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mxliv-oftheendless · 4 years ago

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Twist of Fate, Chapter 4

You GUUUUUUUYYYSSS!!!! I FINISHED WRITING THE WHOLE THING!!! GO ME!!! I can’t believe I did it, holy shit. I am so proud of myself right now. And it’s great for you guys because that means more frequent updates!!! Starting with this one! Hope you enjoy! Tagging @cosmicrealmofkissteria and @tanookiroxx. Read on!!

In which unpleasant memories are forced to mind, and Starchild makes either a huge mistake… or a huge leap forward.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The days went on, and soon it had been a full week since the KISSterians arrived on Jendell. Starchild spent most of his time in meetings when his presence was required, and when he wasn’t in meetings he went off by himself to read or draw, or spending time with Ace, Amalthea, his mother, or Tomaziel.

Though with Tomaziel he could never spend as much time with him as he wanted. Being the aide to the King meant Tomaziel was off performing duties and taking care of things when he wasn’t sitting in on the meetings, and so they weren’t able to interact very much. But whenever they did find time to interact, Starchild found he greatly enjoyed it. The Jendellian had a surprisingly good knowledge of politics, which lead to them having often long discussions about the meetings taking place and what they meant for the future of the alliance between KISSteria and Jendell.

Apart from that, Starchild also noted how Tomaziel never minded when he began to passionately ramble about something. Instead, he listened, even contributing when he could. The first time it happened, Starchild stopped in the middle of his spiel when he realized Tomaziel was probably bored and laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he felt his face flushing, “you probably are bored by what I’m saying…”

But Tomaziel only shook his head. “No, not at all. Keep going; you have me interested.”

The fact that he didn’t mind contributed to the easy feeling Starchild felt when he was with Tomaziel. He just couldn’t help but feel incredibly comfortable around him, and like he could tell him anything. He sincerely hoped Tomaziel felt the same.

Starchild sighed as he realized his thoughts had drifted yet again. He couldn’t do that… especially not now.

He was sitting in the meeting hall and watching with dread as he watched a debate slowly spiral out of control. Senators and Councilmen were firing back at one another, each side growing angrier the longer it was drawn out. Starchild couldn’t even begin to summarize to himself how it had begun, because frankly he wasn’t even sure of that himself—all he knew was that one moment they had all been sitting and listening to Councilwoman Payne present her points for consideration, and suddenly there was a heated debate happening. The Elder was sitting and watching with a fairly neutral look, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she stood to dispel everything.

He sighed and turned to Ace, who was watching the debate with a similar look of dread. “How did this happen, again?” he asked quietly.

Ace shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he muttered back. “I think it was because Councilwoman Payne said something Senator Balem took issue with?” He sighed. “It’s always Senator Balem… I can’t even use the word “outraged” now because he took all the impact out of it.”

Starchild chuckled. “At least they aren’t shouting at each other.” His mind couldn’t help adding on, Yet…

“Yeah, that’s good, at least. Oh, speaking of good things.” Ace leaned over to him, smiling. “You remember how I said Monique wanted to meet you?”

“How could I forget when I’ve been waiting for her to find me all week?” It was true; whenever he had the chance, he made sure he was in obvious places—the Garden Dome, the library, etc—so Monique would have an easier time trying to find him.

“Well, I had a talk with her governesses—turns out she kept trying to sneak away all week but kept getting caught. So we came to a little agreement: if Monique stays on her best behavior all day today, she can join me, Amalthea, you and the Elder for lunch tomorrow.”

Starchild smiled. “That sounds great. I can’t wait to finally meet her.”

“Oh, neither can she,” Ace chuckled. “Just wait; when she sees you, she’ll be starstruck.”

“Pun intended?”

“Pun intended.”

They both laughed… and that was the only little reprieve they got before a sudden shout made them look up. The Senators and Councilmen were now on their feet, and a man with slicked back dark hair and a pale face was shouting at Councilwoman Payne. “Your words are filthy lies and absolute slander!”

Ace sat forward. “Senator Balem, there is no need to accuse Councilwoman Payne of slander,” he said, in a voice that was calm yet stern.

“I am sure Councilwoman Payne did not intend to do so,” Starchild added. He turned to Councilwoman Payne. “Did you, Councilwoman Payne?”

“I promise you, my Prince, I did not,” Councilwoman Payne insisted. She glared at Senator Balem. “It’s him who’s accusing me of such things!”

“That is a lie!” Starchild actually jumped at how loud Senator Balem’s voice became. “This woman slanders the good name of Jendell, and I am outraged she would do so!”

Councilwoman Payne’s glare turned deadly, and Starchild quickly stood up to give Senator Balem a warning look. “Senator, that’s quite enough. I will not have you throw baseless accusations at a member of my Council. If we could all calm ourselves and return to—”

“How dare you call it your Council, boy!” Senator Balem suddenly rounded on him, face blue with rage. “As if you run it! You aren’t fit to run it!”

Ace stood up, frowning. “Senator Balem—”

The Senator ignored him and continued shouting. “All you are is a spoiled, puffed-up prince who cares more about a trivial music group than serving his realm! Your façade has fooled no one from the moment you displayed your ignorance at the simplest of matters! You may be grown, but you are nothing more than a CHILD!”

Starchild had at one point opened his mouth to defend himself, but as Senator Balem continued his raving, he was reduced to staring dumbly at him. But the last few words he screamed at him… he might as well have punched Starchild in the face.

“Enough!”

Everyone froze as the room suddenly went dark. The lights dimmed, and a powerful gust of wind whipped through, even though there were no windows. The Elder had risen to her feet and was holding her staff out in front of her, her markings glowing a dangerous purple.

“This meeting has descended into madness!” Her voice boomed around the room. “Such anger-fueled debates do nothing to strengthen this alliance! We shall reconvene after a twenty-minute recess so that everyone may calm themselves,” here she glared directly at Senator Balem, who to his credit had been shocked speechless, “and after which Senator Balem shall apologize for his childish behavior and insults to the Prince of KISSteria!”

Then she pulled back her staff, and the purple of her markings began to fade. The wind died down, and the lights turned bright again. But before anyone could say anything, the Elder looked around at them all with a look that dared any of them to argue. “Twenty minutes,” she repeated. Then with a sweep of her cloak, she turned on her heel and left out the door.

The Senators and Councilmen quickly dispersed amongst themselves, talking in shock about what had just occurred. Starchild stood frozen, his head bowed and his fists clenched. His mind kept repeating the words Senator Balem had hurled at him.

Ace reached out to nudge his shoulder in concern. “Starchild?”

Without a word, Starchild turned and walked quickly out the door. He couldn’t stay in this room; he had to get out of here.

Unfit. Spoiled. Puffed-up. Ignorant. Child.

You are a child.

-JENDELL-

He finally found a bench far enough away from the meeting hall and sat down heavily. He sat back against the wall and looked down at the floor.

This was ridiculous. He’d come too far to have his confidence shattered by a few simple words. That wasn’t growth or improvement—it felt more like regression. He couldn’t regress, not after so many years of trying.

But not everyone had seen those years of trying. To everyone outside his Inner Circle, Senator Balem was probably right—he probably looked like he had abandoned his realm in favor of going to Earth. No matter how many years he had spent trying to improve himself, everyone probably still saw the impulsive, naïve, idealistic person he’d been before.

Starchild sighed frustratedly. He hadn’t even defended himself. When would he be able to defend himself against people like that?

“Is everything all right?”

Starchild closed his eyes at the voice. He couldn’t… not right now. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just… he couldn’t. Not when he had practically fled the meeting hall in embarrassment.

