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hxhhasmysoul · 5 months

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Thanks for sharing your fics recs (especially the KilluGon) most in your list, I have not read them yet... 🤩🌻 Also, love your analysis and reviews, thanks for sharing them....

Okay, so as ItaFushi and SatoSugu shipper, I was curious about SukuIta ship. You are the first person (that I know of and follow) that ship them...Hope you don't mind if I ask you a few things. What do you think are Sukuna and Itadori’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? What make you ship them?

Also, you're the first person that I follow that don't like Gojo (even not entered him in your top 5 fav charas). I don't mean anything negative...I just find it interesting. As a Gojo lover (he's my 2nd fav after Yuji) I found your reasons for disliking him pretty reasonable and I love your metas.....

Happy holiday....

Thank you for your kind words. And I’m glad that my Gojou negativity doesn’t put you off. I haven’t been very kind in my posts about him, they are very ranty. My top charas are honestly related to how much I think about them and how excited I am for scenes with them for various reasons. And like for example Kirara is absolutely on the list of characters I’m always excited for, or: Miwa, Hana, Toudou, Junpei, Nanami, Higuruma, Maki, Uraume, Tengen or Yuki. Gojou used to be on this list because I actually enjoyed how flawed he is, it was: wow this man! A bit like watching an accident happen. But I also find his position in the jujutsu world interesting. Fandom soured me on him and that’s on me.

______

As to the fic recs, if you enjoy killugon I have reblogged some hxh and killugon fics rec lists over the years: x, x, x, x, x, x, x.

______

“What do you think are Sukuna and Itadori’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why?”

Yuuji has it all. He has this sweet side, he’s silly, cute, compassionate and has people skills. But he also has a darker side. He’s lonely, has unprocessed issues concerning forming relationships with others, he doesn’t value himself too much, he has the tendency to blame himself, it makes him suicidal eventually.

He can be very introspective and self aware but he sometimes chooses not to do that, like his refusal to think about his parents, or he can use it against himself to bash himself with guilt because he can over analyse his shortcomings. Yuuji both seeks connection and doesn’t easily let people know him too closely.

He’s also very smart and adaptable. He learns very fast, he can analyse a situation well and employ tactics that will often make him succeed in what he’s doing.

He also has good intuition, like in how he befriends Junpei, how he doesn’t want to be around Megumi during the culling games, or with plans on how to save Megumi.

Because he wants to connect with people he doesn’t always know when to put his foot down. He’s very good at asserting himself against people who are bullies and who are hostile towards him, like Sukuna and Mahito. With people he cares about though he’s not really good at that. He will argue but with for example Megumi and Gojou he will fall in line. They intimidate him to an extent, they seem knowledgeable and powerful in ways he isn’t. He defers to their judgement despite them failing him.

Sukuna is funny in his contrasts. I’ve once written that he’s full of shit. He’s the opposite of Yuuji because he refuses to introspect, to analyse himself. He of course has a huge ego so he has a very specific attitude towards people who exert any form of power over him. He gives Kenjaku the cold shoulder and tries to ignore them as much as possible. (Tell us why, Gege. Heian flashback when ;-;) Towards Yuuji he’s just irritable, disrespectful and petty.

He’s very nerdy about jujutsu, it’s very clear he enjoys it and he enjoys fighting. He believes that others matter only as much as he can get some enjoyment or entertainment out of them. Which is actually not entirely true, because he very clearly has a friendship with Uraume and he’s very mindful of Uraume’s feelings in it. As I said, not self aware.

______

“What make you ship them?”

The process of elimination. It will be a story XD

When I first read and watched JJK, I came out of it caring very deeply about Yuuji. I liked other characters but Yuuji was and still is special to me.

In fandom I primarily seek three things:

1. Art of the characters I like because I just like art and also it gives me extra emotions.

2. Meta and discussions, because I enjoy over analysing stuff and making theories.

3. Extra emotions in the form of fics. I’m only in two fandoms, they both traumatised my favs very deeply. I want to experience other things with the favs. I want them in situations. (mostly long form AUs but not all AUs, I’m picky XD)

With Gon and Killua, point 3 was easy. I find their romantic ship close to canon, I love them both, I wanted more of that.

With Yuuji I wanted something good for him. I wanted him to be prioritised and on the receiving end of love. I wanted someone to care as deeply about him as he does for others.

So I went on ao3 and started to look into the tags.

The first one I checked out was ItaJun. I like Junpei, I think he’s an interesting character. Yuuji and Junpei’s canon interactions can be read as pre crush stuff. They hit it off very quickly, share the passion for films. Are capable of talking honestly about deeper and darker things. Most fics in that rather short tag were from Junpei’s pov. Made him very mopy, soft and fragile, introverted in this stereotypical way. And Yuuji was there as the manic pixie dream boy. Next.

So I looked into the ItaFushi tag. It was long so I had hope. Even though I was and am ambivalent about Megumi. And I don’t particularly like his dynamic with Yuuji in canon. I mentioned it above, it’s about the misplaced deference that Yuuji shows Megumi. And Megumi thinking he’s much smarter than he is. Most fics in that tag were from Megumi’s pov. Made him very mopy, soft and fragile, introverted, melancholic and overly intellectual. And Yuuji was there as the manic pixie dream boy. But also dumber than Megumi. Like in the KilluGon tag you can find fics like that too, fics from Killua’s pov by people who don’t care about Gon. In both tags there will also be these kinds of fics but written by people who seem to dislike the “sunshine” character. It’s not just that they find that character to be a tool to make their fav feel better, but that they are kinda upset about it. There are few fics in that tag that I liked, though. Because despite being from Megumi’s pov, they both wrote Megumi and Yuuji close to as they are.

But generally, I was growing disappointed and frustrated. And I remembered one smut in the ItaJun tag which was actually a poly threeway with Sukuna. I remembered it because Junpei’s pov was nice and the dynamic was interesting. And I was like: well, can SukuIta be really worse than this? I mean if that poly fic was anything to go by, at least the smut will be fun.

So in the SukuIta tag finally, finally, my chance of finding Yuuji’s pov was high. And the authors there are actually interested in Yuuji’s personality. Not all of them do it justice, obviously, but they are interested. They are interested in putting Yuuji in situations. They are interested in tension and high emotions. They are interested in strange, codependent, very intense relationships, even in some of the more fluffy fics. There’s a lot of E rated stuff there, a lot of dead dove. And as I said before, I’m very picky and I won’t click on most stuff, but that was true for the other 2 tags as well. Just that, when I chose to click on stuff in this tag, the percentage of fics I read till the end was incomparably higher than in the other two tags. And reading through it, I started to get ideas to write for it.

______

“What do you love about their dynamic?”

As I said above, in the beginning I was mostly amazed that I’m getting Yuuji exploration. Sukuna was there as the vehicle for the situations and the emotions. Even when I started writing my first fic, I was of that mindset too. Writing it made me ponder Sukuna more and grow to like him beyond his fun energy as a villain.

The thing I like about their dynamic is when Yuuji gets to finally allow himself a close and raw relationship with someone, it’s usually very dramatic and dark in the best scenarios. That he carves something for himself, something often imperfect and kinda toxic, something where both sides are forced to make concessions and navigate around each other, but something where he’s prioritised.

And when Sukuna gets punished for his personality, like the consequences of his irreflexive nature give him anxiety or something like that. When he’s forced to actually self-analyse. Sukuna is about his own pleasure and you can write him in a way that if someone becomes his pleasure, he gets very intense about it.

At its best, this dynamic is very intense, dramatic and either goes in a very dark direction or requires a lot of negotiation.

Also true form Sukuna is the hottest JJK has to offer and my dear Yuuji deserves the absolute best.

#answering asks #thank you for the ask #jjk #itadori yuuji #sukuna #sukuita #also my friend asked me about this ages ago #and i was planning to write this but got busy and forgot #which is argh #i'm slowly going through all the asks #work's been rough and i'm slow

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lavenderjewels · 6 months

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Read the unofficial translated JJK 244 chapter because im procrastinating on homework, so thoughts below

Liked this chapter! It was wordy and explained some of the things we already knew or are kind of moot points, but I appreciate a chapter of characters interacting and being smart (ish) about what to do with sukuna and kenjaku. And the characters looked SO cute this chapter

Miwa’s comically big eyes are hilarious

Kamo is out of the picture, which makes sense. I’m not sure who else will be involved or leave. Despite what Kusakabe said about sending Miwa to her death alone if she goes first, her vow is limited to katanas, so I can see her using another weapon and joining the fight. Love kamo, but out of all the Kyoto kids, he’s always been the one I can 100% see leaving for family reasons, but I can see Miwa staying as a person who “thinks she doesn’t care about dying” or on the bench. Tbh I would rather have her deal with the aftermath of whatever Kenjaku had a backup plan for, since her revenge failed. It would be neat since she brought that up again this chapter. Do I know how she could help? No, but im not the writer so who cares

I do think everyone has been constantly underestimating Kenjaku at every turn in this series. Sukuna is such a presence and Kenjaku flies under the radar, so they make their death and the possible merger seem too simple

For the others, I can see Momo maybe leaving too, but if Miwa stays, I don’t think she’ll leave and she can be good for scouting like Mei Mei. Mei Mei is absolutely staying, same with Ui Ui, Choso, Shoko, Maki, Ino (imo). Not sure about Inumaki since I don’t know if he already did something with Yuuta. There’s no way panda could survive, but idk if he’d leave. I would say Hana would help, but somehow I feel like Angel could stop her, since she was the one that said Hana can’t fight. I don’t think they’ll leave unless Sukuna is dead (Angel) and Megumi gets help/dies (Hana) either way. NO clue about Kusakabe or Utahime joining any fight

Strange that I couldn’t find Utahime among people in this crowd too. Is this taking place around the start of the Gojo fight because it seems like it, so maybe she was preparing for that with Gakuganji and Gojo.

