I Fucking Can't - Tumblr Posts

NOOOOOO FUCK NOOOOOOOOO NOT TODAY PLEASE NOT TODAY

MISTAKES ⛥ KEN RYUGUJI

Genre: Fluff & angst

Warning: Spoilers of the last arc of the manga

A/N: Over 3.8k love letter to the incredible character that Draken is, childhood acquaintances to lovers with a sprinkle of angst and sweet pining.

Likes, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged ✨

"It would be a miracle being able to forget you."

You thought you know love with the warmth of your mother, at six love changes to the form of water and a fist, to be precise Ken Ryuguji's first, an older boy was being a bully to you in recess, stepping on your crayons, paper, and your lunch box, the boy was trying to throw your water at your hair until Ken rescues you without a problem, hitting him so hard that the liquid splashed everywhere, making sure of telling the boy how much of a dumbass is if he dared to hit someone for being bored. When you said thanks for sticking up for you he laughed scratching his nape.

—Your welcome, I did it because I’m the strongest— watching the tall blond boy with a cute dapper hairstyle you thought that for you he was the strongest person in the world, like a titan against those who wrong you, you show to your Mamma a pretty drawing where a tall stick figure is defending you against a monster.

Ken Ryuguji with his blond hair, big smile, nice height, and good manners that always know the answer when is about numbers; you never thought badly of him, when you forget your bento in class, you can hear the teachers gossiping about him.

— He's not going to get very far— she eats her chicken leaving a stain on the meat thanks to the gloss she's wearing

— What do you expect? have you smelled him? he smells like a love hotel, the brothel smell— they laugh, your mind doesn't comprehend.

What is so funny? "Draken lives in a place where love is? That must be beautiful!? And his smell? What about it? Dada smells the same”.

When you have nine and your Father leaves your mom for another woman that smells like that, you understand what a brothel is. Ken Ryuguji keeps being the best boy you know, the only one who's always polite to you and smiles big when he gets an answer right, so why you would treat him differently no matter how he's raised.

The next memory you have of Ken is at fifth grade, every day he's scolded by the teachers for the tattoo in his head matching with the new bruises he sports every day he talks about someone named Mikey, something in your stomach does a somersault when you lock gazes, the teacher is asking for an explanation but the kid laughs in his face.

No one knows but his eyes and tattoo are the first " serious" sketch you draw in your life.

Two words… Ken Ryuguji… Ken fucking Ryuguji… AKA Draken, you wrote his name in the notebook, with all the force in the world, you could muster using your eraser to delete the proof of your thoughts of him, applying so much strength that the paper was cut in the middle. What is the reason? Why do you do that? You have a crush on the delinquent of the class who only has eyes for the midget called Mikey since you have six...pathetic.

What does Mikey have? That seems to impress almost every man on a ratio of 5 meters, as a modern Pied Piper of Hamlin, taking away freedom in exchange for being part of his stupid bike gang. You feel a presence behind you when you're struggling to do your math exercises.

— Sorry to bother, you have made a mistake there— the voice of your current predicament says kindly; trying to hide your feelings when you look at him as you grip the pencil harder.

Ken fucking Ryuguji, right? With his long dumb blond hair now styled in a braid, stupid black eyes that look like two pots of your favorite black ink, the haori that he seems to have thousands of copies for everyday use, his little crooked teeth when he smiles that make him look more human in comparison to the dragon image that everyone seems to have about him.

— Where?— You attempt to sound open to critics, even with the venom dripping from your voice makes him smile bigger

— Just there, the symbol is not right,— Looking at the notebook, it is easy to find your mistake, your pride is hurt. Why is he so good at math? When you, with all your years of forced Kumon, can't improve.

— Thanks— erasing everything, so he cannot witness more of your flaws

— Hey! It was just a symbol, no need to erase everything,— As you stared at him, he probably realized you didn't want more comments. He took off as quickly as he had come over.

In recess, your best friend is slurping her chocolate milk

—You like him, is so foolish how you act as if you hated him—observing how you try to forget your mistake, calming the beating of your heart

— I don't act as I hate him, what are you talking about?— trying to laugh away your awkwardness

—Babe everyone has a bet on when you are going to kill him with a pencil —You grimaced at the comment as you use the ice-cold bottle of yogurt on your face to feel refreshed, a part in your mind thinks that the chances of that happening are so low.

