was still there until that point). Your heart skips a beat and it completely, absolutely shocks you. “...the offer still stands.”

Yeah, you can get behind it if he’s like this now. What happened to him, anyway? Puberty hit him like a brick and gave him, like, one more ounce of emotional maturity?

You shake your head like a character in a piece of crappy romance fanfiction. No way. Not now, at least. Calm down.

(...you’re just a girl.)

“Well, no take backs from now on, okay? Even if it’s, like, five years into the future, you’ll still be using Gojo’s credit card to cover for all my travel expenses.”

He does it again, that low, soft, attractive sound. Makes you want to hit him and hit yourself at the same time, and then kick your feet up in the air giddily, and then throttle yourself, if it were possible, out of sheer embarrassment. “Yeah.”

You’re having the time of your life.

“Anyway, how is everything else? Like, are your studies and grades okay? Is the training you do alright to handle?”

“My grades are pretty okay,” he answers, “Not like Gojo cares, honestly. And the training’s fine, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Gojo seems like he’d be a good teacher. When he wants to, he can command respect pretty easily, too. I guess he just… chooses not to. But I saw it yesterday, when you and Yuuji were passed out in the hospital.”

It still strikes a pang of guilt in your chest, your inability to have done anything else besides calling Gojo over for help.

“...I suppose he does.”

“Yeah.”

“How about you? Itadori, he… he can be an idiot sometimes, but he speaks of you really admirably. He talks about how smart you are a lot.”

The thought of Megumi calling Yuuji an idiot of all things doesn’t feel like it falls short from him, but it still makes you frown— though, you realise that that’s just his way of expressing things, because in a way he’d treated you somewhat the same in the past, even if he hadn’t shown it outright or expressed it very vividly. Classic Megumi.

“Hey, he’s smarter than people give him credit for, okay? Wait until you see how talented he is at things other than sports and martial arts. You’d be surprised after trying the meatballs he makes. Would be good if you asked him to give you the recipe sometime; I make them, like, once a week, at least.”

He sighs, “...I will. But the point is, he cares for you a lot.”

“Yeah, beautiful soul, that guy. Loves people the way curious children love nature.”

“That would be a fitting way to put it.”

“How are the dogs?”

“My shikigami?”

“Yeah. Do they have names?”

“The black one is Kuro and the white one is Shiro.”

“You named them black and white?”

“Look, I named them when I was barely six years old, and six year olds aren’t exactly the best when it comes to these things…”

You giggle, “So the name stuck?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

Real cute.

“What about your father? How is he?”

“He’s okay, but, well. I guess we’re not that close anymore.”

“...I see.” He probably can’t imagine a version of you who wasn’t immensely close to her parents. You couldn’t then, either.

“We’ve been talking even less now that my mother’s in the hospital, but at least I get to talk to him before he eats, maybe. I’ve been doing most of the cooking now that my mother isn’t here and my father doesn’t really know how to handle himself in our kitchen without her guidance.”

“Oh… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mother?”

“Cancer.”

You can practically hear the gulp he’s taking, the bobbing of his throat— sensitive topic. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay, don’t be,” you reassure him, “I should have told you that day anyway. I was just… exploding at everybody on that night. I should apologise— I’m sorry for how badly I treated you.”

“No,” he goes, “No, you shouldn’t. I understand why you were like that that night. And it was mostly my fault, too, so…”

“No, no, I’m serious! Feel free to ask almost anything as long as I have actual answers to your questions and all.”

“Still… I just wanted to know. Sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

“No— you didn’t do any of that at all, don’t worry! I’m alright with people asking about this. Ah, anyway… besides Yuuji, do you have any friends?”

“Itadori and I aren’t friends.”

“Trust me, if I asked him, I bet he’d beg to differ. Yuuji’s like that with people— soon he’ll be more important to you than you could have ever thought at first.”

“Whatever you say,” he sort of grunts, “But I don’t have any friends, I think… except you, maybe. What about you?”