I’m still so stuck on the fact that Todo is completely gone for zero apparent reason. He doesn’t even use his technique on special grades, so even though he wouldn’t be much help here, he’s still incredibly strong and with his personality, its weird he’s not butting into these conversations. I just want to know the excuse that gege ends up giving for this. If it’s because he’s now besties with Nobara and they’re training together, all will be forgiven ✨

OKAY SO. Kamo and Choso training yuuji! Good chance that this is going with the implication that yuuji ate his brothers and got some blood manipulation from it. I already thought this was the likely case, although I also think Yuuji has a thing with souls (whether that’s related to that scene that made it seem like he switched bodies with kusakabe ¯\_(ツ)_/¯).

Choso’s face when Yuuji said he was a bad teacher was adorable. One of the issues with these flashbacks after a time skip is that I wish we had more of these natural character moments, but it’s instead all plot-relevant to the scene it’s flashing forward to.

I’ve talked about this before, but I like the idea that if yuuji is getting a power up, then it’s as a result of his treatment as a vessel/cage that he can then turn on the people that have mistreated him. Hope im phrasing this right, but that would be more meaningful than suddenly becoming as strong as sukuna with his powers.

Continuing with that, I don’t think Yuuji just becoming Gojo’s successor in matching in strength like Yuuta is the way this is going, or would be a good way to go. I like the idea that he has to be smart about this fight and it’ll likely involve something with the soul. Having overwhelming power does get boring sometimes and it can lead to fights like the Sukuna and Gojo having to work around explaining how an overpowered character loses a battle of strength. This fight already has more strategy and stakes, which is a plus

Even outside of that, pure strength is not everything and Gojo has always represented that. While his desire to raise allies and those with potential to surpass him is nice, that’s not some perfect solution and doesn’t really change things. It’s very in character for Gojo, but I hope this series does more than just ending it with the villains gone and all the main characters in power and overpowered, while nothing actually gets addressed (if this makes sense lol). It kind of reminds me of when Gojo told Gakuganji things would be better if he ran the circle of higher ups, like nice sentiment but a small and ineffective bandaid onto these bigger problems. It’s why I like Yuki a little more of Maki’s destruction of her clan. I’m just rambling at this point, but yeah im just interested in seeing how this story resolves its themes—with the younger generation and whatnot—and if it’ll lean into tragedy or hope (or will be more generic “yay defeated the villains so who cares about everything else!” Ending).

However, power ups can coincide with or represent character development, like with Gojo and Maki’s enlightenment. It’s just not necessary to be a good character and I’ll always be a fan of how “weak” Yuuji has been in comparison over this series no matter where his character ends up.

Good on Yuuji for being the one to introduce the retrial!! And I just love Higuruma and watching him go on these lawyer tangents while Yuuji and Miwa and listening, but confused.

Sukuna being stuck in court on trial for the devastation he’s brought is genuinely one of the funniest sights to see in all of JJK. And in his original form

I need this trial to lead into sukuna backstory and Heian era flashbacks. Only asking gege for this and nobara,, please

#idk how I wrote so much. the power of procrastinating #jjk leaks #jjk 244 #jjk spoilers #I’ll reread the official when it comes out since this was a chapter of explanations

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ghostofashina · 1 month

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Fanfiction about me tag meme!

Tagged by @princeparakeet <3 thanks

How many works do you have on AO3?

26. Sometimes it feels I do nothing else than write fanfictions, but I do. I swear. I play the games I write about. :D

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

214,891K. An absurd amount of smut and angst. Sorry not sorry.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Sekiro (11 works), but I write about fromsoftware games in general, except Dark Souls (I failed at playing it). Also, Baldur's Gate 3 but it's more a self-indulgence writing about my original characters. And, surprisingly, I also write about Rings of Power.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Hana no Michi — Sekiro/Emma, 171. [my very first english fanfiction and the first about my otp]

An Edge of Despair — Adar/Arondir, 76.

Once Upon a Dream Now a Memory — Cal Kestis/Dagan Gera, 75. [the only star wars fanfiction i sworn to write in my entire life]

Sharp Memories of a Gentle Blade — Sekiro/Emma, Genichiro/Emma, 69.

The Scars Upon his Skin — Adar/Arondir, 43.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always. Even if I take a long time to do, and sometimes I really take a long time, mostly because I'm doing something else. Sorry, by the way. Adult life just sucks, things are always constantly happening.

6. What is the fic you wrote with angstiest ending?

Ah. Could be Genichiro/Emma fic. They are very angst, I love it. But actually I think it is a Lady Maria/Eileen (Bloodborne). Every time I write about them it goes to Maria's tragic ending, so it always leaves a sour taste in the mouth. But also, I'm always writing angts stuff.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My newest Sekiro/Emma fic, it's all fluff and tender. But I like to think that Fever Dreams (Genichiro/Emma) also has a veeeery happy ending hehe. If you know, you know.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not on fics. Sekiro's fandom is really chill and I love it to death, it's really peaceful, we're just glad people are making content in the end. But, I've got some about my other pairings, especially Adar/Arondir, but never on my fics.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

I do, a lot. Of any kind. I see sexual dynamics as a sort of expressions of those characters, so I'll be exploring every trait that fits them in that dynamic. So it can be very sweet or it can be very violent. It really depends on the pairing and the context. For example, I really love to write somnophilia between Emma and Genichiro because it's about control and he is all about control.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest crossover you've ever written?

Not yet, but I plan to write a Kuro and Miquella crossover fanfic when the Elden Ring DLC comes out so I can figure it out what is Miquella's deal. I think they are very similar and would have a nice dynamic to explore.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so. My ships are mostly very unpopular. But if anyone would use a prompt of mine, I wouldn't mind. Even if its something very specific like Memory of Shura.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, I translate my own fics. After all, I'm brazilian and sometimes I write in portuguese and translate to english or write in english and translate it to portuguese.

13. Have you everco-written a fic before?

No, I'm a control freak. I could never.

14. What's you all-time favorite ship?

It got to be Sekiro/Emma. I just loved their dynamic the second I put my eyes on them. It's very subtle and simple, it's implied they have far more story than its shown. They never actually interact romantically, but there's room enough for imagination to run free. I could talkabout them all day long, so I'll just shut up. But, I do also really came to love Genichiro/Emma because of those same reasons.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Gosh, so many! Hm, I have one called "Rebel, Royal Blue" it's Genichiro/Emma inspired by Pride and Prejudice, but it's a long fic, and I've had enough of writing longfics, even so I love that WIP so much, I really want to finish it. At the moment, the main goal is to finish Memory of Shura, I'm taking too damn long.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hm, angst. And a free mind, which means I write about weird stuff and explore every inch of it without putting effort to make a moral compass and tell "this is wrong don't try this at home". I like to believe I'm good at dialogues, but never had any sort of confirmation, so well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

At the moment, the language barrier. I feel my writing loses power when I'm not writing in my native language and sometimes it can be very tricky or messy.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's my current 24/7 job. The hardest part is context, like making a joke you thought in your native language work in your second.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Naruto. Kakashi and Yamato. Been there, done that.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

It's A moment of pain, a memory suspended in time. Again, Sekiro/Emma. I loved writing and suffering every inch of its angst and violence. But gosh, who would I be if I didn't say I'm really proud of Memory of Shura? It's the union of my favorite things in the world: Sekiro and Guillermo del Toro. It's very ambitious and very hard, I've putting a lot of effort in it and I'm in love with it.

Tagging: @blackcatofsky <3

#gosh i can't shut up #tagging game #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #thanks for tagging <3

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cursedvibes · 1 year

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1,2,10 for gojo and geto

Thanks for the ask! Oh boy here we go...

Gojo:

1, My first impression of them

Funky hyperactive manchild. Some weird opinions about women and men (as a demographic) sometimes, but points to him for wanting to change the system. I also liked that his goal wasn't entirely self-less. He told Yuuji he's still gonna die but like...later.

