#Not to post a Third time today. this is stuff i made in the middle of class

[interoteme]

keeping an empty gatorade bottle in my car to let people know not to mess with me because i'm an athlete

[littlegrapejuice]

A Trophy And A Ring | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando wins the Singapore Grand Prix and you have a surprise planned for his third victory, leading him to finish the race with two rewards.

Author's Note: ok so i reeeaaallyyyy wanted to write for the less popular drivers but i thought of this a couple days after lando won singapore so here we are :)) kinda had a writer's block on this one so it's shorter than other stuff i wrote but i find it cute<3

The 2024 Singapore Grand Prix.

Second fastest in FP1, then fastest in both FP2 and FP3.

Pole position.

He was still ahead when they reached the first corner. And the second. And every other that followed.

After leading every lap and passing the chequered flag with a twenty seconds gap, Lando Norris was a three-times race winner.

This time, the fireworks were for him.

…..

It was always a good feeling when you were called in to do the post-race interviews, but even better when you got to interview your boyfriend after a victory. And when you thought about the little surprise you had planned for him, your smile expanded even more as you were beyond excited for Lando’s reaction. Before that could happen though, you had to interview Oscar and Max who completed the podium. They were both aware of your plan, and despite wishing they could’ve won the race, they were glad to know what was awaiting Lando for succeeding today.

‘Good luck’, they had both said to you when you were done talking to them. And now, this was the moment. Lando walked towards you after Max gave him the mic. He had such a pretty smile, your only thought was to kiss him right now. However, you had to keep it professional for a bit before you could put your grand plan in motion.

“Lando, congratulations on your third victory of the season! Can you talk me through today and how does racing with a dominant car feel?”

“Hi”, he simply said with the same happy smile he always arboured when facing you. “Thank you! It was an amazing race despite a few too many close calls”, he added with a laugh. “You know, I had a couple of little moments in the middle. But yeah, the car was incredible. I could push and we were flying the whole race, so yeah, it was very nice.”

“Are you okay? You seem out of breath.” Your girlfriend mode could only override the interviewer mode as you could hear Lando had trouble speaking.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. It was tough but all good”, he reassured you.

“The gap at the end, do you know what it was?”

“Yeah, like close to twenty seconds I think?” Lando wondered to which you nodded.

“That’s it,” you confirmed. “As you admitted yourself, you were sometimes really close to the wall – did you actually need to be pushing that hard given this gap that you had?”

“I mean, this wasn’t necessarily over pushing you know? I just wanted to have the biggest lead possible and not just a one second lead”, he explained.

“One second that kept you in front for the whole race after you pitted”, you stated.

“This was great indeed. See why I need the biggest gap possible?” You smiled at that which made Lando chuckle. “But yeah, I’m happy to get the maximum points today and to have Osc on the podium as well, he drove really well today so this was a very good day for the team also.”

“You’re now a three-times race winner, fantastic victory.”

“Thanks”, he replied before looking away. It seemed that even after being with you for so long, he was still blushing and becoming nervous whenever you’d compliment him.

“Last question before I let you go, okay?” Lando nodded and you tried to subtly put your hand in your pocket to get what you needed. “Well, there are actually two but it's the same thing. So do you know how we say the third time’s a charm?”

“Of course”, Lando said. “It’s my third victory and you’re here, so that means you were my good-luck charm.”

“Not exactly the compliment I was fishing for, but thank you.” With a look to the side, Oscar understood that this was the moment and approached you. He took the mic from you – but kept it at your level – while you finally pulled out a small box from your pocket. “So, we’ve been together for three years now and as we’ve been saying, this is the third time you win a race. Therefore I have a little gift for you.”

Lando was a bit confused at your words, until he wasn’t anymore when you got down on one knee. Oscar followed by squatting down next to you, so you could still keep talking into the mic – this was very much needed as the crowd began cheering so loud that Lando would’ve had a hard time hearing you otherwise.

“Lando”, you called to him before deeply inhaling. “Six years in Formula One, six poles, and three wins. Would you do the honour of marrying me, even though I don’t even have my driving licence?”

Unable to speak, Lando could only nod before he pulled you up so that you could stand in front of him. He cleared his throat in order to find his voice again, and was finally able to answer your question.

“I will absolutely marry you, yes! Even if you’re my passenger princess ‘till we die.”

“Wow, that’s very generous of you.” You let out a chuckle which made Lando smile.

Right now, the camera was focused on Lando’s fond expression which enabled the thousands of people present at the track as well as the thousand others watching from home to see how in love the man was with you.

Stepping back, you were now taking the ring from its box before slipping it on Lando’s finger while he looked down at the gesture. He was close to tears and he could feel his eyes start watering from the emotion. Noticing, you quickly wiped his cheeks and as you still had your hands cradling his face, you figured it was a good time to pull him down in a kiss to celebrate your engagement. He immediately kissed back while pulling you closer to him as his hands instinctively reached for your hips.

When you both pulled away, you and Lando hugged for a few seconds before you remembered you were still on camera with thousands of people watching your every move. After separating from your now fiancé, you got pulled into a hug from Oscar who was still next to you. One by one, the drivers went to congratulate you and Lando. Along with Max and Oscar, a couple others had been aware of your proposal and they had known what to expect if they were part of the podium when Lando’s third win was to happen.

After everyone had cheered for your and Lando’s engagement, the drivers could finally get ready for the podium while you could step down from your journalist duties and entirely focus on being a loving WAG.

…..

“So, how do you feel about winning both a trophy and a ring?” Oscar asked Lando when the two got into the cooldown room with Max.

“I’d say this is the best Grand Prix of my life”, Lando replied while looking down with a lovesick smile at the ring you had placed on his ring finger.

“And which one will you remember when someone mentions Singapore?” Max teased as he already knew the answer.

“The ring obviously,” Lando immediately said as he didn’t have to hesitate. “I can get more trophies in the future, but my girl– fiancée giving me a ring is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

Smiling at Lando’s words, Oscar and Max were truly happy that you’d had the courage to propose in such a meaningful and public way – and they were also internally wishing you good luck in order to put up with Lando for God knows how many more years.

“Should I do the engagement party next time I win?” Lando wondered.

“NO!” Max and Oscar both answered.

“Wow, okay, fine.” Lando put his hands up in defence.

“First: you’re crazy if you think we’re letting you win one more time during this season”, Max argued. “Second: I’m sure she’d rather celebrate it in a more private setting.” Max knew you well and was certain today’s level of PDA wasn’t going to happen again before a while.

“Yeah”, Oscar agreed. “She loves you mate, but this was already a lot coming from her.”

“Damn, I get it. It was just a joke, don’t worry.”

“I’ll text her about it just to warn her”, Max added.

“Man it’s fine,” Lando sighed but still smiled at his friends’ words. “The idea is gone already, we’re good.”

Switching the conversation topic to the actual race they had done, the drivers simply waited to be called to the podium while watching some highlights shown to them on the screen.

One by one they then went outside under the fans’ cheers until it was Lando’s turn. As he was mindlessly waving at the people in parc fermé, his gaze was focused on its own task: locating you. And when he did, his mind was at peace. You were looking up at him with so much love in your eyes, Lando was still finding it hard to believe that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

He could only think about how lucky he was to have you in his life, and he promised himself that he would always do his best to make you a happy wife and an even happier woman.

When it was time for the trophies to be handed out, Lando’s first reaction was to dedicate it to you as he pointed in your direction before showing off his hand with the finger that was harbouring the ring you had given him. After Lando, along with Max and Oscar, did the celebration – Lando obviously doing his signature champagne pop, pictures were being taken as the three drivers got next to each other. His eyes finding you once again, Lando winked at you when he saw you had taken your phone out to take a photo of your winner. Your only response was to blow him a kiss before you started to join the applause and cheers still going on around you.

You though about how you could watch him race forever; you knew how happy it made him – and you as well – but he was always even happier to win, especially when you were here to support him. You would never realise it though, but racing would never make him happier than being with you.

If a choice were to be made – you or his career, you’d think he'd choose his career, but he’d choose you in a heartbeat. In every universe, over and over again. He’d choose you.

..........

Hope y'all enjoyed this!! I'll fr do my best to try and write for other drivers that are less written about but as a papaya girlie (in a landoscar way not mclaren way) I'm v happy i got to do a lil lando fic

See you god knows when (unfortunately not even god knows bc idk myself lol) and good luck for surviving the last week and a half of break🫶🏻

[anarchotolkienist]

you’re attacking that neopagan kind of birthstone post about druid plants, but could you please elaborate or at least clarify the explicit trope that is being used that has been historically weaponized?

I used to spend about a good third of my time on this godforsaken website attacking that idea, but sure, I'll do it again. This will be a bit of an effortpost, so I'll stick it under the readmore

There is a notion of 'celts' or Gaels as being magicial and somehow deeply in touch with nature and connected to pre-Christian worldviews that the people who decided to make up the "Celtic tree astrology" used. This is also why Buffy used Irish Gaelic as the language of the demons, why Warhammer uses Gaelic as Elvish, why garbled Scottish Gaelic is used by Wiccans as the basis for their new religious construct, why people call themselves Druids to go an say chants in bad Welsh in Stonehenge, or Tursachan Chalanais, or wherever, etc etc. This stuff is everywhere in popular culture today, by far the dominant view of Celtic language speaking peoples. Made up neopagan nonsense is the only thing you find if you go looking for Gaelic folklore, unless you know where to look, and so on and so on. I could multiply examples Endless, and in fact have throughout the lifespan of this blog, and probably will continue to.

To make a long history extremely brief (you can ask me for sources on specifics, or ask me to expand if you're interested), this is directly rooted in a mediaeval legalistic discussion in Catholic justifications for the expansionist policies of the Normans, especially in Ireland, who against the vigourous protestation of the Church in Ireland claimed that the Gaelic Irish were practically Pagan in practice and that conquest against fellow Christians was justified to bring them in like with the Church. That this was nonsense I hope I don't need to state. Similar discourses about the Gaels in Scotland exist at the same time, as is clear from the earliest sources we have postdating the Gaelic kingdom of Alba becoming Scotland discussing the 'coastal Scots' - who speak Ynglis (early Scots) and are civilised - and the 'forest Scots' (who speak 'Scottis' (Middle Gaelic) and have all the hallmarks of barbarity. This discourse of Gaelic savagery remains in place fairly unchanged as the Scottish and then British crowns try various methods for integrating Gaeldom under the developing early state, provoking constant conflict and unrest, support certain clans and chiefs against others and generally massively upset and destabilise life among the Gaels both in Scotland and Ireland. This campaign, which is material in root but has a superstructure of Gaelic savagery and threat justifying it develops through attempts at assimilation, more or less failed colonial schemes in Leòdhas and Ìle, the splitting of the Gaelic Irish from the Gaelic Scots through legal means and the genocide of the Irish Gaels in Ulster, eventually culminates in the total ban on Gaelic culture, ethnic cleansing and permanent military occupation of large swathes of Northern Scotland, and the destruction of the clan system and therefore of Gaelic independence from the Scottish and British state, following the last rising in 1745-6.

What's relevant here is that the attitude of Gaelic barbarity, standing lower on the civilisational ladder than the Anglo Saxons of the Lowlands and of England, was continuously present as a justification for all these things. This package included associations with the natural world, with paganisms, with emotion, and etc. This set of things then become picked up on by the developing antiquarian movement and early national romantics of the 18th century, when the Gaels stop being a serious military threat to the comfortable lives of the Anglo nobility and developing bourgeoise who ran the state following the ethnic cleansing after Culloden and permanent occupation of the Highlands (again, ongoing to this day). They could then, as happened with other colonised peoples, be picked up on and romanticised instead, made into a noble savage, these perceived traits which before had made them undesirable now making them a sad but romantic relic of an inexorably disappearing past. It is no surprise that Sir Walter Scott (a curse upon him and all his kin) could make Gaels the romantic leads of his pseudohistorical epics at the exact same time that Gaels were being driven from their traditional lands in their millions and lost all traditional land rights. These moves are related. This tradition is what's picked up on by Gardner when he decides to use mangled versions of Gaelic Catholic practice (primarily) as collected by the Gaelic folklorist Alasdair MacIlleMhìcheil as the coating for Wicca, the most influential neo-pagan "religion" to claim a 'Celtic' root and the base of a lot of oncoming nonsense like that Celtic Tree Astrology horseshit that started this whole thing, and give it a pagan coat of paint while also adding some half-understood Dharmic concepts (three-fold law anyone?) and a spice of deeply racist Western Esotericism to the mix. That's why shit like that is directly harmful, not just historically but in the present total blotting out of actually existing culture of Celtic language speakers and their extremely precarious communities today.

If you want to read more, I especially recommend Dr. Silke Stroh's work Gaelic Scotland in the Colonial Imaginary, Dr. Aonghas MacCoinnich's book Plantation and Civility in the North-Atlantic World, the edited collection Mio-rún Mór nan Gall on Lowland-Highland divide, the Gaelic writer known in English as Ian Crichton Smith's essay A real people in a real place on these impacts on Gaelic speaking communities in the 20th century, Dr. Donnchadh Sneddons essay on Gaelic racial ideas present in Howard and Lovecrafts writings, and Dr. James Hunter's The Making of the Crofting Community for a focus on the clearings of Gaels after the land thefts of the late 18th and early 19th century.

@grimdr an do chaill mi dad cudromach, an canadh tu?

