#also shes observed me a lot in group and shes like it is BLATANT

[pseudophan]

my group psychiatrist who thinks i definitely have adhd and all her colleagues are stupid and underqualified is getting me a proper adhd evaluation from a new psych hire who actually knows her shit and is starting in february!!!!!!!!!!!

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#18: The Broken Bliss (1.03)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

“Bye” ended up being a fitting title for episode 3, both to complete the “Years Gone Bye” thing in homage to the TWD pilot "Days Gone Bye" and also because there were several shocking goodbyes in this episode. Including in this teaser where Rick is forced to kiss his hopes of escaping with Michonne goodbye 😢...

I really enjoy the ride of ep 3 and can now find the humor in things from this episode, but y’all, I wasn't as lighthearted when I first watched. I was so sad for both Michonne and Rick as they had to navigate both the elation and the complications that had come with finding each other again.

Like seeing the way crippling fear was fogging Rick’s perspective and the way Michonne was starting to feel like she’s gonna have to figure out how to bring her family back together all by herself. It was a lot. 🥺 But it was all very interesting. Also, even in an episode where Rick and Michonne spend a large chunk of it in a marital fight, I love that their love for each other is still extremely blatant. 

So first, in the episode one recap that played before episode 2 they start with Okafor talking about how As are sent away and killed and I know they included that because the Civic Republic has now just brought in the most A person that could ever A - Dana Bethune aka Michonne Grimes.

Then, the episode opens with a flashback from years ago as we see a line of consignees' shoes and then we know it’s Rick when we see his signature boots that are hanging on by a thread. That man is loyal to the core, even to his boots. 😋

gif cred: @perryabbott

The CRM says, “This is gonna be your home someday soon” but you know Rick knows this place will never be home.

He walks and takes in the place, turning around to observe some windmills and buildings. This shows how he's an A unlike the other consignees because he's assessing this place rather than just going along with things.

As he turns and walks alone past different booths, I remember just thinking how he would so much rather be walking hand in hand with Michonne and Judith right now. Or, if this wasn’t a place you can’t leave, he’d want to be enjoying this little farmers market cuteness with them. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

As he walks he hears Jadis ask for a napkin and he turns to her and it’s clear of all the familiar faces he could have been stuck with in the CRM Jadis is not one he’d ever choose.

She’s all smirking as she greets him and is just casually talking about the fries and I was so annoyed to see Jadis acting like she didn’t full-on pluck Rick away from his wife and daughter seemingly for good. Also, Jadis wasting those fries is added to the long list of why she's trifling. 😑 

Rick hesitantly walks with Jadis and she starts to explain how her Heapsters group from s7 would give lost souls who needed saving to the CRM and also they’d give people who are threats to the CRM in exchange for supplies. Jadis says she waited for Rick’s orientation so they could talk which I’m sure he prefers she didn’t lol.

She shares that the CRM keeps asking her what they should ask Rick and she hopes Rick will say he’s looking for someone to follow…but uh he already found someone with a sword to follow years ago at the prison. 😌

Jadis tries to be chummy with Rick saying he can talk to her because the CRM can’t surveil them here and Rick gets straight to addressing the audacity of the matter when he reminds Jadis, “You brought me somewhere I can’t leave.”

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

The way Rick says that first line, you know he feels this is the worst punishment keeping him away from his family. He does not view this as being saved but being trapped. 

(Side note: whatever that rebar recovery process was like for Rick leading up to this point treated him very kindly because they had him looking especially fine in this scene, just saying.😊 Also, for the longest time Season 8 Rick held the title of Rick's finest era to me, but Rick's TOWL era holds the title now without question 👌🏽)

Jadis says she could have chosen to let him die on the riverbed or told the CRM he was a threat. She notes how the CRM doesn’t take chances but she did because she owed him. At least she knows that much. 😒

Rick asks why she’s not also working consignment and idk why Jadis is all smirky but she is and Rick knows she doesn’t have to work consignment because she trafficked him. And they wonder why she’ll never be redeemable in my eyes. Like she basically sold Rick to this place as almost a currency to upgrade her life. Trash in all the ways. 😤🗑

gif cred: @clonecaptains

So Rick has one of those quick pissed smiles and walks away from Jadis but she follows after him to tell him that she’s enlisting in this place and she’s gonna sign up and move up the ranks because she believes in the CRM and its 500-year plan “to recreate the world as it was, better than it was.”

And while the way CRM folk buy into the 500-year plan definitely was giving cult vibes I can at the very least empathize with how they all might feel excited about the idea of the world potentially regaining normalcy after years of an apocalypse. However, their means of regaining normalcy through mass killings is atrocious.

Rick looks like he’s barely listening as Jadis tries to sell why this place is so great and why it’s the future. She says joining this place’s mission to change the world seems like a perfectly fine way to spend a life. But like girl, that may be the case if you didn't have a family and were community-less…but Rick has a whole wife and kid(s) at home and there’s no other way he’d rather spend his life than with them.

Jadis says, “The people that we left behind - their children’s children will have a world.” Can we start first with Rick even meeting his child RJ before people start recruiting him to a life of servitude for the children’s children?? And “people we left behind” is annoyingly phrased as if among those people isn’t Rick’s wife and daughter and as if he willingly left them behind. 😑

gif cred: @perryabbott

I love that Rick gets fed up and stops to look right at her with his steely eyes as he tells her point blank “I’m going home.” Now that was some signature Rick Grimes and I love it. 👏🏽

It makes me happy to see how absolutely determined he was to make it back home and also sad knowing that it would be so much harder than he could have ever expected at this moment.

But also I’m glad that he wanted to make this so clear to Jadis who really seemed to think Rick would just be cool with building some all-new life here. She tried it to capacity but I’d expect nothing less from her. 😪

Jadis knows Rick is serious and that she should back off when she just tells him, “Follow your bliss, Rick. But I did save your life. That is what happened” She really stays ticking me off with each thing she says and does and we haven’t even cut to the present yet where she pisses me off on another level. 🙃

Rick looks at her pissed too as he walks away from her because yes she kept him from dying that day of the bridge explosion but her actions ultimately led to Rick having to endure a far more painful death - the death where you’re still alive but a shell of who you once were, filled only with the ache from being torn from your loved ones. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

As Rick walks away, Jadis has to put the cherry on top of the tried-it sundae and tell Rick, “You’re welcome.” 🙄

There is a moment when Rick hears this and sorta tilts his head like he’s gonna turn around and say something back. And knowing how willingly petty Rick can be toward Jadis I’m sure he had something real slick and insulting to say. But he smartly decides not to cause a scene as he keeps walking forward.

They also have Rick stop for a moment as he seems to see something ahead and I’d like to think it’s the portraiture booth. After that frustrating encounter with Jadis, I know he could use a palette cleanser so I bet he went straight to that artist Benjiro for his first much-needed images of Michonne and Judith. 👌🏽

Then we cut to hours ago in the present as Rick knocks on Pearl’s door. (See how he actually knocks rather than barging in like some others 🙂) Pearl opens the door and she's been understandably crying over the death of their longtime leader Okafor and Rick is completely unconcerned about that at this moment lol.

While Pearl’s broken up and worried about if Rick’s okay after surviving a traumatic helicopter crash and attack, Rick is like...

Truly Rick's energy is like 'that crash stuff is all old news and there's something far more important on the agenda.'

He immediately and urgently gets into the Dana conversation telling Pearl, “Just listen to me. There’s a woman who saved me.” And I of course love the wording of that because it’s true in every way that Michonne saved and saves him. Also, if I were Pearl I’d be like so now when someone saves you you give them credit for it? 🙃

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Rick doesn’t look at Pearl as he speaks at first because I know he knows his face could give him away and reveal just how important this all is to him. He says this heroic mystery woman is in designation intake right now and then he does look right at Pearl to tell the truth that, “She’s an A.”

Then with too much passion in his eyes, Rick says, “And I don’t want them to send her away.” I was like now Rick, yes Michonne is supposed to be putting on an act in the CRM but you are too sir and for as long as Pearl has known you I don’t think she’s ever seen this much light and urgency behind your eyes about anything.

Like before this, Rick was the man who seemed like he didn’t give a damn about anything involving the CRM, and now all of a sudden he's fully activated over this new consignee. 🤭 This was one of the many moments where I was just looking at Rick like babe, change the plan cuz this 'undercover lovers' thing ain’t gonna work. 

Pearl says Rick doesn’t know for sure if this new girl is an A but he knows Michonne is an A more than he knows his own name lol. And I love how even despite years apart he still knows Michonne is an A++.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Rick maintains his urgency saying, “I’m making a call. But if I argue for her they’ll think I’m emotional, indebted.” Which again I know Rick is thinking 'And the CRM would be right in assessing that because I owe that woman everything.'

Then he passionately says, “You gotta make sure she stays.” And that was not an ask, that was an order Rick made because this is something he‘s gonna make sure happens at all costs.

Pearl looks at Rick and squints for a moment finally picking up on the fact that this man in front of her is a different and far more impassioned Grimes than she’s ever seen before as she asks, “Why?” validly wondering why it’s so important to Rick that this new lady stays in this city of thousands.

And the way Rick lays it on thick with the lie as he tries to say with conviction, “For Okafor. Because that’s what this has all been about.” He’s really trying to sell it. 🤭 And I feel bad because Rick thinks he can turn to Pearl as a fellow A but again I’m convinced Pearl is more of a B with a decent enough poker face to try and pretend she's an A, and so she’s not exactly cut from the same cloth as Rick and his wife.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Pearl says, “He’s dead” and again Rick tries to get into his persuasive acting bag as he passionately says, “No he’s not. Because we’re here.” I love seeing him willing to say and do anything to ensure Michonne is protected. Also, it hit me that Rick is using Okafor to help his case in getting Pearl to protect Michonne - the very woman who had a hand in Okafor dying. Rick really said bump Okafor and everyone else when it comes to my wife. 💯

Pearl asks, “Are you here, Rick?” And I was like baby, Rick has never been more here because this is the Rick Grimes I know and love, fighting like hell to protect his family. 👌🏽 But then she clarifies what she means by asking, “Are you a part of this?” Rick looks at her and says, “I understand now. I told him just before.” And he’s able to look her in the eye saying that because it is true that Rick told Okafor he was in just before his wife showed up.

And then Rick looks down when he says, “You were right” because that’s the lie part of it. Pearl asks who brings Michonne/Dana along and Rick says she should because the CRM and Okafor trust her more than him. Pearl is still unsure so Rick says, “Look it took me a long time. You helped me. I’m here. She should be too.”

While I absolutely loved seeing the passion here from Rick I unfortunately cannot give him an A letter grade for his performance as Man Who Is Not Madly In Love With The New Consignee lol. 😋

Like Rick had more energy in his behavior and urgency in his eyes than ever so he’s lucky Pearl didn’t pick up on it since she was still reeling from the Okafor loss and everything else going on. Otherwise, I just know she would've been closing her door like...

So while I thought he was being obvious, Rick did do a good enough job to convince Pearl to go along with his plan and stick her neck out for Michonne. So my baby Rick still gets at least a passing grade for his role as Man Who Is Not Madly In Love With The New Consignee. 😌👏🏽

Rick returns to his apartment and we pick up where we left off from the end of episode 2. Jadis knows Rick well enough to know the way he’s looking at her in this apartment means he's got murder on his mind as she says, “You’re thinking about killing me.”

And then she receives a signature Rick Grimes threat as he says with all the certainty in the world, “I will. But not today.” 👌🏽 And Jadis, girl...

I just know Rick feels like Jadis is overdue to be taken out for playing in his face for years. And if now she at all thinks she's going to mess with Michonne - that makes her death sentence signed sealed and delivered in Rick's book. 

Rick tells her, “It’s funny. I see it. I feel it. Throwing away everything you made happen for yourself. Because you needed to get in the middle of something you have nothing to do with.” I love him saying this. Jadis has tried to throw herself in the mix of Richonne for years and I love that Rick is like 'bowl-cut, you do not need to factor into this equation at all.' And if she doesn’t stay in her lane he’s going to end her and everything she’s worked towards 

Jadis self-centered behind begs to differ saying, “I have everything to do with it. Our fates are bound. You, Michonne, Me.” And y’all, I just happened to pause the scene for a sec and it was on Rick’s face and the way he is looking at Jadis…truly if looks could kill Jadis would be a goner in that very moment. 😬 As Okafor learned, an adversary having Michonne’s name in their mouth is going to get Rick heated like no other.

Jadis explains that if Rick and Michonne were the first two people to ever leave then the CRM would never stop looking for them ever and since Jadis would know where they were she’d be the one to have to destroy ASZ. And again as Rick listens to this he’s so viscerally pissed off and I 1000% get it.

Jadis says she’d have to kill everyone to make sure their arrangement was never discovered and again this woman always acts in self-interest. Rick scowls as he tells her the gospel truth, “This was your mess. This is you. This is you.”

This is all Jadis's doing so she really needed to stop acting like there’s anyone else to blame. Jadis is approaching this as if Rick went out of his way to complicate things by coming to the CRM as an A when she’s the one who roped him into her lies.

It’s hard because as Rick says this you can tell he’s thinking about how so much of his pain and problems trace back to trifling Jadis, like since season 7. 😪

Jadis is still so smug as she tells Rick, “In the event of my untimely demise, I just put a little file among my possessions telling them everything they need to know about you and all the people that you love. And I imagine that a CRM reclamation team would have everybody that you love dead within hours of that file's receipt”

Okay, first of all - Jadis, you beast. 😠 But it is fitting that Jadis has factored in a plan based on Rick taking her out because at least she knows how likely it is that he’ll kill her.

Second of all, this woman is just so cruel. Like she knows Rick has people he loves, not just community members or travel companions but like family family and she’s still so callous and cold when threatening him and them.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Three; similar to the scene in ep 1 between Okafor and Rick when Rick realizes he really can’t risk going home anymore, this moment with Jadis is another one of those gut punches as he again realizes that he can’t break free with Michonne like he initially really hoped.

Like I truly think before this moment he did think he and Michonne would find a way out together but now he’s right back to feeling convinced that the CRM can’t be beaten and that he’s stuck here forever, which is why we see his mission change from getting them both out of here to just getting Michonne out of here. All that psychological warfare came right back to keep Rick in chains in this scene. 😢

As Jadis talks you can see it - you can see the hope Rick had of escaping with Michonne drain out. Before he was looking at Jadis angry and upset but upon hearing that their escape will get Michonne and their family killed he starts that labored breathing we’ll see much of the next episode, which is a clear indicator of his fear and panic.

Jadis says, “Because you and her leaving with the knowledge of that city and this force? You know that can’t be had.” I can’t believe Jadis is making me miss the days when she spoke in short broken sentences. Like plz...

It’s so hard seeing Rick look so distraught while he paces and gets sincerely emotional as the realization hits him that he might’ve just trapped his wife here along with him.

The way he walks toward the door then stops, it feels like he wants to sprint out of there and get to Michonne ASAP to wrap her in bubble wrap and shield her from everyone. Plus he needs the calmness Michonne provides back as he’s starting to unravel.

Then my heart always melts hearing Rick say with so much sincerity and emotion, “She doesn’t belong here.”

Again, this further cements that this has now become strictly a save-Michonne mission to him because he’s not making a case for the both of them, just her.

And the way he says it is just so extremely caring and protective. Like he is truly talking about his baby and feels utterly awful that Michonne is here because of him. 🥺

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It’s also sad that he only says Michonne doesn’t belong here because the CRM has convinced Rick that he is owned by them. And it’s like he’s accepting that harsh reality but still mustering the strength to at least argue that Michonne should not be stuck with the CRM like him. 