And yet he opened his eyes and turned his head anyway. There was Tomaziel, standing there and looking at him in concern.

“No,” his voice came out quiet. “No, everything is not all right.”

Tomaziel sat down beside him. “I’m so sorry that happened,”

“You don’t have to apologize, Tomaziel,”

“I feel as if I do. Senator Balem has a habit of screaming nonsense when he works himself up into a rage.” If only it was just nonsense. “I’m sorry his words were so hurtful.”

“They’re the truth,”

Tomaziel blinked and frowned at Starchild’s quiet words. “What do you mean?”

Starchild’s eyes turned down to the floor again. “What he said… they’re the truth… partially. What he described is everything I don’t want to be anymore.” His fingers dug into his arms as he hugged himself. “Do you remember how I told you about that one day, when I was a child, and how I drew a picture of the roses in the gardens?”

Tomaziel nodded. “Yes,”

“The whole reason I did it was because…” he suddenly trailed off as he realized what was happening. He was about to tell Tomaziel, a person he had only interacted with for a week, everything. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t put a burden like that on a friend. Even if he did feel like he could tell him, he didn’t know how Tomaziel would react.

But then Tomaziel leaned closer. “Starchild?”

Starchild had to close his eyes again. Why did he like hearing his own name coming from Tomaziel’s mouth?

There was no going back now. So he swallowed and continued. “It was because I was all alone. No one to talk to, no friends to play with… Sometimes I wished I had a brother, or something, just so I wouldn’t have to be so alone. And then… then I grew up into everything Senator Balem described. I was emotional, and idealistic, and… and so naïve. I made decisions before I thought them through. I never listened to anyone. And I did leave my realm, so I could go to Earth with my friends and form KISS.” Here he briefly looked up at Tomaziel, hoping and praying he would understand. “I’m trying to be better. I’m trying so hard…” Oh Gods, was he going to cry? “I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to be someone who doesn’t love himself, o-or even respect himself, enough that he knew he wasn’t happy being with the person he was with anymore but stayed anyway. I’m still trying so hard to be better, and where I am now, I’m so much happier than I was before. But to have it all thrown in my face that people still think I’m that person…” He closed his eyes and looked down. He couldn’t cry. Not in front of Tomaziel.

“Starchild…” he glanced up and found Tomaziel looking at him… incredibly gently. “I don’t think you are that person anymore. No one does. Senator Balem, he’s… he’s everything you don’t want to be, but he’s worse. He lives in his own little bubble, where everyone thinks the same way as him. But he’s the only one who thinks the way he does. Everyone else can see you are no longer that person.”

Starchild fully turned his head to look up at him. “You really think so?”

Tomaziel nodded sincerely. “I do. It’s an admirable thing to want to change and grow as an individual. And I’ve heard the acknowledgement of faults starts one on the path to mending them. And really…” Starchild suddenly became aware of how close their hands were on the bench. His heart began to beat a little faster. “I think accepting oneself is incredibly brave.”

For a moment, Starchild couldn’t speak. “… Do you mean that?” Why had his voice gone quiet again?

Tomaziel gave another sincere nod. “I do,”

After another moment, Starchild hesitantly smiled. “Thank you, Tomaziel. Really… That means a lot to me.”

Smiling back, Tomaziel replied, “Of course. I saw you leave the room and… I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Sitting up, Starchild took a deep breath and blew it out. “I think I will be now.” He gave Tomaziel a grateful look. “Thank you for coming after me.”

“You’re welcome.” They both stood up. “Are you all right to go back? I think the twenty minutes the Elder dictated are almost up.”

“… Yes, I am.” He pushed the thought of As long as it’s with you out of his head and smiled jokingly. “Even if I wasn’t, we should still probably get back. The Elder would be cross with us if we were late. Besides, Senator Balem is supposed to apologize and I would like to see that.”

Tomaziel chuckled as they set off down the hallway. “So do I. Senator Balem has hardly ever apologized unless the King orders him to.”

Starchild gave a laugh. “How is he even a Senator?”

The aide could only give a shrug. “Despite his anger problems, he does have a very good head for inter-realm trade.”

“Such is the way with politics,”

“It seems that way,”

They looked at each other, then smiled and began to laugh again.

-JENDELL-

The meeting reconvened and Senator Balem did indeed apologize for his disrespectful behavior, to both Starchild and Councilwoman Payne. No doubt Ace had reprimanded him as well. Either way, Senator Balem looked properly scolded, and after the two accepted his apology the meeting continued with no other incidents.

That night, when Starchild turned out his lights and got into bed, he let his hand drift down under his blanket. After a whole week of so many meetings and so many people with only chunks of the days to himself, he needed some form of relief.

Starchild threw back his head and moaned in pleasure as he worked himself over. It had been odd and awkward at first to pleasure himself. But he was used to it now, very used to it. And he knew what to do to make it feel good, and how to be good to himself.

“It ain’t a crime to be good to yourself!” flashed in his head and he let out a laugh into the darkness of his room. The words were true.

His pleasure rose higher and his hand moved faster. Closer and closer… And suddenly images flashed in his head—images of a man with dark hair and a white face with silver markings and brown eyes—oh, what beautiful eyes—lit up in a fire of pleasure. His dark hair fell beautifully around his face as he threw back his head in a cry of ecstasy.

And then Starchild tumbled into his climax. He groaned happily and relaxed into the sheets, stretching out in bliss. This was exactly what he needed. And as he floated in his sweet haze his mind just barely caught him moaning out a name.

“Tomaziel…”

#Shandi's KISSteriaverse #twist of fate #no i totally didn't base senator balem off of balem abrasax from jupiter ascending lol #just kidding i totally did #the elder shutting shit down is also totally inspired by gandalf and his ability to do that #because for some reason i love elderly badasses lol #also i don't wanna spoil anything here in the tags but UM #YEAH. THAT HAPPENED.#are you shocked? GOOD.#spacechild #kiss au writing #my writing #hope you enjoyed!#stay tuned for chapter five!

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barksbog · 5 years ago

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frequently sent anons and stuff

gonna answer some thing people keep asking me or keep getting wrong or i just really feel are important to know

(i have a faq but we all know what tumblr mobile be like)

how did you become a plush making gremlin?

always loved plushies and weird creatures

learned how to make plushies on The Internets

took some commissions for custom ones (did not enjoy that too much)

started to sell my own designs

here we go

^most professional image that exists of my face.

whole lot more under the cut

1. business/onlineshop related

Do you take commissions? I don´t really open for regular comissions.

i sometimes accept “sponsorships” of stuff that fits with my other work. especially if it´s just a recoloring of an existing pattern (like a different species of slug or toad for example).

will you sell more of this plushie?

if it´s still in the online shop but listed as out of stock the answer is most likely yes. it takes me a while tho because i really do make each one myself. this is a one gremlin operation.

i really wanted to get one of your microraptors, spinosaurs (or any other dinosaur plushie)? will they come back?

sorry they really won´t. neither will i restock any of the dinosaur charms, pins and stickers once they sold out. for a good amount of reasons i have decided to leave paleoart behind. as cool as dinosaurs are. i like my mental health more.

i feel like everyone who witnessed the level of drama coming from certain members of the paleo community understands completely what i mean and while i know you can create paleoart and just reduce interaction to a minimum i like to be active on social media and discord servers relevant to what i do.

do you ship to ...

yes. yes i ship worldwide.

does that plushie really cost 30,000€?

no my likely american friend. it´s 30.00€ we just use commas here and so does my shop when set to €. i can´t set it to $ because i need to pay my. everything. in € and honestly don´t want to constantly gamble on the current exchange course being steady so i actually get my money. paypal will let you pay in your currency tho and just send me €.

i tried to contact you and you didn´t respond?

