#i hope the original meme is understood cause i had to change the words to fit them

[littledemo0n]

Cant wait to watch this show once i finish studies!!

[tw-anchor]

25. Bizarre and Supernatural

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x01; Tattoo

Word Count: 10,258

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, sexual themes

Author’s Note: Here’s to season three! I’m really excited about 3A and 3B because they are my personal favorites. This season we’ll see more of what Olivia is capable of, as well as her relationship with Stiles. Hope you enjoy! Reblog and like!

Masterlink is in Profile Description!

May 4, 2011

Stiles breathed heavily as he squirted some water into his mouth, finding relief from the cool liquid. The heat felt unbearable, but he kept practicing, determined to make first line for the lacrosse season next spring. Sure, it wasn't officially summer yet, but school was out, and they had time. Winning the championship game wasn't all fun and games—now he had a reputation to uphold.

Scott was certainly working him for it, too. They had already run one of the shorter cross-country tracks before heading to the practice lacrosse field, where they started doing dribbles. They were taking a quick break for water now, and then they'd start on scoring practice.

His phone beeped from his gym bag. A smile bloomed on his face when he saw that it was Olivia. She had sent some Star Wars meme with Anakin holding sand art followed by a bunch of crying emojis. How did anyone think his girl had a heart of stone?

Sweetcheeks: LOL we're still on for tonight, right?

Livvy: Yup. Dress code?

Sweetcheeks: Casual. One word—drive-in.

Livvy: Got it. I'll be ready at 4. 😊

"You're texting Liv, aren't you?" Stiles looked away from his phone at Scott's voice; he grinned guiltily.

"Sorry," he tossed the phone back into his bag.

"It's fine," Scott chuckled. "You're still taking her out for her birthday, right?"

Stiles grinned. "Do you know how wonderfully ironic it is that her birthday is on Star Wars day?"

"No."

"Of course, you wouldn't," Stiles rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm taking her to the drive-in. The original trilogy is starting at five, so we'll have time to pick up some food and head there."

Scott hummed and grinned at his best friend. Even though his relationship with Allison hadn't worked out, he was happy that Stiles and Olivia were getting theirs going. He wasn't shocked when he first saw them together the Monday back at school after everything went down, hands gripped together as they walked the hallways, but it was a great surprise. For a while there, he thought that Olivia wasn't going to acknowledge her feelings for Stiles. He was just glad she did.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Stiles eyed him warily.

"I'm happy for you, dude," he clapped Stiles' shoulder. "Your girlfriend is Olivia Martin."

"Yeah, she is," Stiles smiled goofily and took another sip of water. He set the bottle down and picked up his lacrosse stick, ready to go again. "Come on, I gotta pick Livvy up at four. Why don't you get in the goal and help me make team captain like you promised?"

Scott laughed and rolled his eyes, picking up his own stick. "Hey, you know what I just realized?" he paused, looking at Stiles thoughtfully. "I'm right back where I started."

Stiles gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean no lacrosse, no popularity, no girlfriend. Nothing."

"Dude," Stiles pushed his shoulder, causing him to stumble back. "you still got me."

"I had you before!" Scott exclaimed, using the momentum of Stiles' push to run over to the goal.

"Yeah and you still got me, so your life is fulfilled," Stiles retorted, making his way to an appropriate distance from the goal. He used his net to scoop up a lacrosse ball and got ready to try to get it past Scott. "Now remember, no wolf powers."

Scott nodded and grinned mischievously. "Got it."

"No, I mean it," Stiles pointed at him. "No super-fast reflexes, no super eyesight, no hearing—none of that shit, okay?"

"Okay!" Scott agreed loudly. "Just come on."

"You promise?"

"Would you just take the shot already?"

Stiles bit his lip and steadied his net before winding back at whipping the ball toward the goal. Just as the ball left his net, he saw Scott's eyes flash gold, so he wasn't surprised when Scott easily caught the ball.

"I said no wolf powers!"

-

"Allison, do you see what she's wearing?" Lydia complained to a very tired Allison over Facetime, flashing her phone's camera at Olivia's flowy shorts and white camisole. "She's wearing that for her first date."

Olivia scowled and grabbed the phone from Lydia so she could talk to Allison herself. "We're going to see a movie at the drive-in."

Allison yawned and apologized softly. "It looks fine," she agreed with Olivia. "What movie?"

It was late at night in France where Allison was currently living. After everything was said and done and Jackson was okay, she and Mr. Argent only stayed long enough for Allison to take her finals. They took off to France right after she turned her last test in, leaving barely enough time for Olivia and Allison to talk about their friendship.

Since Allison still didn't know that Derek bit her mom to protect Scott, the youngest Argent didn't offer an apology for hurting Derek. While it annoyed Olivia a little, she understood that Allison didn't know the whole story and could only base her feelings on what she knew. What she knew was that Derek bit her mom and her mom killed herself soon after. So, Olivia brushed it off and Allison apologized for the way she acted.

Their friendship was mended but the two of them and Lydia were disappointed that Allison would be in France the whole summer. They promised to keep in contact and Facetime, so, of course, Lydia thought it was appropriate to call and wake up Allison when she learned that Stiles was taking Olivia out for her birthday.

"Star Wars," Olivia informed her. "It's a special viewing."

"By special, she means Stiles is gonna get into her panties—"

"Lydia Grace Martin!" Olivia grabbed one of the throw pillows off her bed and whipped it at her cousin; Sirius yipped excitedly, thinking they were playing catch. Lydia laughed and Allison joined her. "I am not having sex with Stiles."

"Tonight, anyway," Allison commented slyly as Lydia crowed, "Uh-huh, sure!"

"It's my birthday and you guys are being so mean to me," Olivia whined dramatically, falling back on her bed. Sirius scrambled over to her, giving her face sweet little kisses. "Thanks, Siri, You're my best bud."