And then y’all, the line that’ll be having me want to swing every time is when Jadis responds to Rick’s heartfelt declaration about his wife not belonging here by saying in her best Karen voice, “Then she shouldn’t have come here.”

Like how much more patronizing and heartless can she be toward both Rick and Michonne. That line is gonna get me heated every time. 😑

Jadis says, “But that was her choice.” And you know hearing that hits Rick hard because he knows that it was not Michonne's choice but his that she’d come to the Civic Republic. Like Rick is already a man who feels so responsible for things and so you know he just feels responsible on another level for bringing her here knowing Michonne trusted to follow his lead. 

Jadis then asks Rick, “So what’s your choice?” And the way Rick looks at her I can literally hear the thought in his head - my wife is my choice. And while it will cause some issues, we do see him choose his wife in his actions that follow.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Also what is with this CRM and all their dang choices that aren’t choices. 🙄 Like they’re obsessed with referring to things as choices when they are choices people basically have to make at gunpoint.

Rick is quietly seething as Jadis asks, “Will you tell me that you will not try to leave again? If you try with her everyone back home dies.” I do like how at least Jadis knows Michonne being here means Rick definitely got some newfound hope of breaking out of this place after giving up on the idea for a year or so. She knows Michonne would give Rick a renewed sense of strength and motivation that could lead to the two actually successfully escaping. 

And then Rick just breaks my heart yet again as he so emotionally and earnestly asks,“Why? why?” And I have the same question. As well as wanting to ask Jadis...

I was watching this scene just thinking after everything Rick's done for this selfish woman, WHY can’t she just leave him alone? If anything, had they let Rick go home, I think at least for a while he really would have left the CRM alone.

But the CRM done messed up keeping Rick here so long that now his baddie A wife had to show up because Michonne is the one who would be of the mindset they have to teach the CRM a lesson and expose this 'last light of the world'.

Jadis answers that she’s doing all this because of the CRM’s value of “Security and secrecy above all.” And Rick reacts like 'oh brother, not this damn CRM motto again.' Or maybe that was a direct quote from my mind lol.

Jadis again as self-centered as ever says she will not jeopardize everything she’s made happen for herself. She says, “I won’t wait for them to find you and they will find you- and it’ll all blow back on me.” Again, Jadis...

Rick tries to reason with Jadis asking if there’s a deal to be made and if she can clean it up. Hearing that I was like - nawt us still having storylines of making deals with Jadis in 2024. 🙃 Like we needed to stop making deals with Jadis in 2017. The woman is a snake point-blank and so any deal with her is truly pointless.

Jadis says there’s no deal and then she notes that Michonne is “very very lucky” because the CRM suspects that she’s an A but still let her in because Pearl stepped up. Lol, I’m not at all surprised they got the sense that Dana was an A. I thought Michonne actually gave a decent B performance during the vetting process but still, she radiates A energy as other consignees will soon note.

Jadis asks if Rick was behind Pearl advocating for Michonne and when he’s silent Jadis is like “Wow. You pulled that off.” And then she again tries it to capacity when she tells Rick, “So have your life together here.” Wth, Jadis?? 😠 I know she knows good and well Rick and Michonne have a daughter at home so just how ridiculous can she be suggesting they should just leave Judith behind and build a life here. I’d say dpmo but...

Then Jadis has more CRM propaganda to spew as she says, “We’re the last light of the world.” But me personally, I give that description to the Grimes family. 👌🏽

Jadis then stands up and gets in Rick's personal space as she again asks, “What’s your choice?” Rick is teary-eyed as he knows his choice is made. If it comes down to having Michonne with him stuck here or getting her out safe and back to Judith - He’s choosing his wife and daughter every time.

As he looks down defeated Jadis says, “You know I don’t need to hear it.” And it’s interesting because this scene really does a good job of depicting the massive shift in Rick from when he entered the apartment to when Jadis leaves.

At the end of ep 2 when Jadis was in Rick’s face he was lethally staring her down but now when she’s in his face he hangs his head down, beaten down by her threats toward his family. 😢

Rick then says, “You didn’t threaten me or the people I love before when I told you I was gonna get away.” And I’ll say this, Pollyanna very much understood the assignment knowing how infuriating Jadis was meant to be because she again uses a tone that makes me irate as she just smugly tells Rick, “That’s cuz I knew you couldn’t.”

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Honestly, I see why Rick cherishes so much that Michonne believes in him because unfortunately, so many others underestimate him.

However, without his family by his side, Rick was in fact sadly made to feel like he couldn’t fend off the CRM’s oppression forever. 

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Rick asks, “What changed?” and Jadis turns around, sounding oddly enough like she’s a fellow Richonne stan, as she says, “You two together? You can do anything.”

gif cred: @likeafantasy

It’s at least fitting that Jadis knows Rick and Michonne were going to try to be the first two to escape this place and that if anyone could pull it off they could. From the moment she met Richonne in season 7 she saw firsthand that they could do anything together.

And while dialogue-wise I think there perhaps could have been a way to say Richonne can do anything without saying it as on-the-nose, I don’t mind hearing it because it’s an utterly true statement. And I do like hearing this belief in Richonne’s abilities together even if it had to come from the most trifling of mouths.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

I so badly wanted Rick to see that Jadis saying this is her basically admitting she’s scared of him and his wife together. But Rick is understandably scared that any of his next moves could get the woman he loves most harmed and so this moment with Jadis instead effectively deflates his hope of escaping with Michonne. Now Rick is determined simply to get Michonne out of here alive. 

Rick watches the door as Jadis exits and you can see in his face that there’s so much running through his mind. As much as he wants to believe that he and Michonne can do anything he’s also not willing to risk losing Michonne in the process of trying to escape together.

So by the end of this teaser - TOWL's lengthiest teaser, I believe - we know that this whole get-home thing just got a lot messier and a lot harder.

Going home is still the mission but thanks to the evil snake that is Jadis, the “together” part of “going home together” has now changed.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

I called this post The Broken Bliss because Rick felt more hopeful than ever that this would be the time he finally broke out since now his wife is here, but then Jadis shattered the bliss he was trying to follow. 😞 And now when Rick thinks about his wife being here it strictly overwhelms him with fear. 

So with this teaser, we saw a very pivotal development for Rick, and next it was time for us to check in on Michonne. And now, y'all know Michonne has always been a true source of peace for Rick...but that Ms. Dana Bethune on the other hand - she's about to have this man stressing. 😅👌🏽

[narcoticwriter]

This newest episode has done a lot more in revealing more of the character's personalities.

We have Pomni able to empathize with Gummigoo when he's undergoing a crisis as well as Kinger having a moment of sage-like clarity when he's talking to Ragatha about how long it took her to adjust to her new reality and comparing it to Pomni's current blight. Both of them have an insight and an observance gained through personal experience and being open enough to be vulnerable about these matters.

I would also like to highlight Pomni's introspection into how she felt (or still might feel) and how she talks about it. However hesitant she was, as she kept talking and replying to what Gummigoo said, you can sense the clear genuine and empathetic feel she has for him while trying to relate.

Then we have Jax, breaking the preconceived notion of him being an asshole with a heart by going completely off the rails and doing shit for his own entertainment. While I wasn't completely shocked that he chose and craved overwhelming violence and chaos at the expense of everyone else, it is impossible to not note how blatant it was as well as how he views everyone else as a means to an end for the sake of that goal.

Ragatha's perky and upbeat coping mechanism of a personality was harped on initially, but I find that this is just how she manages to get through the day-by-day. I can't blame her for it as well as going along with it because it keeps her sane enough. However, I will also note that she is more than willing to keep a level head (or as level of a head as she can given the present reality they're in) and attempt to ground the rest of the group in her way.

I feel as if we have yet to see all of Gangle, but from what we have so far, I find Gangle to be very sweet but very timid and easily taken advantage of. The drawing she made with Kaufmo means so much to her and really points to how much she cares about the others, but she is also constantly berated by Jax and seems to just... take it. I have my eye on her, as I am fully expecting her to snap and try and strangle him at some point.

What surprised me the most about the personalities of the characters, however, was Zooble. Zooble can easily be seen as someone who's standoffish and doesn't care, but she really does and just keeps it realistic. She's quick to voice what she doesn't want to do, but at least she's not running away from the reality of the situation and will face it regardless of what it is.

All-in-all, pretty solid episode for those. I really liked it and I can't wait for the next one!

[lacyscabinet]

HEYY HOW ARE YOU BABE? Can you write something about Nat x Reader? But reader is kind of a muay thai fighter and she defends Nat one day

Like reader is the new girl in school and all that shit, and then there is Nat, like, people there talk shit about her, then one day Reader hears and steps in and fight a dude for her (maybe like that guy in the car that called her burnout)? And our girl Nat is???? Shes so hot is she the new girl? is she single?? Lmaoo

Bonus if its in front of the yellowjackets or Reader and Nat go out <3

Thank you honey, hope you have a nice week

A/N: HIIIIIIII I LOVE THIS SM, I'M GOOD THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!! ALSO WHY IN FRONT OF THE YJ OR READER AND NAT GO OUT LET'S DO BOTHHHHHHH

As always, gif not mine

Not proofreaddddd

The burnout and the new girl

The halls of Wiskayok High were filled with the typical teenage buzz, a cacophony of voices echoing off lockers. You, being new, still didn't compleately settled in the new enviroment, forced to navigate a maze of unfamiliar faces, trying to blend in as much as possible. But it wasn't long before you noticed the whispers, the curious glances, and the pointed stares that seemed to follow your every step.

As you settled into your new routine, one name kept recurring: Natalie Scatorccio, the enigmatic figure who seemed to draw both admiration because of her talent in the Yellowjackets and scorn. Rumors and gossip about her circulated like wildfire, painting a picture of a rebel, an outsider, and someone not to be messed with, or for someone else just a scrap of society.

One day, as you walked through the parking lot, you overheard a group of guys snickering by a car. Among them was a particularly obnoxious character, known for his big mouth and even bigger ego.

"Hey Burnout! Show us your tits!"

Nat, was near her own car, ready to go home after practice, her teammates were just getting out of the changing rooms. She rolled her eyes and brushed off the comments, seemingly used to such taunts. But today was different.

Yes, you were pretty shy but you couldn't stand someone (especially a dude) saying those things to a girl, so unable to ignore the blatant disrespect, you decided enough was enough. Striding up to the guy, you squared your shoulders, meeting the arrogant guy's gaze.

"What is your problem dude!?" you declared, your tone firm.

The guy laughed, seemingly amused by your intervention. "Who's this? Nat's knight in shining armor?"

"Call it what you want" you replied, not backing down. "But she deserves respect, just like anyone else"

Nat, who had been observing the scene, looked surprised but appreciative, she didn't properly know you, but now that she was taking a closer look, she couldn't help to think about how cute you were. Watching the scene degenerate, her teammates got closer to her, standing behind the bleached blonde.

The guy, unwilling to let things slide, stepped forward, attempting to provoke you "What's it to you, new girl?" he sneered.

Before he could react, you swiftly and decisively defended Nat's honor, both verbally and physically. The confrontation escalated into a heated exchange, culminating in a shove and a punch thrown on your behalf.

"FUCK!" the guy yelped and stepped back after your punch landed on this face, quickly he got back on his vcar and drove away.

As the dust settled, Nat's eyes met yours with a mix of gratitude and a spark of something more. The gossip may have painted her as a troublemaker, but in that moment, you realized that maybe they were wrong.

Hundreds of thoughts ran around in Nat's mind

She is so kind, she is cute, why is she so attractive? that was badass, is she single? do I have a chance? does she like me? I probably look so dumb right now-

"Thank you" was the only thing that came out of her mind "That was...cool"

You smiled at her kindly "You don't have to thank me, I had to, girls support girls right?"

"Right" she agreed "Well, maybe we could grab something to eat, so I can really pay you back?"

Not to be corny, but that caused you to blush "Yeah...It'll be nice"

LITTLE EXTRA:

"They grow up so fast" Van said watching as Nat opened her car's door for you

"Yeah...just moments before she was kicking your ass on the field and now... she's about to get married"

*huge side eye from Taissa* "Too early for that Misty"

[glasskey]

Justice THT Style - Part 1

When is Justice not actually justice? When it’s the wrong type. There are several types of justice: Procedural, Distributive, Retributive and Restorative. Each one of these will feel reasonable and justified depending solely on their context. Characters also by their nature will tend to have a taste per se for one or the other and it takes a definitive catalyst to change it. Over the next week I'll be taking a look at which ones our favorites prefer and what that means for them. I'm doing this in parts - Today its June and Luke, but coming up we have Nick, Serena and Tuello. Stay tuned. First up June.

JUNE

Vengeance, thy name is June. “Before embarking on the journey of revenge, first dig two graves”- Confucius. Season 4 and 5 made me think that either June hadn’t read a lot of Confucius or by that point just didn’t give a fuck about his wise, ancient musings. I’d like to think that it had taken quite some time before June turned into someone capable of the brutal salvaging of Fred, but then I remember that she did exactly that in Season 1 when she learnt of Moira’s supposed demise. At the end of season 4 June chased Fred down and tore him apart and in season 5 we saw her kneeling before a grave like mound. Laurence had tempted her with the offer of Nick and Hannah and in response she’d furiously ripped up the garden that symbolized the burgeoning home she was trying to nurture. 5 10 is drenched in an aura of darkness and horror, something has died but as June lies wounded, ironically she only gathers more power. She is becoming a leader and Nick even FINALLY crosses the border to pledge his allegiance (and didn’t we all cheer our brains out over that one?). It struck me that as she lay in that hospital bed, she was metaphorically buried until Nick came to kiss her forehead handsome prince style, figuratively raising her from the dead. Like the phoenix she is reborn just in time for season 6 to rain down the pain.... It’s worth remembering that June chose to ignore a blatant warning about the nature of retributive justice, but honestly who could blame her? “It will never be enough for you” Lawrence says when she bargains Fred for a group of female POWs. Love him or hate him, Lawrence seems to be able to make observations of her character with pinpoint accuracy.

I find it interesting that this bloody act of retribution comes the episode directly after she meets with Nick, she’s absolutely devastated that their family is being separated and someone is going to pay. Fred’s more than earnt her vengeance by now and Canada has failed to deliver. She’s fucking angry and no one except Nick and a bunch of fellow handmaids will ever understand why the only fit ending for him is a brutal salvaging. At the end of the day the scales of justice in this scenario were never going to be fully balanced by Fred enduring some sort comparatively cushy Canadian procedural justice. However it’s still necessary in the majority of story lines that conventional justice avenues be cut off to allow the protagonist to “take the law into their own hands” and exact old fashioned retribution. Writers were so clever ultimately giving Fred a double dose, he was involved in an official prisoner exchange for women no less (an act of procedural justice), and hand delivered to June to pay for his crimes Gilead style. Luke is horrified when she gleefully boasts about her murderous act of retribution. Dear me what possessed his sweet loving wife to do such a thing? Time to wake up Lukey, June pre Gilead is gone, welcome to June 2.0.