-if you contacted me like “hey” or “hey i have a question” i´m unlikely to have the energy to respond. please always contact artists with what you want to know

-i have answered that question a lot before or it can easily be answered by looking at my onlineshops faq

-you sent me an anon about a order. i can´t help you there

-if you have order related question it´s best to email me through the contact form of my onlineshop. if you just email my business mail it often ends in spam and i don´t see if for a few weeks.

2. sewing/plush making related

Where do you get that fabric? how does that happen to have toads on it?

i get it custom printed by spoonflower (they have a factory in the US and in Germany). i design it in photoshop and just upload it and they print it for me. they can be a bit slow. or just send you a meter of middle earth for no reason. or print a meter half black for no reason but overall their quality is great and so is their customer support when they do mess up.

a few tips i have are:

- the minky piling runs from the top down.

- you can design meters even when it says and displays yards in the preview, just check if it´s set to meters when in the basket before checkout.

- never set anything to center and order more than one meter, it will be printed once in the middle and leave you with a bunch of white useless minky.

- if you don´t want to wrangle 4 meters of fabric apart just keep adding One meter of the design at the time and you will get precut meters.

where did you learn to sew? how do i learn to sew?

I had a very basic crafts class in school with a shitty teacher that told me that “i´m sloppy and Can Not Sew” but really everything useful i ever learned i learned from The Internets so just go and look for some free patterns and tutorials and you are good to go. after trying a few patterns you will get a feeling for how plushies work and can combine what you learned. it´s really just like when you learn to draw and break things down into shapes.

if you have some questions or things you can´t figure out or just want to talk about crafts i run a really nice server with palaeoplushies

https://discord.gg/Cqwq4r3

what´s it like to run a business with 21?

stressful. i´m not always sure what i´m doing. but i´m doing it. and i believe in you, you can do it too. there is a 10kg bag of stuffing and a 25kg box of beans in my room. i have a whole huge sorting box full of eyes.

you are doing this fulltime? that´s really cool

yes i do this fulltime However. i really wish i could have a sidejob but i can´t because i have a funky brain and migraines so i really can´t find or keept almost any job.

^me doing my job.professionally. my job being. turning the fricking frogs gay.

3. personal.

so you are australian, how are the kangaroos?

No. Stop. I´m austrian. i don´t even know if you are joking or for real. just don´t.

so you are german? you speak german right?

again. i´m austrian. yes we speak german here but a different dialect so i likely don´t sound like the germans you have heard in movies. in fact the majority of germans will not even understand me.

can you stop complaining about the weather?

yes i complain about heat because. i´m heat sensitive. also because i´m actually an Alpine Gremlin and shouldn´t be subjected to temperatures over 30°C. our house doesn´t have AC. i work in here all day at 28°C room temp and with high humidty.

yes i complain about the cold too. because our house is old and badly insulated and i have to carry in firewood in laundrybaskets to feed to an old woodburner and it sucks. our house frequently falls down to 16°C.

so there is a spelling mistake?

yes i make a lot of spelling mistakes. or just switch out whole words. or forget whole words. unless it´s something important like a salespost please just don´t point that out constantly. like mentioned before i have a funky brain and it just be like that. also like mentioned before. i´m austrian. english is actually my second language so. be nice.

way too long list of spire fun facts:

i´m nonbinary and use they/them pronouns. i´m also very gay.

if you see me refer to “my wife” that´s the moon. i´m legally married to her. i really like dramatically standing on my balcony and looking at her.

if you see me yell about “the lesbians” that´s my mourning geckos.

i have 13 furbies. and you have no right to insult them. they are baby.

i also have a lot of skulls and other dead things

I´m autistic and come with some extra dyslexia, depression and anxiety.

i also come with intense migraines that can make me useless for a solid week

i live in a village surounded by woods with less than 200 people

i did spent a lot of time in vienna for 6 years tho and lived there for three of that 6

i actually have a diploma in graphic design. that i don´t really need for anything but winning argument about aesthetic choices or making jokes

yes. i am kinda short. (162cm/5.3ft)

i have two cats. they are littermates tho. so i get some people have a hard time telling it´s not just the same cat. i swear they are two different cats tho and actually really easy for me to tell apart.

milk belongs in tetrapacks. not jugs. fight me

tapirs are nasty creatures

krampus comes on the 5th or 6th of december. stop calling him the christmas devil you fools. my source? growing up with the krampus tradition.

you know what happens on the 24th tho? me. that´s my birthday. and that is in fact austrian christmas day. all christmas happens that day. if you wish me merry christmas before happy birthday i will never forgive you.

i really loved balto as a child. the dingo pictures version tho. i was enraged when i saw the ofiicial balto because i thought they stole it from dingo pictures. i watched a lot of dingo pictures and that´s why i´m Like This

^my lovely wife

if you see me rambling in the tags. generally i´m. okay. you don´t have to worry but if you relate or just feel like talking to me? you can dm me and i have actually made friends like that before so.

if i don´t respond to your dms or asks it´s not because i don´t like you i just have very low social energy most days

and finally.

if you think me and @palaeoplushies are the same person we have a legal right to your soul and your favorite child for our Collection

we prefer none human children tho

(i´m sorry for tagging you. and making you scroll through like “wtf is spire taggin me in now again” but it would have felt weirder not to let you know about the future souls i´m sending your way)

#in short.#i´m trying but i´m just a little gremlin #if that gave you more questions than you had before #rip. but also you can still just anon them. i actually like getting anons #i just have low energy to answer the same questions over and over #so i just leave them sitting there to marinate in my inbox forever #text post #faq #really no one asked for this but here we go #if you actually read that whole thing you are entitled for a refund of your time #however i don´t refund time #i´m sorry #i think my theme doesn´t display lists as lists so that will be fun for you #again sorry but also #no one forced you to read my resume #also idk if my face was relevant but that´s the most professional image i own

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kiruuuuu · 7 years ago

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Yet more Montagne/Bandit in which Bandit turns into a hissy cat and goes mountain climbing (thank you @zer0kaji 💝) because @magehir requested Bandit being jealous. This is a two-parter, with the second part coming (heh) either tomorrow or the day after! (Rating T, humour/fluff, ~2.3k words)

Montagne is talking to Fuze.

It’s a bit like looking into a mirror and Bandit decidedly doesn’t like what he’s seeing: the Uzbek’s resting bitch face not moving an inch as the tall Frenchman cheerily chews his ear off, both of them eating lunch away from everyone else at the end of one of the tables in the canteen, away from both the GIGN and the Spetsnaz, oddly enough. Normally, all the Russians stick together like mutated glue in that it can drink, hurl insults and laugh deafeningly, so seeing only one of them is decidedly strange. A little like spotting a lone porkling in the wild, even with the authenticity of a threat attached to it: the looming danger of its mother bursting out of the nearest shrub to smash faces. Still, Tachanka’s booming voice is directed at only two of his boys today.