"I wanted to have a party for you," Lydia tugged her phone out of her hands. "Did you meet any cute boys yet, Allison?"

"I've been here for a week," Allison said flatly.

"I'm guessing that's a no."

"Leave her alone, Lyds," Olivia nudged the redhead as she sat back up and smushed her head against Lydia's so Allison could see them both. "Take time for yourself, Al. Be an independent woman who doesn't need a man to—"

"All right, Susan B. Anthony," Lydia cut her off, earning herself laughter from Olivia and Allison. "I'm not saying you need a man. I'm saying you want a man."

Allison laughed awkwardly. "I'm changing the subject now. What time is Stiles picking you up, Liv?"

As soon as the question was out of her mouth, they heard Natalie calling up to them. "Olivia, Stiles is here!"

"Now, I guess," Olivia told Allison, checking the time on her phone. It was 3:55; he was five minutes early. "I'll talk to you later, Al."

"Have fun, Liv! Happy birthday!"

Olivia thanked her and Lydia bid her own goodbyes to Allison before ending the call. Olivia dashed into the bathroom she shared with Lydia to check the braid that Lydia put it in while her cousin waited impatiently by her bedroom door.

"Come on, Liv."

"I'm coming," she huffed, walking out of the bathroom and to her door. When she opened it, Sirius zoomed out of the room, too excited to see Stiles. "Why does he love Stiles more than me?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Lydia shook her head in agreement. She had been so pissed off when she learned that Sirius adored Stiles more than any of his owners. Stiles made it worse when he came over, talking to Sirius in the same voice that Lydia used on him.

By the time they made it downstairs, Sirius was on his back in front of Stiles while Stiles happily petted his belly, making cure little cooing noises. Olivia would never admit it to him, but her heart melted every damn time he and Sirius were together.

"Hey!" Stiles greeted her enthusiastically when he noticed her in front of him. "Happy birthday!"

Olivia smiled at him, her cheeks flushing when he gave her a quick kiss. Usually she wasn't a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, but this was Lydia. Lydia, who would tease the hell out of her later...

"Thanks, Stiles. Are you ready to go?"

"Wait, wait," Lydia cut in, holding up her phone. "I need pictures."

Olivia sighed heavily while Stiles agreed with a smile. "You're worse than your mom, Lyds."

"Shush now," Lydia waved her off. She paused, allowing for Stiles and Olivia to arrange themselves into a picture-appropriate pose and then cheered, "Say cheese!"

"Cheese!"

Olivia's mood brightened as soon as they left her house. They chatted lightly when they went to pick up the pizza they were going to bring to the drive-in and Olivia had told him what she'd had done for her birthday. Derek had taken her and Isaac out for breakfast and then he and Peter took her out to buy her first car and presented her with a new MacBook, while Lydia and Natalie took her shopping when she got home, each of them getting some new clothes.

"How was practicing with Scott?" she asked when she was done telling him about her day and they were settled at the drive-in, waiting for the movie to start.

"It was okay," Stiles shrugged and bit into his pepperoni pizza. "I got a lot of work to do."

"You already did great at the game, so I'm sure Scott will be able to whip you into shape in no time," Olivia assured him.

"Hopefully," Stiles allowed a grin to slip onto his lips. "Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome, sweetcheeks."

They pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss, tasting pizza on each other's lips. Olivia gasped lightly as Stiles swept his tongue along the seam in her lips, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth and caress hers.

The loud billowing of the Star Wars theme made them jump away from each other. They turned to the dark screen, the light from the bright yellow scrawl illuminating their flushed faces. Olivia glanced over at Stiles as the opening theme ended, giving way to warships flying through space. She wasn't surprised to see him looking back at her.

-

-

"Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture."

The sarcastic tone seeping into Jimmy's statement made Stiles snort quietly and grin to himself. He was glad that his back was turned away from Scott as he looked at the various books full of tattoos that Jimmy had drawn up. Picturing Scott's innocent smile made him snort again as he flipped through pages of plastic sleeves, searching for anything that interested him.

The last night of summer and of course, Scott wanted to get a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, though. Scott wanted two black bands curled around his bicep. To be honest, Stiles didn't like the design but it wasn't his body so he wasn't going to say anything—but if the tattoo was as ugly as he thought it was going to be, he would probably have a hard time holding back.

Holy shit, he thought as he turned to another page.

The design took up most of the page but it wasn't the size that was shocking. It was the fact that the drawing looked exactly like the kanima that wreaked havoc around Beacon Hills the previous spring. Jimmy must have seen the kanima because he had all the details down, from the venomous claws to the long tail.

"Hey, Scott," he caught his best friend's attention as he turned to face the chair where he was seated. "you sure you don't want something like this?"

He showed Scott the kanima tattoo with flourish, amusement light his features. Scott wasn't nearly amused as he was; his excited face turned into a frown before he gave Stiles an are-you-serious look.

"Too soon?" Stiles asked needlessly as he closed the tattoo book and placed it back on the shelf it was sitting previously. "I don't know, man, are you sure about this?" he turned back to Scott. "I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"

As Jimmy started getting the ink ready to go, Scott answered, "I'm not changing my mind."

"Okay, but why two bands?"

Scott shrugged. "I just like it."

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something."

Stiles scoffed. "I don't think that's—"

"He's right," Jimmy interrupted him; Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and looked to him curiously. "Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark'. Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see?" Scott grinned smugly at Stiles, making him bristle." He gets it."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. "He's covered in tattoos, Scott. Literally."

Jimmy gave him a deadpan look before turning to Scott. "Okay, you ready? You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Nope."

As the needle in Jimmy's hand started buzzing, Stiles slowly walked over to get a better look of what was going on to Scott's arm. His stomach flipped when the needle quickly entered Scott's skin. "I tend to get a little squeamish, though, so..."

