I've always really loved how Geto's trauma has been portrayed. His weight loss is a small detail that I love even though it's sad and besides that his messy, unruly hair (even in scenes where he had his hair tied in a bun it still looked unkempt) and the way he didn't even wear his uniform properly anymore... :( These little details make his story so sad; he didn't have the motivation anymore to do even the simplest of things. This is something that is very important to show when you're portraying depression and trauma in media and Gege (and Mappa) did it perfectly.
For anime onlys this episode was really important. All they know about Geto is from the movie where he was an antagonist and it's important for them to know what exactly happened that made Geto become like that.
Geto was empathetic, kind, caring, and loving. But he's the one who suffered the most from being a jujutsu sorcerer. First of all, his cursed technique is the hardest both mentally and physically. It's literally described as “the taste of a cursed spirit no one knows... Like swallowing whole a cloth that was used to wipe up vomit”. Consuming people's negative emotions daily? It's understandable why Geto felt so shitty after doing it.
But after seeing people cheering at Riko's death, seeing his friends die protecting non-sorcerers, seeing a whole village of more than a hundred residents call on for the death of two little girls, it's very understandable why Geto just snapped. He undertook so much burden and pain, so much suffering and hardship, and all it resulted in was humans mistreating sorcerer's in such a horrible way.
That's when this quote comes: “it's just that in a world like this, I couldn't laugh from the bottom of my heart”. He couldn't live in a world where he and other jujutsu sorcerers were treated in such a way. And that's how he started away from his ideals.
I really hope I don't have to see anime onlys blindly hate on him anymore now that his full story and trauma is in front of them.
“what?” kyotani snaps at you as he whips around, you tugging at his shirt sleeve with wide eyes and a sense of urgency.
no, definitely not how it was supposed to go.
“kiss me!” you repeat, tone more serious, fingers fisting up the material on his shoulder.
his first thought is that maybe you’re drunk, but seeing as how he’s monitored your alcohol consumption tonight while you were off with the rest of your friends, guarding your glass right next to his—he knows that’s not the case.
“what the hell’re you talking about?” he asks, and though the words may sound harsh, the look in his eyes is a stark contrast to it. all caring and warm.
“some guy over there won’t get off my ass so i told him you’re my boyfriend,” you explain, a little rushed. and that’s nothing new, you’ve used kentaro as that ever since you two became friends. he doesn’t mind. “but he said he’d only believe me if i came and kissed you. so kiss me so i can get back to dancing.”
kyotani instantly darts his gaze over your shoulder, leaning back on his barstool enough to get a glimpse of the dude you’re talking about, jaw clenching as he makes brief eye contact. he looks back to you, brows cinched.
“you don’t have to prove shit to that asshole, you know,” he grumbles, but you shuffle ever closer as he twists on his stool to fully face you, allowing you to step between his legs.
“ken,” you whine, pouting as you place your hands on his shoulders. “just one kiss. i wanna dance more before the fake id teenagers rush gets here!”
the blond looks absolutely torn, eyes darting to the dude over your shoulder once, before huffing out a breath and tugging you towards him by the loop in your waistband.
“fine,” he says, and he’s so close you can smell the vodka on his lips. “but hurry up, i’m tryna watch the game.”
he says hurry up, as if he wastes any time in moving his free hand up to cup the side of your neck and press his thumb below your jaw before he yanks you down to slam your lips together.
you expect it to be quick, just a simple peck and kyotani shooing you off so he can go back to his thing and you yours. but it isn’t.
kentaro kisses in a way that is the complete opposite of his demeanor. where he’s rough, his lips are soft. where his moves are sharp, his mouth is languid. where his aura is sour, his tongue is sweet.
nothing about the kiss is short or blunt or anything you had expected from a friend pretending to be dating you to get another guy off your ass for the night. and when he pulls away, kissing the edge of your parted mouth before leaning back, but not unhooking his fingers from your belt loop—you think maybe it’s not such a friendly kiss after all.