He sits down and watches the odd couple suspiciously while pretending to be interested in whatever lame story Blitz is trying to tell him right now, nodding and huffing at the correct moments yet his gaze unwaveringly fixed on a vaguely uncomfortable-looking Fuze opposite of a smiling Montagne. It’s probably how Bandit looked in the beginning whenever the Frenchman (his lover, he corrects himself, still stunned at this reality, and barely manages to suppress a cringe when his brain helpfully supplies: his boyfriend) initiated a conversation with him: pained, disbelieving, sometimes even annoyed. He knows now it mostly stemmed from embarrassment upon Montagne knowing about some of his weaknesses while all Bandit had heard about his tall colleague was praise upon praise, so there was a certain power imbalance with which he was far from alright. It didn’t matter that Montagne didn’t know any details, him simply choosing to keep him company because he sensed Bandit needed it was enough.

So now he’s squinting at Fuze. Because he looks exactly like Bandit used to and hey, where did he end up? In Montagne’s bed. Faint nausea rolls over him and destroys what little appetite he initially had and with it gone, nothing keeps him at the table anymore. Ignoring Blitz’ questions as he wordlessly gets up to leave, he squeezes in past Montagne, drags his chair unnecessarily close and presses his side against his lover’s while fixing Fuze with a cool gaze which is returned just as coldly. “Hey”, he says and does his best not to sound bitchy right away because he’s not, definitely isn’t, merely curious, “what are you two talking about?”

Montagne remains blissfully oblivious to the glare the other two are exchanging and answers readily with a self-deprecating chuckle: “I was just telling him of my days as a piano player and before you ask, no, I never really got any good at it.”

Oh. Bandit didn’t even know he used to play the piano. But now Fuze knows and he even knew before him and his eyes narrow further. “Interesting”, he says neutrally, “I wanna get a soda, want to come with me?”

Under all other circumstances, Montagne would jump up immediately at the mere mention of soda – it’s his guilty pleasure (well, one of them, since Bandit supposes he counts as one) and he’s enthusiastic about doing anything as long as it can be done in Bandit’s presence… only right now, he hesitates. Throws a questioning glance to Fuze who looks like he literally couldn’t care any less about them leaving. “I’m not done eating though, can’t you -”

“No. Let’s go.” And as Bandit rises, basically dragging Montagne with him, he thinks he sees Fuze’s lips twitch.

“Why are you talking to Fuze?”, Bandit demands to know once they’ve arrived at the vending machine stocked with a wide variety of unhealthy, fizzy drinks which make Bandit’s stomach hurt and his belches smell terrible.

“Didn’t you hear? He had a fight with Alexsandr yesterday and it was so bad they’re not on speaking terms right now. And since the other two basically worship the ground Alex walks on -”

“That still doesn’t answer my question”, he insists, much to Montagne’s surprise. Bandit rarely pries and hardly ever shows any interest in other people’s personal affairs.

“I didn’t want to leave him sitting all alone. Alex is not going to get mad at me for it and everyone deserves some company, don’t you think?”

This is when it hits him. Montagne is a fucking bleeding heart. He sees stray dogs and adopts them, just like he adopts stray operators apparently – this explains why there was a phase in which Montagne hung around with Mute, right in the beginning when the young Englishman made next to no attempts to befriend anyone.

Another revelation dawns on him. Does this mean -

“Am I a fucking charity case?”, he wants to know disgustedly. “Is that what this is?”

Montagne seems thoroughly confused now which is understandable as Bandit might potentially be jumping to conclusions faster than Montagne can watch. “Dom, please, what are you talking about?” Trying to put it into words would make him seem not only insane but also bitter, so he decides not to elaborate despite the nagging feeling gnawing at him. He mutely turns to the machine, punches a number in without looking and shoves a few coins into the slot, only to be graced with a can dropping filled with stuff he can’t stand. Worst of all, Montagne knows this. For a few seconds, Bandit tries to make the soda spontaneously combust with the force of a dark look alone while Montagne probably regards him with this stupid fucking look he often gets when he thinks Bandit is being unreasonable and he is not, thank you very much, far from it because what if it’s all over once Montagne deems him integrated enough, just like he did with Mute once he befriended the disaster that is the rest of his team, and Bandit’s hands are getting cold now from holding the can and all he wants to do is punch Fuze’s ugly face in.

“Talk to me”, Montagne asks softly in that tone of voice which conveys he’s not going to judge and Bandit hates it because he never does. He doesn’t judge. He never discards Bandit’s mood swings as unreasonable or immature.

“Why do you like me?”

The words leave his mouth faster than he can scold himself for even thinking them yet they hit their mark, smooth Montagne’s expression because now he knows what he’s dealing with and can react accordingly. Regardless, his answer is not very reassuring: “I don’t know.”

“Wow”, Bandit replies sarcastically. Way to fill him with confidence.

“I wasn’t finished.” Smiling, Montagne mercilessly exploits his weakspot by reaching up to lightly scratch his beard, card his fingers through the coarse hairs and reduces Bandit to an almost-drooling mess in seconds. “I don’t have a simple answer for you, I’m afraid, but I just know that I do. Every room feels different to me when you’re in it. Watching you fall asleep next to me, on me, in my arms, has become the highlight of my day. And I’m happy about every second I get to spend with you. I can’t put into words why, though.”

Bandit blinks at him, pleasant sensations washing over him and making both his anger and his worry disappear effortlessly. He tries finding an answer for himself, why exactly he adores this man in front of him so much, yet only comes up with an earth-shattering feeling of deep-seated affection with which he’s afflicted in moments like these. Because you’re you, he thinks and leans into the gentle strokes over his cheek. “This is unfair”, he mumbles, making Montagne snicker and pull him into a quick hug he allows only because they’re half-hidden behind the vending machine. “You can have my fucking soda if you want it.”

“Gladly”, Montagne replies, amused, takes it and holds Bandit’s hand until it’s warmed up.

Montagne is talking to Fuze. Again.

They’ve just finished their physical training for the day, jumped, climbed and crawled their way through an obstacle course, ran until their muscles were on fire and even had to swim. Bandit doesn’t mind the exertion as it more often than not allows him to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep later yet he can’t deny he’s starting to feel his age – especially when he watches Rook ace the course with ease. He used to be very agile and extremely good at running but lost his touch a little (and if that isn’t ironic because running is most of what he seems to do these days), often lying to himself about picking up jogging again despite never following through. Right now, he’s comfortably exhausted and looking forward to maybe trading massages with Montagne, possibly dozing off to his broad hands kneading his shoulders and the thought alone makes a fluttery feeling rise in him.

Then he spots them, off to the side, Fuze actually having taken off his shirt and wiping his sweat off with a towel while Montagne talks at him with an oblivious friendliness – seemingly unaware of the way the Uzbek displays the muscles on his strong frame. But Bandit notices. Oh does he notice. He storms over with a scowl and just barely resists colliding with Montagne, keeping the momentum going and simply dragging him off.

“- more flexible, I’d suggest stretching regularly as it does indeed help”, the Frenchman finishes his sentence just as Bandit arrives and what. What kind of topic -

“Are you talking about how Fuze can’t even scratch his own back without dislocating half of his limbs?”, he butts in, shooting Fuze a dark look and earning a vaguely pained one from Montagne in return.

“Not everyone can be a lanky piece of shit like you”, Fuze replies politely.

“Being thin doesn’t have anything to do with being flexible”, Montagne interjects but stops talking as soon as Bandit starts bending his body to prove a point, reaching over his shoulder with one arm and around his back with the other, effortlessly hooking his fingers together. He does not miss Montagne’s intrigued expression and preens under his gaze, shows off a few more things and ignores Fuze’s growing amusement.

“Seems like those yoga lessons really paid off. Though you don’t seem all that enlightened to me.”