He trailed off as his vision went blurry and his limbs felt like jelly. He was out before he even hit the floor.

When he woke up, Scott's tattoo was done and he was paying Jimmy for the work. Stiles winced as he craned his neck to look around; they left him on the floor but at least they gave him a cold pack to put against his head. He groaned as he sat up, pressing the cold pack firmer against the back of his aching head. Three minutes later, they were getting into his Jeep.

Stiles blinked at his steering wheel, wondering if he should be driving right after hitting his head but was distracted by Scott's quiet groan of pain. He turned to his best friend while throwing the soppy ice pack in the backseat. "You okay?"

Scott squirmed uncomfortably and grimaced at his wrapped arm. "It kinda burns."

"Yes," Stiles couldn't believe that Scott didn't expect some pain. "you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred thousand times with a needle."

"Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this," Scott looked to Stiles for an answer; Stiles shrugged just as Scott jumped and grunted in pain. 'No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this."

"Oh, God."

Scott groaned again and reached for the gauze on his arm. "Oh, I gotta take this thing off."

"No, no, no, no, Scott," Stiles immediately protested, his stomach flipping. He gagged a little as Scott started unwrapping his arm. "Scott, please stop! Oh, gross—" he paused when he saw Scott's arm. "Woah."

The solid black bands of ink wrapping themselves around Scott's bicep were fading into angry red skin. Within seconds, Scott's arm was back to normal, like he had never even entered the little tattoo shop.

"What, come on!" Scott gasped before looking at Stiles. "It healed."

Stiles was just glad that nothing gruesome happened—and that Scott wouldn't have that ugly thing on his body for the rest of his life. "Ah, thank God. I hated it," when Scott gave him an affronted look, Stiles winced and gave a flat apology. "Sorry."

-

"You're sure that Scott won't be at Stiles' house?" Allison looked over at Olivia anxiously.

Olivia flipped on her right blinker and turned onto the highway. "I'm positive," she reassured her friend. "Stiles said that Scott was leaving at five."

"Yeah but it's Stiles and Scott," Lydia piped up from the backseat, leaning forward so she could talk to Olivia and Allison easier. "Since when do they spend a minute apart?"

"When I ask," Olivia smiled playfully, earning laughs from Allison and Lydia. "I told Stiles that we were going out with you guys tonight, so..."

"Stiles has a brain in that big head of his," Lydia said. "I'm sure that he's smart enough not to tell Scott that he's going on a group date with his ex-girlfriend."

Eh.

"Wait, wait," Allison gave them both an alarmed look. "It's not a date, right? Please tell me it's not a date."

Olivia glared at Lydia through the rearview mirror, wishing that her cousin could have kept her mouth shut because Allison wasn't ready to start dating again. Of course it was a date, though; one of Lydia's summer hook-ups had a cousin who was very hot—according to Lydia—and was interested in getting to know Allison. Olivia and Stiles had gone on double dates with Lydia and whatever guy she was into that day before so it was a natural segway into inviting them, too. Stiles hadn't wanted to go on the group date, explaining that it felt like he was betraying Scott, but Olivia had begged him. She felt bad for Scott about the break-up, but from the conversations she had with Allison over the summer, it didn't seem like Allison was going to be able to reenter a relationship with Scott. It wasn't that she didn't love him—because she really did—but it was hard for her to move on from everything that happened before.

"It's not a group date," Olivia promised Allison. "It's more of a group thing."

"Does this guy know it's a group thing?" Allison looked to Lydia for an answer now, considering she was the one who planned the whole night. "I told you guys that I'm not ready to get back out there."

"Ugh," Lydia groaned and Olivia smiled at her dramatics. "I can't believe you were in France for four months and you didn't date a single guy."

Allison shrugged awkwardly and changed the subject. "Just because you were ready after—"

"Don't say his name!" Lydia exclaimed, cutting her off.

"Jackson is a subject that's off limits," Olivia told Allison with a smile that told the taller brunette she knew that Lydia was gonna have a fit.

"You said his name," Lydia reached toward Olivia's ear and flicked it, earning herself a pained squeal.

Jackson Whittemore was a sensitive subject when it came to Lydia Martin. Despite the fact that Lydia saved him and they declared their love for one another, there were no moves on either side to enter a relationship again. After learning control with Derek and Olivia, Jackson and his family moved to England to start over. Olivia missed him but they still exchanged emails once a week—something that she wouldn't mention to Lydia until the time was right.

"Is he okay?" since Lydia and Olivia didn't speak about Jackson in their calls to Allison, she didn't know what was going on with him. "I mean, did everything work out?"

"Well, you saw how it was when it turned up that he was alive," Olivia reminded her. It had been a whole thing with the hospital and the doctors and the research that annoyed and angered Jackson so much that Olivia had to be by his side every hour so he wouldn't lose control. "but eventually, everyone got over it."

"And yes, Derek and Liv taught him the werewolf 101," Lydia reported. "like how not to randomly kill people during a full moon."

Allison grinned at her. "So, then, you've talked to him?"

Lydia shook her head. "Not since he left for London."

"You mean since his dad moved him to London," Olivia objected; Lydia liked to act that Jackson went to England willingly when he was actually really upset that he had to move.

Lydia waved her off. "Whatever, he left," she said sharply. "And seriously, an American werewolf in London? Like that's not gonna be a disaster."

"So, you're totally over him?" Allison challenged the redhead.

"Would I be going on a group date if I wasn't?" Lydia said quickly, once again blurting out the truth. Olivia and Allison laughed and she sighed. "Yes, it's a group date. It's not an orgy so I think you'll live."

Olivia chuckled as she pulled to a stop at a red light. "I vetoed the orgy," she informed Allison jokingly. She was in a happy mood tonight; it was the last night of summer, Allison was back, and she'd get to see Stiles. "and the club."

"She's a buzzkill."