[hunieday]

Momo - La'Stiara Rabbit Chat translation

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Momo: Heyyy Yuki-san heyyy

Yuki: I’m here

Momo: Oh. here comes Yuki!!!!! 🫣🫣  what are you doing right now?

Yuki: here comes yuki

Yuki: Harvesting pea sprouts

Momo: Now that’s the best lololololol 

Momo: You’re the handsomest for doing that in the middle of the night. Well no, it’s too cute. But also still too handsome

Yuki: Who did you go drinking with today?

Momo: How did you know I was drinking!?!? I went with Gakuuu!!!

Yuki: Gaku-kun, huh. I can also tell you just finished drinking and you’re in a taxi

Momo: Whaaat!? Are you watching me from somewhere!?! Could this dandy driver actually be Yuki in disguise!?!?

Yuki: That's hilarious

Yuki: You always send me a rabbichat out of nowhere like this after drinking, pretty amusing how easy it is to tell because you're always in high spirits.

Momo: I guess my darling can see right through me…🥹

Momo: Whenever I'm drinking, I always think things like “Yuki would like this flavor" or "I'm sure Yuki would laugh a lot if I told him this story" so… 

Momo: When I'm having drinks without you I just really wanna chat with you afterwards...🥹

Yuki: You say such romantic things

Momo: I feel that sense of comfort you get from being back home… 

Yuki: Would you like some peaches? You've always liked them

Momo: That's right, you always remember the things I liked when I was younger...

Yuki: Here, I made plenty of stewed dishes, so take some with you. I also packed some rice crackers and candies. Don't overwork yourself.

Momo: That's how it is right? you always made me take home more food than I can eat by myself...

Momo: But you sound like Old Man Yuki right now lololololol your image of a family house is way too high!? lolol

Yuki: I just watched a TV drama about stuff like that

Yuki: Were you and Gaku-kun shooting for "La’Stiara" at the same time?

Momo: No, we just happened to bump into each other at the studio after the shoot! 

Momo: Gaku didn't have any plans after that, so I invited him for a drink 

Momo: He said “I'm so happy to go drinking with you for the first time in a while, Momo-san!" he looked so happyy~~

Yuki: How cute

Momo: Isn’t hee~~!! 😳 I almost gave him the gem I had on me 😳

Yuki: That's funny. Though Gaku-kun doesn't seem that interested in jewelry

Momo: that’s right lolol but he has a dignified face so I’m looking forward to seeing the gem + Gaku combo picture released to the public 🥺

Momo: By the way Yuki! We were talking about instant tempura soba. Do you add the tempura before or after you pour the hot water!?!?

Yuki: Now that sounds like a drinking party question

Momo: We were talking about buying tempura soba from the convenience store as a late-night snack and it somehow turned into a conversation topic lol

Yuki: Momo, you put it in first then add the hot water, right?

Momo: Yeah!! I ate it that way first because I thought I’d get a bigger portion that way but I grew to love it 🥹 It soaks up all the flavor and it's delicious!!!

Yuki: Yeah, I get it. The juiciness is delicious

Momo: Right!?!? As expected of you, Darling!

Yuki: What about Gaku-kun?

Momo: "I like to taste both the crispy tempura and the smooth texture of soba, so I add it afterward."

Yuki: I get it. Enjoying different textures is important

Momo: Huh!!!! But you just said you understood my way! Are you a post-water tempura person? 🥹

Yuki: I eat them separately.

Momo: lololololol a surprise third option!!!!

Yuki: I thought it might be interesting.

Momo: Yuki, you're always making conversations more lively during drinking parties, you’re so handsome,,,!!!!!!!

Yuki: I know

Momo:

Momo: Can I take you to this place I took Gaku to next time? It's pretty lively though

Yuki: Of course. Was it a good place?

Momo: Actually it was opened by the manager of an izakaya I used to work at back in the day!!!

Momo: Do you remember it? The place with the really delicious rolled omelets!

Yuki: Isn’t that the manager who used to pack you meal boxes to take home?

Momo: Yes, yes!! Isn't that a huge coincidence!!! He even recognized me! 

Momo:  He said he buys our CDs every time

Yuki: I remember him. He used to hand out flyers for our concerts to the customers at the izakaya.

Yuki: He was a really nice guy. Now that I'm looking back, we were really blessed with the people around us.

Momo: I really think so too. And because of that I wanted to chat with you even more, Yuki!

Yuki: Let's take a bunch of our juniors there to repay the favor. I'm sure he'll be happy to see how successful of a senior you've become.

Momo: Yeah...! If I told my past self that I'd become the Absolute Kings with you he'd be super surprised.

Yuki: If I told my past self that I learned to appreciate people and the environment surrounding me right now he'd be surprised too.

Momo: But Yuki, you've always been super, super kind, you know!? you wouldn't have accepted my unreasonable request otherwise

Yuki: Momo

Yuki: Let's talk about this in detail tomorrow. We've been reminiscing about old times a lot lately, but it feels like a waste to only rabbichat about them

Momo: Yuki...

Yuki: And

Yuki: sleepy

Momo: lololol you must be sleepy right!!! Thanks for chatting with me 😆😆

Momo: See you tomorrow, Yuki!!

Yuki:

[ineededacentralblog]

That Unwanted Animal

AN: I wanted to keep tinkering with this, but it’s late even now, so I hope it’s alright. I hope you enjoy @vveissesfleisch and happy summer exchange :)

I have more notes on some of this stuff, but I’ll add them when I post to ao3

title from the song by the amazing devil and cw for major mental health struggles. set during the stalag arc. wc: 7703. hurt no comfort

@hbowardaily

The first time Bucky notices the eagle, the sun is in his eyes and he’s been in the stalag for a week. It’s just a dark shape against a blue sky, not remarkable except for his jealousy of its ability to fly. He’s been hurting for a set of wings lately. He’s been hurting for a lot of things.

He sees it again the next day. It’s pouring rain, so the sun isn’t a problem. It’s sitting pristinely on the fence and looking down at the prisoners below. Bucky watches it back. After a few minutes, it begins to preen its wings, casually boasting its freedom. He feels the tug of jealousy again and goes back inside.

The third time Bucky sees the eagle, a week has passed. This time, it’s perched on top of the guard tower. The sun is low enough in the sky to offer a clear view of the bird. He stares at it for a while, ‘til Buck sidles up to him.

“I don’t think today’s the day for your great escape, Bucky.” He looks down pointedly at the mud.

It takes a little effort for Bucky to tear his eyes away and acknowledge Gale. It takes longer for him to figure out why Buck said that.

“What? Oh, that’s not — Look, there’s a-” When he looked back up, the bird was gone. “Huh. Must’ve flown away.”

Buck indulged him with a hand on his shoulder while he went over his plans for the day. While Buck had him holed up in the library that day, Bucky’s mind was preoccupied with thoughts of broad wings soaring on air.

Bucky sees the eagle. Again. And again. And more and more.

He knows it’s a bird of prey, obviously. He wracks his brain one day, trying to figure out what’s so familiar about it. And then it hits him- A talkie his mom had taken him to in the ‘30s, something on the Central Park Zoo. Everything about his eagle, and the black eagle in that picture were the same. He remembered something about it being indigenous to Asia. It bothered him more.

The next couple times Bucky saw it, it frustrated him more than before. He started trying to reason it out within himself. How had an Asian Black Eagle made its way to Germany? He thought maybe it had escaped a zoo here in the middle of all the bombings and evacuations. That was the closest he could get to making it make sense. Bucky always wanted things to make sense.

A month and a half after he starts seeing the eagle, he finally points it out to Buck and it doesn’t fly away before he can see it. But Buck can’t find it, even when Bucky points and gets behind him and directs his head. Gale stares at him that night, trying to hide it, but they never were good at keeping things from each other. The next time Bucky sees the eagle, he doesn’t mention it to Buck.

——

There s no way to properly convey the burst of relief all throughout Gale when he saw Bucky through the fence. If he listened to the more sensible part of his brain, he thought it would be better if Bucky had never ended up in Germany at all, but the more animal part of him just wanted Bucky nearby so he could keep him in his sights. He kept to this goal throughout the first week, but the more he watched Bucky, the more he realized this Bucky wasn’t the same one he had left behind in England. This Bucky was different, and his obsessive nature had grown, while the level head that kept his fort in the air so long seemed to have almost completely vanished.

Bucky was preoccupied, too, and Buck had caught him staring into space often. Especially outside. Buck knew he must be watching something particular, but, on his life, he never could find what Bucky was looking at. Bucky tried pointing it out to him a couple times, but it must have always left right before Buck could find its spot. He doesn’t know whether to watch Bucky more or less with the new behavior. It doesn’t sit right with him.

It doesn’t come to a head for a few weeks, but the uneasiness carries him all the way through. Then, he finds out what it was he was missing.

John is pointing insistently at a spot along the fence line. Buck tries everything he could to spot the object of John’s fascination, moving around, squinting his eyes, sheer force of will, but he just can’t find it.

“Must’ve run off again.” He comments to Bucky, giving up on it.

“Buck, I hate to say it, but we might need to get your eyes checked. Where’s that old medic again?”

“Maybe you need to get your head checked,” Buck retorts amicably, ready to laugh it off.

“I don’t know how you’re missing it, it’s a huge fucking black eagle. Been bugging me for weeks. You know, they’re actually not native to Germany. The poor fucker must want to get home as bad as we do.”

A cold feeling starts to develop in Buck’s gut, but he has to confirm his suspicion. Brady is in the yard nearby, so Gale beckons him over with a jerk of his chin.

“Brady, do you see a bird perched on the fence? Just over yonder?”

Bucky rolls his eyes in Buck’s peripheral. “What, you don’t trust me now?”

Brady looks for a second, but soon looks back at Gale like he suggested they switch to night bombing.

“Respectfully, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. Sir.”

“Right. Thanks, Brady.”

Brady throws one last sidelong glance at John before he nodds at Buck and walks away. Bucky grows more restless beside him, moving but staying by Buck’s side. That was something consistent since flight school. However much he’s been acting strangely recently, he still sticks close to Buck, no matter what he does. Maybe it’s that that lent Buck enough nerve to actually try to talk to Bucky about it.

“How’ve you been feeling lately, John?” Gale asks, trying for casual. Maybe someone who didn’t spend 90% of their time with him would find it convincing.

“You think I’m cracking up, too, now,” Bucky says, staring at the same spot on the fence with a closed expression. His voice is hard, accusatory.

“Bucky-” Buck starts, trying a different angle. He grabs Bucky’s shoulder, they’ve both always been better at communicating through touch, but Bucky isn’t tolerating it. He shakes him off and starts to walk away. “John!” He calls after him, and gets a different kind of bird for his trouble.

——————

There are parts of life that Bucky misses from the outside that he never tells Buck about. He couldn’t bear to see that subtle pain behind his eyes as a result of something he did. But keeping it quiet only seems to make the ache grow.

He can’t stand it sometimes, the total lack of control. He knows Buck has that too, Buck’s always been a micromanager. He kept his footlocker compartmentalized, never had a thread out of place on his bed, even by military standards. But Bucky never cared about that kind of thing.

He’s felt there’s something ill about him for years. He could treat it while he was on the outside, the makeshift medication there much safer than what’s offered inside the Stalag walls.

Outside, all it had taken to keep his symptoms under control was a little sting here, a little cut there. A shot of whiskey burning down his throat, a woman’s fingernails charting scratches across his back, the tantalizing suffocation of running too fast and too long.

Inside, the options were different, and less easy to play off. He can feel how often Buck watches him, and he knows that if he crosses whatever line Buck has set, things will never be the same. He’d be cut off from his minor addiction forever. And that would drive him crazy.

Bucky decides to abstain as long as he can. Making do with roughhousing and the internal sting of thinking about things too long. But it won’t last, and he knows it.

The first habit to develop really is an accident. Until the first freeze, the camp is covered in bugs, making most of the guys compulsively scratch at their skin. It’s bothering Gale more than Bucky, which makes it fester more. He scratches his skin raw, ironically, while trying to figure out a way to help his best friend. His lifeline. He had never thought it was something he could do himself. Sure, he registered the satisfaction of having someone else claw at his skin, but had never tried it solo. Bucky thinks it must be fine, it was nothing that hadn’t happened before. The scratching doesn’t lessen much for him after the first freeze.

The second habit may be intentional, but he hadn’t meant it to hurt. He had been a nail biter as a kid. It just started as a simple worrying of his teeth. First on the cuff of his jacket, then his knuckles. He didn’t want to start biting his nails again, he wasn’t a baby. He also didn’t want to hurt himself. He just liked that edge. Being close to it. Having control over something.

But soon enough, Buck starts staring at the irritated, red, skin on his arms more than his face, his admittedly vacant eyes. John knows it’s bothering him. He does. But at the same time, he also wants to know how much Buck cares. If it’s enough to stop him. If it’s enough to follow him. If it’s enough to save him. He doesn’t know what he wants, just that if Buck gave it, he would take it.

———————

Bucky doesn’t really believe he’s cracking up. He’s heard the guys talking, but it’s nothing but shit-talk. He would be more worried if they weren’t talking about it. There’s only one thing that really sticks out about his mind right now. What everyone else talks about is his cabin fever, but he thinks that anyone not feeling the squeeze right now would be the crazy one. There’s something more insidious within him that’s keeping him up at night, keeping his brain whirring past the godly hours.