“well? go dance before the rush—“
it’s not friendly, as you wrap your arms around the blond’s neck and slam your lips back together. pushing and pressing and prying to steal that intimacy back, craving it to seep back onto your tongue, back on your lips, back to you. you can feel the way his fingers twist up around your belt loop, the hand on the side of your neck trying to tug you closer.
this time when you pull back, there’s a flush to his cheeks, hardly visible under the dim lights of the bar. you smile at him, biting the inside of your cheek.
“…dancing?” he asks, voice hoarse, breathy.
you shake your head. “no, i think i’m good on dancing. honestly my feet kinda hurt already.”
“we’ve only been here for an hour,” he states, and you know him well enough that when he smirks at you it’s because he’s thinking of something he probably shouldn’t say out loud.
“yeah, i know,” you grin, not failing to notice the way he subconsciously tugs you closer as that guy from earlier walks past the two of you. “but that’s kinda boring now.”
he gets what you mean, what you’re really trying to say. and even if he rolls his eyes at your antics he stands up from his stool regardless, handing some cash to the bartender before unlooping his hand from your waistband and flinging his arm around your shoulder—the game and your friends long forgotten.
“you taste like fruit, by the way.”
“yeah?” you grin up at him as you walk down the sidewalk, arm around his waist as you lean further into him.
“yeah,” he grunts, still looking straight forward as he says, “i don’t really like fruit.”
“are you sure you aren’t the asshole, not that guy back there?” you quip back, smacking his chest. but you’re still smiling, because you can’t help it.
(maybe you can blame it on the alcohol).
kyotani just shrugs, stopping under the buzzing of a street lamp and tugging you to him with his hands on your hips. he leans down, dangerously close, and licks his lips.
“maybe,” he whispers, gruff and low, “heard kissing helps it though.”
you laugh, shaking your head as you snake your arms around his neck again. “you need to lay off the vodka next time, ken. you’re a little too bold. starting to think you might regret it in the morning.”
“nah,” he hums, leaning in further, lips ghosting against your own, “never.”
and as he kisses you again, just as slow and just as sweet, you can’t help but believe him.
If you don't think that fanfic writers get attached to their commenters and repeat commenters... you're crazy.
There's people who comment on my stories, disappear for months at a time, then comment when they catch up and I almost always remember their tagnames. It means the WORLD to me as a writer to have people who comment both regularly and irregularly on my stories/oneshots/moodboards.
When you guys go away for a few weeks or months... we notice! We hope you're okay and just taking a break, and when you come back rested and excited to read more stories, we're so happy to have you back.
So yes, please comment on stories even if it's once in a blue moon. You're not annoying, you're not overbearing for multiple comments or being super excited. You're helping fuel a writer to keep writing just to see what you have to say next about the next chapter! You're doing the Lord's work with your comments!
Whether you leave a Russian novel in a comment, or just go "noice", like... it makes the writer brain go !!!!!!💞
㋡ : i saw this lil thing lying in my drafts and wondered why i never completed it :,)) i hope u enjoyed pouty angry tsukishima getting betrayed by a good old jar of pickles 🐎if u're reading this, i appreciate u ily_03242022
giving the silent treatment to someone was hard; especially if the space is small, even more if the space is shared.
you were working on a university assignment on the couch when kei walked by you on the way to the kitchen. not a greeting nor a word was exchanged. silently trying to one-up the other by pretending that neither give a shit — that both were very much fine doing their own things, and that the presence of the other is as important as the dust under the couch. kei was mumbling things as he opened cupboards in search for something. at that point, you weren't even mad anymore: you actually found this pettiness of his rather comedic. but even more so when kei accidentally dropped the jar of pickles he held in his hand.
the loud crash of broken glass echoed throughout the small unit, and you can't help but stare at him, seeing what he'll do next.
but he doesn't do anything. at least not immediately.
he just stands there (🧍♂️), looking down, rather forlornly, at the icky liquid and shards that now decorate the clean polished floor. it took all of you to not burst into laughter. "... i just cleaned that earlier—" you heard kei whine to himself, shaking his head as he carefully navigates his way through the shards to get the broom, dustpan, and a cloth to wipe it with.