Olivia scoffed and quickly turned back to Lydia for a moment. "I don't want to be hungover on our first day of junior year. Besides," she turned to Allison for back-up. "don't you like pizza and laser tag?"

Allison went to agree but Lydia cut her off. "That's because she'll win!"

"Ha-ha," Allison pushed Lydia back into her seat, all three of them laughing. "I guess you'll have to take some pointers—oh, my God!"

At Allison's exclamation, Olivia turned to her left to see what had her freaking out. She hadn't noticed that a vehicle had pulled up next to her at the stoplight—which she cursed herself for because she was usually a great driver—and she also hadn't noticed that it was her boyfriend's vehicle.

"What the hell?" Olivia narrowed her eyes at the jeep while Allison freaked out in the passenger seat and tried not to look at Scott—who was with Stiles, trying to avoid eye contact with any of them. "He's supposed to be at his house."

Stiles waved at her enthusiastically and her annoyance flooded away. She could never be anything but in love with that boy. He just knew how to relax her and make her happy in ways that no one else could.

"Oh, my God, I can't see him," Allison whimpered. "Not now."

"Liv, go," Lydia urged, slapped the shoulder of Olivia's seat. "Go!"

"But it's a red light," Olivia winced, looking from Allison—who was still freaking out—to the red light, and then to Stiles, who was rolling down Scott's window. "All right."

She pressed on the gas pedal and drove through the intersection, grateful that the road wasn't busy and they were safe to cross. Allison sighed in relief when Stiles stayed back at the light and Olivia put some distance between them.

"Are you all right?" Lydia asked Allison while Olivia gave her a worried look.

"I'm okay," it looked more like Allison was assuring herself of that than Lydia and Olivia. "I'm fine."

Olivia and Lydia didn't argue or try to coax her to open up. They weren't the epitome of sharing feelings either, especially Olivia, so they didn't want to pry. If Allison didn't want to talk about Scott, they wouldn't.

It was only a minute or so after they left the stoplight that Allison spoke up again, her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Liv, stop. We should go back and talk to them."

Olivia switched her foot to the break pedal. "We're almost to Stiles' house..." when they came to a complete stop, she saw that Stiles had stopped too. "Why did they stop?"

Lydia shrugged. "It's Stiles and Scott. Do you really wanna try applying logic to those two?"

Allison said something in return but Olivia didn't hear; she was too busy focusing on the abrupt tingling traveling through her body. The whispering of her name, along with Allison and Lydia's, flittered through her head and then...

Turn around, Olivia

Olivia didn't waste time; she whipped around, facing the front of her car. Her eyes widened when she saw a huge deer heading straight toward them. "GET DOWN!"

She barely had time to grab Allison's shoulder, force her down, duck behind the steering wheel, and hope that Lydia was safe before the deer was crashing into the windshield. Lydia and Allison screamed as heavy glass flew around the enclosed space.

Olivia inhaled deeply as the deer's body settled on the dashboard in front of her, eyes glazed over with death. She shakily reached for her door handle with one hand and her seatbelt with the other before pushing herself out of the car. She fell on her ass but she hopped up, still staring at the deer with wide eyes.

"Oh, my God."

"Livvy," Stiles was there, gently taking her arm and leading her away from the car. "Are you okay? Babe?"

Olivia inhaled once again and turned her attention to Stiles, who was rubbing her arms soothingly. "I'm okay," she told him, allowing him to pull her into a warm hug. "I'm fine."

She wasn't lying. She was shocked, yeah, but she was okay. She was glad that her abilities were able to tell her that she, Allison, and Lydia were in danger and that she was able to stop any injuries that may have happened. Mostly, though, she was confused. Why would a deer charge right down the middle of the road and crash into them?

It was like it was committing suicide.

As Stiles kissed the top of Olivia's head, Lydia dragged her out of her thoughts when she shrieked, "Well, I am not okay! I am totally freaking out!" Olivia slipped out of Stiles' embrace to grab Lydia's hand. "How the fuck does that thing just run into us?"

"It was weird," Olivia agreed, her eyes following Scott as he moved away from Allison to the deer's body. "and it came down right in the middle of the road. It's like it was crazy."

"It was scared," Scott spoke up; he put his hand on the body and looked back at them, a solemn look on his face. "Actually, it was terrified."

-

-

Olivia had woken up with Isaac on her mind. The dream she had of him and the unknown girl trying to outrace that huge alpha werewolf was permanently printed into her memory as she mechanically got ready for school, dressing in a summer dress and sandals.

While she curled her hair with one hand, she dialed Derek's number on her phone with the other. It was Isaac's turn to look for Erica and Boyd the night before and with how she was feeling, the warnings she was getting, and the dream she had, it was obvious that something went wrong.

"Morning," Derek greeted her groggily. "Ready for your first day?"

"I'm worried about Isaac," she told him.

"What? What do you mean?" his voice was alert and strict, the tone of a worried alpha.

"I mean that Isaac is who God knows where and he's in trouble," Olivia explained impatiently. Over the summer, she and Isaac's friendship grew stronger since they were the only ones left in the Hale pack, other than Derek. She considered him a brother and she knew he saw her as a sister. "Derek, we need to find him."

"I'll find him but you need to go to school," Derek told her; there was rustling over the phone and then a metallic clinking which she figured were his keys. "I'll check out the Iron Works. I'm pretty sure that's where he told me he was going last night."

"Okay," Olivia sighed. "be careful."

Who knew where the alpha pack was lurking?

"Have a good day at school."

Olivia ended the call. Since when did Derek get so paternal? She thought to herself. Right, ever since you were stuck with a psychotic dad and got yourself a boyfriend.

She slipped a headband into her hair and grabbed her purse, heading downstairs. When Sirius yipped in greeting at her as she made it to the kitchen, she crouched down in order to give him a hug and kiss.