Before he landed in the Stalag, he could easily dismiss his preoccupation with Gale. At first, it was because he was back at home while Bucky was on the front already. Then it was because he was up in the sky without Bucky to look after him. And then it was because they were in the sky together, Bucky had to keep an eye on him to keep him safe. And then, it was because he was gone and Bucky was left alone on a haunted base. Now, there wasn’t really an excuse. As long as Buck kept away from the fence and didn’t get too close to the sick soldiers, he would be fine. And they were together, so there wasn’t supposed to be any missing him.

All of this previous logic was failing him. He couldn’t figure out if Buck was driving him crazy or keeping him sane. And there was something dangerous about it. No man was meant to be that concerned with another. He saw his own behavior towards Buck reflected in the other man’s worry about Marge at home. Without meaning to, Bucky began to foster a resentment toward her. And that gave more weight to the growing load on his mind. He never had been good at managing feelings, he was self aware enough to know that.

All he wanted was to run. He thought about the stretch of a sprint in his thighs, the sting of barbed wire on his palms. But that preoccupation keeps him tethered to Buck, like a dog chained to its house. Buck’s his home, but sometimes he’d prefer to be in the elements, unprotected by a barrier, rather than ponder why Buck held so much significance.

John thinks a lot more than he used to. He wishes he could stop. He wishes a lot of things.

———————

Buck comes to sit on the chair catty-corner to Bucky’s. All the other men are outside, enjoying the rare temperate day. This is exactly the type of thing Bucky’s been seeming to long for, and Gale’s determined to get him outside. The fresh air always clears Buck’s mind, keeps him sane. The last few days of rain had been torture on all of them. He goes to speak, but his eyes catch on John’s mouth. His teeth. His skin between them. The blood there.

He feels a stab of pain in his chest, his breathing picking up immediately.

John’s staring at nothing, not having seemed to even notice Gale.

“Bucky, can I see your hand?” Buck asks in as calm a voice as he can muster.

John grunts, but there’s no recognition on his face.

“John.” Gale says more firmly, slightly soothed when John’s eyes flick over to him now. He’s not all there, but it’s better than before. Buck grabs his hand gently, and pulls it towards himself slowly. John jerks his hand back once, but gives in again quickly. His silence is more concerning than the tooth marks on the meat of his palm.

Bucky’s eyes have drifted again, hollow.

“Bucky.” Gale says, and waits until Bucky’s gaze locks with his. “We’re gonna go see the doc, okay? See if he’s got some sulfa. Okay?”

Bucky nods absently. Gale grips the wrist of his injured hand gently, using it to guide him through the camp. A couple of the guys give him odd looks, but he hopes they’ll leave it until he’s figured things out with John.

When they reach the door of the bunk where the medic resides, it’s like a switch has been flipped and Bucky’s back with him. He pulls his arm away from Buck. His head swivels suddenly, his motions quick and smooth again. Gale sees in his peripheral the men who had been watching them turning back to their tasks, while a greater uneasiness descends on them.

He grabs John’s shoulders and immediately his gaze is wrenched back to meet Buck’s.

“Hey,” Buck says, quiet enough that he thinks the others can’t hear, but still taking care not to sound too soft. “What’s the matter?”

When Bucky stops meeting his eyes, he ducks his head to intercept them.

“Bucky, I’m your best friend. Just tell me what’s going on and I’ll help you.”

At the term ‘best friend’, Bucky’s face hardens.

“I don’t need to see a goddamn doctor. I’m not fucking broken, Gale.” Bucky ducks out of his grip and takes a few steps back.

His tone is cutting and he’s implying something. Gale can play this bullshit game too. Gale’s throat feels tight, but he grits his teeth through it, because he knows Bucky better than anyone else. He’s trying to get to know John, too. He won’t let him die of infection from being an ass.

He grabs Bucky’s arm and hauls him inside. Bucky runs his mouth the whole time. When they actually get to the right doorway, Bucky shuts up immediately. John’s face is pale, and he does walk away this time, not letting Buck manhandle him.

What the fuck.

————————

John keeps his distance for a few days after that. Incidentally, he never lets Buck see his hand. He tries to catch covert glances when they’re washing, or Bucky’s playing cards, or Bucky’s reading on his bunk, but Bucky seems to have a knack for obstructing his view. It has to be purposeful at this point.

The fourth day, Bucky has a sheen of sweat on his forehead and he’s more detached than usual. His words are coming out slightly slurred and his stance is shifty, like he’s counterbalancing a boat on the ocean. They all had some simple first aid training and those with sense had tried to learn more in downtime on the base, so Buck isn’t completely clueless. He hasn’t gotten anywhere with talking to John recently, so he takes a different tactic.

Crank’s a welcome hand around the camp. He’s serious and steady, he doesn’t let emotions interfere with his operations. Granted, occasionally that causes more problems. He might be just the voice John needs to hear to take his injury seriously. So Buck talks to him while he’s cooking and John’s distracted by a card game. Crank only has a slight scrunching of his face to show his concern, but he voices his thoughts soon enough, like always.

“Shouldn’t you do it, Buck? You’re his best friend, not me. We’ve all seen how well I handle him.” Someone snorts nearby. “I suppose you haven’t, but that was the real issue.”

Buck’s curiosity at the statement is quickly staunched by his growing worry for Bucky.

“Will you try or not?” Buck knows his tone is harsh, but if he was going to give up so much for this war, he might as well make his rank count.

Crank’s eyes harden. “I’ll try. Major.” For once, Crank keeps his opinion to himself.

———————

When Crank comes to Bucky and suggests he see the doctor, his blood runs cold and his already shaky breathing gets shakier.

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I can’t take his time away from guys who got the shit bit out of them by these jackasses’ dogs.”

“All due respect, you also seem to have had the shit bit out of you.” He looks pointedly at John’s hand until he pulls his sleeve down to cover it.

“I’ve got it under control.”

“Sure. I just hope they don’t make Buck be the one to dig your grave.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with the rage that no one’s seen from him since the eagle first appeared.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Crank.”

“Or what? You can hardly fucking stand.” Crank glances around, then leans in with his voice lowered. “Do you want to leave him alone in here? You think he’ll be any better off than you in England?”

“He’s not alone.” Bucky feels like there’s something else he should add, but trying to make things make sense in his brain is like trying to wade through a swamp. There’s a pounding pressure behind his forehead. His vision swims.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He gives John a meaningful look that’s too easy to understand, even in his current state. John hopes no one’s watching them, when he turns to look he feels the earth tilt and Crank grabs his arm.

In the confusion, John speaks. “It’s not the same for him. He’s not bent. Not like me.” The honesty in his words hits him suddenly, and he thinks he may never breathe again. It’s over, now. His careful camouflage is blown open.

Crank shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but is gently steering Bucky by his arm- somewhere. When Crank starts dragging him up a set of stairs, Bucky starts to feel an odd sense of déjà vu. And then his slow mind starts to catch up and he realizes they’re approaching the same door Gale tried to pull him in a few days earlier. Crank keeps going two steps after John stops, he says something when he notices, but all John can hear is ringing in his ears.

He hears a dull thump and his knees feel numb.

———————

Brady’s striding quickly across the yard with his signature grim expression. If it weren’t so fitting to his typical demeanor, Gale might even be tempted to be worried. As it is, he’s just glad Crank was able to get Bucky to the doctor.

But then Brady wraps his arm around Gale’s shoulders and leads him silently away from the others in a gesture he only uses when delivering bad news. It could be anything, the Red Cross being delayed, no more meat being left, the camp leader calling again for a list of Jewish soldiers. Gale looks back over his shoulder once, sees DeMarco watching them leave. Benny nods once and gets back to chopping wood scraps.

Once they’re out of earshot, Brady doesn’t start talking, he just keeps walking. Gale indulges him for a few steps, but it’s killing him.

“What is it?” Gale sighs.

“Egan made it to the doc. He says he may not pull through.” Brady isn’t looking at him, instead squinting at the rare sunny sky above.

Buck feels the same way he did when he first bailed out of a plane. The air is punched from his lungs and the future he had planned is a void in front of him. Now he knows why Brady waited so long to tell him. Now he recognizes their path as the long way to the medic’s quarters. Now, now, now. He can’t think about the future, he needs to make a plan for now.

“What’s he doing for him?” Buck’s proud of how steady his voice sounds. If nothing else, his men will have one major left. He doesn’t think about the future.

“He cleaned the wound. Gave him some sort of medication. It looked like a bite.” He doesn’t prod, but the question is there.

Buck doesn’t respond, just starts walking faster for the last few steps before he bounds up the stairs to the right hut. He glances through every doorway until he finds the room holding Bucky and the doctor.

Bucky’s passed out on a cot, the only single bed in probably the whole camp. Buck grabs his hand. Fuck whatever the other man in the room may think. He doesn’t want to leave him on his own. Bucky hated — hates being alone. But that doesn’t matter, he’s here now, and they’re together.

The doctor clears his throat. He tells Buck everything he did, everything he knows, everything he suspects. And then, because there’s never fucking enough of anything in this goddamn camp, he tells Buck what to watch for, how to help him, and lets him, Brady, and Crank carry him back to their own quarters.

Buck puts him in his own bunk. Logically, he knows it doesn’t change anything, but it feels like he can protect him better there.

Buck sits by the bed and pretends not to notice all the men giving him a wide berth and pointedly not looking right at him or Bucky.

Bucky’s wound is infected. The doctor wrapped it in the closest thing to clean bandages they have, and Buck’s supposed to let it air out now and then before changing the bandage. He has a fever from the infection, so Buck needs to try to keep him hydrated, rested, and keep his temperature regulated. And, don’t worry, Major, he woke up soon after passing out, he’s just sleeping now.

There’s precious little Buck can actually do to help. But, god help him, he’ll do all of it. And whatever else Bucky wants.

The doctor had asked if Bucky had a girl back home, anything to look forward to. Buck told Bucky’s typical spiel about not being a one-woman man. It felt funny in his mouth. The medic had looked worried and told Buck that he needed something to motivate him to get better. Buck thought that might be bullshit, but he would try. There has to be something.

———————

Bucky wakes up feeling somewhere between hung over and concussed. It’s dark outside and quiet fills the bunkhouse. He jolts slightly when he notices Buck sitting in a chair by his bunk.

His eyes are closed, but Bucky knows from years of rooming with him that he’s not actually asleep. He takes the time while he’s not being observed to take in his surroundings. The first thing he notices is that he’s in Buck’s bunk, not his own. The scent of him surrounds John. It’s comforting, and repulsing. He feels that same shame brewing within himself, but the fear has lessened. If the doctor had caught on to his other condition he certainly wouldn’t be anywhere near Gale now.

He lets the sheets rustle as he moves to get more comfortable. Buck’s eyes flash open immediately. He leans forward in his chair like he doesn’t want to have been caught slacking.

“Hey, Bucky. How are you feeling?” His voice is a quiet rumble.

Bucky grumbles, but at the increased anxiety in Buck’s eyes, he summons words. “’m good.”

Buck scoffs and rolls his eyes. He reaches for John’s hand, next. John pulls it out of his grip on instinct, knowing that Gale has to know already. Buck tries a different tact, reaching to feel his forehead instead.

“Mother hen,” Bucky complains.

His complaint evidently erodes Buck’s softness with him. Soon, Buck’s reaching for his hand and not letting him pull it away. He pulls the makeshift bandage away from his skin gently, the slightest grimace on his face.

“We’ll have to let this air out.” Buck pulls the bandage away completely. “In the morning, we’re gonna clean it again. It’ll probably hurt.” There’s little sympathy in Buck’s eyes. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to dress it again.” Buck leans back in his seat again, crossing his arms.

Bucky will take that.

————————

The fear in Buck’s eyes that night sticks in Bucky’s mind. He would do anything to make sure Buck never had to be afraid again. He works on his exit plans in earnest, gathering whatever information he can, trying to single out what might be important. In the meantime, Bucky tries to distract him.

He tries to pick up on whatever Buck won’t tell him. He watches his microexpressions and listens to every word or noise that comes out of his mouth. He knows Buck well enough to know he would rather help everyone else before even thinking about his own needs.

He also tries to bear the brunt of his healing infection himself, but Buck insists on checking the cleanliness and bandages himself. It becomes their ritual. Bucky tries not to worsen Buck’s preoccupation with his well being, but as it is, he can’t help it. When he starts thinking, his teeth inevitably start worrying again. Or his nails start scratching. Either way, it makes Buck’s worry worse.

Bucky just wishes he had the willpower to stop. Or the willpower to leave Gale out of it. Or wishes he could get Gale out. If he were out, Bucky thinks he could die happy.

———————

John’s staring seems to have gotten worse. The hope would be that his lucidity would improve when the infection ebbed, but so far it doesn’t seem to matter. It helps a little that he’s not staring at nothing, now, or invisible birds, but instead he’s staring at Buck.

Buck’s never minded the weight of Bucky’s eyes on him. Bucky’s eyes have always strayed to him more often than anyone else, even beautiful women in dance halls. The implications of that don’t actually bother Buck as much as they maybe should. This is something familiar, a thread of their old life that Buck’s hanging onto desperately.