“You shut your whore mouth”, Bandit hisses and doesn’t manage to get the reactions he’s hoped for as Fuze is starting to grin now and Montagne looks almost shocked.

“Dom, if you’re tired, maybe you should call it a day”, he suggests hesitantly and it’s very clear he’s trying to keep the conversation civil.

A thought occurs to him and instead of protesting vehemently, he nods. “You’re right, I’m absolutely knackered, I can barely stand. Oh God am I tired. How am I even still awake?” He leans against his lover with enough force to make him take a step back, then swoons dramatically to which Montagne, as expected, puts his arms around him. “I don’t think I can actually make it back to my room. How about you carry me instead? Would you do me the favour? Otherwise I’ll probably faint on the way.”

Concern bleeds into Montagne’s confusion and he agrees, probably wondering why Bandit won’t allow him to hold his hand in public but carrying him is somehow okay, and so Bandit climbs on him, hugs him tightly and wraps his legs around his waist possessively. After a friendly goodbye, Montagne makes his way towards their quarters and Bandit can’t help but glare at Fuze over his boyfriend’s shoulder and give him the finger.

Fuze just snorts and rolls his eyes as if Bandit was a rebelling teenager.

“Why are you still talking to Fuze?”, he wants to know later in bed and no, he’s not pouting, he’s above that.

Montagne rolls onto his side, props himself up on one elbow and smiles down at him like the benevolent being he is, even reaches out with his other hand and lets it wander over Bandit’s chest, his warm palm travelling over his ribs, his abdomen and his sides, unknowingly making something further down twitch hopefully. Despite Bandit trying to push his hand lower through mere thought, it never dips into his underwear. “I enjoy his company. He’s gruff on the outside and may favour questionable methods, but he’s a good man.”

“He’s a fucking asshole”, Bandit objects and realises too late. Once again, he’s being mirrored and he doesn’t like it in the least. “Look, I have nothing against you talking to him -”

“It appears that you do.” Montagne is still smiling, still stroking over his skin. “You don’t need to be friends with him, I don’t expect you to.”

Is that what Montagne thinks is going on? He frowns and scoots a bit closer, stretches towards the tall man with the soft eyes and lets his own fall shut when they lock lips. It helps but ultimately does little to soothe the worry eating at him, even when Montagne leans over him, a comforting weight against his body and their kiss slow and intimate. He resolves to kill Fuze should he ever ask to borrow Montagne’s jacket.

He purrs into his lover’s mouth when he’s pulled closer, his dick (which has been hard ever since they went to bed, always is, always hopes for Montagne’s touch, for more) jumping enthusiastically at the gesture but when he pushes his hands under Montagne’s shirt, he’s stopped with a touch to his wrists. “I don’t want to tire you out”, Montagne murmurs and kisses his cheek, “if you can’t even walk back to your room, you should sleep as soon as possible.”

Now Bandit is pouting, the scowl on his face fierce even when they’ve found a comfortable position to sleep in because in his head, he’s cursing Fuze colourfully. Even when he knows he basically played himself.

#rainbow six siege #montagne #bandit #montagne/bandit #fanfic #protection mountain #we have this hc that monty adopts all the special cases #please imagine bandit fuze and lion all fighting for his attention #this triggered magehir's second hand embarrassment #and I'm so proud

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virginiamurrayblog · 6 years ago

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Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career

(Photograph: iStock)

Of the many mantras Oprah, Bruce Springsteen and Louise Hay have taught me, the one I’ve repeated most often, I cooked up all on my own: I don’t deserve this. Those four words loop around my brain like an uninvited earworm, chipping away at hopefulness I’ve felt for everything from personal relationships to my career.

I didn’t always feel so unworthy. This started because, while freelance writing full-time five years ago, I tried to do the right thing. In case my name reminds you only of macaroni or Madonna Ciccone, I wrote that salacious xoJane article about Jian Ghomeshi’s predilection for subverting the personal space and safety of women, years before anyone else came forward publicly about his conduct and a criminal trial that ensued. In the article, I talk about a terrible date I went on with the former radio host, during which he aggressively touched my body without invitation. I wanted to warn other women about him, but after it was published, I was what they call “shamed”—which really felt more like career exile.

Although it was only five years ago, the overall feeling in 2013 was that you deserved what you got for speaking out against powerful men online. No one stood up for you publicly, detractors verbally bullied and threatened you, and the powers that be at social media platforms were even worse than they are now at dealing with online harassment.

What I loved about writing for xoJane—a site started by legendary Sassy founder Jane Pratt and which called itself a place “where women go to be their unabashed selves, and where their unabashed selves are applauded”—was the idea that women could talk about the things we, at the time, still weren’t really supposed to talk about in public, or at least on mainstream media platforms. There was a freedom to the content that made it exciting, and I took full advantage of the opportunity to write about everything from upper lip hair to past abusive relationships. But that unbridled freedom came at a cost, and when articles blew up in a negative way, writers were often left to deal with the consequences alone. There was no support from my editor, who at the time refused to change both the very long and very bad title given to the Ghomeshi piece and the editing errors within it, and I was attacked from all angles—Canadian media, social media and even within my inner circles. Nowhere felt safe.

Despite their mistreatment, I kept writing for xoJane. Weird, right? Not really. My self-worth had been reduced to 140-character or less insults from Ghomeshi enthusiasts and men’s rights activists. I was doing the only thing I thought myself worthy and capable of. One trusted magazine editor reached out to me—someone I had written for in the past—and told me I ought to be more selective with what I was putting online. She seemed embarrassed for me. After that, I didn’t bother reaching out to editors from other pubs to pitch stories because I was sure no one wanted anything else to do with me. I felt barely worthy of xoJane.

During the backlash, I also started behaving in ways that *would* embarrass most people—drinking often and a lot and getting into situations with men, women and strangers that could have easily turned dangerous. I also gave the universal signal of a lady going through some shit: I cut my hair off and got bad bangs.

“People can sometimes respond to trauma by engaging in reckless or self-destructive behaviour, or by acting paranoid, jumpy, irritable or aggressive,” Dr. Ellen Hendriksen, a psychologist and author of How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety, tells me over the phone while we are discussing the fallout from this period in my life. “You’re trying to manage your feelings of being betrayed or unsafe, so there’s this sense of falling apart or being damaged or broken.”

Before this happened, I had a downright plucky approach to my career. After working an editorial job at a city magazine in Calgary, I moved to Toronto in 2011 and tried my best to hustle my way through the big city and line up media work, without a clue how to do that—or the implications of being a woman trying to do that. But after that encounter with Ghomeshi in the summer of 2012, which I had gone into with networking in mind, I started to doubt the resolute approach that had gotten me where I was.

***

It takes a lot of willful passivity to protect inexcusable conduct from people in power positions. It seemed to be a laughable open secret in Toronto media that this man regularly violated and hurt women. Even a former friend of mine, who happened to be an equally powerful player in Canadian media, responded to a text about whether he was friends with Ghomeshi with, “Yeah, why did he try to fuck you? Lol.”

After writing the xoJane article and dealing with the resultant online shaming, I went from hungry to hunted, and I barely had the confidence to apply to positions I was more than qualified for, let alone boldly put myself out there. Toronto, in my mind, had become an unsafe place.

“Trauma generalizes,” says Dr. Hendriksen, “Instead of one terrible man and a few untrustworthy people, the entire city becomes evil.” Despite this, my solid experience as a writer and producer landed me a handful of interviews.