Hurt Ken? No...Maybe Mikey for being a big baby demanding attention, even if the rumors are right, he could kill you with only his pinkie.

Sighing —I'm a big fool for him— you smile with a trace of gloominess, she looks at the clouds like you have said the sky is blue

—I know, everyone who knows you as much as I could notice, yet this is not Pride and Prejudice you need to show him— you nod.

Exactly one week later, in the shade of a big tree, you confess your feelings. You were startled by a soft drizzle in autumn. He looks at the sky; you glimpse at how his hair has little beads of water, which shines in the cold sun. Your heart beats at the same time as the air exhales from his lungs, knowing how the story is going to end, having read enough books to know rejection.

—You deserve better—is his first sentence in the long statement, your mind is out of your body.

Better? Better than him? What? Who can compete with this man-boy hybrid? You half-listen until he says

—Is just a crush I can assure you when you're older you will not remember the boy with the shaved sides and the dragon tattoo— he tries to light the mood nevertheless the day was ruined, nodding you say thanks for the time he gifted you, not paying attention at how his hand seeks for yours, running away from him, the heavy rain begins, you count that moment as your first mistake.

You begin reading poetry made by other teenagers comparing themselves to sharp objects, they have been broken apart by love. On those shards of glass, you feel connected because loving Ken made you a loser. He left a big wound that even pouring paint on it feels raw like nothing could heal your shattered heart. In that time you encounter Emma Sano understanding everything in the soft way Ken looks at her.

Your mom sighs when you tell her that between sobs

—You are an artist, why you don't capture that feeling— with her advice, you create a worthy paint, almost dissecting your heart to the world, that was the piece that scores you a place in the art program in high school, the piece decorates for two days the hallways of the middle school, so your classmates can appreciate it.

You catch the subject of your heartbreak seeing it, his friend as always alongside him, he gasps in a show of emotion so not him, almost instantly his facial expression changes to a serene mask

—Let's go, Mikey, we are running late—he walks in big strides, said boy looks at the painting

—Kenchin— he says in the softest voice you ever heard in the short one, yet he runs, jumping begging for a piggy ride.

Even at graduation, you don't say goodbye to Ken Ryuguji. You count that as your second mistake.

Talking with your best friend, she tried to get together once in a while between laughs. You remember Ken for the first time in a long time. They say the rain brings memories. In a show of emotion, You ask Hiromi about him. Water is related to Ken in your mind. Even after all those years, the kisses you gift and the hands of other lovers, the ghost touch of the blond boy is the most distinct memory of love for you.

—Uh? Draken? I haven't heard from him in a long time. I don't know...he's not in my high school—You furrow your brows, how can she not know about him,

—Don't tell me you like him even now? —She laughs but gets quiet when sees your effort to laugh it out, asking around the party until someone says something about him.

—That guy is so cool because he has a repair shop now —says one of the boys of your old class, smoking a cigarette —He even left gang life— looking at his jacket.

—You keep being a delinquent?" —He chuckled and nodded

—Yes! I follow the Invincible Mikey in his new gang— you frown, Mikey has a new gang? Adding to that, why in that equation there's no Ken? Clearly a mystery, but you get distracted by life, getting ready to enter college so you could earn a spot in the art program. No one comments on how your paintings got water dragons as central themes.

Hiromi screams, making the people of the restaurant jump at the sudden sound

—She's the next Picasso, Da Vinci, Kahlo, Congratulations on being an Art Major!— she cries as you search for a napkin trying to not let her snot fall on her ramen

—"T-Thanks, Thanks, stop crying, oh my God! you're more excited than I"—Laughing with her boyfriend who’s trying to clean her up until you see him.

The same height, hairstyle, this time without his faithful rhombus' sweater he's chatting with a blond one, two twins who seem to devour their food too, Ken Ryuguji who seems to get caught in the earlier rain, he probably felt your stare because your eyes lock, the world rotates more slowly, a spark of recognition makes his face glow, a big smile breaks, the world spins out of the axis, somewhere on the planet something clicks, the oldest soulmates meets again.