Since Bucky got to the stalag, their relationship has been different. Buck’s missed how they were before, but with John’s new behavior and the constant threat of German aggression, he’s admittedly been wary. All the new worries since John’s infection have added guilt to their ranks. He wonders if he’s contributed to John’s decline. He wonders if Bucky’s stare is less absent now, and instead driven by the same yearning that resides in Buck’s chest.

It gives him an idea for an experiment. The scientific method is one tool that’s as useful here as on the outside.

Buck’s noticed sometimes, when John’s been too quiet, or his eyes have been following an invisible bird for too long, or his stare’s lingered too long in one direction, that his nails will dig into his palm, or his teeth will wander to uninjured skin again. So Buck decides to stop him.

The first time he does it, John nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin. He’s been worrying a knuckle between his teeth, and then Buck grabs his hand gently and pulls it down to rest with his on the table. He doesn’t let go. John doesn’t say anything, just looks at their joined hands and back to Buck’s face repeatedly. That time, no one else is in their bunk room. John lets it slide, and Buck notes mentally that he does look more relaxed, too. A small victory, but not conclusive yet.

The second time, some of the guys are around. John’s nails are digging harshly into his palm, right near the newly healed cut in his hand. Buck reaches over and threads their fingers together. Bucky pauses and fully gapes at him. His eyes glance furtively around at the room and he tries to pull his hand from Buck’s grip. Buck just holds on tighter. Buck raises his eyebrow in a silent challenge. Are you really going to get everyone’s attention by fighting me so that you can avoid attention?

Buck watches John as he watches the room. With every man that gets a glimpse of their hands and keeps their mouth shut, Bucky relaxes the smallest bit more. He lets Buck win that one. Another mental note.

The third time is probably the most dangerous round of experimentation. Buck will let it slide if it means John gets to walk out of here free one day.

They’re standing outside while an inspection’s going on in the bunks. John’s breathing quickly, his hands fisted tightly at his sides. Buck watches the Germans for a moment, notices how the soldiers who are supposed to be watching them are talking idly, not even standing at attention. He keeps an eye on them as he slowly reaches out the slightest amount to brush the back of his hand against John’s. Bucky’s next breath out is a little slower, a little more controlled.

When they’re back inside, headed to clean up their bunks before attempting to go back to sleep, Bucky approaches him for maybe the first time since that first embrace at the gate. Silent, except for his slightly lighter breathing, he pulls Buck into his arms, wrapping tight around his shoulders. They’re the last ones in the hallway, so it lasts longer than most friendly hugs do.

That solidifies Buck’s resolve. Fuck getting caught, if being a little too close gets Bucky out of this war, he’ll do it.

———————

Bucky’s figured out the perfect gift for Gale. Some small way that he can take care of him in here. Over the course of a week, he scrapes as much soap from the grooves of the wash station as he can. He haggles for pieces from the 100th and beyond, along with some peppermint leaves. And when he has close to enough, he camps out over a fire pit with a pot. It’s hard to avoid Buck’s constantly watching eyes, but he manages with a couple favors called in from Brady.

He forms it and lets it cool for a while before it’s ready. He folds paper around it and keeps it in his pocket until the right time. When Buck comes back in from the task Brady had pulled him into, his eyes are immediately scanning the room and only stop once they find John. Gale’s shoulders fall almost imperceptibly. He strides across the room and sits on the same cot Bucky’s been lounging on.

“Thank god Bucky stayed here, someone needed to hold the bunks down.” Buck jabs playfully.

“Fuck off,” Bucky grumbles back goodnaturedly.

———————

It’s a few hours after Brady’s bizarre favor that Bucky pulls Buck aside in the hallway after a late inspection. When Bucky says he has something for him, Buck assumes he left something incriminating out and Bucky picked it up for him. Instead, what Bucky sets in his hand is something that looks vaguely like a bar of soap.

When he just stares blankly at the object sitting in his hand, Bucky speaks. It smells like his grandma’s house, weirdly enough.

“I saw you grimacing on wash day. And my ma always said peppermint keeps bugs away, so. Feel free to deck me if I’m off base, I mean-”

Buck wraps his arms tightly around him. He ignores the sting in his eyes and the slight difficulty swallowing. Bucky returns the grip just as tightly and graciously ignores Buck’s conspicuous sniff.

Every time he fishes the bar out of its hiding place to use on wash day, his heart feels a little lighter and there’s a flutter in his stomach.

———————

After that, Buck’s a little less worried. Bucky’s obviously tuned in to his surroundings. He’s trying to make things work, even in the worst situation they’ve faced together. That’s really all Buck can ask.

Buck listens to him as he tells back his favorite baseball games. He has no fucking clue what he’s talking about most of the time, but it makes Bucky’s eyes light up, so he entertains him.

Bucky also talks about guard rotations, truck schedules, tunnels. Buck tries to dissuade him from those ideas, but it seems John’s brain at the moment is 40% baseball, 50% escape, and 10% Gale.

For the most part, then, things are fine. Bucky’s planning for the future, being productive in the camp, and he seems to have forgotten about the eagle. His eyes are only vacant at the end of a long day, or when a man gets injured, which is only human. He’s doing better.

———————

Bucky’s not doing better. Buck doesn’t realize this until too late. Buck’s talking to Crank one day in the yard. It’s been a while since the last time John got himself into trouble and Gale’s been letting him out of his sight more. There’s still a part of his brain, like a compass, that’s constantly dedicated to his own true north, none other than his own John Egan. But lately, it feels more like how things were back on base: the two majors working as a team to keep their men on track and alive.

Crank’s talking worriedly about a letter from his girl. Buck’s trying to be reassuring, but he doesn’t have a clue how these things work. The only person he’d call his has been at his side the whole war. Marge has been sending letters, but they’ve long since agreed that she should find someone closer to home. She just couldn’t cope with him gone so much for so long. He doesn’t think this would be helpful to mention to Crank.

“She wouldn’t break things off while you’re in a POW camp.” Gale assumes.

“That’s what worries me, I’m on the edge of my fucking seat over here.”

Both their heads snap up as they hear yelling and barking from the direction of the fence. Buck realizes just how far John’s wandered in his circling steps.

“John!” Buck calls. Instinct tells him to run after him and pull him back from the proverbial edge, and he follows it immediately. He realizes his mistake when kraut guns are instantly leveled at him, too. Buck raises his hands cautiously. “Bucky,” he calls again, keeping his voice lower but even he can hear the edge to his tone.

This time, John does stop and turns to look at Buck. His eyes are terrifyingly vacant. His eyes flick from Buck to the soldiers with their weapons aimed. That vacant look switches immediately to one of hard anger. He storms back over to, presumably, escalate the situation more in the name of keeping Buck safe.

Buck catches him by the shoulders before he can get too far on his war path. He wraps an arm around John’s shoulders as he motions with one hand to the Germans to lower their guns.

“We’re good, okay? He’s alright. No one needs to get shot today.” He doesn’t know how much English most of these grunts know, but he hopes his tone is enough to de-escalate.

Once they’re out of earshot, he hisses into John’s ear.

“What the hell were you thinking? Do you have a death wish?”

John doesn’t even acknowledge him.

“Don’t leave me here alone, John.”

———————

Gale’s dog has white foam overflowing from inside of him. All the poison in his blood spilling out. His eyes are big and his tail is limp in a way it never is. The dog’s usually trotting around, only still or slow when he’s asleep. Now, he pushes his head into Gale’s lap softly and sluggishly. All Gale can think is he’s drunk. His dad must have left a whiskey bottle on the floor, or one of his friends thought it would be funny to put something in his bowl. Something.

He can see the bite mark in the dog’s shoulder. Suddenly, his dad’s there, dragging the dog up by its collar. He pulls him outside and Gale’s there, too, now. This isn’t how it was. His brain feels too slow to figure out how it was.

“I won’t let a damn dog hurt my boy.” A single shot rings out.

His dad’s gone. Bucky’s on the ground, his eyes open. Blood’s trickling out of his chest. He’s dead before Gale gets to his side.

Buck sits up gasping. His face is wet. There’s a scratchy blanket clutched in his fist. The room around him is dark, the only light coming in orange through the window. He’s gulping in air like he used to at night after his dad went to bed. None of it’s getting to his lungs. He notices the wetness on his cheeks is only growing, it feels harder to breathe.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, a hand on his face.

“Buck. Buck. Look at me. Buck.”

He turns his head sharply, looking for the source of the voice. His eyes are sitting on someone’s chest. His neck feels stuck in place now, he can’t look up to find the person’s face. It’s too overwhelming.

The person moves their hand from his cheek to his chin and gently encourages him to look up.

Bucky’s got a reassuring smile on his face.

“Hey, there you are. Those beautiful eyes.”

Something’s not as it has been, but Buck doesn’t have the willpower to figure out what’s different right now. He’s just now adjusting to what decade he’s in.

Bucky climbs in behind him and pulls Buck’s ear to his chest. He breathes in deeply and holds it. Breathes out slowly. His heart beats steadily under Buck’s head. Buck doesn’t know when the darkness of the room fades into the darkness of his eyelids, but he doesn’t dream again that night.

———————

After the night when Gale woke him up, John starts to realize that this place is destroying both of them. He knows he’s too far gone himself, but what little catholic is left in him after years of sin knows he’ll truly be damned if he lets Gale become as broken as himself. He’s been selfish, and he’s grateful to recognize it now, before it’s too late.

He knows now that the only realistic plan for escape is getting Gale out. John accepts that he, himself, will probably die in the process. Even so, if Gale gets out alive, part of him does too. Either way, he’ll be free. Gale wouldn’t like that thinking, but there’s no reason for him to know.

He pays attention to which guards are the most lenient. When they’re stationed. Who’s stationed with other lenient krauts. Where the weak points in the fence are. When they usually bring in new POWs. When aid trucks arrive. When they leave. When replacements come in. When high ranking officers go on leave. There’s always a flaw, and John’s confident he’ll find the perfect alignment of flaws.

He’s got the rest of his life to get Gale out alive.

———————

John isn’t bathing anymore, he’ll wash his hands and face, and that’s it. He doesn’t wash his bedding either. He isn’t reading anymore. He’s just watching. He watches their men. He watches the krauts. He pays more attention when the higher ranking officers are called into the head office. He interrogates almost every new prisoner. He’s the first to arrive at the aid trucks, every time.

Buck’s filled with a sense of dread. A cold presence that’s growing in his gut and his heart. Sometimes he feels paralyzed with the intensity of John’s focus on all these factors. There’s a piece to the puzzle that he hasn’t found yet. When he does, he’s not sure he’ll like the full picture.

———————

Days pass. The season changes again, but everything remains muddy and chilled, just like in autumn. The chill’s taken to John. He’s distant, except when he’s not. He starts fights, then climbs into Buck’s bed at night.

He gives Buck his portion of meat. His cheeks hollow out more than before. He never shivers in the cold. His eyes never fully focus on what’s in front of him.

He doesn’t talk much, but when he does it isn’t quite right. Buck can’t imagine this John singing in the officer’s club, or helping a replacement find their way around the base.

Buck finds himself reaching for the pulse point on John’s wrist more often than his hand. His heartbeat’s faint, but quick. He pulls away more often than not. This only causes Buck to reach out more. He tries so hard to keep John tethered to him, to some sort of hope.

He makes plans for when they get home. John passively agrees, when he’s not mocking him or being fatalistic. He sounds hesitant, or absent, whichever suits his mood. He’s trying to appease Buck. Buck just wishes there was any sort of passion in him again. He hates himself for missing Bucky.

———————

They’re watching the towers watch them one day, deep into winter. It’s been a while since John talked about anything. Buck tries not to pressure, tries to give him space, but goddamn it he’s stuck in hell on earth, too. He wants to go home, too. He wants his old life back, even with the war still on.

“It’s gonna be harder for us to make it out with the snow. What happened to your old sheepskin?”

John shrugs next to him.

“It would’ve been a hell of a lot better than that leather one.”

“You hated it.” John mumbles out.

Buck doesn’t think he heard him right, but John doesn’t repeat himself anymore.

“But you loved it,” Buck asks without asking.

“I gave it to Kidd.”

“Bucky, you loved that jacket. What the hell happened? You lost it in cards?” Buck turns to face him, even though John doesn’t do the same.

John shrugs again. “Doesn’t matter. If you care that much about it, you can ask him for it when you get back.”

Warning sirens are going off in Buck’s head. Something else isn’t right.

“When we get back.” Buck corrects.

John shrugs again. If he could just open his fucking mouth—

“When we get back, right John?”

John nods before looking at the ground.

Buck grabs his shoulders and looks at his face ‘til John meets his eyes.

“The only way we leave is together. You hear me? It’s me and you.”

John nods and looks over Buck’s shoulder. Nothing in Buck settles.

——————

Leaving the stalag in the middle of the night has Buck’s hackles raised. It’s a good sign for the Allied Advance, but could spell a death sentence for those in the stalags. He keeps his ears pricked for distant artillery or the telltale sounds of crackling on the forest floor near the road.

He hears planes nearby, and the tension rippling through their ranks means clearly he’s not the only one. He lets his anxiety stay a low simmer in his gut.

When the fighter swoops through, firing on the road, the panic is palpable. There’s nothing he can do about their group being mistaken for a German troop movement, but if leadership bands together, they can at least avoid anyone getting crushed during evasive maneuvers.

His attention is caught by John yelling at Glemnitz. John’s in the man’s face and someone pulls him back. It’s the first time he’s heard emotion in John’s voice in months. His breath’s caught in his throat, but he pushes that to the side with the other emotions that threaten to paralyze him. When he looks in John’s eyes, the emptiness there doesn’t match his shouting mere moments earlier.