"that's what you get, bitch," you finally cave, stifling a grin behind the mug you were sipping tea from.
"shut the fuck up," kei retorts, avoiding your gaze though he is well aware that he just quite literally put himself up for mocking. all because of some stupid fucking pickles in a stupid fucking glass jar.
"need some help over there~?" you press, making his eye twitch.
kei replies with a flat "no".
"okie!" you begin typing obnoxiously on your laptop to prove to him that you're very much working and you're far too busy right now to give a shit about him. the expletives spilling out of his mouth in murmurs don't stop, only climaxing in one big "AH FUCK" when he nearly slips on the pickle juice.
"ughhhhhhhhhhh," you made sure you groaned loud and clear enough for him to hear (not that there was much distance between the two of you anyway) before closing your laptop lid, and padding over to where he was.
kei could only stare open-mouthed as you snatched the broom set from him saying in a sing-song voice, "let me show you how it's done...watch and learn, my child!!"
"i am perfectly capab—,"he lunges after the dustpan but you swerve just in time for him to nearly slip on the pickle juice again. it was then that he realizes that he isn't going to win this one, but despite this, he refuses to back down. "fine," he spits out, walking towards the sink where a rag awaits to be rinsed and used. his slippers squelched as he walked.
"oh, kei..."
"what is it now—"
he made more of a mess, is what it is. he is a tall dumbass, is what he is. a trail of dirty and damp patterns of the bottom of his slippers leading from the spilt pickle juice to the kitchen sink where he stands dumbfounded, is what it is.
more cleaning to do, is what it is.
[ words by aero. 2022. please do not repost and plagiarize or else i'm coming for your kneecaps ]
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So now I have to reblog stuff AND change my pfp?
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㋡ : i saw this lil thing lying in my drafts and wondered why i never completed it :,)) i hope u enjoyed pouty angry tsukishima getting betrayed by a good old jar of pickles 🐎if u're reading this, i appreciate u ily_03242022
giving the silent treatment to someone was hard; especially if the space is small, even more if the space is shared.
you were working on a university assignment on the couch when kei walked by you on the way to the kitchen. not a greeting nor a word was exchanged. silently trying to one-up the other by pretending that neither give a shit — that both were very much fine doing their own things, and that the presence of the other is as important as the dust under the couch. kei was mumbling things as he opened cupboards in search for something. at that point, you weren't even mad anymore: you actually found this pettiness of his rather comedic. but even more so when kei accidentally dropped the jar of pickles he held in his hand.
the loud crash of broken glass echoed throughout the small unit, and you can't help but stare at him, seeing what he'll do next.
but he doesn't do anything. at least not immediately.
he just stands there (🧍♂️), looking down, rather forlornly, at the icky liquid and shards that now decorate the clean polished floor. it took all of you to not burst into laughter. "... i just cleaned that earlier—" you heard kei whine to himself, shaking his head as he carefully navigates his way through the shards to get the broom, dustpan, and a cloth to wipe it with.
"that's what you get, bitch," you finally cave, stifling a grin behind the mug you were sipping tea from.
"shut the fuck up," kei retorts, avoiding your gaze though he is well aware that he just quite literally put himself up for mocking. all because of some stupid fucking pickles in a stupid fucking glass jar.
"need some help over there~?" you press, making his eye twitch.
kei replies with a flat "no".
"okie!" you begin typing obnoxiously on your laptop to prove to him that you're very much working and you're far too busy right now to give a shit about him. the expletives spilling out of his mouth in murmurs don't stop, only climaxing in one big "AH FUCK" when he nearly slips on the pickle juice.
"ughhhhhhhhhhh," you made sure you groaned loud and clear enough for him to hear (not that there was much distance between the two of you anyway) before closing your laptop lid, and padding over to where he was.
kei could only stare open-mouthed as you snatched the broom set from him saying in a sing-song voice, "let me show you how it's done...watch and learn, my child!!"
"i am perfectly capab—,"he lunges after the dustpan but you swerve just in time for him to nearly slip on the pickle juice again. it was then that he realizes that he isn't going to win this one, but despite this, he refuses to back down. "fine," he spits out, walking towards the sink where a rag awaits to be rinsed and used. his slippers squelched as he walked.