WHAT THE FUCK? Echoing in your mind so hard that you're considering taking the pills in your bag to drown the ache. Sadly the exchange ends there because he stops midairs his wave to you, a sense of a pit of fire in your stomach, he nods his head to you, Hiromi turns around waving too, yet the two worlds don't rotate to each other, your phone rings a perfect excuse to go outside to take the air.

“Hey! I know is not the time to do this but I think we should break up” of course, your life again tumbles apart, and ok is the only thing you can say to your now ex-boyfriend.

Hiromi is waiting with her coat on, what magnificent friend you have, rolling your shoulders you sit slurping your noodles, tears falling free yet your friend doesn't comment, when the waiter comes you ask for another bowl “For university, at least I will study what I love, I don’t care for men” Hiromi nods with you saying cheers even when you guys are drinking plain water. You don’t notice when Ken goes but the time to pay comes, the waiter says a gentleman with a dragon tattoo pays for your meal, the food in your belly roared like lava.

The next summer drowning in self-deprecating thoughts is when you have another encounter with Ken Ryuguji, you are crying (Nothing new there) he's drinking iced green tea spotting you sitting like a sad ragged doll in the park bench, hiding behind an enormous sketchbook ripping paper with a furrowed brow

Some things don't change no matter how many years have passed, he remembers the little girl with pigtails he helped and nos the beautiful person you have bloomed into, he walks not paying attention to the sweat building in his palms or how his breathing is getting faster, the blood circulating to his cheeks he thinks in bikes or something familiar, to not fall against the concrete and do something embarrassing.

You look up, his breath gets caught, he feels like something licks his stomach, a burst of heat, something so warm... familiar, homey; discreetly he cleans his hands on his back and tries to smile non-aggressive. Your eyes open surprised until you remember the sad state you're in because quickly you're cleaning the tears, snot, the deep black charcoal stains.

—Are you alright?—Your name rolls so beautifully on his lips, the sun renders you like an ice pop melting at the trash can, he waits patiently until your brain is connected with your mouth.

—Yes, thank you— the response is so automatic that he doesn't buy that, he asks silently if he can sit with you before you take your thing in your bag he put them in his lap

—Let's try again. How are you?— with only those words forgetting that you haven't seen Ken for years and never been that close to being considered friends you bawl.

There's always something so comforting surrounding Ken, between hiccups you tell him how art school is making you feel the worst, how every day they critique your work and nitpick all the details, the snot falls to your shirt until he offers you his handkerchief with a neat K.R. embroidered. —This looks expensive —You want to clean yourself with the tissue you found in your tote bag.

—Emma gifted them to me— oh! That was unexpected a mask fell into your face you are sure they might be engaged or married until he says

—She’s dead— you don't know if you pass out because of the surprise, the stress, or the empathy for Ken.

When you wake up, you are resting on a futon in the office. Ken is repairing something in the garage, speaking in a hushed voice with another man, He finally sees you. He dismissed his friend who waved saying bye.

— Hey— well that’s awkward; You are offered a seat next to him until he finishes. You have no idea what to say, he opens his lips and begins to tell you about what went wrong years ago. He doesn't cry, but he takes minutes to keep telling you about the deaths, the goodbyes, having to bury a friend and her first crush you listen not once thinking in your feelings just your heart beating in synchrony with Ken’s.

When he finished his tale. He searches for fright in your eyes.

— You were only a child— you say. He laughed and denied you a statement; trying to bring himself down — No, you were a child, no matter how tall or responsible for your age you were, you were a child, you did what you could with what you had at that moment, so please remember no matter what you didn’t deserve to carry all that weight at fifteen— he cries quietly with your hand in his back making circles.

Both of you don’t talk about it again, he doesn't question about your new habit to visit the place with all your materials, quietly drawing as he works, you don’t ask him his motives when he goes to your campus inviting you if you want to go to a ramen tasting escapade with his friends. The dynamic of childhood acquaintances to friends is smooth, even when you guys hide the skeletons of feelings somewhere.

The days blend together in a dynamic that both of you are too afraid to name, walking on eggshells in name of past loves, pining, regrets and what ifs.

The first time you invite him to an exposition of your college where one of your paintings would be exhibited... he's a mess. Mitsuya reassure him telling him his outfit is perfect not too fancy not too casual, perfect for a date, he's quick to deny it but Mitsuya is too smart and knows him so much to understand and pick up the blush of his face he tries to hide.