Buck’s the only one left. For now, he has to manage John like he’s just another one of the men. He has to make decisions to keep the most number of men alive. He’s brought back to a cot ages ago when he wasn’t sure if John was going to make it out alive. He’s sure now that Bucky won’t.

——————

There’s something haunting John’s eyes.

Bucky tells him to go.

Buck leaves without him.

——————

Buck’s trying not to think about Bucky as he stares down at Marge’s picture. He’s all too aware of Rosie and Croz standing behind him. He thought after the stalag, never having a moment to himself, that proximity wouldn’t bother him anymore. But now, he doesn’t know if he wants to be fully alone or if he just wants Bucky by his side again.

And then, as if hearing his thoughts, Crosby speaks again. It seems most of the 100th have a problem keeping their mouths shut.

“So, Bucky didn’t make the breakout with you, huh?”

Buck scrambles. He hasn’t come this far, done so much for the other man, just to fail him here. He’s failed him too many times already.

“No. No, Bucky had to- he had to stay behind with the men.”

Croz keeps pushing.

“He’s okay though, right?”

Buck thinks of Bucky. He thinks of John. He thinks of a black eagle, of wounds festering, of the sound of bullets ringing out behind him.

Gale responds.

“Yeah, when do you ever know him not to be okay?”

[untolduttering]

Indulgences

Summary: Sanji is a priest who decides to indulge in his needs to get off.

Tags: Priest Sanji, nsfw, masturbation, blood as lube, inaccurate Catholicism, blasphemy, religious guilt, nosebleed, inaccurate portrayal of blood, slight angst if you squint

I posted this to ao3 but I thought I'd put it here too, inspired by @hunnismokah 's delicious drawing of Father Vinsmoke, so go look at the actual good stuff over there

Word count: 895

Sanji prided himself on his commitment to faith. He was above the temptations of civilian life, that of greed, gluttony, and of the flesh. Which is why he was able to restrain himself until after his sermon to do something about the hardness in his pants and to let the blood from his nose flow freely.

He was certain that the devil wanted to see him fail in front of today’s congregation. A young woman in the third row of the pews decided to wear a dangerously low cut dress, one unbefitting of a church setting. Already, not his fault. Who dresses like that on Sundays? But not only that, the sun was beating down, blazing in its full glory, creating an unbearable heat within the stuffed church. Everyone had shifted in discomfort, sweat rolling down exposed skin and gathering in the most unfortunate of places. Two faint lines could be seen below that one woman’s… chest. He couldn’t bring himself to even think of the proper word. At the very least, his own discontent went unnoticed, blending in with those of the church.

But he stayed focused for the most part. He still felt passionate about his sermon, and determined to stay with the word of God. He would move past this temptation. He had no plans to sin afterwards.

She just looked so damn pretty. And it was just so hot. Most of his small ponytail was sticking to the sweat on the back of his neck. He felt the irritation building in his chest along with the heat in his stomach. In moments like these, he knew it made him no better than the lowly men who spent their money in brothels. Worse, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He would have a lot to repent for later.

Now, he sat in his office in the back of the church, door locked (he triple checked), and lifted up his shirt, his other hand fumbling to unbutton his pants. He should’ve gone home first. He should’ve washed the blood from his face and his hands. But maybe this was an indulgence because he knew if he took the time to clean up, make himself presentable, and go home, he’d have calmed down once he stepped through the front door. He could block the woman from his mind and continue to be the pious man he knew he could be.

But if he remained innocent, free of any sin, he wouldn’t need a relationship with God, would he?

His cock bounced free of his pants. Slowly, softly, his fingers rubbed his slit, pre-cum dribbling down. A shudder racked his whole body as he let out a low whine. He shouldn’t be taking his time with it. If he cared about his mortal soul, he would get it over with, repent, and move on. But if God cared about his mortal soul then he should not have made something like this feel so fucking good.

He started stroking, long and slow. His head leaned just forward enough that the blood dripping from his nose steadily fell onto his dick, mixing with the rest of the fluids there. Blood, it turns out, does not make a terrible lube. He let the middle finger of his left hand drift up and swirl lazy circles over his right nipple.

His breathing became haggard, and soon the strokes of his hand just weren’t enough. Jerkily, he started thrusting his hips, desperate to imagine it wasn’t his hand he was fucking. Instantly, the woman’s tits flashed in his mind, and he easily pictured how the soft tissue of both breasts squeezing his dick would feel. Arousal and disgust and guilt filled him immediately; it was no way to think of a woman. His hips wanted to jerk harder, but it’d be ungentlemanly to slam into a woman so wantonly. 

He was alone, though, wasn’t he, just him and his hand and his nose bleed. He did not deserve gentleness, did not deserve a loving touch. He was a sick, unloveable sinner, a priest because if he couldn’t save himself, the least he could do was save others. And so he fucked his fist as hard as he could, blood and pre-cum creating wet slapping sounds. He moved his other hand from his chest to his mouth to bite down on his knuckle. He couldn’t help the moans and pleas that spilled around his hand.

“Fuck, please, please,” it came out as a whisper, soft and desperate as a prayer.

He came, sudden and hard, almost unbidden. He cried out, hips stuttering, one last shudder ripping through his body. Seconds passed while he tried to gather himself and catch his breath. He lifted his right hand, pressing his fingers together and then pulling them apart, watching the pink stained strings of cum stretch. He put those fingers to his mouth, sucking the liquids off his first two fingers, and then licking the rest of his hand clean. What was more ungodly action to add to his list?

Hands clean enough, he wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand–what a continuous mess he was– and then dug out a cigarette from a pack in his desk. Shakily, he lit it and took a deep puff. He was going to have to pray for a good long while.

[chntfessions]

OKAY I WAS WORKING ON THAT FAN EPISODE, AND UHH I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.

this is only a draft, feel free to give constructive criticism

some quick background, this would probably be like episode 5-7 ish in s2. elijah has not been seen again yet btw.

[CLICK]

[DING!]

SYDNEY

“Good morning everyone and everything! The time is 8:67, and the sky is a cardboard brown. Now, if yesterday you missed the giant gaping hole that opened up on the west side of camp because you were with councilors Soren and Fennel. Well, you do now! But because I was so caught up in reporting this mysterious pit, I forgot to share some of the paintings the people in cabin ladybug made! My third favorite here is by Gramm Backside. Their painting was a self portrait of themself, it looks just like them! The same teeth, eyes, and that blackened face where you can only see the eyes and teeth! Great job Gramm! Second, we have this painting by Floor Handle. Her work had a boy in the middle of the fields. As the eternal doom of the sky and the land is swarming behind him, and it feels as if its all going to crumble down on top of him. Pretty neat! And for my personal favorite, drumroll..!”

[drumroll noises]

“Marty McMark! His painting had me in a trance. The blood stained leaves on the forest ground, realistic eyes popping out of the sky - Rowan wouldn’t like that. The sky weirdly being blue too, odd. And the creature behind the bushes with a skinny neck, and an uncanny smile. What a cool painting! Marty when you get home, you better frame that! Alright so, for our breakfast. Matthew made us some lobster biscuits with metal chunks! Yknow, if I had the very slim chance to even see a lobster house, I would feel so bad for the little lobster in those tanks. To be picked up from that cramped place into a boiling pot. Don’t worry, Matthew assured me these lobsters were already dead before cooking! For the vegans you can eat the chunks of metal! Just don’t get around any magnets! For the activities today, we have rituals to bring the demons and devils up here from whatever they were doing!”

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[DING!]

SYDNEY

“The time is 12:412. And the sky is a dirt color. Look, I am very happy that you guys did bring some of those demons and devils onto campgrounds, but I wasn’t expecting this… if you weren’t here last year, then you wouldn’t know some of the stories I told. There were a couple of times when I talked about up and Adam. Or at least how he introduced himself. Adam is a demon, apparently, makes sense. But he would show up in my dreams. Offer me things, and talk. I’m not going to name who, but I think we all know who is the trouble maker here. They set up their ritual, and it worked! But now… Adam’s here and we don’t know how to really react to this. It seems like he’s been waiting for this, and doesn’t want to go back. He’s in my office, not in this room, but in the building. We don’t want you kids into this, so us councilors will be working on this! Anywhos, today's lunch is crab crunch! ‘Eat with the shells!’ And activities are eating sand! Councilors Mila and Juno will be looking after you all, keep safe!!”

[audible steps]

ADAM

“What a nice cabin you have here!”

SYDNEY

“Wha- Adam you’re supposed to be on the cot!”

ADAM

“Mm, but that’s boring, not a good way to treat guests.”

SYDNEY

“We weren’t expecting you- Adam, I wasn’t even expecting you to be real so please just stay patient with me. On the cot. Oh shoot. Really quick, kids, Salem is asking you all - please stop throwing stuff into the hole. We have no idea where it goes!”

[CLICK]

yeahhh :DD

i will be posting this to ao3

YEAHHH THIS IS AWSOME

[lutethebodies]

Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

I was not tagged, so please excuse the middle-aged-cringe Kool-Aid man busting into the chat. I was inspired by what @grenanigans posted about her work here (and I of course do like to overshare and am proud of what I made).

However, my stuff is not fanfic. It's song lyrics—I'm much better with three verses, a chorus, and a bridge than with prose—but since the past 7-8 lyrics I've done have been on behalf of my 5e/BG3 bard, I feel like that'll work well for something like this. So, chronologically in reverse, the first line/couplet from the last eight lyrics I've finished:

Dilemma By Design (April 2011; remade September 2024) "Sometimes she says the strangest things/so I only listen to her when she sings"

Hostage to Fortune (August 2023) "The last day of my good name/was a bad year at best"

Equipoise (July 2023) "Stability’s siren song was soothing/when it promised shelter from the fear"

Under Heaven, Over Hell (June 2023) "I’ve traveled too far under heaven, over hell/and everywhere else in between"

Time in the Sun (April 2023) "When I was still chasing Ambition/I let Envy go right to my head"

Hindsight (March 2023) "On long dark nights dreams drag me back/to mangled memories"

Mark My Words (February 2023) "Imagination made me whatever I am today"

Exile's End (January 2023) "I used to be somebody/and now I’m just somebody else"

Patterns I've noticed:

First person POV. It's not a sin, folks—in lyrics, prose, poetry, whatever. I understand that third-person is more favored in certain contexts, but I don't prefer it.

Self-centered. All these lyrics have lots of "I" and "me." Mine always do. However, if you're writing your own story, it's perfectly fine to write what you know/how you feel

Past-inflected. I've never related well to the idea that giving one's past due consideration is inadvisable. It's not "dwelling" or being "stuck" there. It's learning lessons from one's own experience.

[another-trans-puppygirl]

I have been out for 4 years and never gave myself the space to express myself properly so i am making it for myself today

(first vent post so apologies for messiness lol)

tw// r*pe, transphobia, parental trauma, not sure what else but idk its heavy for me so just heads up

since i came out my life has changed insurmountably and it has all been terribly overwhelming. ive never really been one to use social media aside from horrifically embarrassing teenage shitposting, so ive just sort of let it all mount up and carried it around. i have a couple of transmasc house mates who i am terribly grateful for and consider them to be family but it has ultimately been terribly lonely not being aroud or talking to other transfems.

i will almost definitely talk about it in more detail on here at some point, but to keep things simple for now, i had very little control over how i came out to my family. it just sort of got revealed to my mum who insisted that my dad and brother (who didn't live with me, messy divorce) would never accept me and otherwise she was very unreactive initially. she feigned support whilst keeping it a secret from everyone in our immediate family but told lots of her friends for about 3 months but had expressed very negative views of trans women before so it felt very false to me. in january 2021 she decided she didnt support my "decision", as well as shouting at me for not telling her i had been r*ped and blamed everything on my dad. i didnt feel safe in her house anymore, so even though it was the middle of a covid-19 lockdown in the uk i had to take all of my belongings with me across almost the whole of england to get myself back to my uni campus. it was easily the worst day of my life and the hardest thing i ever had to do and i havent spoken to her since. i broke my collar bone as a young teenager and carrying all my stuff like that has made it hurt all the time, and i find it so hard not to think about it all whenever the pain is really bad. i was at university for animation, something i had always wanted to do my entire life. i could not bring myself to go to classes for the entire year so i deferred to the next. then i still couldnt bring myself to come in for most of the year. for some reason they didnt kick me out despite my attendance so i tried again the second year, and it went better but i was still really disappointed in myself. in my third year, things got complicated. i started to try really hard and believe i might be getting somewhere. i was the only person in my whole course that was doing traditional animation, my course was advertised as supporting traditional animation but i was not given a tutor so i was totally alone to try and fit my assignments to my limited skillset and resources. i had some ideas for projects i was really passionate about and started to develop and then it happened again and i got overwhelmed and decided i really couldnt do it anymore so i stopped going entirely. during this time i have also wrestled with the fact that i knew deep down that i am a lesbian. recently i have given up fighting it and have accepted that i am a lesbian, i think being on estrogen for one month as of today has played a big part in that, as it has rekindled my emotions and i just cannot fight that feeling anymore. but it has also brought on a terrible loneliness that i think i was suppressing beforehand too, and it has just made me feel incredibly lost. i am really happy somewhere in there about it, but it is overshadowed by a terrible sadness that i have let myself hide away this whole time. it has filled my heart to the brim with love and i feel like i have nowhere to put it and i just want to scream. i have been so scared to say any of this anywhere to anyone for fear of burdening people but i cant keep it inside anymore so i want to shout about it here because i have nowhere else to do it. so if youre reading this i am sorry for taking your time, just know it means the world that anyone even knows any of this and that bending your hypothetical ear will hopefully ease the load even if just for a moment.