You were honestly expecting him not to consider you a friend at all, and at this point so much has happened that wouldn’t even be that bothered if he no longer thought of you as one but called you anyway out of his commitment to his promises, or as an apology.

“I’m surprised you can still call me a friend,” you say. Calling people instead of talking to them physically does something to your inhibitions.

“...should I not?”

“No, no, I’m happy,” you say over the phone. You’ll forget this conversation tomorrow, at least, when the sun has risen and the night returns back the hold you have over yourself, your composure, to you. You’ll act like this never happened. So you’ll say whatever you want to now, disgorging yourself of years of withheld secrets. “I’m happy that we’re still friends. I think I like that.

“Yeah?”

“Um— yeah, it seems like a good place to start,” you grin slightly. “And I, well. I don’t really have any friends beyond Yuuji,” —You’re not even sure if Tsumiki still sees you as a friend— “Even if I may have acquaintances like Sasaki or Iguchi it still feels like Yuuji’s one of the only people I can give that kind of title to, so, um… the more the merrier?”

“That’s… nice.”

“...it is, isn’t it?”

“Thank you.”

Why? “Okay.”

The two of you go through the next few seconds in silence, time feeling like it’s blending and bleeding into a mix of years and events. You can hear the light, steady sound of his breathing from the other line. If you could, you’d sleep to it— fuck the phone bill, you’ll be the one paying it in your father’s stead this time if it was for this.

It’s comforting, and you don’t want to break it— the quiet. If he can hear you now, can hear how you’re breathing through a smile with your chest only slightly moving, you hope it feels the same as the sound of his breathing did for you. You hope it feels just like home. Like a warm pillow in the one place you love the most that you bury your head into when the weather gets especially cold.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh dear.

Wincing at the sound of the creaking door’s shrill shriek as it's opened and then hits the wall, you know exactly who it is— you’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Is that Yuuji?”

“Oi! I told you not to barge into my room like that!” Megumi shouts.

“Huh? You’re calling someone? Sorry. Wait, is it [Name]?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Hi, Yuuji.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“Is it alright if we do, Megumi? Just for a few seconds.”

“Fine,” he sighs. You can practically hear that eye roll.

“Yo!” he cheers.

“Has everything been okay lately?” you ask.

“Yeah. We’re meeting a new student soon.”

“Ah, yeah. Megumi told me.”

“—Oh, and my uniform came in! It looks pretty neat.”

“That’s good. Maybe you can send me a picture once you start wearing it, then.”

“I will!”

Things are going better than you thought they would.

21-6-2018

It’s been a few days now.

You don’t know Sasaki and Iguchi well enough to call them friends, but the three of you do know each other. You had never decided to change any contacts with them, and considering that they and you were never closer than acquaintances, friends of a friend— you had never really regretted it. But now that Yuuji is gone— and you know he’s not dead, but still— you wonder whether you should have gotten closer to them, just to be less alone once Yuuji left, even if it could not be the way things were with Yuuji. (“I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think,” he had told you as you patched him up.)

Still, Yuuji and you were two peas in a pod— so they’re bound to ask what happened to him soon enough, especially Iguchi.

You’ll have to start getting used to spending your Thursdays alone. And then you’d have to start getting used to every other day without him, too. If you went to the arcade or watched movies or sing-screamed the lyrics to English songs you don’t know the Japanese translations of without his presence there, you know how it wouldn’t feel the same. In life it’s not what you do that matters, you’ve come to realise— it’s who you’re doing these things with. That’s what puts meaning to it all and makes all things done in your life worthwhile.

The two of them pass you by during lunch.

“[Last Name]? —Oh, hey!” Sasaki says as she turns around.

You almost scream and run away like a mouse fleeing from the eyes of a vicious house cat, tremors in your voice. “Hello…”

“Where’s Yuuji, by the way? The occult club’s going to fall apart without him.”