2. When I started to like/dislike them

Generally, I like him for what he is, although I think he's way too powerful as you can see by him being turned into a McGuffin for the story to progress. Unlimited Void looks nice and I like his fight in Shibuya (even though I still haven't forgiven him for killing Hanami like that). Have to say I like him as a high schooler way more though. There he's still somewhat inexperienced, fumbles and has to figure himself out. As an adult he feels a bit...stationary. Also I can't tell you how much I hate how he treats Ijichi or less powerful sorcerers in general. I recently read the second light novel and while it's nice of Gojo to bring Ijichi out for dinner and tell him how much he appreciates his work, he only gives him even more work after he comes back from his day off (first one in 5 months or so). This only cements the feeling in Ijichi that he can't even be absent for two days or Jujutsu Tech is literally gonna collapse, leading to him seeking less time off. Because he's a nice guy, he says he appreciates that Gojo relies on him, he wants to feel useful, but his body is literally shutting down from stress. Just give the guy a real break jfc. And it's not just Ijichi, Gojo doesn't care much for non-sorcerers or windows either as we see with Hana and Tsumiki. Makes sense with his strength and upbringing, but doesn't make me like that part of him more.

10. Describe the character in one sentence

Too powerful for his own good.

Geto:

1, My first impression

A villain with long black hair? Shouldn't be too difficult to like. But then-

2. When I first started to like/dislike them

-he opened his mouth. It's incredible how much bullshit this guy talks. His ideology doesn't make any sense. His plan doesn't make any sense. Say he did kill all sorcerers who opposed him (somehow...), what was he gonna do then? Even if he killed all non-sorcerers, sorcerers can have non-sorcerer children, was he gonna enforce eugenics nationwide? How even, he killed over 50% of the population, particularly the people making up the government, who all seem to be non-sorcerers. He doesn't seem the type who wants total chaos, so how was he gonna reorganize society? Just stupid and I can't stand any kind of supremacists in general, so he already lost me there. Comes off even worse when I have to listen to his speeches of bs in Vol 0 where his positions are virtually unchallenged. At least Sakurai made him a little more entertaining in the movie. There I can shrug him off more easily as just some Disney villain. Hidden Inventory explains how he got to that point, which I appreciate, but that doesn't make his ideals any better or less nonsensical. Also, I think he was only marginally better as a teenager. How is he the popular one when he's such a stuck-up ignorant little runt? At least you can have fun with Gojo, but him...he's gonna report you to the principle.

10. Describe the in one sentence

Failed his way through life and does the same in death as he got replaced by someone who's literally better than him in every way.

#asks #oh and I like that Gojo was defeated through his mentality not force #I hope the same happens with Yuuta

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spirit-ask · 1 year

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I’m sure you will think of something fae!

What do I do, Frisk? If I could I would call Miss. Hana, but I don't have her number.

You must also take into consideration that Miss. Hana won't remember you.

Oh, right... And the only number on here is Toriel's.

The younger one seemed interested in hearing about the Queen. It might be your only option, but it may also be the best option.

Fae's shaky finger pushed the call button and then switched it to speaker phone.

"I-I'm calling the Queen right now! Just please listen!" Fae called out from behind the wall of magic. She hoped that they would listen to her.

Ring Ring Ring

Please pick up...

Ring Ri-

"Hello, my child. What is it?" The motherly voice bounced off of the magical wall and reverberated in Fae's head.

"Ah- um-" Fae had failed to think about what she would say, "I'm in a bit of trouble..."

"What kind of trouble, little one? I cannot do much through the phone, but I am willing to talk you through it." Hearing Toriel's voice did a lot to calm Fae's nerves.

"W-well, I've been trapped by magic... And they are calling the guard..." Fae begins to explain.

"Oh, my dear, that is... I am not sure what I can do for you..." Toriel's voice saddened. A shaky sigh could be heard on the other end of the call.

A hushed voice is heard from the other side of the magic wall, "Is that the Queen? What is she like?"

"Y-yes! It is!" Fae blurts out.

"Please, not so loud child," Toriel instructed, "I was in hiding for a reason. I do not wish for others to know where I am."

"Wow~!" The little pig monster's voice was elated, "ISHI! ISHI! The Queen is on the phone!"

There was a pause.

Fae took this opportunity to explain what little plan she had. "You can just tell them that I have your permission to walk to New Home. Please! You don't have to tell them where you are. I won't tell either."

Another sigh from the phone. "Alright, dear, it is at least worth trying."

#post comic #fae #frisk #toriel #ki #waterfall

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the12thnightproject · 11 months

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Chapter 44: Full Circle. As they head toward Togakushi to (hopefully) greet Shingen, Katsu discovers an odd connection with her modern life and Yukimura's.

And Chapter 45: Shingen's POV - Missing Person - Checking in with Shingen on the other side.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

We stayed several weeks with Toshiie, which, among other things, allowed my brother and I to celebrate our birthday together. But once the weather changed from Autumn to almost-winter, we took our leave, with hugs and good wishes from Hana, one last ‘Uki’ piggyback ride for Nao, and promises to Toshiie that I would return as soon as I was able.

I gave Toshiie directions to Kasugayama as well as Aki’s house on the mountain in case he needed to get in touch with me. “Where will you be – I mean… which place? I don’t want to lose track of you now that we’ve found each other again.”

“I’ll let you know.” I couldn’t make any decisions or plans until after the wormhole opened at Togakushi. “There’s also a bookseller in Azuchi where you can always leave a message that will find me.” I gave him the location of that as well. That would be the most convenient for him since Azuchi was so much closer to Ikuno than the other two locations.

One last bro-slap between Yuki and Tosh, and one last long hug between my brother and I, then we were off. “See you soon!” he yelled after us. Tosh still hates saying goodbye.

As we made our way out of the town, Yuki gave me one of his suspicious side-eye glares.

“What?” I hoped he wasn’t going to question all the sly glances and eyebrow raises Toshiie had been unsubtly deploying. If he did, I was going to ruthlessly shit talk my twin and claim it was a tic.

“Bookseller. Azuchi. I knew I’d met you before. You were the old man who spied on me.” He punched my shoulder. “What the hell were you doing there?”

“I wasn’t spying on you… or anyone… exactly. It’s a long story.” Although I supposed we had plenty of time.

The journey to Togakushi took a week – which was faster than I had anticipated – as I had been worried we would be delayed by early winter storms when we got into the mountains. We had so much extra time that Yuki suggested we spend the night in his castle, which was less than a day’s ride from the shrine.

“I didn’t know you had a castle.” I tried and failed to picture Yuki as a Kenshin-like lord of a castle. “Of course, you should visit it.”

“Thanks. Except I shouldn’t thank you – I bet there’s a pile of tasks waiting for me,” Yuki said, and further explained that he hadn’t been there in months.

We turned our horses in the direction of what one day would become Nagano. The landscape was both familiar and unfamiliar in a way that felt jarring. Like a puzzle piece that looked like it would fit, until you tried to place it. “I grew up in this area. It still weirds me out, seeing this part of the country without a big city in the middle of it.”

“How big?” We were riding along the banks of the Chikuma River, and I looked around, feeling the displacement in time more vividly than before, especially since this was close to where I had gone to high school… years that I definitely had not enjoyed (hence the truancy to go snowboarding whenever I could get away with it).

“Um, I guess something like three hundred and seventy-five thousand people? So not huge, but bigger than a village.” I shrugged. “It seemed like a lot of people when I was growing up, but the first time I visited Tokyo, I realized it wasn’t that much, comparatively.”

Yukimura paused and looked out at the mountains in the distance, and the war damaged land in between. “I don’t know whether to be glad that the area came back from this, but that many people is kind of… well, it’s a lot… And this… Tokyo is bigger?”

“A hundred times bigger, I think. Tokyo – well in this era, it’s Edo, but in my time, it’s one of the biggest cities in the world. Maybe the biggest? I’m not sure.” The few times I had visited, it had seemed too big to me. But I had always been one to prefer outdoor spaces. “Maybe I shouldn’t be giving you all this information about the future.”

“Eh, I don’t know what I’d do with it anyway. It won’t change the way I live.” He turned his horse northward, and I got a good look at the building on the hill overlooking the river.

“Ueda Castle? Your castle is Ueda castle?” Had I known that? I should have known that. Not only should I have paid attention in school, I should have paid attention to it. Or, technically, I guess I hadn’t connected the Yuki I knew with the Sanada clan of Ueda castle.

“Yeah… why? Is it still there in your time?” He grinned at me. “I like the idea of it lasting that long.”

“Parts of it have been reconstructed… but yes, it’s still there. It’s a school now. It’s where I went to school.” I laughed suddenly. “I should leave a note for my bratty fifteen-year-old self to find.”

“A school? That’s really great. I mean, if it was no longer needed for defense… yeah… a school.” Yukimura smiled, then pointed to the castle gates. “Race you!”