"oh, kei..."
"what is it now—"
he made more of a mess, is what it is. he is a tall dumbass, is what he is. a trail of dirty and damp patterns of the bottom of his slippers leading from the spilt pickle juice to the kitchen sink where he stands dumbfounded, is what it is.
more cleaning to do, is what it is.
[ words by aero. 2022. please do not repost and plagiarize or else i'm coming for your kneecaps ]
notes: bc hell week is sucking the life out of me rn 🙃 i can't wait for this week to end
asahi taking you into his big arms and perching you atop the kitchen countertop, telling you to stay still as he whips up a quick midnight snack. he knows of your tendency to overwork, and knows that you've been hunched in front of that laptop for who knows how long, so he takes chance of his size to pluck you out of your study chair, even for just a bit. sure, you kick and groan and swear at him a lot when he does so, but all that's thrown to the back when he feeds you spoonfuls of your favorite cereal or oatmeal.
"say aaah"
"azumane asahi, i am not a child."
you do it anyway because who were you to decline when you know that this, aside from cuddling with you nonstop in bed, was how he chose to show his love during the most hectic of times. it slows you both down.
when you take the bowl and spoon off his hands to serve yourself, he doesn't leave his place in front of you, knees hugging his sides, legs swinging from the edge of the countertop like a child on a high chair. he watches the small smile that cracks its way into your face with every volumptious spoonful. most likely presses kisses on your forehead and tells you to look him in the eye when he says,
"please get some rest too, okay? if you need anything, you know i'll just be in the room next door, alright?"
both of you had designated workspaces in different rooms because, well, both of you preferred it that way — a space you could fill with your and your own thoughts only. during your work breaks, though, you try to do something for each other. maybe it's him knocking gently on your door, coaxing you out with a promise of a cup of your favorite warm drink waiting for you on the dining table, or sometimes it's you slipping a brief, but sweet message written on a small paper under his door just to let him know you're rooting for him as well. you weren't oblivious to his exhaustion, of course; hours of focused work evident in his dishriveled appearance, half-lidded eyes fighting to stay open, sluggish movements, and the tell-tale bags under his eyes, and yet, his smile never loses its warmth, and his hug, its tightness.
hell week nights have never been better since azumane came around. in the comfort of personal space, two people work with eyebrows scrunched together, chewing on the skin of their lips while silently awaiting the end of long task, the end of a long day. feigning off sleepiness for just a little more for even at the brink of exhaustion, there is a silver lining: sides of faces hitting the cold and fluffy plumpness of a pillow, and mumbles of "goodnight"'s and "i love you"'s, feeling the steady warmth and presence of your beloved beside you as you sleep.
>> all words by aero 2021. please do not repost and plagiarize or else i'm coming for your kneecaps. written on 17 Feb 2022.
notes: sorta delayed contribution to @veenxys valentine's day collab! (really enjoyed writing this one)
bonus: listen to "fall" by ben&ben
"kei..."
"hm?"
"it's raining."
sure enough, the sound of it pattering against your windows started to increase its volume, dewdrops kissing the clear glass, obsuring the view of the greying neighborhood outside.
if you haven't a clock on hand, you wouldn't have figured out it was just four o'clock in the afternoon. but for tsukishima kei, it was already four o'clock in the afternoon. he has an essay due at midnight, and has a lot more research left to do — not to mention his slow progress at actually writing — with less than 8 hours to spare. it usually took him a whole week to complete one, so he was starting to get a little hopeless about finishing it on time. giving up on a task midway wasn't really his thing ... nor was it an option, for the paper takes up more than half of the final grade.
you had asked if you could stay over at his place to hang out which he agreed to, giving you a heads up that he would be occupied most of the time. he figured you would take back you request but weirdly, you waved those off, saying that his presence was enough.
well, he would never deny a little bit company ... especially from you. but he had and inkling that you weren't just there to "hang out". something was up from the very start.
you see, he knew you as a rather eccentric and energetic one.
