56 and any Yamo pairing! 🫶
i just wheezed so hard when i saw what the song was i almost snorted coffee out of my nose i am so sorry for this one
#56 - kyoto phoebe bridgers + yamo
the story of how this song ended up on my wrapped is too long so it’s going in the tags but. let me set the scene for you.
2026 NHL GLOBAL SERIES™️ JAPAN - Presented by YPPI
November 13 & 14, 2026: Dallas Stars, Montreal Canadiens, Seattle Kraken, Vancouver Canucks
Saitama Super Arena, Saitama, Japan
It’s a pitiful excuse of a consolation prize for not being able to go to the Olympics, but Kailer’s not going to look a vacation horse in the mouth. The arena’s cool. It’s huge. The people are cool. There’s so many more of them than he thought there’d be with jerseys that have his name on the back, and a lot more that have the familiar orange and blue. He takes a picture of the fifth Oilers Yamamoto jersey he signs—this one’s the good Reverse Retro—and texts it to Connor, says,
no one here has even heard of mcjesus
and gets a moon face emoji in response. Leon’s influence. Kailer’s still never really deciphered what that one means, and he doesn’t think Connor knows either.
They don’t have a lot of time off between games, but Kailer’s trying to be a good tourist. His dad had been so happy when Kailer had told him about the series that Kailer’d had to stop him from trying to book a flight a year in advance, and his mom’s been just as bad, sending him every article she sees about Best New Spot in Tokyo! Cool Restaurant! Have You Seen This Japanese Cat Café? that she scrolls across on Facebook since June. Suzy’s in the same boat, so they’ve been crossing off their compiled travel-guide list together, looping in as many guys as they can. Everyone’s been pretty game. All the teams are crammed into close quarters at the same hotel, which means everyone wants to spend as much time as possible outside of it, and it helps that Kailer’s gotten pretty close with all the other guys that the NHL picked up as Global Series figureheads. Robo’s memes? Absolutely fire. The groupchat loves them.
For every item he crosses off the list, Kailer takes a picture and keeps it tucked in his phone notes. It’s like speed-running a scavenger hunt—they’re only here for four days—but he’s doing a pretty good job. His favorite so far has been all the gardens. They’re stunning, trees shining bright red and yellow, and every vendor has been selling maple candies, maple cakes, and even fried maple, though the official maple festival doesn’t start until next week. The second garden he visits, he does it on his own after practice, buying two cakes from a cart near the gate and walking until he loses the bustle outside. It’s easy to get lost in the winding pathways, heading deeper into the quiet, and there’s dozens of benches underneath the burnished leaves where young couples are tucked away on dates, or old friends are laughing and catching up. In some of the little clearings, there’s small shrines where people leave offerings, a prayer for good luck or good fortune.
Kailer stops at one without any people and sets the second maple cake on top of it, then sits and scrolls through all the texts that he’s missed. His mom gets replied to with a picture of him outside the garden gate, grinning and surrounded by other travelers. He sends his brother a picture of a trashy graphic I Love Japan t-shirt with the threat that he’ll buy one for him, and Kailer’s dad gets a picture of the meticulously arranged and cut bonsai that are across from the bench where he’s sitting. The Seattle groupchat gets a recycled meme from Robo, and he gets two thumbs up and an “LMAO” before he can even exit the thread. Finally, Kailer takes a picture of the half-eaten maple cake in his hand, holding it next to a fallen maple leaf on the bench, and gets halfway through typing another message before he thinks better of it.
(On the plane over, Drieds was reading them a story about how when they first introduced the high-speed railway, people were afraid to use it because they thought it would be too fast for their souls to keep up.
“Bro, if that were true, you just left your soul in the middle of the Pacific,” Ebs had laughed. “Planes are faster than trains.”
“Are they?” Matty asked. “Isn’t the train in Japan the fastest in the world?”
Drieds couldn’t make it through the rest of the story over the sound of everyone ripping Matty to shreds, so Kailer didn’t get to ask whether or not they found out anything about planes. Kailer’s not worried about his soul, but the logic makes a strange kind of sense; after all, he traveled 429 miles in five and a half hours once, and that was a little too fast for his heart to keep up.)