Yuki was mobbed when he made his unexpected appearance, not only by vassals with issues he needed to solve! Right! That! Instant!, but also from people who were plain old happy to see him. I felt guilty that he’d had to spend so much time escorting me across the country, but when I tried to apologize, he’d gotten all bristly. “Stop that. I wouldn’t have been here either. I’d have stayed in Kasugayama.”

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he was borne off to his main audience room to deal with those urgent issues, so I followed a maid to the guest quarters, then used the bathhouse to clean the week’s travel off me.

After I cleaned up, I took some time to wander through the castle’s garden. Over the past couple of months, I’d had very little alone time, both a blessing and a curse. No time alone meant no time for dwelling on what I was going to say to Shingen when (not if) we were reunited. My time with Toshiie had given me some perspective on my feelings and behavior, but the dreaded worries were returning and I needed to be away from other people to drop the masks I’d been wearing during all of my interactions.

The garden in Ueda Castle allowed me that time and space. I spent an hour or so with my eyes closed and my face turned up to the sun. How do you apologize for something you would do again? I was sorry for how things had played out, but if modern medicine cured him, I would be happy. If it didn’t… then I’d robbed myself of time spent with him. But until I knew the result, I couldn’t regret. I could only hope.

Beyond the apprehension though, I simply missed him. Everything about him: his wicked smile, easy confidence, vast intelligence, and that way he could walk into any situation and know what to do. I missed the way he’d always had of making me feel smart and valued and cherished.

In a day – presuming Sasuke’s theories of time travel were correct – that wicked, smart, confident man would be back. What I didn’t know was whether he would still want to make me feel cherished or whether he would never want to talk to me again.

But… if he was alive, and healthy, it would have been worth it.

I stayed in the gardens until the wind became bitter, the sky became dark and my stomach became hangry. No one had come to look for me (possibly no one remembered that I was there), which likely meant that Yukimura was still trapped doing business with his vassals.

After a few wrong turns, I located a kitchen and begged a tray of food, which I then brought to Yuki’s audience chamber. The poor guy was huddled over a stack of reports. And yup… hair was standing in all directions – I imagined he had raked his hands through it multiple times over the day.

“As much as you’ve yelled at Shingen to not push himself, you’re just as bad.” I carried the tray into the room. “Eat.”

He laughed suddenly, sounding half-amused, half-something else I was not able to determine. “You’re always feeding me.”

“I am?” I thought back. Yeah, I had shoved a bowl of rice or a cup of tea at him on more than one occasion. “Huh. Well, maybe that’s a sign you need to pay more attention to mealtime.” I set the tray down at his elbow. “Anyway, you look busy, so I’ll leave you to it, but… eat.”

He nodded and set the paper he was reading aside. In the process, he knocked the chopsticks off the tray. Both of us jumped to catch them before they hit the floor, our hands touching in the process.

Yuki yanked his hand away as if it had been burned, and he resolutely stared at his reports… but not before I had gotten a look at his face.

Shit.

Toshiie had been right.

I set the chopsticks back on the tray. “Eat,” I repeated one last time before leaving the room. There was absolutely nothing I could say that would not make things worse.

Yuki was my friend – and I loved him like a brother. All I could offer him was, as Toshiie had put it, a steady affection. I could imagine what a life with him would be like… and it was not unpleasant… but it was not what I wanted for myself. It was not what I wanted for Yukimura either.

Even if I could envision a life on a different path than the one I had set myself on, a life that even offered a contentment, a life similar to what Toshiie had with Hana, I knew that I would never take a step on that path. I was not my brother, and Yukimura deserved better than to become someone’s Plan B.

The late Autumn blizzard began that night. It was probably heralding the arrival of the wormhole, which obviously enjoyed creeping around in storms. At least the weather gave Yuki and I something to focus on. I didn’t think that Yuki was aware that I had discovered his feelings, and I certainly didn’t want to embarrass him (or me, for that matter) by calling attention to them.

“Damn Fume and her weather forecasting knees.” Ice pelted my face like little stinging arrows. Besides the snow and sleet, it was even thundering.

“Is that another one of your modern expressions?” Yukimura asked. There were icicles hanging off his hat. He broke off one and tossed it away.

“Sadly, no.” I pointed to another mountain off in the distance. “Before I came to Kasugayama, I was based over there. Fume is the chatelaine and claims she can tell months in advance when we’re about to have a bad winter by how much her joints ache. She started foretelling a bad winter as soon as last winter ended.” Actually, she was always claiming we were going to have a bad winter. And we always had a bad winter. I do not think the two were casually related.

“Oh yeah. One of my vassals is the same way.” He paused and glanced over at the mountain. “You didn’t want to visit her?”

“No. First because if we make it up there, there’s no guarantee of getting down again until Spring.” The path to Aki’s manor wasn’t exactly vertical, but it sometimes felt that way. “Also. She hates me.”

“Maybe she’s grumpy because her knees hurt,” Yuki offered.

“No, she actually hates me. She calls me ‘that- “. I pulled Moonlight to a halt, catching sight of what was ahead of us. “Son of a bitch.”

“You’re right. That is mean—Son of a bitch!” Yuki had belatedly seen what was ahead of us.

Right about where Sasuke had predicted the wormhole would open, a group of armed bandits was camped out. Most were carrying swords, but at least two of them had muskets within reach. Maybe more than that… it was hard to tell with the snow slapping me in the face.

“I think this is where I came in.” Bandits armed with muskets – just like the ones who had attacked Shingen, Yukimura and Sasuke this summer.

“Why here?” Yuki asked quietly. “There’s nothing out here but the shrine, and it would be stupid to attack anyone going there.”

“Fate.” Shingen had once said that we can’t fight fate. Was that what this was then? Had I saved him from that first sniper, sent him to the future to be cured, only to put him in the path of another bullet? Because if the wormhole opened up and dumped Shingen and Sasuke here, they would not be expecting an attack.

“I don’t believe in fate. We make our own futures.” Yuki eyed the bandits. “Something else is going on.”

We observed the group for a little while – were they simply camping here coincidentally? Why would you camp on the side of a mountain in a blizzard? Then the apparent leader of the bandits stood up and stretched, twisting to give us a full view of his face.

Iekane.

Of course, it was Iekane.

“Son of a bitch,” I said again. While I otherwise would have welcomed the opportunity to capture him, the timing… sucked. And we needed to get him and the others away from here before the wormhole opened. The sound of thundersnow in the distance was a warning that we didn’t have much time.

Yuki and I retreated a few paces to be sure our voices didn’t carry. “What do you think he’s doing here? Do you think he’s after you?”

“From what he said at Kasugayama, it’s Akihira he has some sort of grudge against, not me. Although I’m sure if he had the opportunity to hurt me, he wouldn’t turn it down.” There was only one path to get to Aki’s home and we were on it. Iekane could be lying in wait for Aki to either come or go. Or potentially, I supposed they could be on their way to attack his manor. It wasn’t all that well defended, as its location in the mountain terrain made it an unattractive prospect. You’d have to be extremely motivated to attack it. For whatever reason, Iekane was extremely motivated, although I never understood why. “Besides, how would he know I’m here?”

It didn’t matter why they were here. They were here, and they were in the way.

Yuki peered through the trees. “There’s not that many of them.” He indicated the cover of trees surrounding the bandits. He nodded at my bow. “How many can you shoot before they take cover?”

“Three. Maybe four if they’re slow.” Obviously, I’d want to take out the ones with the muskets first. “The storm is going to add to the confusion on both sides.”

“Three’s enough.” Yuki said drew his sword. “If I outflank them from the left, I should be able to take care of the rest. I’ll give a signal when I’m in place.”

He sounded confident – and if those were run of the mill bandits, then I’d have the same confidence. But Iekane had trained with Aki, and then for an unknown amount of time with Kenshin, so he was a higher-than-average threat. Still. Yukimura was the commander of the Akazonae. He knew what he was doing. I wasn’t about to insult him by telling him to be careful. “Sounds like a plan.”

Good luck.

We peeled off in opposite directions. As soon as I was able, I climbed into a tree and made my way to the best possible blind. The tree limbs were icy, and twice I nearly slipped off – but Shingen’s often repeated claim aside, I’ve never fallen out of a tree, and I don’t intend to start now. Eventually, I settled against the trunk of a beech tree that overlooked the bandit’s campsite and readied my bow.

The storm intensified, with fat flakes of snow whirling from all directions, making it impossible to see whether Yukimura was in position. While I waited for his signal, I kept my arrow aimed at Iekane.

Unfortunately, with the worst timing known to mankind, one of the bandits decided it was time to take a leak - at least that was my assumption given he had untied his hakama and was already rooting around in there as he headed off to the same shelter of trees where Yuki was hiding.

One bandit wouldn’t have been a problem for Yuki. And he wasn’t. But everyone in the camp was able to hear, “Hey! Who are-” before the words were cut off with a gurgling cry.

Iekane leaped to his feet, just as I sent my first arrow winging his way.