LUKE

Luke wants to believe in a procedural sense of justice but nothing’s ever that simple or fair. When societal systems begin to crumble we see June’s access to money and freedom slowly stripped but Luke feels somewhat empowered as it means he now holds the reins. Luke believes in the system so long as it serves him, but later when he actually loses something valuable and attempts to seek justice for June and Hannah, he can’t believe it actually fails him. Fred’s a wealthy, powerful, educated, white man. He’s just who the justice system is designed for and he gives Luke a small taste of utter helplessness in the face of a prejudiced system, much like what June endured. When first given the opportunity to get some answers out of Fred and some well-deserved vengeance, Luke chooses to show up with a binder expecting reason and logic from an extremist. When Fred manipulates Canada’s justice system, he is naïve enough to believe that Fred will be given a trial and then jailed in Gilead. I’m still not quite sure how Luke would have come to this conclusion, having witnessed an entire church full of hanging bodies. As of season 5 Luke seems somewhat ignorant to the brutality of the Gilead justice system and the savagery of what his wife was subjected to at its hands, even after witnessing her testimony. He can’t believe his wife would tear apart a man with her bare hands and cut his finger off as a trophy, meanwhile Nick didn’t bat an eyelid and Tuello wished her well. Goes to show there’s a difference between actually witnessing Gilead and hearing about it 2nd hand. S5 Ep10 shows us Luke's finally about to get a taste. Luke can be emotional when things don’t quite go his way, he screams at his ex, he punches Fred in the face, he shoves Nick when he approaches him with news about June and he yells at June when he learns about Fred. He’s a guy who wants to make rational decisions, he wants to follow the system but quickly bottoms out and becomes erratic when he doesn’t get his way. He’s a character study in casual misogyny and part of this is the undercurrent for the potential for violence in even the “nicest guy”. Luke is often dismissed as “boring” but this deeply underestimates how skillfully he’s been crafted and the amount of subtext his character contains. Throughout season 5 I witnessed Luke becoming increasing violent. Baited by Serena he warns her “next time I see you I’ll fucking kill you myself” his eyes filling with tears, his hands trembling with barely contained rage. In ep 10 he beats a man to death and is shown carrying a gun in their home, dismissing Junes concerns about having a gun near Nicole. In S 5 we also saw Luke attempting to secure his wife’s love with an act of ill-conceived vengeance: arranging for Serena’s baby to be taken from her, gloating with satisfaction while instead his wife looks on in horror. Throughout the seasons we’ve seen him be fairly even tempered, but in S5 there seemed to be increasing incidences of overt alpha physical violence that spoke loudly of outdated societal expectations of male roles and his personal insecurities. I believe Luke has had enough of procedural justice, he’s now blatantly dabbling in retribution and all these incidences are revving up to create a much more vengeful Luke.

Stay tuned. Tomorrow we have Nick Blaine....

[ripnevillestrevor]

our fortress— chapter three

paring: jake sully × "reader/oc" x neytiri

summary: she sits for a moment before nodding, scooting over in the hammock until there's room for me. i step in, turning my body so it's facing her chest bringing my legs up to fit in between us. she wraps her arm around my waist pulling me closer until she can discreetly put her head in the crook of my neck.

warnings: child cuddling (not like that), child flirting, my bad writing, moat's blatant ass, fluff, the end gets more fluffy as you go, not proofread, LOWERCASE INTENDED

word count: 1,684

note: i write mostly about scenarios going to happen in my dr (haven't shifted yet), if you think it's weird, please either keep it to yourself or message me in private, there are actually people that like this type of content and i'm writing for them. btw comments/requests are open! this is also posted on ao3 under the same name, if you see this anywhere else. please tell me :)

important: i do not allow my work to be copied, republished, translated, or reproduced. please do not use this story on wattpad or on other platforms. respect the author's work <33

i learned the tulkun's name was payakan, i woke with a throbbing headache and a sore throat so sore, i barely wanted to speak. at dawn, i was awoken when payakan reached a small vacant island with lots of trees but also a lot of surrounding water. 

  he said he had to get back to my home island in order for the surrounding animals around awa'atlu to not think anything was out of place. 

  i walked around, got to know the trees, the island in general and found fruits and certain berries hanging on the trees.

  i survived there for a couple of days before i gathered supplies and headed for the mainland.

  the trip was long, almost 3 days at most, i kept track of the time/busied my mind by comparing everything on foot rather than on an ilu.

  my trip to the mainland in the water was almost 3 days, on an ilu it would've been 1 day and at least 3 hours. collecting food in the metkayina clan was easy, one swing of a net and you had all the food to feed the entire village. collecting food on the island took at least a day, maybe more due to all the disinfecting i had to do with all the fruits. my mother taught me how to do that , i thought bittersweetly. we always shed the skin of all our fish, douce it in herb-treated waters, and cook it on a stick over a fire. 

  i began my adventure until i reached this island with a huge tree in the middle of it. the island looked like it was inhabited by na'vi so i prepared to get swarmed. the moment i dragged my tired, wet, and strained body onto the island, i was swarmed by large, darker-- darker than me, men on huge horse-like animals. the spoke in na'vi, something i was very well aware of and taught very well. they were discussing my looks and whether or not to bring me to their olo'eyktan- a term i also knew very well. 

  "you will come with us, the tsahlik of our clan will decide your fate," the largest man said in na'vi, he was a darker shade of blue than me, no extra skin on either his forearms or calf areas. he had darker blue shades of strips all over his body as well, they all did. 

  i nodded an okay and a group of other warriors came out from bushes, trees, and even jumped down from branches. they all carried large spears, pushing me forward. i walked behind the large trojan-like horses and it's warriors riding them. we walked across branches and with each of our steps the moss under our feet lit up like how the animals in the sea lit up each night after the sun disappeared from the horizon. 

  while we walked, i took the time to observe my surroundings. everything was glowing, at least as far as i could tell. there were these animals, all over. some of them were brave enough to actually come up to me and stiff the heels of my feet, some even going as far as to try and climb up my legs. 

  we walked and walked and walked until we came upon the tree in the middle of the island, it seemed to have levels, the main one was where all the clan was located at the moment. they all stopped and looked at us when entering their home, they all made some kind of path for us to pass through. making our way up front I saw the olo'eyktan standing tall and mighty, behind him i saw a girl my age hiding behind his legs, she slightly walked out behind to get a look at me and to present herself as tall and mighty as her father. 

  a woman came down the steps of the tree and to what i presumed, she was the olo'eyktan's mate, the tsahlik. she made her way to me in long, sharp strides.

  "away, irayo," she spoke, her voice strong and willed, while also sweeping away her hands in a fashion that spoke, 'give us some space.' the people, including the warriors that brought me to their home stepped backwards. 

  she surrounds me, taking my arms into her hands and inspecting the extra skin of my forearms, she walks behind me, taking— more like grabbing— my tail in her hand and i resisted my hardest not to hiss but i do have the least bit of decorum considering all of what i've been through in the last week. my mother always taught me to never provoke the unknown.

  she rounded back in front of me, bending her back down slightly so as to look in my eyes, she spoke, "what are you called?"

  "ney'ite," i spoke, my voice; raspy though strong due to some... recent events. 

  "why have you come to us?" 

  "i became lost at sea, i swam here. i just need shelter," i explained. i assumed she knew the clan i came from, apart from my skin and extra skin flaps, she was the tsahlik. 

  she looked at me for a moment before turning around and making her way to the little girl standing beside the olo'eyktan. 

  "my daughter neytiri will teach you our ways, to speak and walk as we do." neytiri didn't seem to be happy, stomping her foot on the ground and protesting. 

  "why me? that's not fair! why not tsu--" she expressed her frustrations by hissing and pointing to another boy standing a little away from her, behind a couple of the warriors who brought me.

  "it is decided!" the tsahlik boomed over her daughter in na'vi. neytiri subsides, turning to glare at me.

  "you will learn well ney'ite, my daughter will teach you our ways. we will see if you can be taught," she turns to neytiri, her expression stern.

  "she is your responsibility," neytiri nods, accepting, but she’s obviously not happy. she walks forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me roughly away. 

  neytiri leads me up the branchy staircase until we reach a level in which is covered in large hammocks, some residing children and their parents.

  i saw the similarity between our homes, it was a nice change of pace. being out in the open, breathing forest air. made me feel just the slightest bit more free.

  "what are you doing?" i asked as she lead me to what i assumed to be her hammock. 

  "do not speak," she ordered me. pulling something from the ground near the hammocks before hopping in, the hammock rocking slightly due to her weight.

  "come," she pulled my arm unexpectedly, falling into her arms, i tripped over my own feet and landed in a heap on her lap. 

  she hissed and pulled me by my arms to sit in front of her before skinning the leaf she picked up and began applying it to the wounds i didn't even know i had. she was only my age but her eyes felt developed, wise. i could get lost in her amber, honey-colored feline eyes. 

  my mother taught me to never stare, but i couldn't help it. i always thought my clans complexion was the best complexion of blue for the na'vi. but now... 

  she paused her movements before slowly moving her eyes upwards to meet my smaller blue eyes. 

  i noticed a slight purple tint creep up her neck and meet the tip of her ears, she smiled shyly before returning to applying the fiber-based bandages. 

  she let me borrow one of her clans handweaved breasts covers and a new loincloth. 

  she leads me down the steps again to the second level of the tree where everyone was gathered for dinner. i make my way through the crowds of na'vi, they all looked up at me as i weaved my way through their tails and feet. although i think they could tell i was sorta uneasy in their presence as some smiled, a few kids even came up to me and offered to play with me tomorrow. 

  neytiri crosses in front of me to the cook pit and returns with several leaves heaped with food, she kneels next to me, placing the food in front of me almost pleasantly.

  "what's your name?" i ask nicely. she looks at me defiantly, like i didn't already know her name. obviously i knew her name, i was just trying to make conversation. 

  "neytiri te ckaha mo'at’ite." she spoke.

  "neytiri te ckaha mo'at’ite." i repeated a lot slower, "pretty," i commented.

  she smiled lightly, pushing my food towards me slightly.

the sleeping level – i observed families nesting in groups on woven hammocks the size of trampolines. the hunters sleep along this thing neytiri calls spokes , it joins the inner trunk to the tree’s outer shell.

  neytiri leads me to the hammock beside her, as she herself gets comfortable. i look over to see neytiri curled up in the hammock next to me in a fetal position. she looks at me for a moment with hooded eyes before turning over and grasping her hand around the strings of her hammock pulling them closer, almost like a blanket over her. 

  i step into the hammock opposite of her fiddling with my fingers before pulling back and walking over to neytiri's hammock. she feels my presence, her ears flip back into something i like to call airplane mode and she turns over, lifting the top half of her torso up until she's on her elbows, facing me. 

  "can- can i sleep with you?" i ask timidly. i really just need someone, i wanted to say.

  she sits for a moment before nodding, scooting over in the hammock until there's room for me. i step in, turning my body so it's facing her chest bringing my legs up to fit in between us. she wraps her arm around my waist pulling me closer until she can discreetly put her head in the crook of my neck. 

and that's how i fell asleep. in neytiri's arms. in hometree. 

─────────────────────────

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[vore-scientist]

Hey, reading through your stories, and i see a mix of both male and female preds, so just wondering, do you have a preference? Also! no pressure of course, but have you ever considered making a "masterpost" With links to all your stories?

I'll answer second question first bc the first question will have... a lot to it.

Masterpost: Anon you reminded me I need to update a thing. that thing being the Original Works page of my blog: https://vore-scientist.tumblr.com/mine that page is meant to be a directory of my works. but i haven't touched it in years. If you are needing a way to get all the Mystic Woods content in post order (not chronological) this link is your best friend: https://vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story/chrono

To answer your first question: preference?

This probably has a longer answer than you want to read so I'll give you the short version and also have a long version

Short Answer: I have no preference! I dont care what gender characters are! And I'm actively trying to use more female giants in my content because i like giants of all genders and there is a lack of them in non-sexual GT-vore content.

Long Answer (or: a short history lesson on WHY female preds, in non-sexual GT-vore are rare. And also why female giants in general are less common in the GT community as well. Dont take these things are absolute fact, it is what I observed and experienced in the last decade of being in the community)

So when i first discovered GT (and eventually GT-vore), the majority of content with female giants/preds was extremely sexual/very blatant to extremely explicit fetish content.

This was back when i was... 16... so. 2011... the big hub of the GT community was on deviantart. And the most active and thriving corner were dA groups that forbid content with female giants which was unfortunately necessary. Otherwise group mods would have to be denying submissions of fetish GTS content which 1) would be a waste of their free time and 2) would mean seeing a lot of SEXUAL content they dont want to see!

I also did not want to interact with the micro/macro GTS fetish community so as a defense, I, and MANY MANY OTHERS, made content that centered around male giants near exclusively It wasnt a preference, it wasnt a choice, it was the way to stay safe. These groups had the best and largest curated galleries of safe GT content, but of course it was all male giants. It also PISSED ME OFF because i liked writing giants as a species which necessitated giants of all genders (though the male-giant exclusive dA groups were usually understanding of content with larger casts of characters as long as the main giant was male). Still, the fear of the GTS stigma made me also "prefer" male giants.

Now apply all this about the GT community and apply it to the GT-vore community.

It has only been in recent years when I have seen people less hesitant to have female giants/preds and like me, put in effort to make female pred/giant OCs and content and the community is much more supportive and not as averse to interacting with the content put out with said characters.

Fighting the fear of GTS stigma has been tough but the community is healing.

(now of course some people do prefer a gender but for the dA groups the group rules made it clear that part of the exclusivity was to avoid fetish content. Also how do i know? Well check out this group: https://www.deviantart.com/gt-central. look at the Rules and Group Info posts. I'm very familiar with the group's co-founders who all LOVE female giants, and are more open about that now. That group was founded by a gay man (who is an absolute gem btw) who saw the other side of micro/macro where male giant content was all super nsfw/cruel and majority of dA groups were saturated with that, but it became a haven for those who were avoiding explicit GTS content, i confirmed this with one of the co-founders, that she was hesitant and worried about the idea of making/sharing female giant content! )

(AND AGAIN: what I am saying is not subjective facts. it is the GT / GT vore community as i have observed and experienced in the last 12 years)

[rookieforlife]

For Press, a forward for the US women’s national football team, building a collection around video games has posed a learning curve. When our creative director presented the idea, I was like, no, I don’t play video games. [Laughs] I don’t like this concept, bring me something else! she remembers. A year later, here we are with the Gamer collection. So you can see how this [debate] went.

The Spring collection, awash with a gamer-meets-raver vibe, most directly reflects the creative director of Heath reincs and one of USWNT’s resident gamers, according to Press. There is a bit of a connection between athletes and the games, Press adds. It’s a way that a lot of [our teammates] likes to decompress while playing FIFA, or Zelda.

Ultimately, the motif of the game works as an extended metaphor, depicting genre dynamics that are anything but imaginary. The larger idea we wanted to get across was the similarities between what we experience as athletes, with our own fight for gender equality, Press says. Indeed, it is difficult not to read the allegory in the Gamer collection: like the fictional past designed to accompany him, four queens must fight to progress in a gamified realm, weaving their way through Mt. Steadfast and challenging a resentful group of Overlords.

For Spring, they opted for cubic graphic fonts and heavily Web 1.0 hues, as well as analog gear (skateboards) and knickknacks (playing cards). More than a cultural homage, the nostalgia-tech aesthetic allows for a sort of corrective, albeit an historic, fantasy. Example: Gamer playing cards, in which kings, jacks and aces are replaced by you guessed queens. There are only queens in this deck, and you can assign their value, Press says of the updates, each inspired by one of the four founders of reincarnation. The idea [is that] Playing card structures are steeped in sexism, so we wanted to do away with that.

As Queens v. Mt. Regular plot, they also wanted to reverse the gendered video game tropes. By searching [for the collection], every video game I’ve come across seemed [center on] a woman in peril. Like, the idea that Mario is going to save Princess Peach, Press observes. You don’t have to be a gamer to see how very outdated this is, in my opinion.

For Press, research on games has only reaffirmed just how intractable systemic sexism really is. Much of what I experience as a woman is microaggression, which you don’t necessarily notice right now, she says. But in video games, it’s actually so obvious and blatant … Because the arguments we [athletes] hearing that men are physically stronger than women [dont apply]. So the fact that women are also under-represented in the video game space proves to me once again how irrelevant arguments like these are. Everything is societal.