Unfortunately, more than a few of the people I interviewed with stoked the flames of my career fear. Over the phone, one woman briefly asked me about my background and qualifications, then said, “So was it true? The article. Did that really happen?” She later let me know that she couldn’t see me working at her tech company but thought that the piece was entertaining. Another potential employer had me in for an interview and asked if I planned to use my professional experiences as fodder for more pieces like the xoJane one. He also wanted to know if there was more to the story that I didn’t write—seemingly hoping for hot gossip. A different man in a one-on-one interview asked if I regretted writing the piece, and after I told him no, he patted me on the back and said, “Well, good luck.” No callbacks.

After a series of dead-end interviews and leads in Toronto, I decided to move across the country to Vancouver to write copy for a yoga pants company. It was a contract gig, and I relished the opportunity to write inconsequential words in a place where people didn’t seem to know or care about the xoJane story. When I returned to Toronto in the winter of 2015, it was long after the news broke about Ghomeshi, and the city seemed less threatening than it had before. My job search came to a sardonic pinnacle later that year, when I was invited to interview for a music writer gig at CBC Radio. Ghomeshi was out of the building by then, but CBC—and Q especially—hadn’t fully come to terms with their part in actively supporting Ghomeshi’s problematic behaviour for years.

I made my way to the interview with a strong need to prove that I still had some nerve. CBC’s Toronto HQ, which I was familiar with from working there on a contract three years before, has the tree house from Mr. Dressup on display in one of its hallways. Thoughts of Casey and Finnegan served as a comforting reminder that this company could still be and do good. I would ace this interview, get back on track in my career and everything would be ok. But when I walked through the front doors and saw red chairs in the lobby, I was reminded of Q and promptly began to hyperventilate.

I didn’t get the job—because I had a panic attack and performed terribly—but I did stay in Toronto long enough to watch the Ghomeshi trial unfold. I decided to write an essay for Chatelaine about my experience, marking a return to personal writing after over a year of silence. It was cathartic in some ways and re-traumatizing in others, because of course, I still had a great deal of detractors. Since the comments were left on, many of those detractors got to share their opinions right below my article.

Although it started out as a redemptive opportunity for his victims, the Ghomeshi trial turned out to be a permanent stain on the Canadian legal system that will forever be an example of everything wrong with the way we try sexual assault cases. The star got a slick lawyer and his accusers got the Crown. They were woefully underprepared for what would ensue. It was disorienting and painful to watch these brave women share their experiences and be torn apart for it.

It is scary as hell to call a bad man out on his bad behaviour, especially when others won’t. Before #MeToo created a movement out of believing and supporting women, those who came forward were routinely disbelieved, cast aside, laughed at, harassed and abused. Many of us are still dealing with the impact of that trauma. In fact, a common theme among of those who develop PTSD is that they often get negative reactions from those they initially share their stories with. “Regardless of the kind of trauma you’ve gone through, your first responders can make all the difference,” says Dr. Hendriksen. “If you are believed or not, or supported versus rejected, can really set the course for whether you heal naturally or develop PTSD.”

Since finding out I have PTSD, which to be honest, I genuinely didn’t know I had before I started this essay, I’ve been able to process the impact the past five years has had on my life and career in a much calmer way. I’d been struggling, even at contract gigs, to adjust to office culture—based largely on the fact that I’d been telling myself I wasn’t worthy, likeable or good. Realizing that I wasn’t always this paranoid, and that this behaviour came as a result of going through some shit, has been a relief.

I’m now freelance writing again, and currently in therapy to move on from PTSD and help build my confidence back up, career-wise. Dr. Hendriksen recommends seeking out positive experiences with people in media, to replace the negative ones I’ve had. The editors from various publications that I’m writing for have been incredibly kind and supportive, and they’re helping me shape a new, non-threatening idea of what it means to be a woman working in media. Freelancing comes with its stresses, but I’m now open to the possibility of a thriving career, which was a dream I had all but given up on a few years ago. I’ve stopped telling myself I don’t deserve a good life. It’s also probably time to revisit my beloved mantras. I’ll leave you with one from Oprah: “Self-esteem comes from being able to define the world in your own terms and refusing to abide by the judgments of others.”

Related: Eight Men and Women on Dating in the #MeToo Era Shitty Men, CanLit and the Legal Ramifications of the Whisper Network Why Margaret Atwood Is No Longer a Millennial Hero

The post Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career appeared first on Flare.

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mayphoenixfanfictions · 8 years ago

Text

Sowlmates — Chapter V

Universe: Haikyuu!!

Title: Sowlmates

Chapter: Chapter 5

Author: mayphenix

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou, OCs, Akaashi Keiji, Fukurodani, Kuroo Tetsurou, Nekoma

Pairing(s): Bokuto Koutarou x OC, Akaashi Keiji x OC n°2 (minor)

Genre(s): Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family

Overall Rating: T

Summary : Kanemoto Ayaka enters the Fukurodani Academy and joins the volleyball team as a manager. She never would have imagined what was waiting for her. The Prince Charming she had hoped for is replaced by Bokuto Koutarou, the loud and annoying Ace. Bokuto, on the other hand, pines after another girl who sends him letters. They don’t realize just how close their sowlmate could really be…

Chapter warnings/triggers: /

(This fanfic can also be found on fanfiction.net here ; I am the same author)

Table of Contents

Chapter I — Chapter II — Chapter III — Chapter IV — Chapter V

FANFICTION

HAIKYUU!! : SOWLMATES

CHAPTER V : Sowlmate

“Puns are the highest form of literature.”

― Alfred Hitchcock

“You have the rest of your lives to catch up together. After all, soulmates always end up together.”

― Cecelia Ahern

Kanemoto Ayaka was walking hesitantly, looking around at the halls that looked alike way too much. Even after almost three weeks, she still got lost on the school grounds. She only knew her way from her classroom to the restrooms and back; and the way to the gymnasium.

“I was sure it was over there…” She muttered under her breath, turning around a corner more out of confusion than anything.

Finally, she found what she was looking for: the school library. She entered it, appreciating the overall silence reigning. It was calming, especially considering that when she wasn't in classroom, Bokuto was usually being his loud and obnoxious self – she couldn't understand why he was constantly coming back to Akaashi and her's classroom. Didn't he have anyone to annoy in his own grade?

After strolling through the shelves for a while, Ayaka was now on her tiptoes, holding onto a shelf, all the while trying desperately to reach the books she wanted to grasp. Her fingers brushed the spine of the book but she couldn't pull it out. Suddenly, a large hand appeared and pulled the book easily out of its shelf. Ayaka instantly fell back down on her heels and turned around with a smile.

“Thank– AGH!” She cried, “Bokuto!” She hissed.

The much taller boy tilted his head on a side, not understanding her reaction.

Ayaka heard the librarian shushing her silent from the other side of the shelf hall, the younger girl bowed in apology before turning towards the second-year who didn't seem troubled.

“What are you doing here, Bokuto-san?” She asked him, taking the book he was handing her in her own hands.

She was surprised to see him in the library – not only it didn't suit him at all to be in such a serious place, but it was also incredibly silent. It was a shock the owl wasn't already banging his head against the books from the lack of sound. He didn't seem like the bookworm-type of person, or a studying-type either…

“I'm looking for Akaashi and I was told he was here,” Bokuto answered, “What about you?

Ah… He's not here to study then… She thought to herself without being much surprised.

“I'm here to borrow some books,” she whispered to keep her voice as low as possible.

Bokuto nodded before grinning:

“Then, I'll leave you to your books! Do you know where Akaashi is, though?”