Dammit.

He dove behind a boulder, sending up snow flying in his wake.

As fast as I could, I shot the two gunmen, then aimed at where Iekane was hiding. He’d have to come out sooner or later, to either face me or Yukimura, who came charging out of the trees, sword swinging. While the other bandits converged on Yuki, Iekane grabbed the musket abandoned by his fallen comrade and aimed it at where I was hiding. The storm winds were whipping the tree limbs, alternately revealing, then concealing my position on the branch.

“Kaya! I know you’re up there.” He clamped the fuse on the gun. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to bring an arrow to a gunfight?”

“That’s knife, you dipshit,” I said to myself as I shot two arrows in succession. Once bounced off his armor and he ducked out of the way of the second.

As I reached for another arrow, Iekane pulled the trigger. The shot was low. It missed me, but it hit the branch I was perched upon, weakening it enough for it to break underneath me.

Good thing I know how to safely exit a tree (I’ve had enough practice these days). I tumbled into a snowbank and scrambled to my feet.

Iekane frantically tried to reload and light the fuse, but the snow was coming down hard enough to make that task more difficult than normal.

My bow sadly had not fared so well in the untimely exit from the tree, so I grabbed my sword – this was one time that I had ample motivation to attack. Shingen would be proud of me.

Above us, the clouds were swirling and churning – the wormhole was materializing.

Seeing my weapon, Iekane gave up on the musket and drew his own sword. “You never were very good at this, Kaya.”

“I’ve gotten better.” Kenshin had been killing me all summer. I could now last several minutes against him – and Iekane was not nearly the swordsman Kenshin was. “And my name isn’t Kaya.”

“Katsuhira. You’re the only one he gave his name to.” Iekane advanced on me, sword swinging randomly. I spun and tumbled under several wild lunges, but the strikes that did connect nearly disarmed me. Rage may have lessened his accuracy, but it also increased his strength. He followed up one vicious strike with a spinning kick, that I was barely able to block with my shoulder. Forget rules of combat. I grabbed a handful of icy snow, and hurled it at his face, hoping to temporarily blind him.

“What are you talking about?” I gripped my sword in both hands, hoping to hang on until Iekane tired himself into a mistake that I could take advantage of.

“Iekane. Okitane. Takauji – he named us. I came here with him, and he never treated me like anything more than a student.” He chopped down at me, but I spun out of the way in time.

Behind him, that bank of fog crept closer, a wall of writhing grey, as the wormhole began to form.

I jumped backward a few paces – anything to keep Iekane away from Sasuke and Shingen when they came through.

“So what? He ran out of names. Or he couldn’t bother to get creative when he got to me.” It was getting harder to see, as the wormhole’s fog churned around us. Behind me, I could hear the clanking swords, telling me that Yuki was still holding his own against the remaining number of Iekane’s men.

“Why you? A stupid useless girl, and he treated you like you were his son.” Clearly Iekane had missed out on the conversation where Aki slut shamed me, but… details.

If Sasuke and Shingen were coming… shouldn’t I be able to see or hear them by now? I wasted a valuable second of attention to look for them, just as Iekane whirled out of my blind spot and almost hit the sword out of my hand, slashing my arm in the process.

I felt a sting of pain across my forearm, but I’d learned my lesson and didn’t take my attention off Iekane, even to check myself for serious damage.

He charged again. I repositioned myself and whirled away, finishing that up with a kick right into his stomach. He grunted, nearly doubling over, and I advanced on him—

--sword swinging—

-- pushing forward –

and then in my ears, a worried shout from Yukimura-

“Katsu, dammit, be carefu-”

…as momentum carried Iekane and me into the center of the wormhole.

Grey.

Iekane’s fingers dug into my shoulder. His voice rasped in my ear. “You are indeed stupid, putting me right where I wanted to be.”

Then he flung me away—

Far--

Past the center of the wormhole.

This… this isn’t what I remember… at all.

My world filled with the numbing grey.

Was… I… dissolving?

Chpater 44 - SHINGEN POV CHAPTER – Missing Person

Kyoto, present day…

“Much better, Mr. Takeda. Your FVC and FEV readings are in the normal range for your age and build.” Endo Minori, the respiratory therapist Shingen had been working with for the past few months, examined the spirometer. “I wish all my clients were as faithful with their exercises as you.”

Though Shingen nodded in response – why go to therapy if you weren’t going to do everything in your power to ensure its success – he also acknowledged that restlessness had driven him to it. Learning about the modern world through books and film had been his main activities in the early weeks of his recovery, however as soon as he was feeling more energetic, he’d needed exercise. With Minori’s permission and guidance, he’d added to the assigned rehab activities by taking walks around the city and swimming laps in the University’s pool.

Still, there was only so much he could find to do with his time, especially after Sasuke stopped him from dissecting the furniture and appliances. Shingen had thought that was rather harsh, given that not only had he repaired a too-short leg on the coffee table, but he’d gotten the toilet to work better (once he finally managed to put it back together). It wasn’t as if Sasuke wasn’t used to a lack of running water, given that he’d lived in Kasugayama for four years.

Of course, as soon as Sasuke had left on a trip back to the Sengoku era, Shingen had disassembled and reassembled the toaster, the electric tea kettle, and the shower without any problem. Any leftover hardware… probably was unnecessary. Everything still worked. What Sasuke didn’t know, wouldn’t harm him.

“Mr. Takeda…?” Minori cleared his throat to catch his attention. “I’ve uploaded the next series of exercises to the therapy app – but to be honest, they’re mostly for maintenance at this point.”

“Which means?” His phone chimed, alerting him to the successful upload.

“Your follow-up is complete. Continue these exercises daily… but I see no need for additional outpatient visits. The pulmonologist will want to review your chart, but I expect he’ll concur with my assessment. There’s still some scarring left from the surgery, but no reason to expect you won’t have a long and happy life.” He bowed to Shingen. “Er, at least as long as you look both ways before you cross the street.”

Later, after stopping at the Nishiki Market to pick up dinner, and indeed, looking both ways before he crossed the street, Shingen let himself into Sasuke’s high rise apartment. Three months ago, Sasuke had returned to the Sengoku era via the Togakushi wormhole as planned, intending to meet up with Katsuko and Yukimura. At that time, Shingen had only been out of the hospital a few weeks – he’d been told that in order to recover completely, he would need several months of therapy in the Kyoto rehabilitation clinic.

He toed off his boots, then opened the shoe cupboard and – Sasuke’s shoes were in there. He was back. Shingen stared into the cupboard, looking for - and not finding -shoes that would belong to Katsuko. Shingen had hoped that Sasuke would have found a way to bring her back with him, especially since Sasuke’s route had been through Togakushi.

Maybe… she didn’t want to come?

“Sasuke?” Shingen saw the younger man’s shadow behind the frosted glass bedroom door.

Sasuke slid the door open and peered out. He wore one of those absorbent yukatas and was towel drying his hair. “Lord Shingen. You’re looking… I’m pleased that you’re looking well.”

Though he knew he ought to say welcome home or ask how the treks through the wormhole had gone, Shingen went straight to the one question on his mind. “How’s Katsuko?”

Sasuke gazed at him steadily, but as usual, without any expression to hint at what was going on in his head. “Er… we should sit down. I’m told that is the best way to relay… unwanted information.”

Togakushi Shrine Area: Eight months later...

Another wormhole had materialized, then closed, and still no Katsu. Shingen glanced up at the clearing sky, and wondered, for the thousandth time, if she was in another year, or if Iekane had killed her when they’d tumbled into the wormhole together. Next to him, Sasuke straightened from the tense crouch he’d been holding, and Shingen sensed an apologetic platitude was on the way. To prevent hearing another one, he said, “She’ll figure it out. Or you will. I have faith in both of you.”

Sasuke had been apologizing, and theorizing, for months. The apologies never got any better, although they’d never been worse than the first one… the night when Sasuke had explained that Katsuko had disappeared into the wormhole, and apparently not reappeared anywhere. “I was hoping she and I had unknowingly crossed paths in the wormhole,” his friend had said, “and that she would be here with you. But clearly… that isn’t the case. I’m sorry. Theoretically, she-.”

Shingen had been unable to listen any longer and retreated to the balcony of the apartment. Resting his forearms on the metal railing, he looked at the horizon, wondering if the sky had any answers for him. Sasuke always found answers in the cosmos. But Shingen preferred to simply look for beauty in the night sky and find answers in text. Words had a pattern for him that, in spite of all of Sasuke’s impassioned explanations, the sky didn’t contain.

It’s been over a year…

They hiked back to the parking lot, feet splashing in the puddles left by the storm that accompanied the wormhole. “I’ll go back to the observatory in Nodeyama – maybe there’s something I missed.” Sasuke’s voice broke the silence.

“Sounds good.” But Sasuke never missed anything. Though Shingen didn’t want to give up… wouldn’t give up… he was starting to wonder if they’d be better off going back through to the past at the next opportunity. It was possible that Katsuko had found her way back to the Sengoku era. But what if that simply started them on a cycle of endlessly going back and forth and continuously missing each other?