[calekinnieplus]

It is time to sleep and also time to recount what I've read today. I have read quite a bit today as well. 6 ½ hours. Not bad, right? Heh. I've reached chapter 673 and my reading app says I've read 48% of the novel. Very encouraging! ...or not. I won't be able to finish it this month, it seems. Pity. Either way, it's recap time!

The best news first! Sequence 5!! Our boy is a Nimblewright Master! He's a powerhouse! After all that hard work, we see results! He's on the threshold of demigod, oh wow. It's actually insane. And the corresponding abilities are also terrifying. On the surface they're scary, but used by our sharp, experienced Klein, I can't help but feel pity for his enemies.

Next, what also intrigued me was the appearance of Queen Mystic, Bernadette! Really didn't expect her to have had a hand in Gehrman Sparrow's fake identity. And all the other stuff was also surprising. Like, in no way would I have connected new Tarot Club member, The Hermit, Admiral of Stars Cattleya's teacher and mentor with the only other transmigrator Emperor Roselle's daughter, Bernadette. It just seems to be a part of two different stories. And she figured out who Hero Bandit Dark Emperor was, too! She's quite smart. I like her

The third thing I wanted to talk about was the whole night and dream world that happened in the... Sonia Sea, I believe? I can't remember the actual name. Where the mermaids are. Anyway, that whole thing is so... mysterious and historical, to some extent, my gut says we might return here later. Like, the similarities between this "world" and the Forsaken Land of the Gods make me raise an eyebrow, ya know?

But honestly, idk if it's because I'm unfamiliar with Chinese novels or if that's just the way LOTM is, but my predictions don't really seem to work 8 out of 10 times lol. It's great, it keeps me on my toes lmao

Fourth thing! Derrick’s exploration into Afternoon Town! We actually learned about another King of Angels and some snippets that could be clues to the downfall of the Kingdom of Silver. Like, initially when we got into it, I was more impatient to get back to Klein’s storyline, but then shit went down, and I got completely sucked in lmao. Like?? I commend Derrick’s bravery and knowledge to deal with that situation properly. The fact that he's also not as naive as before is also very enjoyable for me. It doesn't make my heart wince in discomfort when I realize he made a decision that could have horrible consequences later. It's not his fault. His circumstances are shitty, yet he's still a ray of sunshine. But! I gotta say, I'm so proud of the fact that he's learning from his mistakes. He's so lovely. I hope the City of Silver will get out of their miserable situation.

Moving on, I gotta talk a lil bit about unlucky Anderson! Honestly, the fact that he survived his ordeal would make him the luckiest of his crew, I suppose. His personality is so funny tho lmao. Whenever Klein’s Gehrman persona is paired up with a chatty person, I am thoroughly entertained hehe. The dynamic is just hilarious! Also, I gotta admit, at first I was as sus of Anderson as Klein was lol. He really had to start off the interaction with a joke that could be horribly misunderstood, huh? Poor guy lmao

Hmmm what else... oh yeah! Frank Lee! Funnily enough, right before his introduction, I saw a post about him and something about milk, with comments being like "I can never look at milk the same way again" and I was so confused. Until the milk scene. BAHAHAH he's so INSANE, what a madlad. And they call GEHRMAN crazy. Like, if it was just some crazy thoughts, sure. A lot of people have crazy thoughts. But that crazy f*cker is actively experimenting, on a boat in the middle of the sea, with his crewmembers as... test subjects to some degree?? I did Not expect him to be like That, LMAO

Well. A lot of unexpected things happen in this novel, I noticed.

And uhhhh yeah, this seems like most of what I wanted to chat about.

Side note, I was scrolling on tiktok and stumbled on a slideshow with the last scene from volume 1, the one where after Klein... "woke up" (revived), he automatically headed to Daffodil Street - home. But unable to go back there, he went and bought a ticket to Backlund. While waiting, he was struck with the need to see his siblings one last time, realizing that's the reason he took a ticket for such a late time. And there he went, stealing a glance at the people he cares about. Seeing them grieve him. After watching on helplessly, he got an idea. The siblings saw a clown running towards them, with colorful face paint. He had a Chrysanthemum, which represented happiness. All they saw... was a happy smile, an exaggerated smile, a ridiculous smile...

AH MAN, I BAWLED LIKE A BABY AGAIN WHEN I WAS READING IT EARLIER TODAY. LIKE, GIVE ME A BREAK, MAN T^T

Yeah. *cough* until next time!

Praise the Fool!

[drsoulblast-official]

Another Newsletter, Brought Direct-ly to You!

This time it's a shorter issue to accommodate for the upcoming Nintendo Direct, but we still needed to fit our bi-weekly promise of a Newsletter, so we moved it a day forward just for today!

The Ninendo Direct is here!

By the time this is released, Nintendo's YouTube Channel will almost be ready to present the most recent direct. Alternimo and Terra have put together a Bingo Card of what we think has a chance of appearing!

Terra has also said that if a bingo seen with Silksong or a Deltarune teaser is hit, that the roles for who King swaps with will be revealed, as well as some lore details if the bingo is across the middle row horizontally!

And if you wanted to make your own just in time before it starts, here's the template that was used!

Is it REALLY a newsletter without Terra?

“Honestly, I didn’t even know this newsletter was supposed to happen today. We’ve got some progress on songs made, although really not much has happened recently. Alter and I basically both just came back from vacation. The only thing I’ve actually done in these 2 weeks is some work on the SoulBlast writeup and some intense first-assignment-grinding for Deltafell: Fallen Legend as I spent about 20 hours (split between 2 different days and some minor tweaks on a third day) making an 87 page slideshow so I can make a good first impression on the team. Hopefully I achieved that, but in reality I’m not sure how my ideas will be received, considering I’m pretty much ‘the new guy’ there.”

DELTAFELL GAMEJOLT LINK: https://gamejolt.com/games/DEFERNULL/777923

DISCORD LINK: https://discord.gg/Mwj8MveBjF)

Now go watch the Direct!

LINK: https://www.youtube.com/live/kX3BkD5PVUM?feature=shared

That's all!

Go check out our stuff below! The next newsletter will be posted in 2 weeks (since it’s biweekly)

YouTube: https://youtube.com/@soulblastau5574?si=fuh6MJy1Hgd4FVaT

SoundCloud: https://on.soundcloud.com/UVadRL6CSVdqxkRv9

Discord: https://discord.gg/3bAtNkxH2P

[187days]

Day Ninety-Two

I've been trying to get all my Global Studies classes in sync after snow/fire alarm/whatever shenanigans, and it has not happened yet. Some are still learning about the aftermath of WWI, some have gotten into WWII... I'll get everybody to the same point by the end of the week, though.

I think I had a great teaching day in three out of my four sections- engaged students, great questions being asked, solid effort being put into the work- but the other was pretty frustrating. For lack of a better way to explain it, some of the students behave like they're still in middle school. they're constantly disrupting the class, play fighting, saying edgy things for the sake of being edgy, and nothing I've tried has caused lasting behavioral changes, only temporary ones... I had to send two to the office for shoving each other in the middle of the lesson, and gave a serious talking-to to a third who thought it'd be funny to say the Holocaust was fake.

Sigh.

Trying to focus on how good everything went the rest of the day instead of on that bit of time.

APGOV was especially cool. It's the first day of the new semester, so I got a new batch of students, but I also kept most of my old ones, and gained a handful of interlopers from APUSH because one of our state's congressmen, Chris Pappas, was in the building. He came to my class, as he always does, for a Q&A, which was fantastic; he got a lot of process questions, as well as a few issue questions, from this batch of students. He left when we broke for lunch. Afterwards, only my current students returned to class, and we did the actual first day stuff.

It's a small class this time- eight students whose schedules were too full first semester- but I think it's going to be a good one.

Also good: track practice. The sprinters did 40m repeats off starting blocks for the first time. We have a cool electronic timing system, so they can track their progress, and it's clear how much of a difference a season of training + starting from blocks versus a standstill can make. They ran some FAST times today.

That's all we did because it's post-season taper time, and there's an ice storm coming in, so we wanted to make sure kids got home before that. I actually went back up to my classroom to do a little work, so the weather was starting to get bad when I left, but it wasn't awful. I made it home, and now it's time to relax!

[sepyana]

Jjba Stardust Crusaders ep 16-20 thoughts

Ep. 16 and 17

This one's a two parter. I didn't talk about the portrayal of the countries visited because I don't have much of an opinion on them. I'm not from from those places. I am middle eastern tho so I wanted to talk about some stuff here.

So, Fun fact! Döner and Kebab are two different foods. It's just that joints that sell one usually sell the other. The food is named Döner (Dön meaning spin, -er being the present simple tense or same suffix in English. Meaning It spins OR spinner.) When it spread to Europe and rest of the middle east it got the name "Doner Kebab". I just thought that was cool.

Bargaining bit is pretty funny. Joseph's advice isn't half bad. I've never seen people bargain or overcharge for street food but It's pretty much expected in bazaars. You gotta learn how to do it if you are a tourist because it's expected also you WILL get scammed at some point.

OKAY, now onto the actual episode. The lovers card is not only for romantic/sexual relationships. It encapsulates all relationships and connections. Dan's stand "connects" his target to himself. I thought the lovers would be two people with matching stands or something. This is a fun take on the card though, omitting the romantic/sexual context altogether.

Wow Jotaro is mad. I don't think we have seen him being this brash before. I think it's funny how Polnareff mutters "He just might" when Kakyoin is says "Are you trying to kill your grandfather?!". He never would, but it's funny that Polnareff thinks he would consider it. (The music for this scene slaps btw. if you even care)

This is a nice bit of characterization of Jotaro. He does most of the things Dan says, while also trying to explode him with his mind. The whole time you're watching you're like "Dan's ass will be absolutely destroyed next episode lol"

Stands being able to shrink like that makes sense, Green Hierophant could do it. Not to this extent but still. Having a battle in Joseph's brain is a fun idea either way.

I think Jotaro writing Dan's bs in his notebook was to help him calm his nerves a bit.

I can't believe the jewelers started beating in him up with a bad, telling him to go back to his country and shit. Made worse by the fact that Jotaro is like, 17. I know he doesn't look like it but the characters seem to be aware of it. They call him "that asian kid".

Ep. 18

^ This is probably the most expressive Star Platinum has ben so far.

I have no idea what the fuck is. going on with this episode.

So the first half is really boring. I'd make fun of Jotaro for wearing a black coat in a desert but it's better than not wearing it at all.

I actually thought something bad happened to Kakyoin but no he is fine.

At the end of the episode Joseph was like "Is that it? The end of the episode?" Jotaro just answers "Yeah shut the fuck up old man"

^ They are so normal

Ep. 19-20

I did guess there was gonna be a Kakyoin episode my last post. Well, we get two. I'm not complaining, he is shaping up to be my favourite.

Kakyoin's first instinct when he sees the dog is to pet it, which is the correct response btw. The dog dies in 2 minutes because Araki has something against dogs.

Our stand for today is Death 13! It's a better name than just Death tbh, Death is something you'd call the main villain's stand. It's really strong, like, TOO strong. The crew basically stumbles into victory this time. If the other stands are as strong as this one, they might be in trouble. Making the stand user of death, new beginnings and change a baby was a smart move.

I love that Polnareff sees Kakyoin wake up screaming, hears him say he had a horrible dream and the first.thimg he does is tell him to spill the tea.

I initially thought the Polnareff in the dreamworld was fake. There is no way he is that stupid. Turns out he is that stupid, actually.

Y'know, after the third one you'd think Joseph would get rid of planes as an option. But no

This episode doesn't fall to the same pitfall of being infuriating like other's similar to it. You can see why the crew doesn't trust him. If I saw my friend with letters cut into his arm saying a BABY was a stand user my first thought wouldn't be "Oh, I see. We should kill thr baby then."

It is undeniably funny that the people who thought someone having dusty windows in the middle of the desert made them a stand user didn't think anything of Kakyoin's sudden change. I can't balme them tho. A baby stand user feels like a stretch at best.

Polnareff thinking about apologizing to Kakyoin while he is about to die is strangely wholesome. Their friendship is my favourite part of the show, personally.

Kakyoin is the only one to remember the whole thing. He is so energized by the rush of victory that he makes everyone breakfast. Also makes the baby eat his own shit. He was so wild for this

I'm fighting tooth and nail to get these screencaps from Youtube just.to make this a bit more readable. Typing "jjba death..." on the search bar was like entering a mine field.

Anyways, I wanna make some predictions for my future self to laugh at later. Polnareff is gonna be the first to die, assuming he dies, which I think he will.

[retrostevieee]

The radio options of the third generation Ford Mondeo (2001-2007)

Hello Mondeo fans! Welcome to another Mondeo Fan Club post. Today we will be focusing on the many radio options which were available in the Mk3 (2001-2007) Mondeo. This post will focus (not to be confused with the Ford Focus!) on both CD/radio and CD/radio/navigation units, divided into two categories.