These hard-won ideas are implicit in the relentless campaign against inequality. But so is the enduring possibility of change, as indicated by the grassroots causes. These include voting rights, migrant rights and the distribution of PPE, in addition to this season’s partnership with Black Girls Code. When you look at who makes the games, and more generally in industries based on math and science, you see the problem, Press says. That there is no diversity of thought in these spaces, which is the case for a reason. It was the status quo that was difficult.

With his new tech buff, will Press ever join his teammates on the virtual playing field? Unlikely: we’re at FIFA, so [I get why] many like to play FIFA, she says. But I think it would be weird. I can’t even watch movies where someone is playing football [Id rather be] with Mother Nature.

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

    It starts as it will end: in darkness.

    Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

    Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

    “You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

    “You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

    “I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

    “Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

    More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

    The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

    Is it?

    “You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

    “I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

    “This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

    “No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

    “What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

    “Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

    Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

    Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

    If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

    “A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

    “Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

    “He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

    If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

    “Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

    The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

    “Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

    “Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

    “The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

    “The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

    “And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

    Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

    Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

    “Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

    “Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

    “No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

    Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

    “How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

    “Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

    Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

    “Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

    The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

    “Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

    “You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

    “Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

    “Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

    Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

    There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

    Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

    A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

    Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

    Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

    “What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

    “There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

    “I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

    “You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

    “I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

    “And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

    But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

    Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

    “Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

    “Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

    A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

    “Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

    “Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

    Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

    “I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

    There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

    “Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

    “Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

    Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

    “They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

    “Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

    Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

    “I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

    “Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

    “You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

    She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

    Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

    “Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

    “I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

    “Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

    “Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

    “And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

    Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

    “They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

    “Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

    You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

    “I’m what?”

    “Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

    The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

    “You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

    “That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

    “I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

    He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

    “I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

    Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

    “Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

    Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

    “That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

    “Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

    You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

    “So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

    “I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

    Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

    Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

    And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

    The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

    That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

    You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

    She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

    Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

    Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

[hqbbg]

butterflies.

pairing: bokuto x chubby fem!reader

summary: bokuto doesn’t understand why everyone’s giving you a hard time.

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6K

warnings: people are mean to reader >:(

You saw many flaws about yourself growing up, whether they were first pointed out to you by your parents, schoolmates, or even the cashier lady at the supermarket. The one particular flaw that seemed to follow you around throughout all the years seemed to revolve around one thing: your weight.

Looking in the mirror, you used to not see what was so wrong with how your body looked. You truly didn’t think you looked as overweight as those around you made it seem, but their words began to contaminate your thoughts and soon, you saw what they saw: someone who simply did not fit into a conventionally “beautiful” body, a standard set by models on magazine covers.

Some people had called you cute while growing up, but as you sat in your classroom during your second year of high school alone while others had gone to join their friends, you most definitely felt like all the kind words people had told you before held no meaning or sincerity to them.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

You’ve been hearing this every other day lately. It was always at the beginning of lunch time, give or take a few minutes depending on the day. The source of the brief disturbance to the white noise of the classroom was none other than Bokuto Koutarou, a third year. He always came to hang out with Akaashi, a classmate of yours that sat a few rows down from you.

You had seen Akaashi once or twice last year in the hallways, but never spoke to him, and even this year as his classmate, you barely exchanged any words. He seemed like a relatively quiet and observant person, so part of you wondered how he and Bokuto seemed so close yet were polar opposites.

You had been lost in your own thoughts, too busy staring off into space to notice a few classmates come up to sit at the desks around you.

“What, is our little piggy not hungry today?”

This was not unfamiliar territory for you. Once or twice throughout the week, a few students would get bored with themselves and decide to pick on you or taunt you. Usually, you would ignore them with your head hung low, and they would just get bored again, deciding to leave you alone until they saw another opportunity to mess with you.

Things like this used to bother you a lot more than they did now. Of course, their words would still keep you awake at night occasionally, but you’ve learned to move on.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to lose weight before; nothing just seemed to work. It was as if your body had reached its current weight and stubbornly refused to change, no matter how much your heart and mind willed it. Your mother would toss in a few comments here and there about how boys wouldn’t want you because of this complex of yours and your father wouldn’t stand up for you. You supposed they were right, since the only time boys were interested in talking to you was to either make fun of you or compare notes after class.

“Did you not hear us, piggy?”

“You guys are talking in her face, so I’m sure she heard you loud and clear.”

You snap your head up towards the source of the voice and see Bokuto looking over in your direction. He has an unreadable expression on his face and your eyes flicker towards Akaashi as he also looks in your direction, his face blank with indifference to the situation.

“With all due respect, this doesn’t concern you,” replies one of the boys sitting in front of you.

“How rude,” says Bokuto. “Akaashi, you never told me how mean your classmates were!”

The third year turns to look at Akaashi, a pout on his face as he points to the group around you. Any thoughts you had of him being cool for butting in and momentarily diverting the attention away from you have all disappeared and it seems that everyone’s mental image of the suave and cool upperclassman have collectively shattered.

“Everyone is mean to Y/L/N-san,” Akaashi replies coolly.

You have to admit, as much as that statement should irk you, it doesn’t because you know it’s true.

“Why?” Bokuto turns his head back and looks directly at you. You feel yourself stiffen in your seat. He blinks his eyes a couple times, as if he can’t understand what anyone could possibly be giving you a hard time for. Part of you finds it refreshing, but another part of you is skeptical.

“This guy’s weird,” mutters one of the girls next to you. “Let’s just go.”

You feel a little dumbstruck as you watch the students around you stand and walk away before your eyes slowly return back to the pair of boys who are still staring at you. You can feel your face heat up at the realization that their eyes haven’t left you yet and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, clearing your throat.

“T-Thanks.”

Before anyone else can say anything, you quickly grab your lunch and head out of the room, muttering halfhearted apologies to the students you bump into as you walk down the hall. You make your way to the rooftop where a few other groups of students are enjoying their lunch and find yourself a decent and secluded spot. Maybe the fresh air would cool you down and prevent yourself from overthinking the situation that had just unraveled.

The next few days, you avoid eating lunch in the classroom and go back to the spot on the rooftop; you aren’t disturbed there and find it quite peaceful. You get used to not hearing Bokuto’s unique greeting and things seem to slowly go back to how they used to be.

“Hey, long time no see!”

You glance up as you walk down the hall, seeing Bokuto walking towards you, presumably heading back to his class as you head for yours. Although you’re sure he’s addressing you, you glance around to ensure that it really is you he’s talking to.

“Yeah, you! You’re in Akaashi’s class,” Bokuto laughs heartily as he walks up to you, stopping only a few paces away. “You know, no one really answered me when I asked why everyone is so mean to you.”

You can only look up at him, unsure what exactly his motives might be. There’s no way he’s this oblivious, right? You’ve heard stories about him, being a remarkable volleyball player and assumed that he would be intelligent. Was that limited to just volleyball?

“I should get back to my class,” you reply, bowing your head halfheartedly before rushing back to your classroom.

Needless to say, you’re socially awkward. No one has really given you this much attention without throwing a blatant insult at your face, so you’re unsure how to handle it. It isn’t until a week later when you miss the timing of heading to the rooftop for lunch and see Bokuto enter the classroom, making a straight beeline to sit in the empty desk in front of you, facing you. Akaashi has also moved closer, sitting in the desk to your right, looking at you with the same indifferent expression on his face.

“So, I’ve really been trying to figure it out for the past week and a half,” says Bokuto, propping his elbow on your desk as he leans his chin onto his palm, “and I still don’t get it.”

Your eyes flicker back towards Akaashi, but he doesn’t move a muscle that indicates that he’s helping you get out of this situation.

“W-Well, I…”

What’s he talking about? What are you supposed to say?

“Are you mean? Is that it? You seem like a normal girl, so I really don’t understand why everyone treats you so poorly,” says Bokuto, not letting you finish your half-developed thought. Is he teasing you? Is this some cruel way of indirectly making fun of you?

“Do you really not see it?” You ask, finding some rare confidence spurred by the thought of his antics being motivated to hurt you like everyone else.

You finally look into his eyes and see no malice in them, quickly casting your eyes back down when you can feel yourself blushing at the innocent intensity of his eyes staring back at you.

“Is there something I should be seeing?”

“I,” you pause. You’re suddenly afraid to say your next sentence because it’s a thought that was drilled into your brain since you were younger, but say it anyways. “I’m fat.”

Bokuto frowns.

“So?”

Well, that wasn’t an answer you were expecting.

“Huh?” You look at him again, brows furrowing slightly.

“What he means is, he doesn’t see why that’s a reason for you to be bullied,” Akaashi speaks up. Bokuto nods his head quickly, realizing the mistake in his word choice.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant!”

You narrow your eyes slightly in suspicion.

“No, really, Y/N! You look perfectly fine to me.”

You try not to show your surprise upon hearing Bokuto say your name, but you’re not sure how well you hide it. You want to question how he knows your first name, but something tells you that the boy sitting to your right has something to do with it.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

“If anyone gives you a hard time, let me know! I’ll take care of it for you,” Bokuto sits up, puffing his chest. You’re hesitant but feel your lips tug into the slightest smile.

“You don’t have to, Y/L/N-san. He’s all bark and no bite anyways,” says Akaashi. You feel your lips pull a little further into a smile. Bokuto looks like he’s about to complain or whine to Akaashi, but is stopped when he looks at your face.

“Wow, so you do know how to smile,” Bokuto grins at you. “You should do it more often. It suits you.”

That might’ve been the first time in your whole life to have ever felt butterflies in your stomach.

[johannas-motivational-insults]

“Friendship” in the Horde

Season 4 raised some interesting questions about how people who grew up in the Horde define friendship. Kyle claimed that his squadmates were his friends, despite how we've seen them bully him, and Scorpia admitted she didn’t even know how to be a good friend. We also saw further developments in Catra and Lonnie’s dynamic that have some interesting implications about their bond, both past and present. However, while these themes became more explicit this season, they are hardly new. The Horde worldbuilding is really quite brilliant, as the writers have been laying the foundation for these revelations by showcasing certain patterns since season one.

This got a little lengthy on me, but there was a lot to consider. The lack of healthy emotional expression and relationship modelling is one obvious problem in the Horde, but the hostile environment has also led to some very specific power dynamics and social structures. These structures, while potentially helpful in hostile environments, are maladaptive in terms of fostering healthy relationships. Ultimately, every character who grew up in the Horde is emotionally crippled. (I’m not even going into Adora, an excellent example, because her repression and communication problems are well-documented and I wanted to focus on characters still in this environment.)

Scorpia

Let’s start with Scorpia. Her revelation that she doesn’t understand what friendship is was a big moment for her, but for those of us who have been watching closely, it’s no big surprise. Scorpia was so desperate for a meaningful connection that she latched onto the first person who showed any signs of considering her a friend, ignoring all the red flags indicating that the relationship was not healthy. Actually, she didn’t ignore them so much as not recognize them, because she didn’t even know what a healthy relationship looks like. To her, the fact that Catra invited her to her room and chose her to accompany her on a mission was enough for her to dub them the Superpal Duo.

Of course, we all know how that went for her. She continued to support Catra unconditionally despite the latter’s tendency to use Scorpia as her emotional punching bag. They did settle into a somewhat more reciprocal and caring relationship after Scorpia saved Catra against her orders during 2x05, proving that Catra was more important to her than the mission (even if that wasn’t what Catra thought she wanted). It’s sad when you think about it, because that was probably the first time Catra ever experienced her wellbeing being prioritized above all else.

Unfortunately, the revelation that Shadow Weaver had gone running back to Adora after betraying her triggered a trauma response and made her clam up again, lashing out at Scorpia and shutting her out even though she had done nothing to betray her trust. It took Catra blatantly attacking and insulting Scorpia when she failed to bring back Entrapta’s recordings (and some well timed reality checks from Emily) for Scorpia to realize that Catra was being a bad friend and she couldn’t win her over by being a good friend.

And actually, Scorpia’s confession in 4x10 that she “thought” she was being a good friend to Catra implies that she had since realized that she wasn’t actually being a good friend to Catra either. She knows the scorpions were a loyal people and she ascribes to that ideal, and she has so much love to give and always tries so hard to be positive, but not setting boundaries with people or demanding a measure of basic respect does nothing for them or you. Also, you can’t ignore the fact that Scorpia forced her affections on Catra, inserting herself into Catra’s life in a way that made her uncomfortable, and continued to ignore Catra’s attempts at setting boundaries with her (which is also very disrespectful). While Catra was certainly the aggressor, she was not the only one who failed in this partnership.

Let’s go back for a moment to Scorpia’s earliest indication that Catra might want to be her friend, when she confides in her and enlists her help coming up with and then executing a plan. Being chosen as Catra’s wingman seems to be important here, and perhaps she was wilfully ignoring how she was the only person who could make Catra’s plan work, but being confided in and trusted was huge to her. And since Horde soldiers are so used to being used, they don’t see it as a red flag. Catra actually flat out said Scorpia was the only person she could trust. How could a lonely gay not interpret that as a sign of being special to someone?

The squad

The importance of trust also becomes evident when considering the interactions among the main squad. Loyalty seems to be paramount in the Horde, not just the scorpion kingdom. Adora defecting to the Rebellion and leaving her squad behind was seen as a huge betrayal, and not just by Catra. Did anyone else want to cry when Lonnie struck back at Adora with “we were your friends” in 1x09? Lonnie was deeply hurt by Adora’s abandonment, feeding into her disillusionment with the Horde. Similarly, when Double Trouble revealed they had double-crossed Catra, her devastated reaction was not that her plans were ruined, but that they had betrayed her. That no doubt was also related to her previous betrayals, but also serves to highlight the importance of loyalty in their subculture.

While all the Horde characters were interesting to watch this season when it came to the themes of friendship, the arc was most pronounced in Lonnie. As I’ve mentioned previously, Scorpia had a short arc over one episode where her rosy worldview was destroyed, causing her to leave (much like Adora), while Lonnie was already a cynic who was aware of the Horde’s imperfections and had to go through more extreme hardships to detach from this unhappy but familiar environment (much like Catra, we hope).

Though she and the boys didn’t leave the Horde until the finale, her disillusionment was already evident in her first episode this season. After Catra berated them for something that wasn’t their fault and demanded they risk their lives to fix it (big Hordak energy), she had her first big revelation: “Catra doesn’t care about us, Adora left us. Everything they taught us in the Horde about loyalty is meaningless. It’s everyone for themselves.” In the next episode, she was frustrated by Scorpia’s naïve enthusiasm and trust in Catra, but it took a big blow up between her and Catra for her to finally decide she was done with her, done with the Horde in general.

Kyle represents a sort of middle ground between Lonnie and Scorpia in terms of outlook. He was not treated well in the Horde, but still believed in the ideals of loyalty and squad unity. He wanted to believe Catra had sent them out on a mission into the Whispering Woods because she trusted them and wanted it to be a team-building exercise. His take on it was: “She may be mean, but we’ve always had each other’s backs. Ever since we were kids.” He saw the squad as his family, including Catra (and previously Adora). It took Catra baring her claws and threatening to attack Lonnie outside of a battle sim for him to lose faith in her.

Bullying, the pecking order, and squad unity

As is clear by this point, the Horde defections this season were driven by Catra mistreating the others, but we can’t lose sight of how mistreatment is a fact of daily life in the Horde. And as I mentioned above with Lonnie, it’s those who were most aware of and desensitized to the mistreatment who had the hardest time naming it and leaving the toxic environment. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it the sunk cost fallacy, but either way once you’ve submitted to a system that dehumanizes you, it’s hard to admit that that system is wrong and leave it for a better life. Scorpia and Adora grew up somewhat privileged in the Horde in that they were destined for greatness, so they were never abused overtly and they had a level of protection from power-hungry cadets looking to claw their way to the top of the heap. They were already at the top and couldn’t be taken down, so they didn’t have to bully or be bullied.