“I will see you at the hotel tomorrow morning,” Sasuke said, as he climbed into the SUV that he used to haul his astronomy equipment around between Kyoto, Nodeyama, and Nagano.

Shingen nodded. He’d rented a motorcycle to get from Kyoto to Nagano. The experience wasn’t at all like riding a horse, and yet he preferred it to being trapped in a four wheeled box… especially if Sasuke was behind the wheel. The ninja-scientist had many many skills… but driving was not one of them.

Once Sasuke drove away, Shingen was in no hurry to leave, especially not to return to the impersonal hotel suite. He wandered over to a soba restaurant that popped up on his phone mapping app – how quickly he’d become used to these modern shortcuts – and ordered a light snack. He’d timed his entry into the restaurant well – managing to avoid a short rain shower that ended just as he left the restaurant with a takeout order of cold noodles.

He made his way to bench that was sheltered under enough tree cover to have escaped the worst of the recent rain and swiped the rest of the wet off with his hand. After finishing off the noodles and washing the snack down with a cup of tea, he reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the puzzle box that he carried with him everywhere. He’d long since solved it, but it made him feel closer to Katsuko to keep it within reach. The rote sequence of slides and levers was soothing to him, and he occupied himself by running through the series to open it.

Inside, a length of her hair (by way of Yoshimoto who’d saved it after he’d given Katsu a haircut) and a letter that she’d sent via Sasuke. He didn’t need to open the box to re-read the letter. At this point, he had it memorized. She’d obviously been feeling emotional when she composed the letter, it had a rushed quality to it, as if she’d blurted everything out on the page without taking time to craft something poetic. Somehow, that made the contents feel even more intimate.

Dear Shingen, I hope you are reading this, but I wouldn’t blame you if you threw it away unopened. In which case you are not reading this. Maybe Sasuke will fish it out of the trash and you will read it someday. I know that sending you to the future with Sasuke is against your wishes, and if Sasuke would let me, I would go with you. I guess have gone, because if you are reading this, you’re reading it in the future. I want to be there when you speak with the doctor, be with you whether it is good news or bad, and be by your side while you were treated. I know that was how you wished it too… but I’m scared to wait. No, that’s not exactly true. I once watched someone I loved choose to die a little day by day, and no matter what I did, I could not keep her alive. What I’m afraid of is not being able to keep you alive long enough to get you to a hospital. And you need to live. I can’t tell you what I know exactly, because it might be some kind of time paradox if I do (ask Sasuke, he will explain time paradox), but you do amazing things in your lifetime, things that saved a lot of people’s lives. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to tell you in person, or if I’ll get the chance to, so I’m writing it down here. You are the smartest, kindest, person I know. You made me feel like I mattered, even when I was just Katsu, the “boy” who delivered your messages. You matter to me too. When I’m with you, or even when I’m not with you, you inspire feelings that I never imagined feeling. I love you.

What she hadn’t said in the letter, was that sending him to the future against his wishes had not been her idea, but Yukimura’s. Sasuke had told him that Yuki had initially gone to Kenshin and cooked up this scheme. Only then had they brought it to Sasuke and Katsuko. “She was really torn about the idea… we both were, because in our time, the wishes of the patient are honored. And she was willing to risk coming with us, but I told her that if something happened to her in the wormhole, it could make things worse for you.”

In truth, he had been furious. At her. At Sasuke. At Yuki and Kenshin. The anger hadn’t lasted. Not after a discussion with the doctor who had immediately admitted him to a hospital following a series of tests. “While often we watch and wait benign tumors such as these, yours has already obstructed seventy-five percent of your airway. This in turn is putting stress on your heart and could lead to heart or multi-organ failure.” He didn’t have to understand modern medical terminology to get the gist of that. Though he disagreed with their methods, his lover and friends had likely saved his life.

By the time he had been released from the hospital, all he’d wanted was to see her again. That feeling had only been magnified once he learned she had vanished. These days, there wasn’t much left except love and hope. Katsuko was resourceful. If other timelines existed, and she was in one, she’d find that timeline’s Sasuke, and he would help get her back to where she belonged. And if history had simply erased her? He’d go to another timeline and find her in that when.

It was a plan that Sasuke likely wouldn’t approve of, but at least Shingen would be doing something more than waiting for the sky.

@bestbryn

#TBT12Lies #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen shingen #shingen takeda #ikesen fanfic #twelve lies i told shingen takeda #ikesen yukimura #ikesen sasuke

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l3tterk · 1 year

Text

Shout outs:

Music I've loved over the last couple months, lot of guitars in here - it's just what I've been feeling.

Whirlybird - Borough Trash

youtube

Whirlybird's Borough Trash has been one of my favourites since I first heard it all the way back in 2020 when it was performed as part of a charity livestream hosted by the band, Lowertown. There's something about this one that feels really bright, yet nostalgic (not in an overbearing way, though) and it never fails to put me in a better mood. It's a solid jam and my favourite lyric has to be "If time makes no sense then, spring forward and fall back again" - I've been buzzing about this line to bascially anyone who'll listen. Whirlybird (like all the musicians on here) deserves so much more recognition than they currently get, so I'd implore you to give it a go if you're into indie rock.

Harry Teardrop - Midtown

youtube

Midtown by Harry Teardrop has been in heavy rotation since it dropped a couple of months ago, loving the sound on this one, there's an interesting mid-section where everything sort of switches up, I always anticipate that part because it goes so hard.

Hana Stretton - Soon

The new Hana Stetton album has been part of my daily morning routine for the last week, it's so calming and I can really picture the landscape in Australia due to the wonderful incorporation of ambient sounds/textures. To be honest, I'd recommend the whole album from front to back, which is why I've linked the bandcamp page. There's a stong folky vibe on this one, but if you're going to listen, do it when you're outside, preferably walking!

noah - can't swim/leave it

youtube

A slightly older pair of tracks (released 2021) than what I was originally planning on putting on this list, but I've really gotten into noah's music recently, so I thought I'd add it, theres an ever present lofi (tape?) atmosphere gives everything this warm, fuzzy feeling which I cannot get enough of also the short film is absolutely beautiful!

JPEGMAFIA x Danny Brown - Garbage Pale Kids

youtube

Peggy's done it again! Danny Brown was so much fun on this one. You have to just experience this one...so, so good.

#whirlybird #Harry Teardrop #Hana Stretton #noah #new music #shoutout #jpegmafia #danny brown #guitar music #hip hop #acoustic #indie music #music #music video #indie rock #indie folk #lowertown #Youtube #Bandcamp

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tojiwrd · 9 months

Note

That MOTHERFUCKER🤬 I can’t not believe what I just read! did I just read that right? Did that bastard cheat on y/n? Did Gojo have a emotional affair with Hana while still engaged with y/n!? So let me get this straight Gojo met Hana and they start hanging out and she was all like you know getting married young is too troubled and I’m not ready for that and Gojo was all like you’re right Hana and proceed to break up the engagements with y/n and then start dating Hana and only after 1 year of dating he decided to propose to Hana again after 1 year of dating! What happened to I don’t want to be tied down yet?!

He threw 3 years with y/n away all because he met someone new🤬 someone he only known for a year! He threw a 3 year relationship away just like that!

I hope Gojo regrets leaving y/n forever. I hope he marriages start to fail and become miserable. I hope Hana cheats on him!

I hope Hana found out that Gojo was engaged with y/n.

Oh also for Geto if he knew what Gojo was doing then I hope he fucking suffer too! I hope Suguru fucking stupid art gallery fails.

Tojiwrd I don’t know what you have plans for this story but please tell me you have plans to make Gojo some serious karma. I need to see this man in pain😫 you don’t need to tell me when or how or the details but just reassure me you got suffering plans for that bastard.

Anyway great chapter Tojiwrd I wait for chapter 5 😆 oh and sorry for all swearing in my message😅 this chapter got me really heat up and super piss at Gojo and double sorry if I sounded demanding bout Gojo suffering thing😅 I just begging to that man in pain 😭

I LOVE UUUU HAHAHA gojo is so silly for that literally wanna deck him in the face. also their wedding is so sus like for what

i hope so too oomg gojo is so weird he needs the karma handed to him on a platter

this killed me "I hope Suguru fucking stupid art gallery fails." NAH BUT FRRRRR what r u defending that dude for

i love how the tone changed in the last part byeee thank you so much for reading!! im glad you enjoyed it <33 and getting pissed at gojo was exactly my intention so we are on the same boat

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xtinacherry · 2 months

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Hana-bi Blog Post 3/25

The first thing I noticed in Hana-bi was definitely how the movie was directed in terms of flashbacks and abrupt switches of scenes. We’d go from a very normal shot to a shot of utter violence and gore, then back to normal. It helped me stay engaged in the more slow scenes, as I wouldn’t know when we would get another sudden flashback. The shots in this film were also very beautiful. This movie wasn’t exactly a super slow-paced film, but the beautiful shots helped me stay more engaged in the slower parts. I also love the pops of color juxtaposed with the more dull and grayed-out parts of shots. I forget what cut it’s called, but I loved the transitions from an actual scene to one of the paintings Hirobe created. Also within this darker film, I did appreciate the small experiences of comedic relief we received.