he vividly remembers that time you video chatted him in the middle of a random wednesday to tell him that in a few minutes, you would be jumping off of a plane thousands of feet above ground.
yamaguchi, who was studying with him in a library at that time, was a witness to his bewildered and flabbergasted expression upon hearing that you decided to skydive on impulse. then there was this other time where you ended up with a broken nose because you got into a fight with a creep on the bus stop ...
he never stopped you, though, because no matter how worried he was (he felt like your mother sometimes), deep inside he knew that you would be able to take care of yourself to some extent, because (hopefully) you still had some hint of caution inside you.
that's why he fell in love with you in the first place — you showed him the thrills and twists of life.
"how much more time you need for that essay?" you ask with an obvious groan from where you ate cashews on his bed.
the blonde squinted his eyes at you, "a lot, why...?"
as if waiting for a signal, you jumped up from his bed, quite literally PEELED him away from his desk, and dragged him to the front door. by then, he knew his protests were futile, because though he can easily lift you up and carry you back into his room, he honestly wanted to do anything BUT his essay.
and he turns mush when you hold his hand, so there's that too.
you drag him to the porch in nothing but pajamas and an oversized t-shirt. it was chilly outside, and the rain sounds were quite overwhelming for the lack of walls and roofs to muffle them.
"y/n... what are you do—"
he watches you in horror as you back up from the covered porch into the rain, the water flattening and dampening the whole of you. wiping at your face and hooding your eyes with your hands to peer at him through the raindrops, you signal him over,
"WELL WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR GET OVER HERE!!!"
kei couldn't believe it. should he be mad? thankful? disappointed? relieved? he didn't know. he wanted to call you a dumbass for distracting him from his work to play around like kids in the rain when he felt like his future relied heavily on whether or not he finishes the essay before midnight. clouded with thoughts, he was unable to stop you from tugging him into the rain in time.
"FUCK WE'RE GOING TO GET SICK, Y/N"
the rain pattering on his head felt like small fingers made of ice drumming on his skin. he looked up, or at least tried to.
nothing but an expanse of light grey.
in the distance, there, too, was a child and his father playfully chasing each other in the rain. some other neighbors chose to watch the weather scene from their own porches, looking out in awe like the rain was snow, and the thunder, a lullaby.
in a way, it was, he thinks to himself. the tapping of his mechanical keyboard was starting to liken the mood of the monotonous, black and white hum of an office job, and his thoughts were starting to shift into nagging voices in his head that just wouldn't shut up. he looks down at his hands, torso, and feet — all soaked and soggy.
from the distance, he hears you calling him. kei, come with! you say, making him feel as though he is witnessing the pleasant parts of his flashback montage before death. like a camera whose lenses rush to take in each and every minute detail from the scene:
the greyness, the muted colors of houses, a child's innocent screeches of delight, rain hitting asphalt, his slippers squelching from trying to grasp on to something on the slippery road, you, you, you, you—
there you were.
arms upturned, eyes closed, and face welcoming the raindrops like how one would bare oneself on the beach for the summertime tan. you skipped around like a child on a mission, like an officeworker resigning from a boring desk job to follow their childhood dreams. like a lover and reciprocated love. like meeting old friends after years of distance ...
kei took a mental note of all these things, shaking off all thought of his essay from his mind.
he needed all the memory in his head to capture the you right now, twirling around as if this muted world is yours for the taking. he willed his eyes to copy the scene exactly as it is to archive in the album of core memories in his head.
then he sees you scream something at him, but it comes on muffled from the rain.
"WHA?" he shouts back, pointing at his ears to signal you to turn up your volume.
"I SAID, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, YOU IDIOT!!!"
kei had many things to be thankful for that day: for you, for taking him out of the black hole that is his study table; for his eyes, because without it, he wouldn't have been able to take snapshots of this exact moment for his keeping; and for the rain, because without it, everybody would've witness him tearing up at the sight of your happiness. because he was simply so overwhelmed with gratitude for you, that he did not know what else to utter when he held you close under the rain like a scene in some cheesy romance.
so instead he returned your "happy valentine's day" greeting, whispering affections into your ear, that only you, him, and the rain would ever know about. two lovers drenched in an afternoon rain. perhaps there is romance and love found in laying down in bed together, both sniffling and downing the medicine for colds.