You pause. “He transferred to another school…”

“Huh?” she goes, Iguchi almost reeling back in shock. “Transferred? But why? We’ve barely even made it to the middle of the year!”

“I… I don’t know, it was something really urgent,”

23-6-2018

Your room is a cluttered mess— lucky as you are that it’s the weekend, the past week has been a rollercoaster that knocked your room’s usual standard of cleanliness off track. Scattered all over your desk were worksheets, notebooks, graph paper pages and foolscap paper, chicken-scratch writing and meticulous notes scribbled all over them to compensate for your absence the day after the incident took place.

It isn’t the time or the discipline you lack— it’s just that it’s going to be awfully tedious. You’ll have to wipe your desk again, and clean the walls, and sort through all your clothes, too, since you haven’t been folding them in any way that isn’t merely fastidious and nearly careless. So as you get to work, you suppose that calling someone wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe you could call Megumi. That would be okay.

For the past few years, you’ve never noticed it. So when you do, it hits you like a bullet train at the fastest of speeds.

You miss him. Not just in the way you miss 2010, the way you miss the past, the way you miss and mourn the person you used to be. It had been so obvious for Tsumiki, but not for him, and now that you know this it’ll be another quiet revelation— another rediscovery of fragments of yourself concealed by memories.

You miss him— all of him; you yearned to be his friend again because he was unlike Tsumiki who you knew cherished you as you did her; you miss him regardless of who he is now, because somewhere inside him is the boy who read dog books and brought you to the school library and ran your finger through water when you burned it. Somewhere inside him is the person who offered to hold your bag as he walked with you through a snowy garden, and helped you when your nose bled.

So it would be okay to call Megumi right now.

“Fushiguro speaking.”

“Hi, Megumi. Are you busy?”

“Not right now.”

“Want to call?”

“Fushiguro!” It’s Yuuji. “Wanna go—”

“I said I’m not going!”

You chuckle, “Be nice. Were the two of you supposed to go somewhere?”

“Nothing important. Gojo said he wanted us to ‘bond’ with each other, so he concluded that we could watch a movie. Some kind of gory horror film or something.”

He’s… actually making an obvious effort not to scold Yuuji that much or call him some insulting, derogatory term this time… wow.

“Ah, yeah. Yuuji likes his horror movies.”

“Anyway, anything urgent you wanted to tell me?”

“No, I’m just… uh—” you laugh nervously, “I’m just a little bored.” Nowadays you’re not really sure what he’d do— scold you, maybe, or roll his eyes so hard that you can hear it over the line, or he may even flash into a quick bit of awkwardness and hesitation through his words.

Or maybe— and this was the worst of it all, he’d ask why you were calling him, and his bouts of awkwardness would have only been something temporary, soon to be replaced once again by anger and annoyance, the same he gives to everyone else— even if you knew he didn’t always mean it, per se. No more special treatment for you.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, uh… I have to clean, and usually it’s not as much as what I have to do today, so I just thought that since the only other person in the house is my father and we don’t really talk much anymore, we could, um… chat for a while. Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Uh-huh, so.” You stand up, leaving your phone on your desk and putting the call on speaker mode. The mountain of papers and books is a wasteland and your desk has been degraded to a landfill— the state of it would make your mother a wailing mess— no, she’d faint instantly as soon as she saw it, becoming worse of a mess than the table itself was. “Anything interesting happened lately?”

“Not really.”

“Oh—! Yuuji sent me a picture of his uniform the other day. Was that one special?”

“Yeah. But they let students make adjustments to the uniform, and he said he hadn’t changed anything, so I think that was Gojo’s doing.”

“Oh, well, that’s Gojo. It suits him, though, right? Not to sound mean or be presumptuous, but…” you chuckle, “When you wear the uniform, you look so formal. It’s not a bad thing— it’s just that Yuuji’s just always been more casual like that. And the red of the hoodie goes with his hair, too!”

“I guess so.”