The importance of pecking order is much more evident when considering people like Kyle, Catra, and Lonnie. Within their squad, Kyle is obviously the omega of the gang (get your heads out of the gutter, that is not what I mean), the one who gets blamed for everything that goes wrong and is constantly getting picked on. Lonnie shits on him, Catra shits on him, and even Rogelio gives him shit and goes along with the blame game. Despite all this, Kyle considers them his friends, his family.

This starts to make sense when you consider it in terms of intra vs. extra squad relations. Maybe the squad didn’t show Kyle any respect or treat him with kindness, but they did protect him in battle sims (sometimes lol) and rescue him from the spore storm. You also kind of get the impression that although they bullied him and asserted their dominance on the regs, they would protect him if other people tried to hurt him. You might say he’s the pet of the gang – he has no power within the structure and it may not be pleasant, but the structure still offers advantages. Having allies was still good for him even if he was at the bottom of the pecking order within the alliance.

Through a sociology lens, you might say the squad (and the Horde in general, given it’s a military society) follows the stereotypical male model of friend groups with clear pecking orders that everyone buys into (with exceptions for blatant power struggles), as opposed to the stereotypical female model that appears less hostile and more cooperative outwardly but involves a lot of underhanded infighting. (Obviously those are broad generalizations and it can be argued how much of it is nature vs. nurture, but they are observable patterns that boys and girls are socialized into in many human societies.) This ties in interestingly to @jaelav3​‘s observations about masculinity equating to strength and femininity equating to power in the Horde (a meta she really needs to write, because it’s brilliant). The hostility of the Horde forces soldiers into these rigid pecking orders in order to find protection in a dangerous place. When everyone knows and accepts their role, it is easier for the squad to function in a unified manner and protect each other, even if it’s at the cost of their mental and emotional health.

Now, when not everybody buys into the pecking order or it’s ambiguous, and/or if there’s a sudden power vacuum, that’s when things get interesting…

Catra and Lonnie, the perfect case study

Catra also suffered a lot of bullying and abuse in the Horde, but in a very different way than Kyle. She was in a unique and kind of contradictory position where she was somewhat protected by her close friendship with Adora, but she was also Shadow Weaver’s favourite chew toy and everyone knew it, which made her a target as well. If Shadow Weaver abused her, she wasn’t going to care if the other cadets abused her as well. Catra’s defensive body language and general distrustfulness and hostility gives the impression that she was bullied behind Adora’s back and Shadow Weaver turned a blind eye, perhaps even encouraged it.

This was all illustrated in 1x03, when Catra and Lonnie butted heads and Catra was forced to back down when two other cadets backed up Lonnie, then Lonnie told her to watch it because Adora wasn’t around to protect her anymore. That one line alone told so much of their story. This was also one of the few times we saw cadets using people from other squads to affect their own squad’s dynamics, as – like I said – that seems to be kept mostly in-house. It may have had something to do with Lonnie’s overall standing among the cadets or how Kyle and Rogelio rank lower in their little hierarchy and seem uninterested in getting involved with the power politics, but I digress.

The argument itself was meaningless, really - the whole thing was a pissing contest, an attempt to assert dominance within their squad’s sudden power vacuum. Lonnie fancied herself the new leader of the squad, and she ended up getting her wish in a backwards way when Catra was promoted out of the squad and given official power over her. Catra, of course, took every opportunity to rub this in Lonnie’s face, perpetuating the cycle of abuse she’d fallen victim to.

The reason they had a power struggle in the first place wasn’t just because Adora left, it was because their pecking order was previously unclear. Catra wasn’t very cooperative and tended to go rogue, so she didn’t slot nicely into the power structure. She was also perceived as lazy, as she had adopted an air of nonchalance once she realized she’d never get the recognition or praise so easily heaped on Adora. (Why try when failing hurts so much?) That being said, she was Adora’s best friend and basically her sidekick, so in a way that made her second-in-command of the squad.

On the other hand, Lonnie was devoted to the squad and was always around to provide tangible support, so she was also kind of Adora’s second-in-command. Combined with her harder work ethic, this also gave her a very legitimate claim to the throne. She was obviously pissed when her teammate she saw as a lazy asshat got promoted, but to her credit she lived up to her own personal ethics, buying in and not pushing back against Catra’s authority until late in season 4.

Despite the power struggle, however, Catra and Lonnie do seem to have a bond. Even if they don’t like each other, they have a certain level of trust in each other. When the princesses invaded the Fright Zone in 3x04 and shit started to go sideways, the first person Catra was looking for to try to get support and/or answers was Lonnie. Then in 4x10 when she was starting to lose her mind amid a lack of sleep and Scorpia’s defection, she pulled Lonnie aside and demanded to know what was going on among the soldiers, what they thought of her.

This was an incredibly interesting scene with some deep implications. Because while it was on one hand an expression of trust in Lonnie, it was also an acknowledgement that Lonnie was one of her bullies and held clout among the people who have demeaned and abused her in the past. It also showed that Catra still has social anxiety and her sense of social power (as opposed to power in terms of rank) is very fragile, which is extremely characteristic of a bullying victim. Also, the fact that Catra said, “Just leave. Like everybody else.” implied that Lonnie leaving would hurt her emotionally, which is rather illuminating.

As for Lonnie, her loyalty meant she bought into the system and expected to Catra to do her job running the place, taking care of the Horde. And Catra certainly succeeded early on, taking territory and increasing productivity. In return, Lonnie was a loyal and obedient soldier, even if she never hesitated to give Catra a bit of attitude. But she became frustrated in season 4 when Catra went on her sunk cost fallacy spiral and ended up making things worse for everyone else as well as herself. This failure was a huge betrayal to Lonnie, and it’s important to note that she wouldn’t feel betrayed or disappointed if she had expected nothing of Catra in the first place. It’s one thing to be kind of a dick about your superior rank, another entirely to endanger your squad/friends (or anyone you are responsible for, really) and run them into the ground as a remedy for your own anxiety.

The breaking point of course was the scene in the locker room in 4x12, when a lonely Catra tried to be “friends” with the squad again and was briefly successful in mending fences a little until she snapped at Kyle and then at Lonnie, calling them pathetic. This prompted Lonnie to shove her, which in turn made Catra bare her claws and rush Lonnie. There was really no coming back from that, even though Kyle intervened before anyone got hurt.

As an aside, Kyle stepping up in this scene was amazing - this season in general was everything I wanted for him. And it’s important that it was him who intervened, because he was really the only one who could ask Catra, “We used to be your friends, why are you treating us like this?” It makes perfect sense for Catra to push back at Lonnie given their history, but Kyle doesn’t have a history of bullying Catra (quite the opposite). And wow, it had an impact on Catra. You could just see the confusion and regret on her face before she brings back the façade of anger and kicks them out.

When the squad left the Horde, Lonnie said that they were done protecting Catra. This assertion is interesting, given their checkered past – since when was anyone protecting Catra? Lonnie bullied her, and none of them protected Catra from Shadow Weaver, not even Adora (though bless her heart, she tried). But this does make some sense when you consider how much of the idea of friendship is based on loyalty, and how important that adherence to the structure is for protection. In Lonnie’s mind, even if Catra was now their commander, they were still a unit in a way. And she saw standing by and obeying Catra to be a form of protection, helping her stay respected and carry out her plans. Lonnie is a good support person, and by removing her support, she was in a way removing her protection as well.

(After the series is over I might just go all out and do a huge-ass meta about Catra and Lonnie through the seasons. I am absolutely fascinated by this relationship, if you can’t tell.)

Allyship

Overall, you can’t help but get the impression that the Horde’s version of friendship is more akin to allyship. It’s protection, unity, loyalty. However, that doesn’t mean they don’t get emotionally attached, it’s more that how you feel about someone is less important than what that relationship can do for you. That’s why Scorpia doesn’t even understand what friendship is. That’s why Catra tolerates “friends” who annoy her, because they’re useful to her (not that she doesn’t get attached in time, but that’s not why she tolerates them in the first place).

Catra’s one of the few people in the Horde who has experienced real friendship, as her bond with Adora was much more emotional than practical (even if it was both). And that explains why she eventually lashed out at Scorpia and said they were not friends when clearly they were by the Horde’s definition. Her and Adora really had taken the friends thing to a different level, and she was missing that dearly.

It will be interesting to watch the interactions between the Horde characters when they are thrown back together in new circumstances, out of the Horde’s rigid power structure. Honestly, the redefining of these alliances and friendships is one of the things I am most looking forward to in the final season.

[kirstythejetblackgoldfish]

I know you're interested in Ceausescu, but what's your opinion on him and his politics? And what do you think of Elena Ceausescu?

The Ceausescus were far from perfect - banning abortion, copying China too much without taking Romanian conditions into account...

But they did some good things as well - paying off the IMF debt and helping out anti-apartheid groups in Africa

I don't believe the Ceausescus should have been killed, and they absolutely should have had a proper, fair trial. The transcript of the 'trial' exposes how unbiased and straight up misogynistic it is:

Elena keeps whispering to him. As a result, the prosecutor says: Elena has always been talkative, but otherwise she does not know much. I have observed that she is not even able to read correctly, but she calls herself an university graduate. Elena answers: The intellectuals of this country should hear you, you and your colleagues.

Then there's the allegations of the Ceausescus stashing their wealth away in Swiss bank accounts. No such accounts have ever been found

PROSECUTOR: Let us now talk about the accounts in Switzerland, Mr. Ceaușescu. What about the accounts?

ELENA CEAUȘESCU: Accounts in Switzerland? Furnish proof!

NICOLAE CEAUȘESCU: We had no account in Switzerland. Nobody has opened an account. This shows again how false the charges are. What defamation, what provocations! This was a coup d'etat.

PROSECUTOR: Well, Mr. Defendant, if you had no accounts in Switzerland, will you sign a statement confirming that the money that may be in Switzerland should be transferred to the Romanian state, the State Bank.

Next is the accusations of Elena fabricating her scientific credentials, which I shall touch on later too:

PROSECUTOR: Did you know about the genocide in Timisoara?

ELENA CEAUȘESCU: What genocide? By the way, I will not answer any more questions.

PROSECUTOR: Did you know about the genocide or did you, as a chemist, only deal with polymers? You, as a scientist, did you know about it?

Here Nicolae Ceaușescu steps in and defends her.

NICOLAE CEAUȘESCU: Her scientific papers were published abroad!

PROSECUTOR: And who wrote the papers for you, Elena?

ELENA CEAUȘESCU: Such impudence! I am a member and the chairwoman of the Academy of Sciences. You cannot talk to me in such a way!

PROSECUTOR: That is to say, as a deputy prime minister you did not know about the genocide?

NICOLAE CEAUȘESCU: She was not a deputy prime minister, but the first deputy prime minister.

PROSECUTOR: This is how you worked with the people and exercised your functions! But who gave the order to shoot? Answer this question!

ELENA CEAUȘESCU: I will not answer. I told you right at the beginning that I will not answer a single question.

There's this too:

PROSECUTOR: Please, ask Nicolae and Elena Ceaușescu whether they have ever had a mental illness.

NICOLAE CEAUȘESCU: What? What should he ask us?

PROSECUTOR: Whether you have ever had a mental illness.

NICOLAE CEAUȘESCU: What an obscene provocation.

PROSECUTOR: This would serve your defense. If you had had a mental illness and admitted this, you would not be responsible for your acts.

ELENA CEAUȘESCU: How can one tell us something like this? How can one say something like this?

NICOLAE CEAUȘESCU: I do not recognize this court.

It's also worth noting that during the 'trial' they both looked absolutely terrified, and I wonder what happened to them during their three days of captivity

I think both Nicolae and Elena, her in particular, were far more intelligent than how they were portrayed, even if they didn't have the best education in their early lives. Here's a post I made detailing my views on the accusations of Elena plagiarizing her scientific work

I also think there was a lot of racism in how they were portrayed. This is a Vanity Fair headline from August 1990:

The blatant racism is appalling, and tbh, some of the anti-Russian rhetoric coming out today reminds me of this

How did Vanity Fair get away with this, even 30 years ago?! The answer's obvious - both Ceausescus were demonised horribly, to the point where they weren't seen as humans

[rhysismydaddy]

The Bodyguard (Elorcan)

MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE SHIP.

I wrote a lot of Elorcan a while ago on my phone and realized I’ve literally been posting Nessian nonstop, so we’ll take a little break. 

I have no idea how many parts this is going to be, but it’s a bit more of a slow burn than my usual fics, so probably 5ish. Not much happens in this part, but it get’s more interesting lol. Let me know if you want to be tagged :)

Part 2 | Part 3

______________________________________________________________

Elide rolled out of bed Monday morning to the sound of a loud, incessant banging on her front door. How someone was managing to put that much aggression and frustration into a simple knock baffled her. 

She swung it open and yelled, “What the hell do you want?”

When she looked up--and up and up and up--to the man standing in front of her, she instantly regretted her choice of tone. 

This was not a man you yelled at. Hell, this was not a man you poked with a very, very long stick. 

The stranger towered above her, making all five feet of her feet insignificant. He had long dark hair pulled back in a bun, tan skin, and eyes that looked almost black. Chiseled cheek bones, a jaw set in a scowl, and head to toe black clothing completed the look. 

Elide didn’t know how to feel about his appearance, actually. 

It was definitely abrasive and intimidating. Or to most it would be. She’d lost her fear of “scary” men a while ago. She knew firsthand the most innocent looking man could be the most sadistic. 

And yet, beneath all the black clothing and deep scowl, the man standing in front of her was also attractive in a dangerous, rough way. 

But what the hell did he want?

“Elide Lochan?” he asked, his voice conveying everything written across his face effortlessly. 

“Um, yes?” How did he know who she was? 

“I’m with The Galathynius Guarship. I’ve been assigned to watch over you.” He seemed satisfied with that explanation, but she sure as hell wasn’t.

“Galathynius? As in Aelin Galathynius?”

If possible, his scowl got deeper. “The one and only. But more specifically, I owe the whipped little bitch who calls himself her husband a favor.”

“Hold on,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Rowan sent you?”

This was beyond weird. Aelin was one of her best friends, but she didn’t spend all that much time around her husband. 

The man in front of her sighed, so much aggression in the one simple sound. “I suspect that he was told to cash in the favor in this specific way by a certain fire-breathing bitch queen, but yes, he was the one who called me.”

“Okay, but why?”

His eyes met hers, and she somehow knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. It didn’t soften the words in the slightest, though. 

“He found you.”

Fuck.

An involuntary shiver ran over her, but she hid it behind a stretch. “How do they know?”

“Rowan said they’ve been watching your uncle for a while, and that he just bought an apartment in the city. He’s also made inquiries into this complex about you, and a black sedan has been spotted canvassing the building you work in.” 

He said it all in that same cold, almost bored tone, and for some reason, that kept the panic at bay. 

Elide straightened her spine and put on her best smile. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t need a bodyguard, though.”

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “I don’t care.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I owe Whitehorn a favor, and this is what the bastard asked for, so I don’t particularly care if you think you don’t need a bodyguard, although I expect that to be false.” He looked her head to toe as he said that last part, and her blood started to boil. 

She wanted him gone. Now.

Glaring at him, she snatched her phone and dialed Aelin’s number. 

“Hi, Elide. You know it’s like six in the morning, right?”