"Hi, Siri," she cooed, snuggling her nose into the soft fur of his head. "Did you sleep well? Hmm?"

Sirius nudged her with his paw and when she went to pat him between his ears, he bit her on the wrist. "Ouch!" he struggled out of her grip and ran away. "What'd you do that for?"

Olivia rose to her full height and stared at her dog where he shuffled on his bed, digging into his blanket and stuffed toy. He had never bit her before, not like that. Yeah, he nipped while playing when he was a baby but this was a full-on bite that drew blood.

She heard Lydia's heels against their hardwood floors before she saw her. "What happened to you?"

Olivia frowned at her. "Siri bit me."

Lydia quirked an eyebrow. "Sirius bit you."

"Yes."

"He doesn't bite."

"Wow, I had no idea!" Olivia rolled her eyes and entered the kitchen, heading straight to the sink. "Can you get me a bandage?"

Lydia quickly went to their medicine cabinet and pulled out some disinfectant cream and a large bandage to cover up the bite. She helped Olivia with dressing the wound before looking over at Sirius in disbelief.

"Why would he bite you?"

Olivia sighed, watching as Sirius buried his head into his blanket. "I have no idea."

-

Sheriff Stilinski sighed in relief when he saw her on the other side of his front door. "Olivia, I'm glad you're here," he ushered her into the house. "How are you doing this morning?"

"I'm good, Sheriff, thank you," Olivia had expected Stiles to be downstairs eating breakfast but the lower level was empty of his presence.

"I thought I told you to call me Noah," she smiled sheepishly when he pointed at her. "Anyway, Stiles is...well, he's been up since four-thirty."

Olivia raised her eyebrows in shock. Stiles loved to sleep in and if he didn't get enough sleep, he was like a freaking toddler who skipped out on their nap. "Four-thirty?"

"Come on," he gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. "He was pretty upset about your accident. I think he's been researching nonstop."

Oh, God. Olivia loved Stiles to death but when he was obsessed with something, he was obsessed. She didn't know if it was his ADHD or his need to know anything and everything but if he needed to know something, he was going to look until he found it. There had been numerous times over the summer that she had found him in front of his MacBook, a couple of Adderall in his system as he searched through whatever database he had broken into.

Stiles didn't even look away from his laptop as she and Noah entered his bedroom. "You know how many vehicle collisions last year involved deer?" he asked, though he knew the answer. "247,000."

"Oh, God, please go to school," Noah groaned.

"But that's crossing the road," Stiles continued on like his father hadn't spoken. "This one last night came right down the middle."

Noah stepped over to Stiles' chair, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not gonna beg you."

"Good, I'm impervious to your influence anyway," Stiles mumbled, switching to another tab of research.

Olivia rolled her eyes; who the hell used the word impervious?

"Would you consider a bribe?"

"You couldn't meet my price."

"Extortion?"

"You got nothing on me."

Olivia crossed her arms in amusement as Noah grabbed the back of Stiles' chair and started pulling him away from his desk.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Stiles reached for his laptop as he fought to stay in control of his chair. "Dad!"

Olivia walked over to the desk and shut the laptop, grinning when Stiles' eyes darted up to her. "Morning."

A happy glint appeared in his eyes as he hopped from his chair and then faltered. "Livvy, what—what are you doing here?" he scratched the back of his neck and then gestured around his semi-messy room. "Uh, yeah, so this is my room."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek in amusement. Watching Stiles act like she hadn't been in his room before was so funny to her. Especially when Noah was behind him, rolling his eyes so forcefully it looked like they'd disappear into his skull.

"Don't be an idiot, Stiles," Noah sighed as he went to leave the room. "Get to school."

Olivia gave Stiles a pointed look. "You do know your dad has let me up here before, right?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked over to his door, shutting it firmly. "Well, that was before we did this," he quickly grabbed her, grinning at her excited squeal, and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet peck. "and this," he fell onto his bed with her underneath him, hitching one of her legs up over his hip before returning back to her mouth.

Butterflies attacked Olivia's stomach as she returned his kiss, savoring the soft feel of his lips, the firm lines of his stomach, and the ever-growing hardness between his legs that was pressing against her belly. Her fingers dug themselves into his newly grown hair, moaning softly when his lips drifted from her lips to her jaw.

Contrary to what Lydia believed, Olivia and Stiles hadn't had sex yet. They did almost everything else—there was that time at the drive-in when things got steamy and he ended up fingering her, the night when he slept over and it was the first time she ever gave a guy a hand job, oh, and the time they both went down on each other after their trip to their fourth date. But other than that? No penetration—from Stiles' dick, anyway.

Olivia was ready to take that step with Stiles and have sex. She knew that he was, too, because he was a goddamn horndog when they were by themselves and his awkwardness melted away like ice cream on a hot summer day. The spaz was more self-confident at sex than most of the things in his life, which baffled her—and turned her on at the same time—but he was the one pausing things. He insisted that their first time had to be special. That was nice and all but Olivia wasn't naïve; she knew that the first time was a disaster and what really made the whole thing special was who you did it with. To her, they could have hurried sex in his jeep and it would be special to her because it was Stiles.

But Stiles was serious about it so she would wait. It was sweet but oh-so frustrating—for the both of them.

Just as Stiles' finger started to slip their way past the hem of her dress, she pushed him away from her. "We have school," Stiles pouted and rolled off of her, his head bouncing on the mattress. "and I don't want to be late."

"We have an hour."

Olivia hopped off the bed and straightened her sundress, hiding a bemused smile as she turned back to him, hands on her hips. "I thought you said you wanted our first time to be special?"

"Hey?" Stiles sat up and grinned at her. "I didn't say anything about sex. That was all you, baby."

Baby, she scoffed mentally; she wasn't a big fan of sappy pet names. It was worse than Livvy. Only Stiles would be able to get away with calling her anything like that.