Fuck it. Kailer’s been trying to write a response for the past ten days, and he’s sick of swiping in and out of the message, staring at the keyboard so long he starts to see swirls in his vision.
Kailer drafts the text again and sends it, no context, no caption. A text travels faster than a high-speed train or a jet. Maybe it’ll pick his heart back up on the way.
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[ anger ] / [ fear ] + maybe …. [ closer ] ?!?! idk have fun with it. lol 🐺🐇
PINNED. x @daizure
[ ANGER ]: sender pins receiver against the wall out of anger.
[ FEAR ]: in order to frighten or intimidate the receiver, the sender shoves them back against a wall, positioning themselves so that the receiver can’t get out.
[ CLOSER ]: while pinning the receiver against the wall, sender glances down at their lips, suddenly aware of how close they are to one another…
He must have misspoken. Gaius knew his tongue had been sharp, his patience wearing thin the longer their excursion lasted, time and circumstances chipping away at his facade.
He had barely felt as if he belonged in his own body. Garlemald was but a ghost of what she had been, a corpse with broken, shattered bones, staring up at the sky and begging for release. He felt much the same.
The moment snow began to crunch underfoot, the long forgotten Legatus felt as if he were simply observing. He wondered if this was how the Reaper avatars felt, looking over their caller's shoulder, not quite here and not quite dead.
The voice that came from his lips felt alien. His words were not his own, delayed and flat, as if he were pulling them from the very depths of what remained of the man.
It was a long reach. There was not much left.
Now, the cold sinking into his bones and forcing him to return, to be reminded of his broken bones and dislocated pieces - fractures aching and sore. He was more aware of his shortcomings in the cold.
How could he not, when they screamed at him so?
His tongue was thick in his mouth, cheek and jaw stiff, the lightning line where he had once shattered his orbital bone prickling under the skin. Gaius couldn't recall what he said.
It had puffed from his lips, settling into the stale air. With the speed of a man who was also at the end of his rope, Arye crossed the space, glove-clad hands gathering in the front of his parchment-thin undershirt. His shoulders met the cold metal wall, the back of his head bumping and his hand instinctively reaching for one of his knives.
A heavy boot settled between his own. He stared down into green irises, half-hidden by the furious pull of snowy brows.
For a moment, he was not being cornered in Broken Glass, both of them hidden away behind one of the supply buildings. He was looking at sprigs of life under the last blanket of winter, grass peeking out and pulling the covers back. It was the beginning of spring, of something new and fresh. Rebirth. Revitalization.
He was but an old dog that scarcely survived the dead of winter.
Why had he come?
The blade that pressed into his throat ripped him back. His hand was empty. Arye stood nigh on his toes, violence and fury in every syllable he spoke, blood beading at his skin and dragging down onto his collar.
" -- Do not make me repeat myself," the spring snarled, ears turned to listen for interruptions beyond them. The knife bit into his flesh. "Do you understand, Baelsar?"
He did. Gaius swallowed, gaze drifting from his own knife on under his chin to the curl of the Adventurer's lips. He drew in a deep breath, feeling himself settle back into his body for the first time since he had arrived.
"Do you oft use your enemy's munitions against them, Hviter?"
Cold air puffed into the Viera's face. His expression tightened, hackles raising, the sound of leather shifting as the man's grip tightened on Gaius' knife.
Arye opened his mouth, cheeks pink with cold and rage.
"No matter. Keep it," Gaius spoke. He pulled back, finding just enough room to force his way out of Arye's cornering, the knife sliding against his throat further as he created space betwixt them. He felt the cold nibble at the wound, the slice clean and thin across his throat.
"Ganathain has one of my own in his possession, too. Mayhaps it is best," he said, adjusting his neckerchief to hide the weeping wound. "For you to have one, lest you sully one of your own blades with my blood. Keep it. You may have use of it yet."
His shoulder bumped Arye's chest. He stepped around the Warrior, eye contact sharp and steady, and did not break his gaze until he disappeared from behind the warehouse himself.
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