CD/Radio Units

We will start with the pre-facelift Ford 6000CD. This is one of the most basic units. It has 6 preset buttons (with removable 2, 3, 4 and 5 buttons to prevent car radio theft), and a volume dial on the left hand side. A small rectangular display shows station and track information. This unit can play CDs, and receive AM and FM stations. It is also compatible with an optional 6-CD changer, mounted elsewhere.

Next up is the Ford 6006E. Similar to the 6000CD, but with a built-in 6-CD changer. This model also has a rectangular display and left-side volume dial, but does not have removal buttons.

In the facelift Mk3, Ford kindly offered the facelift Ford 6000CD. This model was updated and made to look more visually appealing. This model has a higher mounted display which is shorter but wider, and a centre-mounted volume dial. In later models, this unit could support Bluetooth connections and AUX Input. Unfortunately, not all units have this. To find out if yours supports these features. Please press either the button labelled "PHONE" or "AUX". If pressing either of these stops the audio and displays "MUTE" on the screen, your car does not support these features and is simply an AM/FM/CD receiver.

Now we're getting into the fancy stuff. On higher end models, such as the Titanium and Ghia, you could get a Sony CD/MP3 unit. This model features a glossy design, rectangular screen and centre-mounted volume dial. This unit can play CDs, receive AM/FM stations, and supports AUX and MP3 players. Even by today's standards, this unit is known for its excellent sound quality.

CD/Radio/Navigation Units

Some Mk3 Mondeo owners may find themselves with a satellite navigation unit pre-installed in their car. This section of the post will cover each one.

The Blaupunkt TravelPilot DX unit seems particularly rare in the UK. It offers AM/FM radio, a CD player, and a navigation system with voice instructions. This unit provides navigation in the form of arrows on-screen, and does not display maps due to the technical limitations of the time. A rectangular display sits in the middle, with volume and scrolling dials located at the bottom left and right of the unit.

Pre-facelift Mk3s could also receive the 9000 VNR navigation system. This advanced unit offered colour map navigation, a CD player, an AM/FM tuner, and radio-based traffic updates. Fancy.

Next up is the Blaupunkt TravelPilot EX. This unit in particular I have a lot of memories with! Like its sibling, it can only provide arrow-based navigation due to the limited screen size. This unit features a CD player, 6-CD changer support, an AM/FM tuner, radio traffic updates and Bluetooth phone support. If you are planning on fitting one of these to your car, please ensure it is the correct unit for your car - the Mondeo units are a slightly different shape to the ones used in other models of Fords! Unfortunately the TravelPilot EX appears to be getting rarer now in the UK. It can be identified by its rectangular centre screen, with a volume dial to the left of the display, and a scrolling dial to the right. There are many variations of the TravelPilot EX, which would deserve its own post altogether, which I may make in the future.

Finally, we have a very advanced unit commonly found in ST220 models - the Denso Nav, also known as the Visteon. This unit is very easy to identify with the following features:

A large, centre-mounted touch screen colour display with map view for navigation.

Integrated climate and AC controls which can be controlled via buttons on both sides of the screen, or via the touch screen.

A centre volume dial located underneath the screen.

The Denso unit has various features, such as an AM/FM tuner, colour map-based navigation, integrated AC controls and a colourful display. Some units support Bluetooth phone connection, but not all do - some will simply mute the radio when pressing the PHONE button.

Frequently Asked Questions:

I am not a technician - simply an enthusiast of Mondeos! However, I will answer some questions anyone may have.

"What is my radio code?"

This varies depending on your car. There should be a piece of paper located in your glovebox or with your owners manual which tells you the code. If not, you can contact a car audio specialist, download the Ford Radio Codes app, or use a code unlocking service online. If in doubt, contact your nearest dealership!

"I want to connect my mobile phone, but trying to do so simply mutes the radio?"

As stated before, some units do not contain Bluetooth modules. Trying to press the phone button will simply mute the radio. As tempting as this seems, don't mute your radio to take a call - please wait until you find somewhere safe to stop! A safe and enjoyable drive is more important than a telephone call.

"Why is my radio not working?"

The earliest Mk3 Mondeos are now 22 years old! Thankfully, specialists out there will be willing to repair your radio for you. If not, you can purchase a used unit from a local scrapyard, or online.

In conclusion...

If you've stuck around to the end, thank you very much for reading my post which I've spent nearly 40 minutes writing. Please let me know if you enjoyed this - I'd love to meet more Mondeo enthusiasts!

[f1]

Newey recalls the last-lap defeat which left Vettel absolutely distraught | RaceFans Round-up

In the round-up: Red Bull’s chief technical officer Adrian Newey describes how Sebastian Vettel reacted to his famous last-lap defeat by Jenson Button in the 2011 Canadian Grand Prix. Join RaceFans on Facebook Don't miss anything from RaceFans - join us on Facebook here to see whenever a new article has been added: In brief Newey recalls podium that hurt Vettel and inspired team Vettel took pole and led all but two laps of the 2011 Canadian Grand Prix. He began the final lap in the lead, but a mistake halfway around the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve allowed McLaren’s Jenson Button through to nab the win “Jenson beat him. And he was absolutely distraught at that because he felt he had not driven as well as he could have done, and therefore he had lost what should have been a dominant win,” Newey recalled in a Red Bull podcast. The defeat made a big impact on Vettel as he pursued his second world championship, Newey explained. “Everybody’s packing up the computers and everything in the engineering office around him while he just sat there going through the data with his engineer, going through the television feeds and stuff. He wanted to understand what he could do better should that situation arise again. “I think that dedication, that played through into the team as well. That meant that then the team often prepared to put in that extra mile because they saw his work and commitment that he was prepared to put in.” Alonso banks on needing extra engine Fernando Alonso has told his new Aston Martin team to plan on needing an extra power unit this year, The Objective reports. While the 2023 F1 calendar has expanded to a record 23 rounds this year, and could increase to 24 if China’s cancelled event is replaced or reinstated, drivers remain limited to a maximum of three power units. Using a fourth will trigger an automatic grid penalty. Alonso got through six Renault power units over the course of 22 events at Alpine last year due to various failures. However he is understood to have been impressed by the performance of the well-used Mercedes power unit in his car when he made his first appearance for Aston Martin during the post-season test at Yas Marina. Alonso will be powered by the three-pointed star this year for the first time since he drove for McLaren in 2007. Hamilton pays tribute to Ken Block Following the death of famous rally driver Ken Block in a snowmobile crash, seven-times F1 world champion Lewis Hamilton joined those paying tribute to the late American on social media. “Today I received news of the loss of a dear friend. I am devastated to hear of Ken Block’s passing. He was such an amazing person, always lived life to the fullest,” he wrote. “I remember our first time working together and how positive he was. So much talent behind the wheel. Years ago we had an amazing time heli skiing and snowboarding in Canada. We held so much respect for one another. He will truly be missed and my thoughts and prayers go to his beautiful family. Gone too soon. Rest in peace, Ken.” R-ace GP reveals FRMEC line-up French team R-ace GP have revealed six drivers for their four-car attack on the Formula Regional Middle East Championship. Two of the drivers, Levente Revesz and Formula 4 graduate Nikhil Bohra, will do all five rounds of the series which runs through January and February. Francesco Braschi and Martinius Stenshorne will share the third car, with Braschi doing the first two rounds and Nicolas Todt’s protege Stenshorne doing the remaining three. In the fourth car, British F4 runner-up Matias Zagazeta will do rounds one to three then hand over to ADAC F4 runner-up Tim Tramnitz. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free Happy birthday! Happy birthday to Anne Lambert, Timi, Bosley and Gitanes! On this day in motorsport Born on this day in 1989: Future IndyCar race-winner Graham Rahal, son of multiple IndyCar champion and Indianapolis 500 winner Bobby Rahal via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 24 20 - I saw your eyes light up

Summary: Ray's got a lot of memories of middle school. What she doesn't have is photos. When you're a popular idol with not a lot of time, it happens. But damn, she doesn't even have the classic first day photo. It's a downright shame.

---

“Aww, you looked so cute in first year!”

“So did you!”

Early March meant a lot of things in Japan – spring was coming, bringing the cherry blossoms with it. Most importantly for the girls at Harunokaze Middle School, it meant that their third years were about to graduate and go off to new things.

Naturally, that meant looking back at photos from their years at the school.

That’s where Ray found herself at lunch that day. Her classmates had their photos spread out or their phones displayed, letting their friends see their memories spread across their three years of attendance. She had her lunch out instead, picking at it absent-mindedly as she listened to the conversations.

“Ray-chan, don’t you want to share photos?”

Akane appeared at her desk, phone and lunch in hand. She pushed a desk over to give her space, then sat down and unwrapped her lunch. Today’s was rice balls – she had probably made them herself. She was good in cooking class.

“I didn’t take a lot of photos while I was here.” She shrugged. “Apart from the cultural festivals, I was so busy with the idol stuff that I forgot about it.”

Her classmate sighed, shaking her head. “ADHD strikes again?”

“They don’t call me the king for nothing.” She jerked her head towards Akane’s phone. “You look like you have some to share, though.”

Her question made the girl blush and seek to hide her phone in her pocket. “I don’t want to if you don’t have any to share in return… it’d be weird.”

Well, luckily for her, Ray was in an idol unit where weird was the name of the game. Besides, she was curious now, if only to see what a normal middle school life was like. After all, most of her friends were idols – their days were full of practice and lives. She hadn’t really gotten a chance to see what it was like to be a regular student.

“I bet you have some good ones there.”

Akane’s cheeks were still pink, but she retrieved her phone from her skirt pocket. “I went through them last night so I could find them easier…”

Ray nodded as she accepted the phone and started scrolling. The first was one she had seen many times, played out in schools across the country every spring. Her classmate was in her first year, wearing her new uniform, beaming in front of the school’s gate as she stood next to the plaque bearing the formal name of Harunokaze in full kanji.

Most of her classmate looked to have one, based on what she could see from over their shoulders.

“Is this from the first day?”

Akane nodded. “My parents really wanted a photo of me in front of the school so they had one from me and my sister. We both went here.”

Ray kept scrolling, taking in the details. There were the cultural festivals – she had to smile at the shot of Akane at the first Green-on-the-Green back in their first year – classroom scenes, and pictures from school breaks. All of them told the story of her classmate’s middle school years, right until the day before when she’d posted a selfie by the school gates.

It was a nice collection.

“You took a lot of good photos. I think my favorite is from the cultural festivals, but they’re all great.” She handed the phone back. “You’re gonna take some at graduation to complete the set, right?”

Her classmate nodded again. “Of course I am. And you’re going to take a photo with me, right?”

That made Ray chuckle. “Yeah, I promise. Might look a little weird in my gym uniform, but oh well. I’m pretty sure your parents can figure out why.”

She took a bite of her lunch after that, staring around the classroom as she chewed. All the photos were making her a little nostalgic, even though she wasn’t in them. It was hard to believe their time together was almost over. 3 years really had gone by fast.

And soon they’d be off to their individual high schools.

“Got any photos to share, Ray-chan?”

A new voice drove her back to reality. One of her other classmates, a girl named Mina, appeared in front of her desk. If she remembered right, she was one of Akane’s friends and in the tennis club. Was she the one who had been shooting for a sports recommendation? She had to wonder how that went…

Ray shook her head. “Nah, and even if I did I probably wouldn’t be able to find it. You know I’m a shitbird when it comes to finding stuff.”

“Come on, you don’t have anything? Not even a shot of you on the first day of school in front of the sign? Everyone has one of those, it’s practically a parental requirement!”

Maybe so, but nobody had told her dad. He had at least shown up to the entrance ceremony, but it had been kind of awkward between them. Apart from a brief conversation, they hadn’t spoken much. He had told her to do her best in school and that was it.

It was kind of expected from him.

“My dad’s not the photo taking type, and my stepmom was busy at work that day.” She shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like I would’ve had the real uniform for the photo anyway. Even then I couldn’t fit into the thing.”

And it hadn’t gotten better over the years. Now, just edging past 6’1”, there was no way in hell she’d fit into it. Hell, they had her wearing the shorts year round because they couldn’t get pants long enough for her legs. Maybe if she had been an idol or traditional student they would’ve gotten her a proper uniform, but gen eds didn’t get that courtesy.

Oh well – it made for some hilarious photos when she showed up at a uniform shoot in her gym clothes.

In front of her, Mina and Akane exchanged a strange glance. Then Mina walked away, back to her other friend group. This left the original pair alone at Ray’s desk, where the idol was very much interested in eating her lunch.

So, eat she did. After all, they had afternoon classes to worry about.

---

“Ray-Ray, are you excited to graduate in a couple weeks?”

Dai was in fine form that day as they broke from their dance practice. Sweat dripped from Ray’s face as she slid to the floor, grabbing for her towel. From where she sat, she could see the rest of her unit doing the same. They had worked hard, and they deserved the break.

Today’s practice was at Ayame’s school, so they were over at the high school section of Harunokaze’s campus. As much as she disliked idol schools, having an actual practice room to use was useful. Having a mirror to check movements was so much easier than using a phone, though she would never admit to it.

She had her pride after all.

Her unit mate slid to the floor next to her, practically bouncing. How he still had that much energy was beyond her, especially considering what he did in his off time. She had been taking classes at the Kurosawa dojo for two years, and every lesson left her wiped. Somehow, he was an idol and the next master of the school.