"Yeah, that was all me," she agreed sarcastically. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't control myself."

"It's okay, I understand," Stiles chuckled, getting to his feet and grabbing his backpack from the floor. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Didn't have the time," she plucked his keys from his desk and tossed them to him. "Allison picked Lydia up pretty early. She's nervous."

"Let's get Dunkin, then," they walked out of the bedroom, Stiles shutting the door behind them. "What's she nervous about?"

"Seeing Scott again, maybe?" Olivia shrugged as they descended the stairs; Noah was already gone for work. "It could be that it's just hard to go back to school without your mom. It was for me."

As they left the house and locked up, Stiles nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too."

When they arrived at the brand-new school—it had been in progress for over two years and this was the first semester it was going to be used—they had already finished their breakfast and were ready for the day. First, before they could leave the jeep, they had to go over some rules.

"Rules?" Stiles groaned, leaning his head back against his seat. "Rules for what?"

"You know what," they'd gone over Olivia's rules for school before. "No kissing, no hugging, no touchy-feely of any kind."

Stiles rolled his eyes, equal parts exasperated and endeared with his girlfriend. "Can I at least hold your hand?"

Olivia pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "I guess that's fine."

"What about if I put my arm around you?"

"Let's not push it," Olivia smiled lightly when he made a loud but joking sigh. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Stiles leaned into her, lips pursed as he blinked rapidly at her. "Can I at least have a kiss?"

Olivia didn't hesitate to kiss him. It only lasted for a second and it wouldn't be enough to last the whole day but it was still special and it still made Stiles' lungs cease and his heart race.

The two of them separated to find their lockers and their friends. Stiles watched Olivia go with a smile on his face, unable to believe that he was starting his junior year of high school with her by his side. He loved her so damn much and she actually loved him back.

It turned out that his locker was only down the hallway from Scott's. It was very convenient. Scott had already arrived on his new bike when Stiles got to his locker, which made it easier for them to find each other before the bell rang and they had to get to class.

"You wanna ask Derek for help?" Stiles complained, looking over at Scott to see if he was serious; he was. "Why?"

Sure, Stiles was more comfortable with Derek now that he and Olivia were dating but it also made the alpha scarier. When Derek gave him the be-careful-with-my-cousin talk—the night that he and Olivia went on their second date—Stiles had almost passed out. Honestly, he was just glad that it was Derek and not Peter. In general, Olivia was really the only Hale family member that Stiles liked to spend time with.

"He's got the triskele tattooed on his back," Scott reminded him as they walked through the hallways, maps in hand to navigate the new school. "There has to be a way to do it without healing, right?"

Stiles wished that Scott would stop talking about his ugly tattoo. Personally, he thought it was a blessing that it healed.

"Okay, yeah," Stiles conceded but stopped walking as they came across a bulletin board with Boyd and Erica's faces stapled to it; he gestured to them as he continued, "still, doesn't he have his hands a little full?"

Boyd and Erica had been missing since the night that everything went down with Gerard and Jackson. Stiles was worried for them but it mostly stemmed from the fact that Olivia was really upset about their disappearance. She kept having nightmares about her pack members and always had the constant feeling that something was wrong with them.

Scott stared at the missing posters and sighed. He went to say something but both boys were distracted by the familiar British accent of their formal principal—the one that the Argents threatened to kill if he didn't give his job to Gerard.

"Look, these are the applications for the career advisor, I need them sorted," they walked toward the wiry-glass walls that held the main office where the principal was speaking to the secretary. "And what the hell is this?"

Stiles choked on his saliva as the principal held up one of Gerard's broad swords. He pushed Scott's shoulder, ready to get out of there. "Go, go, go!"

Two hallways over, Olivia and Lydia were leaning against the lockers next to Allison's, waiting as the taller brunette organized her newly bough school supplies. Olivia settled on people watching, eyeing the new students and the ones that she recognized from years before. Lydia, on the other hand, was scouting for new hook-ups.

"Freshmen," she sighed wistfully. "Tons and tons of fresh men."

Olivia grimaced while Allison gave her a look of disbelief. "You mean fresh boys, right?" she asked. "Lydia, they're fourteen."

"You might as well be dating a middle-schooler," Olivia tagged on, giving her cousin disapproving eyes.

Lydia shrugged. "Eh, some are more mature than others."

Olivia scoffed. "Gross."

"You know it's okay to be single," Allison pointed out to Lydia. "work on becoming a better person."

Olivia and Lydia exchanged a look; it was very obvious to them that Allison was talking about herself and not Lydia.

"Allison, we love you," Lydia took Allison's arms and turned her so that she was facing them; Olivia gave a supportive nod. "so, if you need to do that thing where we talk about one of us and pretend like we're not actually talking about you, that's fine."

"Totally fine," Olivia added.

Lydia pointed at her cousin before leaning back against the lockers, once again, checking out every guy that passed them. "but I don't want a boyfriend," she continued. "I want a distraction."

Olivia shook her head in amusement and turned away from Lydia, pausing when she saw two guys that she hadn't seen before. There was no way they weren't brothers because they looked nearly identical; they had to be twins. Either way, they were handsome and definitely Lydia's type; brooding bad boys.

"Oh, my God," Lydia had spotted the twins, causing Allison to look their way.

"Brothers?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow at Allison. "Are we seeing the same people, Al?" she scoffed. "They have to be twins."

Lydia hummed, green eyes studying the new kids. "Twins."

The new kids turned down the hallway that headed to the main office just as the first bell rang. Lydia watched them leave, a mischievous look on her face. Olivia rolled her eyes and nudged her to get her attention so they could get going to class.

Because the three of them all had the same English class, they walked through the hallways side-by-side to the section of the school that housed the English department. Stiles and Scott also had the same class as them, which Olivia considered pretty lucky. Out of the two hundred kids in their grade, the five of them all had the first class of the day together.