The boy, on the other hand, didn't try to keep his voice down and the sudden, loud voice made Ayaka's body freeze, several people's heads snap up, looking for the source of the annoying voice. Once again, the angry “Shhhh” from the librarian resonated and this time, the old lady with glasses glared at the two of them.

“S-sorry…” She apologized to the librarian, bowing once again, “Bokuto-san, keep your voice down, we're in a library!” She said, almost murmuring to keep it down.

“Ah, sorry, sorry…” He said with a little laugh – he hadn't lowered his voice at all.

She glared at him but he either didn't notice her gaze or ignored it.

“I don't know where Akaashi-kun is but I'm pretty sure he won't stay for very long in the library…” She whispered, starting to advance towards the librarian to borrow the books.

“Eh? How do you know?” Bokuto asked, on her heels.

Ayaka threw him a hard look over her shoulder.

“With you here, he'll have no choice but to get out, or he'll probably be banned from ever coming back.” She said before realizing that she had – again – spoken outloud her mind.

“Uh? You mean that Akaashi will come with me? Great! I need him anyway!”

They had just arrived in front of the librarian's desk as Bokuto's voice rose once again. The librarian shot a nasty glare at Ayaka who flushed in embarrassment, bowing once again in shame.

“I-I'm sorry…” She whispered before quickly taking back the books the librarian had registered under her name.

When Ayaka turned around, though, Bokuto was gone, probably looking for Akaashi. She walked fast towards the doors to exit the library, still ashamed by his behavior but before she could make it out of the huge room, she heard the all-too-familiar voice of the owl, calling Akaashi's name a little too enthusiastically. This time, the whole library made angry shushing sounds.

The first-year sighed in relief once she was out of the library and trying to find the way back to her classroom. She glanced down at the three books she had borrowed. Ayaka would have never thought she'd ever read such books in her entire life, but it was what she was now reduced to… Two books about volleyball and sports, and the third one about owls. Bokuto didn't even notice what book he had grabbed for her but well…

During practice, one of the third-year cut himself while putting up the net. Ayaka was the one who took care of him but when she came with a band-aid, he snorted.

“I'm not putting on that thing,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the colorful band-aid.

“It's a band-aid, and you just cut yourself.”

“It's for children!” He exclaimed, sounding insulted.

“A band-aid is a band-aid, whether it looks sad or happy, it's still a band-aid…” She explained with a deadpanned expression.

The third-year stared at her before turning around.

“Yukie-chan! Do you have band-aids? Normal ones!” He exclaimed, going to the other side of the court to find the other manager.

Ayaka rolled her eyes, not noticing that a few meters away, Bokuto had listened to the whole thing. He was holding the file with last week's results, pulling up the papers one after another. He was probably supposed to read whatever was written but he wasn't – the other second and first years around him were aware of that but the Ace seemed lost in thoughts and didn't dare interrupt him – it was incredible enough that he was capable of thinking, they wouldn’t want to ruin the moment.

“AKH!” Bokuto suddenly exclaimed, dropping the file and lifting up his hand.

His finger now had a beautiful papercut after spacing out completely.

“Good job…” Komi grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Give me that thing,” Akaashi said suddenly, taking the file and turning away from Bokuto – he just couldn't handle him today after the mess he had provoked in the library.

No one seemed to mind the setter looking suddenly annoyed – or rather, annoyed enough by the Ace's antics that his tone of voice would actually reveal his annoyance.

Eyes shining, Bokuto bashfully strode towards Kanemoto, lifting up hesitantly his finger to show her his cut.

“Another injury? You have to be more careful, Bokuto-san…” She muttered, taking out the band-aid the third-year had refused earlier.

She wrapped his finger before going away to finish whatever job she had as manager.

“Bokuto! Are you ready to go?” Washio asked from afar.

Bokuto ran to them, glancing at the band-aid. Today, it was pink with cupcakes. It made him smile.

As usual, Bokuto and Akaashi remained after practice to train more, helped by Ayaka.

“Bokuto,” she called after another failure.

The two boys turned to her, taking the opportunity to have a break as she ran to her bag then back to them. She handed the Ace a few papers, he blinked curiously before looking down at the different papers.

“I did some research from books and sent an e-mail to a volleyball coach I know. He gave me an advice for mastering straights and I found the same tips in the books. Everything is explained in details with pictures on everything I wrote but…”

She showed him the little pictures she had copied from the borrowed book, added to the paper with her neat handwriting and side-notes, taking in consideration Bokuto and Akaashi's habits and abilities.

“Your hand has to get on top of the ball and you must flick your wrist down. You must hit with your whole hand and finish the swing all the way down. I've noticed that you don't always flick the wrist and mostly use your palm than your whole hand, also your swing often stops mid-way.”

She turned another paper with this time several exercises shown:

“You need to get upper body strength, so there are several exercises of bodybuilding that you can do everyday – but remember not to strain too much, you already practice a lot, so be careful. Ah, and I added some others to work on your leg muscles to increase your jumping height.”

She gave some other papers to Akaashi who looked down at the writings and figures explaining all the exercises with attention.

“I did something similar for you Akaashi, but without the straight-spike technique.”

Akaashi looked back at her, his lips opening in slight astonishment. Bokuto's eyes were wide open as he stared at the papers, reading them attentively. Ayaka looked down, joining her hands and wriggling them awkwardly.

“I know it's not much and you'll need advices from an actual coach because I won't be able to tell whether or not your forms are correct but–”

“This is amazing,” Akaashi cut her.

She looked back up at him and he smiled, nodding lightly.

“It will be very helpful. Thank you for all of your work, Kanemoto-san…”

“T-this is…” Bokuto started with an unusual low voice, “THIS IS AMAZING! This is such an amazing work, Kanasoto!! I love it! It will be… WOW! Amazing!! Just amazing!!”

“Your lack of vocabulary is amazing,” Akaashi commented.

“I-I'm glad…” Kanemoto answered, still not sure her hearing was all right after Bokuto's sudden scream.

“I'm curious, who is this coach you sent an e-mail to, though?” Akaashi asked the girl.

“Oh, Abe Osamu,” she answered.

“Abe Osamu?!” They both exclaimed in the same time, despite Akaashi's voice being smothered by Bokuto's.

“Abe Osamu as in THE Abe Osamu?!” Bokuto shrieked.

“Abe Osamu the volleyball national team's coach?” Akaashi asked with a slightly calmer voice.

“Yes, this Abe Osamu,” Ayaka answered sheepishly.

The two boys glanced at each other. They were so used to have this girl as their manager that they had forgotten her family name: Kanemoto. Her family probably knew all of the best players of the country in all sports, she could easily send a little e-mail to the volleyball national team's coach.

“I-I have to go, it's getting late… Don't strain too much! See you tomorrow!” She exclaimed before turning around and running off.

The Ace and setter looked back down at the papers between their hands, carefully written by the Kanemoto girl. She had taken the time to make research about volleyball, tips and explanation and mostly, adapted it all to their own habits. She had contacted one of the biggest names of Japanese volleyball just to help them…

“I can't believe it… she is incredible…” Akaashi murmured, blinking in disbelief as he saw how fitting these exercises were for his position as a setter.

Bokuto suddenly swung an arm around his shoulder, leaning onto him with a huge grin.

“She is, isn't she?! Didn't I say she was an amazing manager?” He exclaimed excitedly.

“You never did, but… you're right. She is a great manager – and please stop repeating 'amazing', Bokuto-san.”

“Eeeeh? But why?!”

“Because it is becoming one of my most feared word. I don't want to hear it anymore.”

“Buuut! Akeeeshi!!”

“Bokuto-san, let's clean everything up.”