㋡: hope u all had a wonderful valentine's day!! personally, i didn't have much time to plan anything for hearts day bc of school (it's currently hell week for us since our grades are due next week), but i do have some good stuff waiting for me at the end of the week. basically just me binge-watching comfort films and feeling as single as ever 😃👍one of my beloved friends gave me a handmade crocheted mouse/cat hybrid with lavender essential oil so it's like a mini stress toy! except i won't squish it bc poor mousecat :(( her letter made my bawl my eyes out in the middle of dinner, and the crocheted heart fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. i treasure her so much. i wish i could be there to hug her bc expressing emotions through text online feels weird to me. or maybe it's just bc i don't know how to lmao either way i lov my friends <3 _2162022
>> all words by aero 2022. please do not repost and plagiarize or else i'm coming for your kneecaps.
notes: sorta delayed contribution to @veenxys valentine's day collab! (really enjoyed writing this one)
bonus: listen to "fall" by ben&ben
"kei..."
"hm?"
"it's raining."
sure enough, the sound of it pattering against your windows started to increase its volume, dewdrops kissing the clear glass, obsuring the view of the greying neighborhood outside.
if you haven't a clock on hand, you wouldn't have figured out it was just four o'clock in the afternoon. but for tsukishima kei, it was already four o'clock in the afternoon. he has an essay due at midnight, and has a lot more research left to do — not to mention his slow progress at actually writing — with less than 8 hours to spare. it usually took him a whole week to complete one, so he was starting to get a little hopeless about finishing it on time. giving up on a task midway wasn't really his thing ... nor was it an option, for the paper takes up more than half of the final grade.
you had asked if you could stay over at his place to hang out which he agreed to, giving you a heads up that he would be occupied most of the time. he figured you would take back you request but weirdly, you waved those off, saying that his presence was enough.
well, he would never deny a little bit company ... especially from you. but he had and inkling that you weren't just there to "hang out". something was up from the very start.
you see, he knew you as a rather eccentric and energetic one.
he vividly remembers that time you video chatted him in the middle of a random wednesday to tell him that in a few minutes, you would be jumping off of a plane thousands of feet above ground.
yamaguchi, who was studying with him in a library at that time, was a witness to his bewildered and flabbergasted expression upon hearing that you decided to skydive on impulse. then there was this other time where you ended up with a broken nose because you got into a fight with a creep on the bus stop ...
he never stopped you, though, because no matter how worried he was (he felt like your mother sometimes), deep inside he knew that you would be able to take care of yourself to some extent, because (hopefully) you still had some hint of caution inside you.
that's why he fell in love with you in the first place — you showed him the thrills and twists of life.
"how much more time you need for that essay?" you ask with an obvious groan from where you ate cashews on his bed.
the blonde squinted his eyes at you, "a lot, why...?"
as if waiting for a signal, you jumped up from his bed, quite literally PEELED him away from his desk, and dragged him to the front door. by then, he knew his protests were futile, because though he can easily lift you up and carry you back into his room, he honestly wanted to do anything BUT his essay.
and he turns mush when you hold his hand, so there's that too.
you drag him to the porch in nothing but pajamas and an oversized t-shirt. it was chilly outside, and the rain sounds were quite overwhelming for the lack of walls and roofs to muffle them.
"y/n... what are you do—"
he watches you in horror as you back up from the covered porch into the rain, the water flattening and dampening the whole of you. wiping at your face and hooding your eyes with your hands to peer at him through the raindrops, you signal him over,
"WELL WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR GET OVER HERE!!!"
kei couldn't believe it. should he be mad? thankful? disappointed? relieved? he didn't know. he wanted to call you a dumbass for distracting him from his work to play around like kids in the rain when he felt like his future relied heavily on whether or not he finishes the essay before midnight. clouded with thoughts, he was unable to stop you from tugging him into the rain in time.