When he enters the gallery he feels so out of place, this is not a territory for someone like him, you say hi complete ecstatic to see him there until he gives you a single pink peony, your smile blinds him, raking his arm to introduce him to your classmates.

He's trying to give a good impression, to hide how his nails have bits of grease he couldn't clean no matter how many times he washes with a brush his hands, a classmate makes a wow sound.

–Your tattoo is so cool bro!—Ken finally relaxes when everyone begins to greet him, remarking how everyone is so eccentric, original, even one of them came to present his work dressed in jeans overalls. Maybe he thinks just maybe he could have a place beside you.

Later that night, you laugh beside him without shoes, as your other drunken classmates giggle painting an old canvas with their feet making a mess.

—Ready to make art, Ken?—your eyes are sparkling, his chest feels like could blast at any minute, he hadn't felt so light since so fucking long, he dips his feet on the paint jumping with a bunch of drunk students at the sound of Karma Chameleon in an old boombox.

The pink stains of paint his feet leave on the canvas are so big, that your green ones are lost, at the end of the night he saves the phone of some of the classmates so they can go out to drink, he says thanks for inviting him sadly he couldn't tell you what are his feelings for you.

Mitsuya encourages him, he will have another chance, Nahoya and Souya says the same, Inui gives him another beer to cheer him up.

However, when you go to the repair shop with swollen eyes, carrying your canvas as if is something radioactive, he looks at you with curiosity analyzing the painting.

—Do you have something to burn this shit?— the painting is a big crystal ball that reflects people looking at it like it was some kind of salvation.

—Why?—he asks, cleaning his hands to sit beside you like every day

—I did everything wrong— he looks at the painting trying to find something bad yet he doesnt find anything bad, he feels touched at the hands reaching for the object —Maybe they are right my work is mediocre at best, if I drop out of school I can search for a job that helps me to live a small life...-— he saw your face retorting to a kind of disgusted face as you scratch your hair, mediocre? mediocre? he hasn’t met anyone with such passion for their work except Mitsuya, so deciding whats best for you now he flicks your forehead

—Let’s go, you need a break— he walks outside rolling his bike —We are going for a ride...wait— he throws you a helmet and a black hoodie that resembles his old haori —You are going to need it— offering his hand so you can balance, your tummy is full of caterpillars that transform into butterflies when he puts your hands around him, the speed doesnt help, your hair even constricted on the helmet feels the breeze, after a minute you rest your head against his back.

When you see that the beach is close and the air becomes much colder thanks to the sunset, he stops

—Let’s walk on the sand, it always helps— he looks at the pier with longing, taking off his boots, he walks in little strides waiting for you when you look behind the motorcycle is so far —I came here years ago and I always come back when I feel a little lost— he looks at the sky hoping for seeing more stars that today seems to shine a little.

You want to talk more, telling him about how this place is so fitting for him, how you always associate him to water, about the crush after all these years, you burp something else —Why you always tell me all this stuff, I appreciate your trust in me but you have better friends — you feel so stupid putting a hand over your mouth, he smiles sitting in the sand as always he pats the side so you can sit beside him.

—I always think of you as one of my friends— you can’t decide what gets you so emotional, the fact he considers you a friend or how he thinks of you, your heartbeat gets erratic, wanting to burst, to confess how you are mooning for him again. —You treated me so good since preschool, I felt so bad when I didn’t return your feelings that time— he gets quiet, you know hes thinking in Emma. The sounds of the waves lull you, he coughs you smile at him sadly.

—Emma’s death will be always something that I’ll carry around my shoulders, the pleasure to have my heart broken by a woman who was a burst of sunshine in a person— he focuses on the waves that are getting close to your feet, you squeal he laughs wiping his tears.

—Thank you for bringing me here, it helps me— almost jumping trying to get warm by the movement, he rolls his eyes yet he moves his arms side by side to get warm.

—Maybe is time to get back before we freeze to death before I forget...you are doing your best maybe for those bigots is not enough and maybe a simple mechanic is not someone to criticize your work or know a damn about art I can say your works always find something to tug the heartstrings of everyone, the other day Angry cried to that old sketch you left in my desk— something in your heart pull you to hug him and something in his made him kiss your cheek.