“Believe me, I’m not happy to be awake at this hour, either. I was woken up by...” she realized she didn’t know the man’s name. “someone pounding on the door. He says he’s my new bodyguard and that you had something to do with it.”

“His name is Lorcan Salvaterre.”

She sighed, continuing to glare at him. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but tell Lorcan Salvaterre to piss off. I’ve been on my own my entire life, and I’m fine.”

“Barely,” Aelin said quietly. 

She paused, ignoring that train of thought, then tried a different tactic. “You know he’s like ten feet tall right?” Lorcan rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to keep a low profile with him following me?”

Aelin laughed softly. “He’s a tall, insufferable bastard, but he’ll keep you safe. At this point, your uncle’s seen where you live and work, so keeping a low profile doesn’t exactly matter.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But-”

“Listen.” There was a little fire in her best friend’s tone now. “I do not plan on repeating what happened two years ago. Ever. So until we figure out how to throw Vernon in a deep, dark hole no one will ever find him in, Lorcan stays. Just ignore him.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered back.

She could practically see Aelin’s smile. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

The line clicked dead, and she threw her phone on her couch in defeat. 

“Your powers of persuasion are truly something magnificent,” Lorcan Salvaterre told her in a mocking tone. “I’m tall? Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s 6 AM and I’m tired,” she defended, suddenly annoyed. “But I’m already up, so I guess I’ll just go to work early.”

She shut the door in his face so she wouldn’t have to even think about inviting him in.

Damn.

Damn damn damn!

This was so frustrating. She felt... helpless and desperate and trapped. Everyone in her life was trying to keep her safe, but she found herself wanting to be alone and independent for once in her life. 

And she was afraid. 

After finally escaping her uncle’s country estate and moving to the city, she’d sworn she’d never let him make her feel like this again. 

And yet, just the mention of him being in the same city as her made her tremble with fear. Fear, and more than a little rage.

Elide stepped under the shower spray, closing her eyes. Images from her lifetime of misery flickered through her mind, and unlike usual, she didn’t even bother blocking them out. 

They played like a montage in her head, showing her all the reasons she had to be afraid of her uncle. 

Her parents funeral. The first time Vernon had asked her to come to his office. The hidden bruises. The ruined ankle from the time he’d refused to let her go to the doctor and get the bone set. The scars on her wrists and ankles from her chains. 

The emotional scars from everything else.

She squeezed her eyes closed, shut off the onslaught of memories, and stepped out of the shower. 

As usual, she put on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, even though it was almost summer. Even though she’d made peace with her scars, she didn’t want people to see and gawk. She got a few odd looks for being dressed so heavily, but it kept her more comfortable, so Elide didn’t care. 

She straightened her dark hair, swiped on a little makeup, and grabbed her bag. 

When she opened the door again, Lorcan was still standing there, leaning against the wall across from her. He didn’t even seem to notice her very conservative apparel, but his eyes swept over her face, studying her closely. 

“Ready?”

She nodded, a little nervous by how observant he seemed, but followed as he turned and walked towards the stairs. 

Living on the second floor had a few advantages, but the biggest had to be that she didn’t have to wait for the slow ass elevator that almost never worked. Soon, they were out on the street, walking towards her building. 

Feeling like a million eyes were on her now that she was in public, she tugged on her sleeves and ducked her head. 

“They’re probably staring at me, not you,” Lorcan said with a grimace. 

Oh, there was no “probably” about it. 

Everyone--everyone--was looking at the man strolling next to her. Some with blatant fear on their faces, some just in shock. 

She supposed she couldn’t really blame them. He was large and imposing and looked like he could snap anyone in half who dared to cross him. 

The attention still made her uncomfortable. She preferred to go through life unnoticed, and Lorcan was like a magnet to both men and women’s attention. 

Spotting her favorite coffee shop, she almost cried in relief. She tugged on Lorcan’s arm, and he followed her inside, dark eyes scanning everyone there for signs of a threat. 

Considering this was the most hippie, backwater place in the city, it was a short search. 

“Hey, Elide,” the woman behind the counter said with a smile.

Elide smiled back. “Hey, Asterin.” 

Asterin was one of her best friends in the city. They’d met in the hospital’s mandatory group therapy for people who had suffered certain times of “trauma” and had instantly bonded over their shared hate of one of the nurses. 

“Same as usual?”

She nodded, then turned to Lorcan. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” he responded, eyes hovering on Asterin as if she were a threat.

Granted, her friend was in her usual all black, mostly leather attire and had multiple piercings gracing her beautiful face, but this was Asterin for crying out loud. She was more than a little protective of Elide.

“Who’s the mutt?” the object of his attention asked in a too-friendly voice. 

Elide sighed, unsure how to explain. If Asterin knew her uncle was in town, things were bound to get a little haywire. 

“It’s a long story,” she dodged, sliding a bill across the counter. Her friend looked at her like she’d grown two heads. 

“When’s the last time I charged you?”

Never. 

She stuck it in the tip jar, making Asterin roll her eyes. A moment later, she brought back her vanilla latte and said, “I’ll see you Friday, right?”

For a moment, she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but it came rushing back a second later. Friday. Concert. Asterin’s band. “Yeah, sure.”

She could feel Lorcan’s eyes narrow, but she pulled him out before he could cause a scene. 

“What’s happening Friday?” he asked as soon as they were outside. 

Taking a deep drink of her coffee, she replied, “Asterin’s band is having a concert at MSK.”

He brooded for a minute over this information. “No. A crowded area is not exactly safe for you right now.”

Elide stopped walking, her eyebrows high on her forehead. “No? No?”

He was fucking crazy if he thought she’d do whatever he wanted just because he’d been assigned to follow her around. 

Lorcan repeated the word, and she saw red.

“You are not going to tell me what I can and cannot do, you stupidly large bastard. I’ve spent my entire life with someone who did that for me, and I won’t put up with it for a second longer.” 

He sighed, and that just pissed her off more. 

“If you’re not confident in your skills to guard me in a crowded area, then maybe you shouldn't be here,” she snapped. 

His dark eyes narrowed. “I’m more than confident in myself, Elide. That doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid to put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

She just rolled her eyes and stormed away, well aware his long legs would catch up to her in a second. “I’m going.”

“Fucking hell. You mean we’re going,” he corrected with a gruff. 

She smirked. “At least you won’t have to buy any new clothes. They’re a pretty goth band.”

Elide didn’t need to look to know his scowl deepened, and the thought brought a bright smile to her face as she walked into her office building. 

“Morning, Elide,” the receptionist, Tom, called. She waved back.

Lorcan did not. 

He just followed her down the hallway to the suit labeled Perranth Wellness Center, through the lobby and staff kitchen, and into her office. When she tried to shut the door behind her, his hand shot out above her head and stopped it. “I’m coming in.”

“You most certainly are not.”

He showed her she was, in fact, incorrect in that statement by pushing her out of the way and strolling in. Her office was exactly what it was supposed to be: calm, relaxed, covered in plants, and home to a comfy black sofa, two chairs, and a desk. 

As a therapist, it was all pretty much standard. 

Lorcan dragged one of the chairs into a corner near her bookcase, then sat down. 

“You can’t stay in here! I have appointments today!”

He gave her a strange look. “I assumed as much. I’m fine here.”

Elide pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from strangling him. “I’m bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. You legally cannot be in here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not leaving you in here with a bunch of crazy people.”

“They aren’t crazy! They just talk about their problems.”

The look on his face said that statement proved his point. “I can assure you I won’t care what they say.”

“I am not losing my license because you have some insane idea that my clients are violent!”

Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her, looking at her as if she were a naive little girl. “Elide. Has it not occurred to you Vernon could send someone as a fake client to get to you?”

No. 

“I’m safe here,” she lied. She wasn’t safe anywhere.

“If you actually believed that, then why do you have a knife strapped under your desk?”

How the hell had he found that? He hadn’t even searched the place!

She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to diffuse this situation. “I’m getting the idea you’re not up for negotiation on this point.” He shook his head like the stubborn asshat he was. “Fine. You can stay as long as you tell people you’re shadowing to become a therapist yourself.”

His dark eyebrows shot up. “I don’t exactly fit the bill for a therapist.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” The dark attire and permanent scowl were sure to raise some brows, but it was the only option. Elide rolled her eyes and tried to calm down. “Try smiling or something.”

He looked as if she’d suggested he run naked through the city in the dead of winter, but before he could argue, a knock on the door sounded. “Dr. Lochan? Your eight o’clock is here.”

She shoved Lorcan to the chair in the corner, and he plopped down with a sigh. 

“Send him in!”

This would be interesting. 

Twenty minutes later, Elide corrected her statement from interesting to big fat mistake. 

Her client, Wayne Jefferies, kept looking towards the corner Lorcan was situated in, eyes wide. As someone who had a strong fear of practically everything that moved, this situation was less than ideal. 

He tilted his ear toward something she couldn’t see, then whispered, “He’s here to kill me.”

Wayne was also a raging schizophrenic. 

“No one is here to kill you, Wayne. Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.” Once he did, she turned around and shot a glare over her shoulder at the hulking brute. Stop it, she mouthed. 

His brow scrunched. Stop what? 

Scaring him! 

Before he could mouth something back, Wayne’s eyes shot open. “They’re saying I should kill him first.”

Oh, good gracious. 

“Feel free to try,” Lorcan said in a low voice. 

Wayne jumped to his feet, thrusting an accusatory finger towards the corner. “See! He’s after me!”

“If I was after you, you’d be dead,” her very helpful protector reasoned. 

Wayne paused, then opened his mouth to shout something else. Before he could, Elide said gently, “Sit down, Wayne. No one here is going to hurt you. I promise. Shut the voices out and imagine a wall being built around your mind, keeping you safe.”

Her client was silent, so she turned around and glared at Lorcan. He just rolled his eyes, then leaned back and closed them.

This was going to be a long day. 

~

After three other appointments, which had gone a little smoother actually, Elide was exhausted. Hearing about other people’s problems both helped rationalize hers and drained her. 

She walked to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, Lorcan following behind dutifully. 

“Dr. Lochan! Got a package for you,” Tom said, handing her a thin package. 

Before Lorcan could snatch it up, she grabbed a knife and cut it open, revealing what was inside. 

Yet another mistake. 

A handwritten note in beautiful, recognizable calligraphy, read: I’ll see you soon.

It was a promise, threat, and taunt all in one. How like Vernon.

Knowing he would never send just a little threat, she ignored the dread unfurling in her stomach and flipped the card over.

And stared down at a black and white picture of herself, asleep in bed. 

The covers were thrown back, exposing her bare legs, and her shirt had ridden up while she slept. She looked young and innocent. Vulnerable. 

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that it had been taken from directly in front of the bed. Inside her room. 

The angle of the camera made that obvious. It also revealed that the person who’d taken the picture had done so with painstaking care, getting just the right angle to make it look as if a lover had taken it. 

Bile rose in her throat as she stared at it, trying desperately to figure out how they’d gotten inside her apartment. 

And why hadn’t they just taken her then and there?

Lorcan snatched the note and picture out of her hands, jaw locking tightly. He studied the photo, the note, everything. “I’ll search the apartment when we get back. They can’t get to you with me there.”

His confidence was unwavering and let her relax a little. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

But somehow, in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t. This was just the beginning for Vernon. 

He’d always enjoyed the thrill of making her as terrified as possible before finally unleashing whatever sick desire he had planned out. The waiting was half the fun for him. 

And he’d just let her know he could get to her whenever, wherever. No matter who was around. 

It was a strong opening move, she had to admit. The obviously-desired fear was there, pushing on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. 

But there was something else, something new. Something that had only developed in the year she’d been free. 

It was rage, sure. But it was a cold, calculated rage that only came with one thing. 

Revenge. 

______________________________________________________________

ooOOooh dramatic ending for the win. 

Part 2

@ladywitchling @perseusannabeth @studyliketate @cursebreaker29 @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.3.4 “Tholomyes Is So Happy, He Sings A Spanish Song”

I think this chapter title is actually yet another pun. In a later chapter, Favourite mentions that Tholomyes’ first name is Felix, which is Latin for “happy.”

This first paragraph feels like a pretty blatant comparison of the group to the nature mentioned. The flower beds are balmy with perfume, as the ladies may have been, the boughs are gesticulating as the men (and maybe the women) were, the bees pillaging the jasmine is certainly a pretty obvious metaphor, the “bohemian crew of butterflies” would probably be the men, landing briefly on these women for a year or so and then taking flight elsewhere.

(I just looked up bindweed and flashed back to elementary school, where it grew as a weed all over the campus and we’d pick it and put it to our noses and inhale so the petals stuck to our faces, so now I’m imagining them doing that.)

The fact that everyone but Fantine is kissing everyone else is yet another clue that she doesn’t exactly fit in. It also seems like another indication that Favourite should have been paired with Tholomyes.

Fantine’s “dreamy, fierce resistance” (FMA) or “dreaminess and wildness” (Hapgood) is an aspect about her that I feel comes out a little more when she’s back in Montreuil-sur-Mer and has unfortunately hardened a bit. She has quite literally no lines of dialogue until 1.3.8, and her lines up through the letter are superficial, except perhaps for the line about the stagecoaches. Everything we see of Fantine is observational; she’s watching her friends to follow suit, we’re watching her. Later on, in M-sur-M, she’s fiercer, more willing (or perhaps more desperate) to talk back, to talk aloud to herself. The fierce part of her is very inward here, and it’s poverty and desperation that really brings it out. Her confrontation with Bamatabois later, and the moments just before it, bring the “dreaminess” and the “wildness/fierceness” together quite violently.

(Sidenote: The more I read and think about it, the more I’m loving the Fantine-as-autistic headcanon. She’s quiet here because she’s working hard at masking and mimicking; once she’s at her lowest points in M-sur-M, she’s totally given up that effort because she absolutely does not have the energy or mental capacity. So we then get her talking to herself, self-soothing by wringing her hands, shrinking back, etc etc. Idk who came up with that headcanon or where I read it mentioned, but I love it.)

This entire massive paragraph about love in springtime feels very romantically pastoral in its imagery. It certainly fits with the whole leaving urban Paris to go to the park and nature in Saint Cloud (despite the weirdly dark aspects of the area). He continues the theme by mentioning Honore d’Urfe, a pastoral romance author, and Watteau and Lancret, both painters of light, colorful, Baroque style paintings. Watteau painted “The Embarkation for Cythera,” a painting of a fete galante, which is essentially what’s going on in this scene. Cythera is the Greek island said to house a cult of Aphrodite. I’m not sure what the Diderot reference is doing there; I know about his reason vs feeling philosophy, and I know he wrote a “naughty” novel, but I’m not sure how either of those fit into these themes in the rest of the paragraph?

"Beautiful girls lavish their charms with sweet prodigality. We imagine it will never end.” What an interesting pairing of sentences. The second line takes on a tone of quite dark foreshadowing when reading the Brick again. But that first line is interesting to me for the idea of women wasting their charms on men. It feels like an expansion of his “poverty and coquetry are fatal counselors” line, but from a different angle. Flirting or falling in love with a man who is only going to use you for his own pleasure and then drop you is a waste of emotion, not to mention painful if you’re not ready for it. Lavishing “charms” on men only for them to treat a woman in a way that could potentially ruin her is Bad. But if you don’t realize that’s what’s happening, if you think that instead of shallowness or emotional manipulation, you’re actually getting real love and connection, you’re not going to ever want it to end. And then when it does that shock and hurt is so much the worse. Again it’s the difference between Fantine and the others; she seems to think it’s real love on Tholomyes’ side like it is for her, while everyone else seems fairly aware that it’s just a fun little fling and nothing more.