Nishi is of course a very interesting character. He seems to have lost himself after he leaves his job as a big-time detective, living in an emotionless state and resorting to low-life acts such as borrowing money from the yakuza and employing an entire plan to rob a bank. However, we can tell not all of him is lost. He still deeply cares for his terminally ill wife and takes care of her. Without even speaking to each other much, we feel the love between them. Nishi also provides a creative outlet for his very depressed and disabled friend Hirobe.

One thing I noticed is the prevalence of gender roles in this film. that Hirobe and Nishi have had some part of their masculinity taken from them. Nishi is unable to financially provide as the man of the house for himself or his wife after leaving his job, forcing him to take actions such as robbing a bank or getting loans from the yakuza. Hirobe lost his family and his ability to use his legs, and the lack of control in his experiences drives him to a suicide attempt. I thought maybe the fixation he has on flowers is him taking a grasp in his more feminine nature or accepting it? Kind of parting ways with his toxic viewpoint on masculinity? I’m not sure, I definitely might be stretching here. It could also just be him experiencing the beauty of life through these flowers after a failed suicide attempt, with this fact bringing him to tears.

Lastly, the topic of death and life in this film. We experience death in many forms here, such as murder, illness, and suicide. We become a little desensitized to the concept of death and tragedy in this film, but we do see the perseverance to live life as well. Hirobe in his tragic situation of losing his family upon becoming paralyzed finds new meaning through his artwork. Nishi living his life to be with his wife in her last days, only to end his life alongside her at the end. At this point of analysis, I believed that flowers are meant to represent the will to live, which is why I thought the quote “there is no use in watering dead flowers” paired with the violence Nishi performs to stand up for his wife was very significant because she was trying to revitalize and continue life despite her terminal illness, but the inevitable is near.

#ForJapaneseFilm

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andrewmoocow · 4 months

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What You Never Knew About Fooly Falls (part of it just being stuff I just came up with)

Ian Ramirez gets his name from Ian Worrel, art director of Gravity Falls.

Jorgé's real name is Joseph, but everyone calls him Jorgé because that's what Pacifica called Soos back in the day.

The idea of Soos and Melody having seven kids came from the Mabel's Guide to Dating short, where Soos says he'd ideally have seven kids for each day of the week to love.

For the epilogue scene of Ride on Shooting Star, Stan Jr. is voiced by Johnny Yong Bosch (Ichigo Kurosaki, Adam Park, Izaya Orihara, Giyu Tomioka, Lelouch vi Britannia, Rossiu Adai) and Natsuki Hanae (Tanjiro Kamado, Ken Kaneki, Jaco the Galactic Patrolman, Cuphead, Tai Yagami, 9S), while the older version of Abby is voiced by Colleen Clinkenbeard (Erza Scarlet, Monkey D. Luffy, Princess Hibana, Marie Mjolnir, Riza Hawkeye, Momo Yaoyorozu) and Nana Mizuki (Ann Takamaki, Hinata Hyuga, Tamao Tamamura, Lan Fan, Michella Watch, Cheelai, Sana Sunomiya).

At some point prior to the beginning of Fooly Falls 2, Waddles unfortunately passed away from old age. He lived a pretty long life too, so Mabel made sure her precious piggy would be forever immortalized in a stuffed pig she made for Tyrone, which is where Waddles II came from.

I recently learned that according to Alex Hirsch in 2020, the 45th President of the United States in Gravity Falls was Old Man McGucket. Thus, I shall retcon my Donald Trump joke to be that Trump still became president after McGucket and Joe Biden but before Maki Kitaki, making him president between 2025 and 2029.

Dipper and Pacifica maintained a stable romance with each other throughout their teenage years until they were 18 years old, when Pacifica realized that Dipper still held a torch for Wendy and didn't hold it against him. Besides, she planned on dating Mabel just in case.

Ezra Chiu was the product of Candy experimenting on an anonymous sperm donation to effectively create her own super-soldier, as I revealed in A FLCL Christmas in Gravity Falls.

As I implied in Ride on Shooting Star, Haruko came from a broken home on her dystopian home planet of Wasprus, but it wasn't always that way. Wasprus was yet another planet enslaved by Medical Mechanica to do their bidding, and Haruko's mother Rihanna Raharu led the resistance against the company's top brass to free their home planet from MM's tyranny. Unfortunately, the rebellion failed and Rihanna was later killed by her drunken husband Reagan. All of this shall be further elaborated upon in Rick and Haruko.

Speaking of which, when Haruko was saved from Wasprus's destruction by Atomsk thanks to the timely intervention of Rick Sanchez, back when he was a member of the Flesh Curtains alongside Birdperson and Squanchy, that was when Haruko's obsession with Atomsk began developing. This, combined with Rick being as bad an influence on her as he would eventually become with Morty, would cause Haruko to betray Rick during an undercover mission as an officer of the Galactic Space Patrol Brotherhood. In the process, a Naked Focal Point sucks Haruko up and drops her off in Gravity Falls, where she would meet a younger version of Commander Amarao. The rest will be revealed soon.

Gwen is a skilled golf player, no doubt she was trained by her aunts Mabel and Pacifica, and also plays tennis with Arnold. She also shares her father's love of BABBA and has caught him singing Disco Girl only to start singing with him.

Much like Wendy before her, Leia also has her own friend group of rambunctious teenagers. We got Robbie V and Tambry's twin daughters Robin & Roxie Valentino, who are cheerleaders at Gravity Falls High School and the polar opposites of their parents, Clayton, a terse and aloof but easygoing cowboy-looking fellow, and Johnny, who is kind of the Thompson of the group except he has a bit more of a spine. Ezra fills the Robbie role of the group. Speaking of which.....

Tyrone and Ezra do not compete over Leia's feelings the same way Dipper and Robbie did over Wendy, I am too focused on wholesome found family dynamics to even consider a love triangle. Instead, I implied that Tyrone is Ezra's ultimate wingman.

In the era of the Fooly Falls 2 epilogue, Ford would eventually die of a heart attack at, you guessed it, 92 years old in 2045, just like Bill predicted. However, just like Stan, death isn't enough to keep Ford down and he lives on as a ghost watching over the other Pines.

Around that time, Abby would start taking home a few gold medals in high school gymnastics, while Stan Jr. would befriend a lonely & sullen boy named Masaki Aofuji, who claims he can see strange ghost-like creatures when no one else can. Junior believes him though since this is Gravity Falls we're talking about, and also relates to Masaki since he feels like he hasn't found what makes him special yet unlike his older siblings. However, things would soon change when Junior, Abby, and Masaki are taken by Harumi Araisho to the mysterious Tsuganei Tower to try and blow it up, prompting Tsukata Kanda to contact Dipper to stop their plans while a certain three-sided scourge of Gravity Falls plots to use Tsuganei Tower as a tool for revenge. (possible hints towards a FLCL Shoegaze adaptation starring Stan Jr. and Abby intensify)

Preston Northwest ultimately didn't care that Pacifica was marrying a girl, but he did take issue with the fact that she was marrying Mabel, whom Pacifica made life a living hell for, out of every girl in Gravity Falls. Pacifica didn't care however, since she had already cut most of her family out of her life aside from a few cousins she was neutral towards.

There is at least one autistic person among the next-gen characters, I just haven't really narrowed down who it could be. On one hand, Ezra gets incredibly flustered with Leia's advances on him and tries to hide it, but on the other hand, Gwen had trouble socializing or feeling anything for much of her life and even when she started feeling emotions again after getting rid of her old hat, she was still a lot more reserved than her brother and cousin. Or it's both of them. Yeah, it's both of them.

Speaking of Gwen, for the first few weeks after abandoning her hat and accepting her emotions, she was very physically affectionate with everyone. She hugged her family and friends so much, Tyrone started keeping track of how often Gwen gave hugs to feel the warmth she was robbed of for five years of her life. The highest he got was 618 before Gwen decided she gave enough hugs.

Much like how Mabel had Candy and Grenda as her people, Tyrone also has his own plucky duo of friends. They are Matthew, a boy genius who is never seen without a set of mechanical octopus arms sticking out of his backpack, and Joanie, a very masculine boy with a feminine voice.

During his adventures beyond the portal, Ford has made many powerful enemies and allies over the years. He engaged in a game of wits with Makima, had run-ins with the Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and Tenth Doctors, met Metron and sat in the Mobius Chair, resisted making a deal with Alastor, and many more.

Tyrone and Leia are gym buddies. They also got Haruko to come with them a few times.