—Fuck...Im sorry— trying to shallow the bad feeling, he tousles your hair you shriek when one of his rings got stuck in a knot —This is getting worse, oh my god im so ashamed—keeping talking as he with all the patience in the world detangles his ring

—Hey! you want to date?— he said it so surely and confident even when his finger toes are curling on the sand thanks to his anxiety, he doesnt want to carry more regrets, he knows that whatever he has with you is worthed, that he wants more afternoons buying solvents, helping you with out of the box ideas for your presentations or how you labeled his tools so you can help him, eating Chinese food sitting in old buckets as Inui tells a story, giving you water when the twins are tasting new recipes or how he says no when you are persisting in telling him he should adopt one of the cats in Chifuyu’s shop

You are so silent, he wants to say is a lie, he can almost hear Emma’s voice telling him to not chicken out, when you place your gaze on his, he can appreciate the little tears trying to escape.

—Yes!— fuck! he is happy

There’s something so eerie about this night. Ken looks at the buildings in front f the window, the sky is clear, hoping to see stars, even though he knows it is impossible in a city as bright. You are humming doing chores in the kitchen, his phone rings with Hinata’s name on it, asking if he knows something about Takemichi.

He doesn't know. He immediately texts Chifuyu. The man said he would check. The best man is supposed to have information about the groom, he texts smiling at his witty remark. Everyone in the group looks forward to the wedding.

There’s a loud crack in the air, he blinks...hum weird, something in him calls to hug you, He hid his face in your neck. “Where is Takemitchy? He doesn’t know, is obvious that the dumb man would rather die than not go to his wedding.

You brush his hair that's getting long again yet the raven locks are so soft, smooching his face he feels happy, very content with what he has made with his life, maybe he should start looking for a ring too,

Your third mistake was not paying attention to his friend because both of you have no idea that this future is being rewritten by a friend who cannot say goodbye to the other…

In 2008, Ken Ryuguji dies in a pool of blood. The last name he pronounced, is the name of the shape of love he knew, he's without his core friends, bullets marred his skin, the sky is totally black, the water pouring his body washing away the blood trying to clean his soul... giving him comfort.

Dying cold, wet, without seeing stars, last words forgotten as a lot of people reunite to fight. He never meets another form of love. He doesn't get redemption, just a sad stretcher in the back of the ambulance as a deathbed.

On the other side of the city, you are debating if you need to buy an Indian yellow oil paint for your new project, Hiromi asks you if you’re going to the party.

That's a good idea! Maybe there you can ask for Ken; Someone will have information about your crush; the blond boy with shaved sides and the dragon tattoo.

🔖@sukunasbabymama @meximorrita @notsocoolnana @aasouthteranoswife

Comida sugestiva.

Sometimes my genius is almost frightening

Just watched Conqueror of Shamballa a few minutes ago, I'm gonna fucking throw up

ILY: I Love You

ILYSM: I Love You So Much

IOIDSTAYTA: It’s Okay, I Do Stupid Things Around You Too, Amity

At this point dream face reveal will be him taking a picture and then posting a piece of it everyday like, a cheek in instagran, then the eye on twt, then we will have to put it together like a jigsaw puzzle. 

criminal case pacific bay social media au

i love these things so i made these :] might do more for the others !!

Imagine Fiddleford sends a letter to the mystery shack with hearts on it labeled to 'Stanford' and both Ford and Stan start arguing over who it's meant for since they both like him ...then they open it and see that it's an invite to his renewing of vows with his raccoon wife.

transcript under the cut, but frankly i think this is best experienced blind

“if you see something you like, it’s yours!”

[cartoon boing sound effect]

[nervous laughter] “okay!… wait, so…”

“this is big, huh?”

“you’re too nice! don’t worry, i can take it. not the whole thing, thank goodness, that’d be really hard.”

[loud, repetitive metal clanging]

“yes! this is gonna be fun!”

[clanging continued]

“please, go on.”

[clanging speeds up]

“serves me right! that’s it, make me take my medicine!”

[disjointed metal falling sound, layered with Yes Man’s “woohoo!”]

“you really know how to make a robot happy!”

[cartoon smooch sound effect]

“i love you too.”