Riding donkeys seems like kind of a ripoff in terms of a date? Maybe another example of Tholomyes’ cheapness as a date as well as an example of his charisma. If he can sell riding an ass as a fun and cute outing instead of a bit of a let down, then no wonder he’s the one in control of this whole endeavor.

I have no idea what plant it is they’re viewing at the Jardins des Plantes, and it’s really bothering me. The only thing I could think of is wisteria, but that can’t be right, since it has leaves, and I have no idea how to search that on google. I’m also wondering what the “mannikin anchorite” at the Chateau d’Issy was. There’s a statue of the actual St. Cloud (Clodoald) in Saint Cloud, but they’re in Issy at this point as far as I can tell, so I have no idea.

As far as I can tell, the satyr-millionaire/Turcaret-Priapus lines are just a joke about rich horny people. I’m not sure why the hall of mirrors is an aphrodisiac? But I suppose the joke is something about voyeurism and watching the person you’re attracted to via means only available to those with lots of money to build a hall of many mirrors? Unless I’m interpreting the entire “cabinet of mirrors” wrong and it’s not even real mirrors. I’m just making guesses at this point.

I think the “Abbe de Bernis” line is a reference to Casanova, but I’m not 100% sure.

Fantine refuses to swing, and Favourite thinks she’s being superior. This seems like another moment pointing out Fantine’s modesty; the “flying skirts” produced by the swinging are maybe a little much for her taste. But it’s another thing that makes me think that maybe the other girls don’t like her very much and are maybe a little frustrated at her prudish behavior compared to the others, or think that that modesty is her thinking she’s better than them.

They’ve now been out and about for about 10 hours, which is a lot. There’s a post somewhere on tumblr about the Russian Mountains, but I love that there was a rollercoaster in Paris in the 1810s. The roller coaster also seems like perhaps an interesting chance at a metaphor for what’s coming: a big climb upward, a rush, and then suddenly much lower than you were a moment ago. For the other women, being back down on the ground is expected at the end of the ride, but for Fantine, it’s an unexpected, painful let down.

Ten (or more) hours is a long time to wait for this “surprise.” I’m wondering if this whole outing has a sort of twofold objective: one as a sort of “last hurrah” date, where they do all the fun things and then there’s the cruel “surprise” at the end. And two, as a way to tire everybody out, so the women would do exactly what they do later on in 1.3.9: get distracted with chatting or just gazing out the window in thought until they suddenly realize how much time has passed, giving the men plenty of time to get away.

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (1)

AO3 Link: here

Synopsis: Bakugou isn’t exactly in touch with all of his feelings. Kirishima usually doesn’t mind. At least not, until Bakugou starts to get weird around him. 

Part 2 3 4 5

Observational Learning

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugou didn’t mind his class all that much. He had called them ‘extras’ a lot, when school had begun, but that was mostly because he was really bad at remembering people’s names. All in all, they were a decent bunch, some of them really strong, some of them aiming really high and all of them very determined. He could appreciate that, at least.

What he couldn’t appreciate, however, was their tendency to get involved in all kinds of gossip. Or, to be more exact, how loud they tended to be, when they found a particularly interesting piece of gossip. Getting mixed up in other people’s business was their thing. But being obnoxiously loud about it and basically screaming their findings to each other in the classroom, got him involved too. And he hated being involved in anybody’s business.

People told him - quite often actually - he eluded an aura that made him unapproachable. That he always seems like he was going to snap and scream at someone. That really, people only asked him for help, when every other possible choice was eliminated prior.  Which was mostly bullshit, of course. Kirishima asked for his help all the time, without ever being scared of him. And he only really snapped when people got on his nerves for too long. Or when Deku was involved, which was the same thing really. Deku just got on his nerves a lot faster than other people. Still his ‘aura of unapproachable’ kept him from being involved in most of his classmates shenanigans.

Most, being the key word.

No matter how much he scowled, how much he glared or how annoyed the undertone in his voice got when he told them that ‘No, he did not care at all. He doesn’t give a rats ass about it.’ , none of this helped against Kirishima’s sunshine declaration of ‘They are finally, officially together’. Because, of course Kirishima doesn’t care about Bakugou’s obvious bad mood and his blatant disinterest on the topic. He never did. It was one of the main reasons why they were as good friends as they were. It was also annoying Bakugou to no end, at that moment.

“And who cares?”, he grunted, throwing his shoes up on the table and looking out of the window to drive to point home. And really, it spoke for the general mood in the class right now, that Iida didn’t even try to reprimand him for that. Usually this would be the start of an argument on being proper and respectful. An argument that both Kirishima and Deku would try to keep on the down low, by trying to mediate between the two. But right now, Iida’s attention was all taken by trying to calm the ruckus and getting everyone to sit down, before Aizawa would come in to start homeroom. For once, Bakugou could agree with Iida, even if he would never say it out loud. They were too damn noisy.

“You can’t be serious!”, Kirishima exclaimed and even without looking, Bakugou could tell that there was a big smile on his lips, “Todoroki and Midoriya danced around their feelings forever. This is a big development!”

“It’s two dudes kissing! No need to make a spectacle out of it!”, he retorted, shooting Kirishima a look which he hoped conveyed just how done he was with this. Ever since these two had shown up holding hands that morning, it was the only thing on everyone's mind. And after Todoroki had stated, in a very blunt way that only Todoroki could do, that yes they kissed, the whole class just exploded with euphoria. As if it was their personal accomplishment. Which it wasn’t, Bakugou wouldn’t even call it much of an accomplishment at all. It would have happened eventually, anyways.

“Well it was a long time coming!”, Kirishima argued back like it was his personal mission to make Bakugou see just how important this was, “You could at least be happy for your friends.”

“They’re not my friends!”, Bakugou argued instantly, before Kirishima got some other weird ideas in his head. Hell would be frozen over, before he called Deku his friend. He was just about to tell that to the dumbass next to him, when the classroom door opened, revealing Aizawa.

The man looked way too tired and done for a Tuesday morning, but today Bakugou resonated with that on a deeply personal level. He too wished that this entire week was over already, in hopes the waves of euphoria from the ‘news’ will have died down by next week. Realistically, he knew the chances were slim. He refused to think about that. Aizawa somehow managed to get all of the class to their seats and be quiet with just one look, so really Bakugou was mostly grateful for him that morning.

That gratefulness lasted exactly two minutes, before Aizawa announced another field-trip-turned-training-exercise. At least he had a month to mentally prepare himself for that.

__________________

That fact that he would need to prepare for that field more than just mentally, didn’t hit him until lunch break. And to be fair, he wasn’t really thinking about it then, either. He was actually just about to take a bite out of the Onigiri from his bento (that he had made himself and no, he wouldn’t make one for anyone else, no matter how much they begged), when Kirishima interrupted his peace yet again.

Bakugou couldn’t say he liked that tendency.

“Shit guys, does anyone have bug spray?”, he asked, mouth full with his sandwich, which honestly irked Bakugou even more than the question itself. Had no one ever taught this guy basic table manners? The answer was apparently no, no one ever bothered. Or maybe it just was a thing in their group, because both Kaminari and Sero also had their mouths full, when they exclaimed that no, there was no bug spray to have between them. Which was a stupid thing to be that aggrevated about.

“What do you need bug spray for anyway?”, Bakugou mumbled, after swallowing and he could already feel himself getting annoyed. What a stupid discussion to have over lunch, really.

“The training camp?”, Kaminari stated, his voice getting higher at the end, even though it clearly wasn’t phrased as a question, “I can’t have the mosquitos eat me up again. I swear, I’m just too damn cute.”

“Questionable”, Jirou said, wholly unimpressed by Kaminari getting mad at her and instead just opting to continue eating quietly. When she even got to their table, Bakugou had no idea.

“He is not completely wrong tho”, Kirishima said and Bakugou could see Kaminari in the background puffing out his chest and raising his chin, proudly. As if the idiot had any justification for being proud. He just stated a simple fact. “We do need bug spray for the mosquitos.” Kaminari visibly deflated at that. Bakugou, on the other hand, could feel his anger rising. Did that idiot really think Kirishima would agree that he was cute?

“Just go shopping then”, he said, just wanting to end this damn discussion. It wasn’t even useful, with the answer lying so obviously within reach. They all just liked to make a big fuss out of nothing. Exactly like that same morning.

“Can’t”, came a chorus of answers from all around their table with various excuses. Jirou had study sessions with Yaoyorozu. Kaminari booked the training hall, surprising everyone. Bakugou didn’t really care.

“I have time. Want me to get something for you guys?”, Kirishima volunteered starting what was possibly the worst verbal onslaught happening that day. Which said something, considering the ruckus these idiots had made that morning. Kirishima dealt with it very patiently tho, writing down who needed what. Which proved that Kirishima was way more organised than Bakugou would have given him credit for.

“Do you have anything planned this afternoon?”, Kirishima asked, with a strange undertone to his voice, that Bakugou couldn’t quite place. He could however think of where this question was headed. And he was quick to shut it down.

“I’m not going shopping with you!”

“Aw, c’mon man. This’ll be fun”, Kirishima argued, shooting Bakugou his best open-mouthed smile, presenting all of his teeth. If he thought that would sway Bakugou’s decision, he would need to think again. No way would Bakugou cave that easily.

“Find someone else.” And then to signal that this talk was really, completely over, Bakugou took another bite of his food. Kirishima just winked at him, unbothered by Bakugou being the way he is and instead turned around in his chair to face the table behind them. Oh no.

“Hey, Midoriya”, he shouted, which was unnecessary, because Deku was two arm lengths away at best, “where did you buy that super good bug spray again? You know the one you had for the last training camp.”

“That was Uraraka’s. She bought it at the mall. I don’t know the name of the shop, but I can show it to you. Are you free this afternoon?”, Deku answered, ever the helpful idiot that he was. Well, at least Kirishima found his shopping buddy. And Bakugou could be at peace.

“Sure am, thanks. Meet in front of the store at 3:30? I’ll bring Bakugou.”

No, he sure as hell wouldn’t. Bakugou was quick to voice that.

__________________

The question ‘How the hell did I get talked into this?’ went through Bakugou’s mind approximately a thousand times, between leaving the dorms and arriving at the shopping center. Which was impressive, because the way had only taken them fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes that Kirishima had filled with bright chatter, either blissfully oblivious to Bakugou’s mood or willingly ignoring it. He would regret this for sure. Bakugou would make him regret it. Later. For now, he was content to just listen to Kirishima chatter about anything and everything that came to his mind. It wasn’t the best use of his time, but it wasn’t the worst either. Not that he would ever admit that.

And so, while Kirishima’s chatter became a pleasant buzz in the back of his mind and Bakugou was starting to think about what he would need for their next training camp, he felt himself being more calm than he had been the entire day. Which wasn’t hard, not with the day he had, but it was still nice.

It was promptly taken from him.

Crossing the last traffic light separating them from the shopping center, where Deku was already waiting for them, he saw something. Something that made him want to turn around and go home again. To hell with Kirishima not wanting to go alone, that was no reason why he should subject himself to what will essentially be an afternoon of torture. There was no way Bakugou would just accept this like it was nothing.

Deku brought his fucking boyfriend.

“Midoriya, Todoroki”, Kirishima shouted happily, being way more enthusiastic than he had any right to. He sped up, holding up one of his arms to wave at them, which Deku promptly returned just as enthusiastic. Todoroki gave a way more timid wave and Bakugou decided he wouldn’t bother at all. No need to fake friendliness. Or that he wanted to be there.

“Kirishima, It’s good to see you”, Deku greeted, as if they hadn’t just spent hours at school together and Bakugou felt like punching something again. Why did he always feel to need to use those overly polite yet completely unnecessary phrases? Why couldn’t the idiot just be normal.

“We just saw them at school”, Todoroki pointed out and Bakugou would have nodded to agree with him, but he had his pride. No way he was going to openly agree with Deku’s boyfriend on anything. Even if it was criticizing Deku. So while Deku explained to his socially stunted boyfriend what a polite phrase was, which somehow developed into a discussion about whether or not those were time wasting ( Yes, they are, Bakugou wanted to shout, but that would be admitting to listening in on their conversations.), Bakugou started one last try to get away from all of this before it became even more of a waste of time.

“Hey Kirishima”, he addressed the boy, who looked at Deku and Todoroki with something close to a fond smile, “have fun third-wheeling on their date. I’m going home.” And with that he turned his back, hoping to get out before Kirishima could make an argument against it. A futile hope, really.

“No, come on, Bakugou”, Kirishima said in a voice that sounded an awful lot like begging, so much so, that it made Bakugou stop midstep, “I didn’t know he would bring Todoroki. Please don’t leave me alone, I don’t wanna be a third wheel.”

“And how am I supposed to help that?”

“Simple”, Kirishima, who walked around so he could face him again, smiled at him like he was the fucking sun himself, “You stay here with me, so I don’t feel left out all the time.”

“And why would I do that?”, Bakugou inquired, feeling how he got closer and closer to yelling out his frustrations. It was Kirishima’s stupid idea to go shopping with Deku, so Kirishima should be the one dealing with all of the consequences. By himself. He had no right to involve Bakugou in this.

“Because we’re friends?”, Kirishima argued, but Bakugou could tell by the way he winced at himself, that he wasn’t convinced by his own argument. He shouldn’t be. Since when did friendship mean having to subject himself to the drama that Kirishima essentially brought over himself. Old Bakugou would have laughed at him and went on his way.

But old Bakugou wasn’t really hero material. Old Bakugou also wasn’t Kirishima’s friend.

“Fine”, Bakugou grunted and Kirishima’s lit up immediately, “but you owe me.”

“Sure.” Kirishima smiled easily leading him back to where Deku and Todoroki were waiting for them, obviously finished with whatever they were doing. At least Deku had the decency to look ashamed and apologize for getting off-track (wasting their time, if you asked Bakugou). Kirishima waved the apology away and they finally got started shopping. Bakugou couldn’t shake the feeling that this was gonna be a long afternoon.

__________________

He was right, of course.

Todoroki and Deku continued to flirt incessantly. Bakugou had a burning pain in his eyes from rolling them too much and a new record in fake-gagging. Kirishima always reprimanded him for the last one. The idiots in question seemed painfully oblivious to their flirting, which made it that much more irritating. They promised they would stop everytime and then they just continued. Bakugou was about ready to scream the entire mall down.

Kirishima took it all way too lightly, in his opinion. He smiled at them gleefully and he even had the audacity to defend them, when Bakugou complained. Don’t you think it’s nice to be that in love? No, he didn’t. It’s annoying to be that in love as Kirishima put it. Could you even be in love after not even 24 hours of dating? Fat fucking chance.

“Get me some food, before I blast this entire mall down”, Bakugou grunted out, eying Kirishima dangerously. He wouldn’t actually do it, but if a threat got him some distraction, he wasn’t above using it.

“Sure thing”, Kirishima agreed, asking for preferences, before he went off. Deku accompanied him - not without making heart-eyes at Todoroki and only reluctantly letting go of his hand - and Bakugou didn’t even fight the urge to roll his eyes. Damn nerd being dramatic. Todoroki shot a knowing smile his way that only angered him more.

“What are you smirking about?”, Bakugou asked, very clearly hearing the annoyed undertone in his voice that failed to deter Todoroki. Like it always did.

“I don’t know. I just like the double date.”

“THE WHAT?”, Bakugou screamed, turning several heads towards them, none of which he cared about. What did the half-n-half-bastard just call this? He was sure he must have misheard. That, or Deku’s boyfriend had a very urgent death wish. One that Bakugou wouldn’t mind granting him, right now.

“Double date. Isn’t that what you call it, when two couples spend time with each other?” He had a death wish, Bakugou determined. There was no way he was really that dense. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Deku and Kirishima running towards them. They better be there fast, or there would be a real fight between him and that bastard.