While Gwen has more self-confidence than her father did at her age, there are still times where she gets pretty awkward. She gets the most nervous around a boy her age named Damian that she has a crush on.

Juan and Jorge are banned from playing dating simulators that could potentially become sentient and super-possessive of the player. Soos knows exactly how that feels from personal experience, though he was happy that was what allowed him to meet Melody.

During Haruko and Jinyu's travels, they ran into Commander Amarao at least once. Naturally, Amarao tried to resist admitting he still held a torch for Haruko and was super jealous of Dipper for managing to patch things up with her.

And finally, Stan Jr's legal name is Stanley Junior Ramirez. The name also came from a line in Not What He Seems when Soos is guarding the vending machine.

#gravity falls #flcl #fooly falls #fooly falls 2 ride on shooting star #rick and haruko

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hyunjinspark · 2 years

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I can barely explain how much I adored this chapter, truly. The way y/n and Hyunjin interact, the way they talk to each other, how they care for each other, I adore their relationship so so much 😭 The trip to the candy store, the way Hyunjin cares and really proves to y/n that her planning for Yongboks birthday does matter, despite what happened last chapter, and how y/n is so concerned if she’s gonna be the cause of any trouble for him I just - I am so soft. I’m also high key very happy that Hyun finally met Yeonjun, and that it went well, for the most part (I was screaming when Hyunjin didn’t immediately correct Yeonjun I want it to be true so badly), especially because I also feel like maybe Yeonjun knows something more? Because he remembers the “boy from Aera’s”, and how y/n talked about him, and also recognises Hyunjin from the billboards. I’m just thinking, he may not know that Hyun is the person y/n was talking about, but he would also kind of be the perfect person to get these two to finally figure out what exactly is going on with their feelings (cough, y/n specifically) because he has a more outside perspective of everything and also seems a lot more supportive of y/n’s interest in art than Hana, Minho or Felix… I don’t know if it makes sense, but I just feel like Yeonjun could be really important for y/n to talk to, just in general, about her feelings (I love Yeonjun and it shows hahaha)

Gotta say though the train ride - low-key happy the Hana/Hyunjin situation is kind of changed… not just because of the whole “Hana is maybe/maybe not using Hyunjin to get over Yeonjun + the entire situation with Choi San” (which I am still suspicious of but that is to be seen), but also because I think it’s gonna clear up a lot of confusion that y/n has about Hyunjin. The way he talks to her, the things he says and does for her… maybe he can be more open about it. I can’t exactly figure out what’s going on in Hyunjins head, because 1. I don’t want to get my hopes up, and 2. There is a lot of things that still need to be addressed, but the way he was acting towards y/n on the train alone proves that he really really cares for her. And I am so excited to see how it’s going to progress.

I feel like this ask was really messy, I’m sorry 😅 I’m just genuinely so happy to see y/n and Hyunjin interacting and being happy and comfortable with each other. The chapter was so amazing, as always - you truly never fail to amaze me with every new chapter and story you post <3

- 🧃

hi, love ! i love them too 🥺 their relationship is so fun to write and they’re so cute together. im so happy you liked that whole segment about the candy store, i was really unsure about including that in the story but it just goes to show that hyun would go out of his way to help her out with something that others deem inconsequential.

i see you do love yeonjun a lot and i understand hahah ! he is truly an important person in the story, and very perceptive and supportive of yn, more than her friends may be and we can kind of see that he would be the one to bring the balance to her friend group, until he left.

you’re right, the hana hyunjin situation may not be 100% resolved or figured out since there are a lot of loose ends and things that need to come out into the open, but at least it helps hyun be more open and yn be more receptive :)

i love you ! thank you for your sweet words, i loved knowing your thoughts on it, don’t apologize it’s not messy !

#star lost with you

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 3 years

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When you think about the individual statistics of the bnha / mha characters, no other person has lost as much as Shigaraki Tomura has.

Let's see a list of the people he has lost so far:

Nana Shimura, his grandma from his father side (dead).

His grandma from his mother side (dead).

His grandpa from his mother side (dead).

Nao Shimura, his mother (dead).

Kotaro Shimura, his father (dead).

Hana Shimura, his sister (dead).

Mon-chan, his dog (dead).

Kurogiri, his parental figure (captured).

AFO, another terrible parental figure (that man never loved him I mean).

Magne, a friend (dead).

Twice, a friend (dead).

Mr. Compress, a friend (captured).

Giran, a friend (captured).

Toga, a friend (unknown location).

And now he doesn't even have his own body. This boy has lost like no one on this manga. And the people who hasn't died, they have several consequences like losing fingers, losing arms, etc.

The deaths surrounding Shigaraki are also more explicit and terrible than the rest. He has witnessed himself a good number of those deaths, at least half of them. All of them have been directly related to him, which means Shigaraki can freely blame himself for what happened, even if those were accidents and even if the people actively choose to participate on the actions that lead them to their deaths.

Shigaraki has the greatest killing rate, thanks to the big waves of his quirk he used both on the MVA arc and the War arc.

He has all the reasons to believe he's a monster. The problem comes when you realize he is a created monster, he wasn't born like that, contrary to what AFO has suggested before. What happened on the MVA and the War arc are twin situations to what happened with Tenko the night his quirk awoken. He lost his mind and the control over his quirk, leading to great catastrophes. We have evidence that he was not thinking clearly on those moments of great kill, but he was rather in great pain and very very scared, tortured by his mind. That pain and fear was caused by a great abuse that generated the feeling of pure hatred. In his three big killings, there's a pattern of him remembering his past and what happened with the Shimuras.

Now, almost half of the people on the list above choose to sacrifice themselves. Three of those people do it in order to save Tomura: Nao Shimura, Kurogiri and Mr. Compress. They have in common that they acted as Shigaraki's parental figures. We could include AFO, but only if we see what happen on Kamino from Shigaraki's perspective. We could include Twice but he was not exactly sacrificing himself consciously, he wanted to scape alive.

Two people on that list tried to kill Shigaraki: Kotaro and AFO. Both tried to shape his mind into what they wanted it to be and that lead to Tomura being unstable and sometimes unpredictable. We can see the symbolism of this in the fact that Kotaro's hand was always over Tomura's face, almost wanting to erase his identity, and when AFO possessed Tomura one of the first things we saw was him tearing apart Tomura's face. Other moment related to this is Tomura's confession to Doctor Ujiko in the beginning of My Villain Academia, were he states that he couldn't remember clearly his life before AFO. With limited information, including the years of manipulation from AFO, Tomura came to the conclusion he would never be satisfied and he would rather destroy it all– except what his colleagues wanted to save.

However, the majority of the people on that list loved Tomura and wanted to see him safe. What does this boy has that people keeps sacrificing themselves in order to try and save him? What makes them want to save Tomura?

Not matter how hard AFO tried to make a monster out of Tomura, we see how people keep reaching for him seeking comfort or even seeking a better future. For some reason, Tomura generates love in the hearts of those closer to him. Magne, Twice, Giran, Kurogiri, Mr. Compress, all of them gave beautiful speechs of love and acceptance, of protecting the people they like, of working towards a better future. Nao ran towards her son, Hana apologized for leaving him while being scared.

Or if you like, let me give you the maximum example: Deku changed drastically his hero path after witnessing himself who exactly was the real Tomura Shigaraki.

The reason why Deku looks like a villain on the last chapters is because there's a war inside of him– and also because it's the closes he has ever been to understanding the villains, by being on their shoes. While peeking through Tomura's mind Deku finally realized the reality of the hero society condition, and Deku is currently on a painful progress of growing, along with going through a phase of being an outcast and a rejected kid himself. Like a child exposed to war, or like a child getting more mature after a big trauma, Deku is reshaping himself in the light of what he knows now but didn't know before. Living on the streets, not eating enough, having people wanting to put you aside so you wouldn't alter their safety or peace, being painted as a problem or an object or a weapon rather than being seen as a human being in need of help...

While AFO's plan was to make Tomura suffer to increase his hate, he couldn't predict that Tomura would be the one to inspire Deku to love in a way he has never love before. Tomura's breaking point was also the breaking point for Deku, but while Tomura dives into the darkness, Deku fights his way over the stormy clouds to reach for the light.

Ultimately, everything surrounding Tomura is exactly what allows MHA / BNHA to be the story of how Deku became the greatest hero out there. The fact that Tomura refused to give up, refused to be who everyone wanted to be... even if he fails again and again, what counts here is that he is unbreakable. Even in the deep of his conscious, he awaits for another chance. Deku and Tomura are the ones who surpassed any limits, any expectations, in order to produce a real change in the roots of society itself.

So you can say that in parallel with Deku, (and there are some interesting implications in this one), Tomura hasn't been defeated by the rain either. Like two sides of the same coin, either they drown together or rise together.

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jaeminlore · 3 years

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Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#Nct fluff #nct fanfiction #Nct angst #Nct scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #destwrites

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honklore · 3 years

Text

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

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