Bokuto kept grumbling and whining but they quickly took care of putting everything away before going to change clothes.

“I can't wait to start this training! I'll start right away, tomorrow morning I'll adapt my morning run to have time for these exercises!” Bokuto exclaimed as he opened his locker.

“Remember what Kanemoto-san said: don't strain yourself and be careful.” Akaashi said absentmindedly, putting on a clean t-shirt.

When Bokuto remained still and didn't answer, the dark-haired boy worried. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the Ace staring down at a paper in his hands.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi called.

Suddenly the owl boy's eyes sparkling and Bokuto slowly turned around, showing a paper to his setter.

“I-I have an admirer!!” He exclaimed.

Akaashi only blinked. But Bokuto was far from being done and he started shouting:

“Look! Look! Akegashi!! Someone has put a paper in my locker to encourage me! She probably has a crush on me! I know I'm awesome but still! This is so… so…!!”

“The fact that someone entered the boys' changing-room and put something in your locker should be worrisome, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi continued, not phased by his antics.

Somehow, the paper made its way under his nose and Keiji had no choice but to read the note that had driven Bokuto so crazy.

“Bokuto-san you are the best Ace Fukurodani ever knew. You are so coo-hoo-l.” He read out-loud, sounding unimpressed before pausing, “It isn't signed, what makes you think it's a girl?”

“But! It's obvious! A girl admires me, has a crush on me but is too embarrassed to tell me about her feelings! So she is leaving a note in my locker to share how much she loves me and wants to encourage me!!” Bokuto exclaimed, a strange light shining in his eyes.

Akaashi stared at the Ace, completely done by his shouting and antics. Right now, Bokuto had wide eyes and very tiny pupils – like a cat who had gotten high on catnip…

“I need to close the changing-room, can you hurry up, Bokuto-san?” He asked, shutting out the Ace as he started rambling about this mysterious girl, talking too fast to be understood.

The next day, in the boys' changing-room…

The door opened loudly with an even louder voice suddenly reaching everyone’s ears:

“HEY! Guess who's just arrived?!” Bokuto shouted excitedly as everyone sighed.

“You seem to be in a very good mood, Bokuto, you're even more hyped than usual…” Sarukui said.

Akaashi entered the changing-room quietly, directly going to his locker to start changing clothes.

“Well! That's because I am in a very, very good mood!” Bokuto continued, with a laugh, “Do you want to know why? Do you, eh??” He asked, looking at all of his teammates.

Only Akaashi remained calm while everyone, half still in uniform, half in gym clothes, stared at their Ace curiously. Koutarou dramatically took out a paper out of his jersey's pocket and showed it around with a huge grin:

“I have an admirer!!” He exclaimed.

Silence.

“A what?” The Captain said doubtfully.

Several players laughed, trying to hide their reaction while Bokuto reacted at once:

“EH! It really IS an admirer! This girl put this love letter full of admiration and encouragement in my locker yesterday!!” He exclaimed, looking insulted by his teammates' reactions.

“I can't believe that a girl would give you a love letter,” Saru said with a shrug.

“Eh?! You can't believe it?! Well, have a look at THIS!!”

Bokuto opened the letter and threw it right under the monkey-faced boy. He narrowed his eyes before taking the letter and reading it out-loud for everyone.

“'Bokuto-san you are the best Ace Fukurodani ever knew. You are so coo-hoo-l.' …Is this a joke?”

He looked up back at the owl wearing an excited, proud grin while several players chuckled at the ridiculousness of the letter.

“That's not a love letter.” One said, making Bokuto startle.

“Maybe admiration but it sounds more like a joke…” Another remarked.

“Bokuto-san, you have to change clothes,” Akaashi reminded the Ace calmly, already wearing his gym clothes.

“But! I'm telling you! This comes from a girl! And she likes me! She wouldn't say all that otherwise!!” Bokuto exclaimed, ignoring Akaashi, and glaring at the other players for not believing him.

“I don't see how 'she' supposedly likes you from what I've read…” The libero said with a shrug.

Bokuto started hitting feverishly the letter, all the while shouting his 'explanation':

“The best Ace! The best! She wrote! It proves that she saw how incredible I am!! Also! 'coo-hoo-l'!!”

“Worst pun ever,” Konoha commented.

“It's an OWL pun!!” Bokuto shrieked, as if it explained anything.

The Fukurodani glanced at each other in slight confusion before looking back at their ridiculous Ace who continued:

“She expressed her affection for me with, not only a pun, but an OWL pun! The owl is my spirit animal! It's a sign! I love puns; she loves puns! I love owls; she loves owls! We are meant for each other!!” He shouted before gasping dramatically, putting a hand on his chest as if a sudden revelation had appeared in his mind, “W-we are… we are sowlmates!!” He proclaimed vehemently.

Everyone growled at his pun – they couldn't tell which was worse 'coo-hoo-l' or 'sowlmate'…

“Considering how terrible the puns are, they truly are 'sowlmates'…” Konoha whispered to Saru who chuckled.

“Somehow the letter went from a letter of praise to the declaration of an eternal love and the revelation of Bokuto's true love…” He answered with the same mocking tone.

“Talk about exaggerating…” Akaashi muttered, closing his eyes in despair.

“Akaashi, you don't know who put this letter in his locker?” Komi asked him, Bokuto unaware of the conversation going on in his back as he kept ranting about his newly found 'sowlmate' to whoever would listen (answer: no one).

The setter blinked before answering:

“I thought it was one of you who had put it in as a joke?”

“Uh? No way. It'd be a good prank, but there is no way we'd let Bokuto think one of us is his 'sowlmate'. It's a frightening thought…” The libero said with wide eyes and a shiver running down his spine.

“Don't tell me…” Akaashi started, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“…That he truly has an admirer who might have a crush on him…?” Konoha finished.

The second-years and the first-year setter all turned and watched as Bokuto made some sort of strange victory dance – or perhaps he was just so happy he couldn't not move around.

“No.” Konoha said, shaking his head.

“Nope.” Komi added.

“Definitely no way anyone would be stupid enough to have a crush on this bird-brain!” Saru concluded.

Only Akaashi remained silent, watching the strange Ace and his display of love for his unidentified sowlmate. If it wasn't anyone on the team pulling a prank at Bokuto (and if it was revealed it really was a prank, the Ace would be broken-hearted considering how much he now loved this letter and its writer) then… who could possibly do that? Who would admire Bokuto enough (that, in itself was quite a miracle) to the point of writing a letter including an owl-pun and putting it in his locker?

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #hq!! fanfiction #HQ!!#Bokuto Koutarou #akaashi keiji #may phoenix #may phoenix's fanfictions

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virginiamurrayblog · 6 years ago

Text

Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career

(Photograph: iStock)

***

Related: Eight Men and Women on Dating in the #MeToo Era Shitty Men, CanLit and the Legal Ramifications of the Whisper Network Why Margaret Atwood Is No Longer a Millennial Hero

The post Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career appeared first on Flare.

Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career published first on https://wholesalescarvescity.tumblr.com/

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virginiamurrayblog · 6 years ago

Text

Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career

(Photograph: iStock)

***

Related: Eight Men and Women on Dating in the #MeToo Era Shitty Men, CanLit and the Legal Ramifications of the Whisper Network Why Margaret Atwood Is No Longer a Millennial Hero

The post Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career appeared first on Flare.

Years Before #MeToo, Outing a Powerful Man for Bad Behaviour Nearly Ruined My Career published first on https://wholesalescarvescity.tumblr.com/

0 notes