“I can’t imagine you wearing anything other than the default uniform, though. Not to insult you, I mean, you still look good in the normal uniform, I just— can’t imagine it.” You remark, sorting the materials and books by size and subject. You’ve got to handle some of the drawers, too, now that you’ve started and can’t stop your momentum just yet. You can already feel the dust particles that have gathered on whatever is inside them still, jostling around once you’ve taken them out.

“If you’re going to say it like that, you can just say it outright.”

“No, no! I mean that I just can’t imagine you wearing, like, Yuuji’s uniform. Wait, what do the other students’ uniforms look like?”

“The second years?”

“Yeah. Did they choose the normal ones?”

“Inumaki did. They have three boys and one girl, but only two of the boys wear the normal uniform. Okkotsu has a special uniform in white.”

“Oh, I see,” you nod your head, “It’s a nice uniform, though. I wish I could wear a uniform that pretty.”

“You could always enrol yourself here,” he suggests, “They’d welcome you with open arms.”

“Maybe they will,” you chuckle, “But my mother would be adamant on me staying in the ‘normal’ world. She’s unyielding like that.”

“And your father?”

“Wouldn’t mind, at least I don’t think…” you say, “I’ll have to wonder when to tell him if I do end up in jujutsu high; you never know when he’s mad. He’s always unpredictable like that nowadays and it’s not… particularly pleasant.”

“I see. It would be good if you were here, though. You would be closer to Dr Ieiri that way. And it would do good, because, um… well, I’d like you here. You’d be… good for the people around you here.”

“Ah, you— you would?” you ask, slightly phased— not like he hasn’t been a bit nicer to you since you’ve seen him again (maybe it was the awkwardness, maybe it was the guilt). “Thank you,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging up sheepishly, heading to the dusty drawer (you haven’t touched it in what feels like years, usually excluding it from your list of things to clean).

After a scrupulous amount of wiping away at the dust outside of and surrounding it, you open the drawer with a slight bit of anticipation— you don’t expect much, but you’re a person who lingers on the past like a ghost that has forgotten how time has passed. There wouldn’t be much in this drawer to reminisce on, you presume, but you still approach it with an eager fascination— you’re the type to do so, after all.

Of everything there, the most noteworthy are two things you grabbed almost immediately— you could never forget how they felt, and the weight that they held in your life back then: a letter, addressed but never delivered to the person you were talking to right now, and a cigarette with a hastily scribbled slew of numbers on it and a lipstick mark on its end.

Oh, that letter. That letter.

From what you remember, you’ve never rebelled against your parents before. At least, not with anything major— for a long time, you were their good girl, and you never disobeyed them, as much as you wanted to at times. You still are, still stuck with that age-old drive to be useful. (But was there even a point in that anymore? At least, was there one with your parents?). You didn’t picture yourself as any kind of righteous goody-two-shoes, but you definitely weren’t a rebel or a delinquent. You followed their instructions and seldom ever questioned what they told you, and so it had always been subtly implanted in your brain that they would be alright with anything you did or said. Yet the first time you did actually start to question them, you realised that their belief in your ‘obedience’ as pure love— and maybe it was; you loved them so much you were blinded and trusted them with everything and did anything they wanted their baby to do— you realised they only treated you so lovingly if you were not an actual person with your own ideals and beliefs.

(But they still loved you, right?)

Even now, you still do obey them and listen to them. If your father needed anything, he could consider it done; if your mother wanted her clothes to be patched up you’d try your utmost best to withstand the pricking of needles and bring it back to her hospital room with bandaged fingers. It was like that with your mother: even if at times it seemed like the only pain she wanted for you was callouses from a pen or pricks from needles, at other times you feel she could have known you’d end up like her, maybe. Maybe she saw it as a curse: the worlds the two of you were born in were different, and she wanted you to stay in yours, lest you die or live in a world of endless pain.

