Summary: Besties who dance together, fall in love together. <3
Requested: yeppers!! This was requested by @justbeing-kpoptrash (ayyeee I did another request for you before!!!! Glad to see some regulars on this blog! ^-^ )
Author’s Note: I feel like this is absolute shit compared to my other works lol.Idek where I was going with this, but hopefully it won’t turn out too terrible!! Nevertheless, I hope this is what you were aiming for! :)
“You think I don’t know how stories get written—how this story will be written?” Rhys put his hands on his chest, his face more open, more anguished than I’d seen it. “I am the dark lord, who stole away the bride of spring. I am a demon, and a nightmare, and I will meet a bad end.”
He thinks he’ll be remembered as the villian in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.
What she means:
I haven't seen an actress go so ham since, tbh Idek. Winona went to new fucking levels. I mean, the first scene when Will talks to Joyce thru the lights? Not to mention "HE'S WANTED TO GO TO NYU SINCE HE WAS SIX. YEARS. OLD!" And on another note, imagine how badly Will wanted to contact his mom? I mean, a petrified eleven year old boy stuck in a place that /looks/ like home but isn't? Imagine how terrified he had to be in order to make the phone ring, lights turn on, and the fucking Clash play on the stereo? And he didn't even have powers like El did.
Shout out to the Byers Family. Those are some strong motherfuckers right there.
I want more posts/stories/whatever about how Geoff Ramsey got to be king of Los Santos. Sure, it’s a known fact now, but he didn’t start that way.
Give me early-crime-days Geoff who joins a crew, because he was never much of a loner (the way Ryan or Ray or even Michael could be). He starts out small, petty gangs and the like, learns the trade and meets the important people, gets invited to a fairly small crew. He quickly makes some friends, and pushes other people’s buttons real hard. He talks loud and fast and he’s smart, and that’s not something everyone likes. Some people just want muscle or guns; they don’t want another brain.
So Geoff gets in a fight with the heads of his crew, splits and takes half their men with him. They don’t take kindly to that so they come for him, but Geoff is prepared, and he shoots the man he just worked for for 6 months point blank. Looks up at the other tops of the crew and shoots them all too. He goes to the remaining rival crew members, tells them to join or die (secretly laughs to himself about the history joke, because Geoff is nothing if not a closet nerd. He and Ryan become fast friends on this later). Some join, some resist, and true to his word Geoff kills all dissenters.
He finds the people most loyal to him and delegates some responsibility to them. He begins planning his own hits– nothing big yet, just enough to get his name out there. They’re calculated; big enough to give him exposure, small enough that he won’t face retribution from cops and crews alike. “Geoff Ramsey” begins circulating amongst groups, and fuck if Geoff isn’t proud.
It’s the morning after their final game, and even though Matsukawa knows he can sleep in, he wakes before the sky turns bright. It’s a habit more than anything, and he contemplates going back to sleep for another hour, but before he knows it, he’s pulling on a loose pair of sweats and slipping out the door for his morning run. He falls into an easy stride, clearing the sleepiness from his mind and slowly stretching out his sore muscles.
It was nice to be alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t slept well and had avoided his phone, knowing all too well that Oikawa would be checking on all his teammates after everyone had gone home. Matsukawa didn’t want to talk about it, not really. It was so much easier to just…run. Let the sweat trickling down his back also wash away the terrible feeling of losing. The terrible feeling of guilt that he hadn’t put enough faith in his team, in his friends, to win. He had always had a relaxed personality, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if perhaps he could’ve poured more energy into the match. The other third years were so inspiring to the first years. They were the life and backbone of the team. What did he do in comparison?
“Going my way?” The deep voice interrupts his thoughts abruptly, as they so often do. Hanamaki stumbles into step beside him, shivering slightly in a light track jacket but otherwise dressed similarly. Matsukawa doesn’t mention the bags under his eyes, or how puffy from crying they look. He knows that he looks the same.
They run in silence for a few minutes before Matsukawa can’t bear it any longer. “You played well,” he hurriedly says, stumbling over his words and refusing to meet his best friend’s gaze. He can hear Hanamaki’s footsteps slow to a halt and it takes every fiber of strength in his body to slow down and turn to face him. He shouldn’t have started this conversation.
Matsukawa expects to see a teasing face, but Hanamaki is nothing but serious. He fiddles with the sleeves of his jacket as he speaks. “Oikawa texted me last night,” he begins suddenly, leaving Matsukawa slightly lost. “He said we did everything we could and he’s so proud to have played with us. He didn’t use a single emoji, can you believe that? It’s a miracle,” he snorted. “Iwaizumi texted me too. It wasn’t anything long, but it was the same message basically.” He glanced up to meet Matsukawa’s eyes. “They texted every single member of the team to make sure they didn’t feel guilty about losing, to make sure they were alright. I sat on my bed and cried. I didn’t try making sure they were okay, or even any of the first years. I can’t even think of them without feeling like I failed them somehow.”
Matsukawa turns his face away, blinking. “I didn’t even read their texts,” he manages in a dry voice that cracks slightly. “We’re a shitty pair of seniors, aren’t we?”
Hanamaki stumbles forward and he falls into Matsukawa’s chest, his hands tightly clutching the shirt fabric across his broad shoulders, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks. His head is bowed, but they’ve been together long enough that Matsukawa knows the look of self-loathing he wears now. “I won’t cry,” Hanamaki swears through gritted teeth, “but is it okay if we stay like this for a while?”
Matsukawa runs his fingers through Hanamaki’s wind ruffled hair before drawing him into a tight embrace. His shoulders shake. “Yes please,” he whispers. Hanamaki had promised he wouldn’t cry but that was okay. Matsukawa still had enough tears for the both of them.
I was having artblock so I started doodling Kairis and idk it just turned into this all over again, only with bigger age gaps and less consistency. Not keen on how the two rightmost Rikus came out, but meh, practice practice. Also I’m completely split-minded on chin-rat Sora as a general concept. Sometimes I’m like “haha how cute, I like that person’s drawing of it!” Other times I’m screeching and looking for a brillo pad to scour it off. There is no middle ground :|