“This is not a double date”, he gritted out, looking at Todoroki, daring him to disagree. Unfortunately, Kirishima was there faster than he expected, Deku on his heels. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Guys, what’s wrong, you’re making a scene”, Kirishima whisper-shouted when he arrived looking between them, as if he could get the answer from that. Instead of answering Kirishima - or focusing on his boyfriend like he had the entire goddamn afternoon - Todoroki decided to continue his chat with Bakugou.

"It feels like a double date to me", Todoroki said, ever the blunt one and Bakugou felt himself slowly losing it. Actually, not so slowly.

“What?”, Kirishima questioned, clearly caught off-guard.

“Shoto!”, Deku exclaimed at the same time, cheeks red and trying to get his boyfriend to pay attention to him again. Probably to dissolve the tension building between him and Bakugou. Bakugou for his part was ready to fight the bastard seriously.

“That’s not it at all! Bakugou and I aren’t dating”, Kirishima hurried to explain, putting himself between Bakugou and Todoroki while doing it, “We’re just friends. Nothing more to it.”

And that struck something deep within Bakugou. Something unpleasant, that he already hated, despite experiencing it for the first time. It was weird, nothing out of the ordinary happened - despite Todoroki’s absurd claim of course. Still he could feel his insides twisting, like someone plunged a knife in his gut. Instinctively he looked down to check, but saw nothing but his shirt. Weird.

He heard Deku and Kirishima try to explain the situation to Todoroki, but it was off. As if they were far away, instead of standing right in front of him. He caught a glance of Kirishima awkwardly rubbing his neck, while talking, Bakugou could see his mouth move, but he couldn’t make out the words. Like something was covering his ears. Kirishima smiled and his stomach twisted again.

He felt like he was getting sick.

“I’m out”, he said, not bothering whether or not they could hear him and then he swiftly moved. He needed air, to clear his head. And he needed to investigate their weird feeling in his stomach. That apparently correlated with Kirishima. Which could mean a lot of things.

It could mean anything, he tried to tell himself, while he made his way outside as fast as possible without his explosions accelerating him. He didn’t have the clear head to use them for that purpose right now.

It could mean anything, he told himself, when he heard Kirishima calling after him, a concerned undertone in his voice, that made Bakugou want to turn around. He wanted to snap, that he could take care of himself. He wanted to bathe in the knowledge that Kirishima cared for him.

It could mean anything, he insisted, when he finally made it outside and his feet automatically dragged him to the station. He took a deep breath, that helped exactly zero percent in the quest to clear his head and then he fiddled with his phone. He desperately needed the distraction.  

It could mean anything , he reminded himself later that night, after Kirishima had dropped off his forgotten shopping bags and asked if he felt alright. Bakugou told a half-lie about an upset stomach and Kirishima offered to make tea. Which he declined, because he could take care of himself, thank you very much.

Kirishima had brought up some tea anyways, paired with some bread because it was safer not to risk upsetting his stomach anymore. Then he told Bakugou to just knock on his wall if he needed anything else, like the considerate idiot he was. He gave him a big smile before he left, one which twisted Bakugou’s stomach again, but it was also accompanied by a squeezing feeling in his chest this time. And Bakugou wasn’t an idiot, he knew these signs, when he saw them.

It could mean you have a crush, a traitorous voice in his mind whispered. Bakugou hated himself, for how much he actually considered the possibility.

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.3 - Young Yunichika

3. THIRD TOUCH

Okay maybe I’ll try doing the dialects after all. Stop me if it gets too cringe or something.

Also Yori-chan’s voice is deep

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The next day boys’ volleyball team could use the gym was Friday. Kuroba nonchalantly confirmed that on the notice board he hadn’t looked at in a long time. And so, after school on that day, as he was paying attention to Haijima’s movements, Haijima carried his bags over his shoulder and left the classroom as soon as he finished cleaning, as though he had been waiting impatiently. Kuroba also hurriedly pulled out his bag from his locker and was about to tail him, but…

“Hold on a minute. You’re going home? You’re the one on trash duty today.”

A girl from his class blocked his path and foisted two eighteen-litre drums that were used as the classroom’s trash cans onto him. To go to the garbage dump at the back of the school, he had to change into his outdoor shoes at the entrance and go outside once, which was somewhat of a bother. Plus, it was this season.

He lost a lot of time as he ran to the garbage dump and back while grumbling about the cold. Even though he had planned to follow Haijima closely after school and observe all of his actions, his plan went awry immediately. No, it’s not really a mission that needed to be carried out exactly as planned, it was just an idea to kill time——.

“You’re into some boring stuff, huh.”

He felt a sense of competitiveness, wanting to see just what kind of “non-boring stuff” Haijima, who had stated that, was doing.

Today it was the girls’ basketball team and boys’ volleyball team that used each half of the gym. As soon as he pushed open the heavy deep-blue metal doors and peeked inside,

“Dash!” “Yes!” “Next!” “Yes!”

He ended up poking his head into the middle of a flurry of enthusiastic girls’ voices.

Girls’ basketball was a major faction in girls’ athletic department, rivalling girls’ volleyball. At a quick glance, there were about twenty members in the club. It seemed that they had just finish doing dashes and were about to move onto practicing with the ball.

But at the same time, when he looked closely at the other side of the green partition net down the middle, that side of the court hadn’t even finish setting up, much less doing warm-ups.

Next to the pole used for volleyball, Haijima was putting up the net. He was wearing plain black trainers, black shorts with a florescent stripe, and long black underpants that went all the way to his ankles. Are his sneakers Mizuno? They were probably full-fledged volleyball shoes. All of them seemed quite well-worn. It might be prejudice, but he found it irritating how refined and stylish he looked, like a middle schooler from the city. But he could tolerate it because he didn’t have an idol-like face. He could see that his fingers on both hands that were tying the net’s cords were also taped today. His thumb, index finger and middle finger on both hands were taped from their tip, covering the nail, to just above the second joint.

After finishing putting up the net by himself, Haijima started running around the court. He finally started warming up much later than girls’ basketball. Along the lines, at a fixed pace, his gaze slightly lowered…by himself… Kuroba unconsciously held his breath as he watched him come and go from the other side of the metal doors.

Finishing the light jog that mixed in side stepping or something like that, he stretched carefully before pushing the cage of balls towards the end line of one end of the court. It seemed that he was going to practice serving. The line at the back end of the court was the end line.

In six-people volleyball, each position rotated clockwise once every time the team commits a side out (gaining the right to serve), the person who came to the back right became the server. The area behind the end line was the service zone (the place where you can serve). Though imperfectly, Kuroba was a member of the volleyball team, so he was at least taught the basics.

He put the ball in his left hand, extended his arm straight before him to eye level, and stayed still for a beat. His perfectly still form was incredibly cool. He threw the ball up slightly forward with a swing of his arm and a snap of his wrist—how high was his toss? That’s right, don’t position yourself too far back from the line, he thought—he ran forward to chase after the ball and jumped, and then hit the ball with his left hand that tossed it.

A jump serve! He was surprised. He thought there were few middle schoolers who could do a jump serve unless they were a national tournament-class player.

From a high hitting position, the ball was driven in with enough force to bend his body backwards, but it was slightly too low and got caught on the net before dropping down to his own side of the court.

However, it didn’t matter to Kuroba whether it went over or not. He was entranced, feeling like he was shown something very high level. A jump serve was like spiking a ball in a serve, an offensive serve that flew into the opponent’s court with the most force. Even none of his senpais had hit one before, so this was the first time he saw one in person. Amazing, so cool…He unconsciously leaned out from behind the doors and strained his eyes to see the next one better.

Haijima himself didn’t seem pleased that it didn’t go over, and he took out the next ball from the cage while glaring at the net with a petulant face. It seemed that he planned on fetching the balls all at once after using up the balls in the cage. After all, he was “alone.”

It happened when Haijima took the serve stance once again.

“Hey hey, transfer student!”

A voice came from the neighbouring court over the partition net. He was pretty sure she was the head of girls’ basketball who was in the same class as Itoko. The other members were scattered along the wall with their towels in hand, taking a breather. With an aura of blatant annoyance rising from him, Haijima put down his left hand that holding the ball.

Basically, they were telling him to hand over the court. Come to think of it, there was no reason for the other clubs to considerately leave the spot for boys’ volleyball open, which had been neglected until now. He can easily imagine the tacit understanding that “the day we’re next to boys’ volleyball is the day we can use the whole court.” But then one day, Haijima suddenly appeared and, without even a word to his neighbors, set up the net and started practicing by himself with a face like it’s natural…The other clubs, who were under the impression that they could also use the whole court today as well stared at that with unaccepting faces…He could picture that in his mind so vividly he couldn’t bear standing there a second longer.

“You’re by yourself today too? As you can see, we’re packed like sardines over here. If you’re gonna do it by yourself, wouldn’t it be better to just do it in a corner?”

At some point, everyone from girls’ basketball gathered in front of the partition net to put pressure on Haijima.

“Hey, if you’re just playing around by yourself, then isn’t it better to go do it in a corner?” “We can practice more efficiently if we can use two courts.” “I think it’s fair if we divide the surface area according to number of members.” The group was pressing clamorously.  It was more like a group of ferocious girls than girls’ basketball. The image of a deer in Nara Park being surrounded by a herd of female African lions came to mind, but if he said that aloud, girls’ basketball would almost certainly strangle him.

Even though Kuroba was completely terrified just by looking, Haijima didn’t recoil in the slightest. He bent his chin slightly and glowered at the confronting group with narrowed eyes, as though looking down on them. Being able to take that shameless attitude in this atmosphere—are his nerves as thick as sewage pipes? No, maybe he was lacking the nerves to read the air in the first place. Yeah, I feel like that’s the case, judging by his attitude from the first day he transferred here until now.

“I can’t practice without having one side of the court. The number of people doesn’t matter. If you don’t have enough space to practice, talk with your advisor. I’m just using my rightful privilege.”

That voice, which was by no means loud but reached the ears across the space, and his standard Japanese that sounded haughty and cold compared to the local dialect, silenced the girls’ basketball club. Their complaining voices became muffled and weak, as though the volume of a TV was turned down, but they looked at each other with unaccepting faces, saying, “What’s with this kid, gives me nasty vibes…” “Why’s he actin' so high and mighty…?”

Ugh, Kuroba groaned inside his head. This was the first time he heard Haijima say a rather decently long line, but perhaps his likability wouldn’t go down yet if he didn’t speak… A sound argument was a sound argument, but the way he said it was too awful in any case.

“Hey, ya ain’t got any complaints if he ain’t alone, right?”

Even he was surprised at himself for stepping out from behind the doors and calling out to them. The girls’ basketball team looked back all at once and he flinched inwardly, but outwardly throwing out his chest to try not to give into the pressure.

“S-sorry for bein’ late…”

Even so, his face froze and his voice trailed off.

“Ain’t that Kuroba Yuni?” “Oh, Itoko’s cousin?” “Was he in boys’ volleyball?” Girls’ basketball was buzzing amongst themselves, but the one who was the most surprised might be Haijima. His brows were knitted together and he looked extremely bewildered, his face seeming to say “What the hell are you doing?”　What the hell am I doing, you ask…What the hell am I doing?

He was actually told that.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“What the hell are you doing?”

Haijima stood facing the net from court end, dribbling a ball in his left hand. The ball that bounced off the floor settled into his hand like it was sticking to it. Kuroba sat cross-legged courtside and set his bag aside. A ball had rolled within reach, so he stretched his hand and pulled it in. This might be the first time he touched a volleyball in a while. It felt somewhat ticklish.

On the other half of the court, girls’ basketball had resumed practice. He could feel the vibrations of the wild dribbling, like venting anger that had no outlet, through his bottom. Even though the gym floor was always fluffy with dustballs, it was clean now, as though it was mopped before practice. By himself…? He must have taken the time before practice started.

“I just came here to watch. The stuff I do gets called boring, so I thought you must be doin’ somethin’ fun over here. But I didn’t come here to rescue you. That was just because I felt like it. It’s not about you, it’s just that twenty against one is unfair.”

“It’s still not very reassuring even if it’s twenty against two.”

“You’re not cute at all, you know. You’ll lose friends by saying stuff like that.”

The ball that was rhythmically going back and forth between Haijima’s palm and the floor viciously hit his toes and flew in an unexpected direction. …Hmm? Was he agitated just now?

With a sour face, Haijima took out another ball from the cage. After lightly bouncing the ball, he placed his left hand on it and extended his arm directly in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and stared intensely at the point beyond the ball. The rite of mental concentration was not long. It was about a second in time. He turned it with one hand and released a high set. Chasing his own set, he ran three steps, sank his knees deeply and jumped. Nimbly warping his body like it was a bow made of supple wood, he bent himself into the “ku” character and at the same time, swung his left hand with all his strength. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure he held the chalk in his left hand when writing on the board in class as well.

When the ball was precisely caught in the air and a hearty “bam” sound burst out, Kuroba let out a cheer. This time, it was a sharp serve that passed over the net and pierced into the other end of the opposing court. Oh. He might not be that agitated after all.

“That was amazing! You can do jump serves! I only saw those on TV.”

He imitated him by tossing up the ball in his hand and hitting it, but he didn’t feel like he could hit it like Haijima at all. Even though he praised him honestly, Haijima didn’t even look flattered in the least.

“I did nothing but this for three weeks, so I’d be in despair if I didn’t get even a little better. Also, I still can’t use it in a game unless I increase my accuracy more.”

“Only serves? Why?”

He got glared at when he asked that without thinking. He was just told by Yorimichi that his tendency for asking questions was annoying.

“It’s the only thing you can do with just one person.”

“Oh...” Kuroba was speechless after letting that out.

Haijima was doing this because he wanted to, so there was no reason for him to feel guilty, but he still did. Mopping the floor, putting up the net, warming up all by himself…then, practicing serves, using up all the balls in the cage and fetching them, and then doing serves again, all by himself…putting down the net, cleaning up, and then going home by himself. “What you’re doing seems fun.” ——It can’t be fun at all. What’s more, if he was doing it alone, then he was constantly being pressured to give up his spot by the neighboring court.

He rewound the conversation in his head and played it. “It’s still not very reassuring even if it’s twenty against two.”

He put the ball on the floor and used it like a prop to stand up.

“…I don’t have a jersey, but I can join you if you want. I came all the way here, and I don’t have any plans with Yori-chan today. I suck, though. I might not make a good practice partner. If it’s better for you to do it alone, then I won’t come again.”

While bending and stretching in place of warming up, he piled on the extra words like excuses. His ears were subconsciously prepared for another “What the hell are you doing?” When he finally did some back-bending exercises, he peeked at Haijima’s face as he got back up. No doubt, he’s looking down on me—

Haijima was looking at him with his narrow eyes opened so widely that it made him wonder if that was as far as they could go. He could see something wet at the back of his eyes—Huh, was he crying? I didn’t say anything bad, though? I was confused for a moment, but no—?

It was light. There was a feverish light glittering in his eyes, which you couldn’t feel something like temperature from as they were obstructed by the lens of his glasses. Like an elementary school boy who got excited about the moving life-sized Tyrannosaurus robot at the dinosaur museum he visited for the first time.

“Wh-what the…”

It was so different from his impression of him until now that it felt somewhat creepy.

“Wait. I’m getting my contacts.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’ve been by myself after all, so I’ve actually been slacking. Also…”

He thought Haijima had turned towards the door, but he stopped for a moment and turned back, then pointed at Kuroba’s face, who was standing in place with his enthusiasm dampened. He left with high-handed words.

“The way you warm up is no good at all. We’ll have to start over from stretching. Wait here.”

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