You’ve been doing it for a long time: being dismissive of yourself, prone to self-prostration, subservient; the lovingness of a mother, the sweetness of a teenage girl (you hoped), the kindness of a caring friend. Maybe it was Tsumiki— maybe it was because you’d always seen this in Tsumiki. She was always smiling, always caring; taking on the weight of motherhood before she could carry the weight of her school bag. Hugging you with her saccharine smile; braiding her hair with gentle hands and holding your wrist with her hair tie on it even gentler. (You still have it with you. You had planned to start taking it off more once Yuuji left, but you suppose some habits take longer than a week to develop.) All while having that sickening, fantastical, mysterious sweetness of a teenage girl in what you now understand could have been a hidden misery— because caring for someone like a mother while suppressing the thoughts that spoke to you to act like a child was something you wanted to replicate until you realised you understood it. And then you no longer wanted to recreate it. (Maybe that was the way it was for every woman or girl you knew: watching someone you loved hurt themself or not being able to do anything to prevent it when they started. Life was a cycle that way. A very annoying, frustrating one full of unfortunate circumstances and wrongly-picked out decks of cards.)

“…you know what? I think I may be able to come,” you tell him.

“You don’t have to go against your father for our sake.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I think I know who to ask for help. Thank you, Megumi.”

“Hi, Dr Ieiri?”

“Kid? That you?” she goes, the slightest bit of excitement stark against her usual deadpan tone. “I thought you’d never call because of that old man.”

“Haha, yeah— sorry to disturb you, but, um, Dr Ieiri? I may want to take you up on that offer, by the way, but um, I’m still on the fence. I mean, I know I want to be like you and do what you do but… I don’t know, I’m not quite sure about leaving the two of them alone here and all. But anyway, I just called you because I wanted to ask if there was, you know, any way you could get me to Tokyo somehow. I need to pass something to someone, but, um… I guess I’m going with this with the hope that I’ll change my mind and join you. But I’m… perpetually on the fence for now, I guess.”

“Pft,” she snorts, “You little rebel, I’m in. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you so much.”

24-6-2018

The decision and the plan were made as swiftly as you could.

You decide to tell your father— you wouldn’t want to deceive him, after all. At least, you’d give him a quick notice. And then you’d leave. Like a snowflake before the first day of spring. He’ll probably tell your mother.

“I’m leaving for Tokyo for a while,” you say, “I’ll be back before you can even realise I’m gone. Invitation from Dr Ieiri.”

25-6-2018

“Why?” your father asks, the night before you leave. He suggested going out together at least once before you left. He always knew when you were making white lies.

“I guess that maybe I’m just too much like you, Daddy.”

For the first time in years he hugs you on the doorstep, patting you on the back on the day you’re set to leave. “Make sure you study and work hard,” he reminds you.

“I’m leaving for Tokyo,” you announce.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy,” she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t even blink.

“I’m not.” You are.

“You know, your father travelled all over the country to see me again after we’d first met.”

“Oh. Okay?”

“And he’s always been dedicated to his job and dedicated to helping people.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m saying that the two of you are very similar. I’ve lived through this story before,” she states, “And you look just like your father right now.” your mother says. She hasn’t smiled the way she used to— you remember it vividly, that vibrant gleam in her, the liveliest and loveliest of life— in ages and you don’t think she will, not now of all times.

“Really? Sometimes he says I take after you more.”

“You will.”

It doesn’t feel like a curse. Even if it usually would make your heart well up in guilt, it doesn’t feel like a curse.

Maybe she knows that her time is running out. Maybe this is resignation. Whatever it is, you hold her hand first, but you’re also the first one to let the other go, your fingers slipping away from hers. You leave the door for the last time in a while, making another round in your life of that carousel of abandonment and reuniting and departures.

25-6-2018

Dr Ieiri greets you with a calm smile on her pallid face.

“Good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back here,” you sigh.

It is.

You keep your hand on your other hand’s wrist, holding them in front of you. The cherry hair tie on it feels warm against your skin as you exit the station, summer heat embracing it softly.

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