"FUCK WE'RE GOING TO GET SICK, Y/N"
the rain pattering on his head felt like small fingers made of ice drumming on his skin. he looked up, or at least tried to.
nothing but an expanse of light grey.
in the distance, there, too, was a child and his father playfully chasing each other in the rain. some other neighbors chose to watch the weather scene from their own porches, looking out in awe like the rain was snow, and the thunder, a lullaby.
in a way, it was, he thinks to himself. the tapping of his mechanical keyboard was starting to liken the mood of the monotonous, black and white hum of an office job, and his thoughts were starting to shift into nagging voices in his head that just wouldn't shut up. he looks down at his hands, torso, and feet — all soaked and soggy.
from the distance, he hears you calling him. kei, come with! you say, making him feel as though he is witnessing the pleasant parts of his flashback montage before death. like a camera whose lenses rush to take in each and every minute detail from the scene:
the greyness, the muted colors of houses, a child's innocent screeches of delight, rain hitting asphalt, his slippers squelching from trying to grasp on to something on the slippery road, you, you, you, you—
there you were.
arms upturned, eyes closed, and face welcoming the raindrops like how one would bare oneself on the beach for the summertime tan. you skipped around like a child on a mission, like an officeworker resigning from a boring desk job to follow their childhood dreams. like a lover and reciprocated love. like meeting old friends after years of distance ...
kei took a mental note of all these things, shaking off all thought of his essay from his mind.
he needed all the memory in his head to capture the you right now, twirling around as if this muted world is yours for the taking. he willed his eyes to copy the scene exactly as it is to archive in the album of core memories in his head.
then he sees you scream something at him, but it comes on muffled from the rain.
"WHA?" he shouts back, pointing at his ears to signal you to turn up your volume.
"I SAID, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, YOU IDIOT!!!"
kei had many things to be thankful for that day: for you, for taking him out of the black hole that is his study table; for his eyes, because without it, he wouldn't have been able to take snapshots of this exact moment for his keeping; and for the rain, because without it, everybody would've witness him tearing up at the sight of your happiness. because he was simply so overwhelmed with gratitude for you, that he did not know what else to utter when he held you close under the rain like a scene in some cheesy romance.
so instead he returned your "happy valentine's day" greeting, whispering affections into your ear, that only you, him, and the rain would ever know about. two lovers drenched in an afternoon rain. perhaps there is romance and love found in laying down in bed together, both sniffling and downing the medicine for colds.
㋡: hope u all had a wonderful valentine's day!! personally, i didn't have much time to plan anything for hearts day bc of school (it's currently hell week for us since our grades are due next week), but i do have some good stuff waiting for me at the end of the week. basically just me binge-watching comfort films and feeling as single as ever 😃👍one of my beloved friends gave me a handmade crocheted mouse/cat hybrid with lavender essential oil so it's like a mini stress toy! except i won't squish it bc poor mousecat :(( her letter made my bawl my eyes out in the middle of dinner, and the crocheted heart fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. i treasure her so much. i wish i could be there to hug her bc expressing emotions through text online feels weird to me. or maybe it's just bc i don't know how to lmao either way i lov my friends <3 _2162022
>> all words by aero 2022. please do not repost and plagiarize or else i'm coming for your kneecaps.
𓂃 ⭑ ♥︎ love in all five senses — whether it be words of affirmation, touch, quality time, acts of service, gift giving; show me what form love takes in your eyes — in any form you’d like.
˚ ₊‧ ୨GUIDLINES!୧ ‧₊˚
- send me an ask to join the collab and help me stay organized!
- any character from Attack on Titan, Boku no Hero, Haikyuu and Jujutsu Kaisen will be allowed!
- this collab open to anyone, and sfw only!
- there is no maximum word count but please keep it at least 200+ words; headcanons are perfectly fine!
- gender neutral is my default, but feel free to write whatever reader you’d like, just please specify!
- please use the tag aelin’s valentine’s day collab! and tag me so i can see your entry!
- the deadline is february 15th, but don’t be afraid to ask for an extension if needed!
discoholicmusic
theartofmadeline
izzy806
blakekathryn
snowghoul
origamiaround