His blood must be pure energy…

“I guess. It’s still weird to end the school year in March to me. I’m used to having the summer off.” Ray shrugged as she took a sip of her water bottle. “But y’all just love the whole shorter break thing.”

Unsurprisingly, Dai rolled his eyes playfully and nudged her in the side. “Girl, you’ve been in Japan for 4 school terms. You should be used to it by now.”

“I was born on the 4th of July, I’m American until I die.” Ray stuck out her tongue to finish her statement, but she meant nothing rude by it. Her Americanisms as they put it were just part of her now, almost to be expected. She doubted she would ever get rid of them, and she didn’t really want to either. It was a reminder of home, a little piece of Amarillo she carried with her no matter where she went.

And sometimes it pissed people off. That was a bonus.

“Right, right, my mistake.” He shook his head, chuckling. However, his attention was drawn to the beeping from his bright purple cellphone. “Huh, wonder who that is. The ‘rents know I have practice now…”

Dai pulled his phone from his pocket and started to scroll. Briefly, his scarred eyebrow quirked as he took in the message. Then he grinned for some reason and started to text back, fingers flying across the screen. Once he was done, he tucked his phone away.

Ray cocked her head to the side. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”

“Just some dudes from school asking me about homework. Don’t worry about it, Ray-Ray, you need to focus on getting the choreography right for this dance. Aren’t we going to use it at our spring show in a couple weeks?”

Ugh, they were… the proposed set list was on her phone, saved away so she didn’t lose it. The song she was struggling with was at the top as a matter of fact. If she had slipped up later, they could play it off as exhaustion. At the top of the order, she wasn’t going to have that excuse.

Why did idols have to do their new stuff first? Fuck…

“I’m gonna die, I swear.” Ray sighed as she closed her eyes and clung to her water bottle for dear life. “Why do you guys put me through this kinda shit?”

Dai chuckled at her side. “Because we have faith you can learn it. You’ve gotten a lot better since you started out.”

Then he was nudging her in the side again. “Come on, Ray-Ray, up on your feet. It’s time to get back to practice!”

That got her to groan as she slowly rose to her feet, leaving her towel and water bottle to the side. Any thoughts of relaxing was forgotten for the moment as she joined the rest of the group by the mirror wall so they could continue practice.

With any luck, she wouldn’t die. It looked bad for an idol group if their founding member died in the middle of practice.

---

A week later, Ray was at home. It was a Saturday, and for once she didn’t have anything to do. Rising Sun was closed for renovations, and she didn’t have her homework scheduled until later. So there she was, sitting on the couch and watching TV like any other middle school student.

“Man, at least back home you’d find Forensic Files or something.” She frowned as she flipped through the channels. “Does Japan have an equivalent to that?”

Curious, she grabbed for her phone to check. However, before she even unlocked the screen it started to vibrate. A message appeared on the cracked screen, letting her know that Akane wanted to talk to her.

“Huh, she doesn’t normally text me during the week…” Ray’s eyebrow cocked as she opened the message. “Let’s see… ‘Ray-chan, I had to go because of club stuff. Did you leave your Japanese book in class again? I’ll let you in to get it if you come in the next half hour.’”

Her face fell as she remembered the fact they had a quiz on Monday.

“SHIT.”

Ray rocketed to her feet and turned off the TV. She then sped upstairs in order to find her gym uniform. Once she had switched into it, out the door she went, hopping on her bike to start the pedal to school.

How the hell had she forgotten her Japanese book? All hail the fucking king of ADHD, proving her reign was everlasting once again.

Lucky for her, it was a quiet weekend afternoon. It didn’t take her long to ride to school, and before long she was coasting through Harunokaze’s front gates. Hers wasn’t the only bike locked into the storage area, but that didn’t matter as she sprinted towards the school building. All she wanted was her Japanese book.

Akane was waiting for her in the entrance area, already in her school shoes. Ray skidded to a stop so she could change out of her sneakers and into the proper footwear. It was only then that she allowed herself to take a breath as she straightened up.

“You saved my ass, Akane. I totally forgot.”

Her classmate chuckled as she started to walk. “I had a feeling. You didn’t even put your contacts in. I would’ve waited.”

Ray felt her face heat up as she adjusted her glasses. “I didn’t want to keep you if you had something to do.”

They started up the stairs to the third floor corridor, footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. The classroom lights were all off on this floor and the other ones, and something about it didn’t sit right with her.

She glanced over at her classmate. “What club meets on Saturday by the way?”

Much to her surprise, Akane grinned. “I’m sorry, Ray-chan… I may have fibbed about that to get you here.”

“Jones-san, you’re out of uniform! Students must be in full uniform in school, even if it’s outside regular hours!”

A third voice carried down the hall, making Ray groan. She knew this voice – it belonged to the current head of the disciplinary committee. Unlike her other classmates, Himeko was a stickler for details. She had been on her about nearly everything over the three years they had been together. By second year it had faded into background noise, but in the quiet hallway it was amplified.

Ray’s eyebrow twitched as she glanced over her shoulder. “Come on, you know this is my uniform.”

“No excuses, you know the rules.” Himeko stopped not too far away, arms crossed over her chest. “Change into your uniform or I’ll have to write you up.”

A vein throbbed at her forehead and she had to resist the urge to growl. Now, at all times, she was getting busted for her uniform? It wasn’t even a school day! Besides, she had a note explaining her uniform predicament – everyone in the disciplinary committee knew about it after stopping her over the years.

What crawled up her ass and died?

Akane tugged on her arm before she could snark at the girl. “Ray-chan, it’s ok. Come with me.”

Though her urge to stand her ground was strong, Ray allowed herself to be led away by her friend. They left Himeko behind and headed down the hallway to their classroom. Much to her surprise, the lights were on and she could hear people talking.

A lot of people… practically their entire class if she was guessing right.

Her eyebrow cocked as she stared over at Akane. “What’s going on? Why’s everyone at school?”

“Why don’t you go in and we’ll show you.” She stuck her head through the door. “Everyone, she’s here!”

Then she stepped aside, beaming. Ray’s eyebrow was at her dyed hairline, but she nodded and walked into the classroom. Just like she thought, their entire class was there. Not only that, but they were gathered around her desk, hiding something from her view.

“Uh… care to fill me in, guys?”

Akane was at her side, still grinning. “We have a little present for you. I think it’ll get Himeko off your back.”

Her classmates then moved aside, giving Ray full view of her desk. Someone had placed a bundle there, wrapped in black paper with an obnoxiously bright magenta bow taking pride of place. Someone who was good with ribbons had wrapped it, but that was all she could tell as she approached.

“I have no idea what’s going on, but… thanks, I guess?” She took the bundle into her arms – it was soft. “Alright, I’m opening it.”

She took a few seconds to untie the bow as carefully as possible. Once it was unwrapped, she removed the paper. As soon as she did, the contents were revealed. There was a white shirt neatly folded, long sleeved with dark blue cuffs and a matching sailor collar. Taking pride of place was an untied green scarf – it was meant to go into the shirt front.

It was the same one that all her classmates wore at school.

“What the hell?”

Carefully, Ray unfolded the clothes and spread them out on her desk. Just like she had thought, it was a school uniform for the Harunokaze Middle School gen ed department. However, it was far bigger than any she had seen in the school store or worn by any of her classmates. Even the socks tucked to the side would have been way longer than knee length if any girl in the class wore them.

But… they would fit her if she tried them on.

Akane was at her side, beaming. “Everyone decided it was time you got a uniform of your own, Ray-chan.”

“How…” Her eyes blurred. “I mean… you’d need my sizes…”

Mina answered that as she held up her phone. “I messaged your friend Dai on Instagram when we decided to do this. He helped us out with your measurements on the sly. The rest was all the sewing club and the class helping out during breaks when you were up on the roof or away on practice.”

So that was why he had been so insistent on making sure her measurements were correct. She had thought he had just been trying to get ready for their spring live. When this was over, she was going to need to kick his ass.

But that was later. Now she was ready to cry.

“Jones-san, you’re still not in full uniform.”

Himeko’s voice carried over the din of the classroom. Ray’s head shot up, focusing in on the third year. Much to her surprise, the other girl was smiling – it was the first time she had ever seen it. She had just assumed the head of the committee couldn’t do that.

A bit hypocritical – people assumed the same about her – but it wasn’t like she did anything about it.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” She sniffed back tears. “Let me get out so I can change in the bathroom.”

When her classmates began to chatter, she added, “I’m gonna be American for a second, ok?”

After all, it wasn’t like she ever changed for gym with her classmates – she was always wearing her gym clothes. It left a girl out of practice to say the least. That was going to be her excuse at any rate as she left the classroom behind, uniform in hand.

Luckily, the lights in the bathroom were on as she entered the stall. After a few moments of struggle, she managed to undress. It was weird, standing in the bathroom in her socks and underwear, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Alright, how the hell do I get this on?”

Maybe she should’ve stayed in the classroom after all…

Oh well. After struggling for a bit longer, Ray managed to get the uniform on. Much to her surprise, the dark blue skirt hit about an inch above her knees, well within school regulations. The sleeves reached all the way down too, and the socks rested right where they were supposed to in the uniform guide.

They really had made it for her.

“I still have no idea how to do the scarf… they’re gonna have to help me on that one.”

She gathered up her gym clothes and slipped back into her school shoes. Once that was done, Ray exited the bathroom stall. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the mirror hanging above the sink.

It was weird, seeing herself in the school uniform she was too big to wear. She looked… like a middle school student.

“God, that’s weird as hell.” Ray made a face at the mirror before she left, as if that would do anything to make things less weird. Everything was weird – she hadn’t worn a skirt since her communion dress in third grade. This was a little more comfortable – and not white – but it still felt weird as it moved when she walked.

Akane was waiting for her outside the classroom. Her smile widened and she met her half way, clearly pleased. Ray felt her face grow warm and she glanced to the side, trying to hide her embarrassment. Instead, she just made it obvious.

“I can fix your scarf for you.”

“Yeah, thanks… I don’t know how to do it.”

Soon, her classmate was adjusting her scarf, sliding it into its proper place. Ray’s face was still hot as she stood there, waiting for her to finish. She was feeling silly now, but there was no getting out of it. Her classmates had made her a uniform, so they deserved to see her in it.

“Your hair’s a mess too. Did you pull your shirt over your head?”

Akane’s hand found the elastic tie that held her ponytail in place. Soon, she was neatly tying everything back again, humming to herself. It was a nice tone, but it did nothing to quell her embarrassment.

She could probably boil water on her face right then…

Eventually, her classmate stepped back. Grinning, she held out her phone, the camera set to selfie mode. Ray took it, eyebrow cocked. Why became obvious – a certain someone had tied a green ribbon into her ponytail, the same one a lot of their classmates wore because it was within uniform regulations.

“You know it doesn’t go with the pink in my hair.” She chuckled weakly. “I probably look ridiculous right now…”

Akane’s cheeks puffed out in response. “Stop being so self-conscious,  Ray-chan, you look fine. Besides, I saw your eyes light up, I know you’re excited about it. Now, come on, everyone wants to see you!”

And with that, Ray allowed herself to be taken back to the classroom. No doubt this was going to be embarrassing as hell, but she owed it to her classmates. She had put up with worse over the years…

At least, that was what she was going to tell herself.

---

(Amarillo, TX)

It was just past midnight when Maria’s phone went off.

“What?”

Blearily, she reached for her glasses in order to see what was going on. Next to her, her husband stirred. Ray Sr. was a light sleeper, so it didn’t take much to wake him up. He was soon sitting up, pushing hair from his tired eyes as he tried to peer over her shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

Maria fought back a yawn as she gestured to the phone. “RJ sent us something. She must have forgotten the time zone difference again.”

Senior shook his head, also yawning. “She always forgets the time zone difference. It be annoying if I didn’t love her so much.”

His eyes were clearer after the yawn. “So, what did RJ send us?”

Maria looked back down to her phone in order to answer. From the looks of things, her granddaughter had sent them a picture message. Due to the distance, it was taking some time to load. Due to that, she sat there, waiting.

Then the first photo downloaded.

“Oh!”

A smile crossed her face as she motioned for Senior to look. “Looks like her classmates took some photos for her.”

Both beamed at the image on Maria’s phone. There, standing in front of the entrance gate to her middle school, was their granddaughter. Her skirt was blowing in the breeze, and she wore a somewhat bashful grin as she waved at the camera.

“And here I thought they couldn’t find a uniform in her size.” Senior chuckled. “RJ looks good in that.”

Maria nodded, saving the picture so she couldn’t lose it. More were coming too – she was with her classmates, or on the roof of the school. All of them portrayed every day middle school scenes of a school in Japan on a warm spring afternoon.

It was just the kind of thing a grandparent would want to keep safe.

“I’m not sure how they found one for her, but she looks happy.” Then she yawned. “And I’d love to look at them more, but the kids wore me out this week.”

Senior yawned too. “We can text her in the morning. She’ll still be awake then if I’m counting right.”

If not, well, it could wait. As long as she was happy, that was enough for them. It wouldn’t save how tired they felt in the morning, but it was worth it. With that in mind, they settled back into bed, Maria’s phone face down and next to her glasses.

Maybe later, they’d make it their lock screens. After all, that was the sort of thing grandparents did too. And how could they not, when their granddaughter was that cute in her uniform?