The classroom was pretty much full by the time that Olivia, Lydia, and Allison entered. Stiles got her attention right away, waving his hand in the air and then pointing to three empty seats next to him that he saved for them. Olivia cracked a smile at him and wandered over to the row of desks closest to the window, sitting in the seat next to him. Lydia scored the seat in front of Stiles but Allison was the unlucky one; the empty seat in front of Olivia had been filled by one of their other classmates.

Olivia grimaced at Allison, her eyes darting over to Scott, who was sitting on the other side of Stiles. "Sorry."

The last empty seat was in front of Scott, the one specific person she was trying to avoid.

"This ought to be good," Stiles muttered under his breath as he, Olivia, and Lydia watched as Allison approached Scott.

Allison smiled shyly—and awkwardly—at Scott, gesturing to the desk. "Is someone...?"

"No, no, no," Scott was quick to respond. "No, it's all you, all yours...Uh, it's totally vacant."

Olivia snickered as Scott looked at Stiles with a miserable face and her amusement definitely heightened when Stiles sent Scott a sarcastic thumbs-up in response.

As soon as Stiles put his hand down, every phone in the classroom started going off. Olivia furrowed her eyebrows as she quickly looked around the classroom and then focused on her purse, pulling out her phone; it was a text message from an unknown number.

Everyone in the class got a text message at the same time? How?

"The offing was barred by a black blank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth, flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness," a tall brunette who had to be their teacher, Ms. Blake, walked into the classroom, reading off her own cellphone. She leaned against her desk when she finished reading and looked out over her students to address them. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read...It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

Olivia pressed her lips together, impressed by Ms. Blake's entrance. It wasn't bad for a new teacher. She put her phone on silent but she didn't turn it off; if she needed to reach Derek, just in case something happened, she'd have to keep it on.

"All right, everyone," Ms. Blake crossed to the back of her desk. "If you didn't already know from your schedule, I'm Ms. Blake. Right now, while I pass out your syllabi, I want you to get into your textbooks and start reading Heart of Darkness. Make sure you're annotating as you read; write down any thought that you have. I want to know them all."

Like the rest of her classmates, Olivia opened her textbook to start reading Heart of Darkness. Her brand-new notebook was opened to its first page, carefully labeled with the date and what they were doing. Now, Olivia had always received great grades in her English classes but that didn't mean she enjoyed them. English was actually her least favorite class and it bored her to death; there was nothing she hated more than reading old literature and taking notes about what she thought. She thought that it was boring and outdated and she didn't like it—somehow, she didn't think that Ms. Blake would appreciate those annotations.

She was only through half of the first chapter when the classroom door opened and their new principal—well, he was actually the one they had before Gerard Argent—walked into the room. All eyes were on him as he whispered into Ms. Blake's ear before leaving. Ms. Blake's gaze wandered the room before settling on Scott.

"Mr. McCall?" she gestured to the door.

Olivia took the opportunity of Ms. Blake talking to Scott in the hallway to message Derek about Isaac. She was still getting those warning signals in her head and if Scott was being pulled out of class—she wasn't stupid, she knew what was happening—then something worse was going on than they thought.

Ollie: Scott got pulled out of class, I'm guessing it's his mom

Ollie: I think it's because of Isaac

Derek: I'll check it out

Satisfied with her cousin's promise, Olivia slipped her phone back into her purse. She was back to writing notes when Ms. Blake walked into the classroom and continued to write their assignment on the board. They had to read four chapters by Friday—yay.

"Livvy."

Olivia heard the whisper that came from Stiles but ignored it; it was dead silent in the classroom and she was not about to get into trouble for talking when they weren't supposed to.

"Psst," she heard him hiss at her. "Livvy."

Olivia finally turned to him, an annoyed look on her face. "What?"

"What is that?" Stiles used his pencil to poke at her wrist where a flesh-colored bandage was covering Sirius' bite from that morning. "Is that from the accident?"

"No," Olivia pushed his pencil away from her. "Sirius bit me."

"Siri bit you," Stiles immediately furrowed his eyebrows. "No way."

"Well, I didn't bite myself, Stiles."

Stiles huffed and gave her an annoyed look. "Sirius hasn't bitten anyone before."

"Yeah, we had no idea," Lydia, having heard their conversation, bit in. "It isn't like he's our dog or anything."

Stiles' mind raced as he eyed the bandage on Olivia's arm. Sirius didn't bite people; he was one of the most playful and sweetest dogs in the world—and Stiles would die for him but that was beside the point—but he still bit Olivia. And the deer, there had never been any accidents reported where it came straight down the road like that. It's like the animals were going crazy or something.

"Hey," he whispered, hoping to get Olivia's and Lydia's attention again; it worked. "What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully as Lydia quirked an eyebrow at him. "Meaning what?" she asked. "There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something," Stiles insisted. "I just...maybe it means something's coming something bad."

While Stiles and Lydia conferred, Olivia was deep in her head, overwhelmed by her abilities. Her whole body was vibrating and she was rapidly hearing names—Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison—from the classroom but it wasn't just that, either. There was something pulling her consciousness away from her, like she was needed elsewhere.

Scott. Isaac. Derek.

Olivia, they're coming, something whispered to her. They're coming. Olivia, look out the window. LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!

"Olivia!" she startled when someone grabbed her wrist, breathing in quickly. Her eyes locked with Lydia's, who was worried. "Your eyes are purple."

Olivia couldn't respond, she needed to look out the window. When she did, she inhaled deeply; a black bird was flying right toward her and then it was there, slamming into the glass and leaving a gross smudge of blood behind.

More birds were coming; maybe a hundred black birds were flying in the direction of the classroom and it didn't look like they were going to stop. They didn't; the first few birds hit the window as Ms. Blake walked over to see what was going on. And then the fourth bird hit the window, breaking through, and everything was chaos.

Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison. Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison. Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison.

Over and over Olivia heard her and her friends' names, paralyzing her to her seat. She hardly noticed the numerous birds flying around the classroom, terrorizing her classmates. She didn't even notice when a bird started attacking her, too busy caught up in the fact that something was going on with Isaac, Scott, and Derek, too.

It was too much for her at once.

The birds were making Stiles nervous but the fact that Olivia was just sitting there was panic inducing. He cursed himself as he tore out from under his desk, wishing that he had seen her struggling before, and lunged toward her. He wasn't very careful as he pulled her from her seat and covered her with his own body, inching back toward to where Lydia and Allison were huddled together, but he could apologize later. Her eyes were wide and purple and he figured she wouldn't remember much of what was going on, anyway.

The attack of the birds only lasted around ten minutes but a lot of damage was done. Torn textbooks and notebook paper were all over the room, along with pieces of clothing and dead birds. There were a lot of injured people—there was nothing serious but it was birds that attacked them so antibiotics were probably needed—so paramedics and the police were called.

Olivia's eyes were still purple and that could have been the most worrying thing about it all if it wasn't for the fact that she was currently trying to get out of his grasp and head toward the classroom door like her life depended on it.

"Hey, Livvy, what are you doing?" Stiles grabbed her uninjured wrist to stop her from leaving. "You have to wait for the paramedics."

"Scott, Isaac, and Derek...they're in trouble," her voice was hers but it wasn't. It was dazed and almost robotic.

He furrowed his eyebrows worriedly but focused on Olivia; he could help her at the moment, not Scott or Derek. "I'm sure they have it handled. Are you okay," he cupped her face; her purple eyes were blank. "Olivia, come on. Come back to me."

"We're gonna have to get her out of here," Allison stated as she and Lydia walked over to them. Her eyes searched the room; their classmates were still pulling themselves together but soon it would be obvious that something was wrong with Olivia. "Someone's gonna notice."

"Scott."

Lydia bit her lip as her cousin whispered their friend's name. "I'll take her to the bathroom," she volunteered, eyeing Stiles before he could protest. "You need to tell your dad what happened."

"Fine," Stiles agreed with a mumble.

Allison helped Lydia sneak Olivia out of the classroom while Ms. Blake was occupied, trying to round up her injured students. By the time she got back, Noah and some of his deputies had rolled up, as well as a couple of paramedics. Even Mr. Argent had come to the school to see his daughter, worried about how her first day had completely flopped within the first class period.

Stiles quickly explained to his dad what had went on and then looked for his and Olivia's things. Once their school supplies and bags were gathered on his desk, he took his phone from his pants and messaged Derek.

Stilinski: Olivia's freaking out about you guys. What's going on?

Sourwolf: I have Isaac and Scott. We're fine.

If Scott, Isaac, and Derek were out of danger, that probably meant that Olivia was okay. Hopefully she and Lydia were being attended to for their injuries, which were just a few scratches.

Stiles' gaze found Ms. Blake; she was sitting on her desk with bird feathers in her hair, her eyes blank as he started ahead. He felt sorry for the woman. It was her first day of teaching at Beacon High and this was what she got. Why on earth did people even want to work in Beacon Hills? There were disasters all the fucking time.

"Ms. Blake, are you okay?" Stiles reached for one of the feathers in her hair, pulling it out as she flinched away. "Sorry, just...that," he showed her the feather and hastily dropped it to the floor.

He needed hand sanitizer.

"Mr. Argent," his dad's voice caught his attention; he looked to see that Noah was now talking to Mr. Argent, his arms crossed over his chest. "you wouldn't have any insight into this would you?"

Stiles sat on the desk next to his, watching the exchange curiously.

"Me?" Mr. Argent was taken aback.

"Yeah," Noah nodded. "all this bizarre animal behavior, it's...You must have seen something like this before, right?"

"I'm not sure why I would or why you would think I would," Mr. Argent was uncharacteristically flustered as he spoke to Noah.

Noah paused for a second. "I'm sorry, I could have sworn I overheard my son talking about how you were an experienced hunter."

Shit, shit, shit. Stiles quickly ducked his head, burying his face into his phone so he looked busy.

"Ah, right," Mr. Argent replied. "Well, not anymore."

Stiles only looked away from his phone when Noah left the Argents, throwing his dad an accusing look. "You listen to my phone calls now?"

"No, you just happen to be loud," Noah retorted, passing his son to speak to the deputies he brought onto the scene.

Stiles was pretty sure he was dismissed, so he took his and Olivia's things and left the classroom. He and his classmates had been excused for the rest of the day, so he'd be able to find Olivia and Lydia without a problem before they left school.

As he walked through the hallway, making his way to the girl's bathroom, he called Scott. "We got a serious problem at school," he reported when Scott answered, not taking the time to greet his best friend. "Ms. Blake's class—"

"Hey, can you tell me about it later?" Scott interrupted him.

Stiles frowned. "Well, no, I'm pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion."

Scott sighed. "Okay, then meet me at Derek's."

"His loft?"

"No, his old house."

"What the fuck are you doing at his old house?" last Stiles knew, the old Hale house had been taken over by the county. Olivia had been really upset about it but relieved at the same time.

"Just meet us here, okay," Scott said hurriedly. "Bye."

Stiles groaned; he seriously hoped he wasn't going to that house for no reason. Derek had said that he, Scott, and Isaac were fine, so why did they need to wait around in the rundown mansion? What was so important that he had to meet them there?

He put his phone back in his pants just as Olivia and Lydia left the bathroom. He was very much relieved to see that Olivia looked like herself again, fully aware and in charge of her body. She was a little ruffled but so were he and Lydia and the rest of their classmates.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, ignoring her PDA rules to pull her into a tight hug. He was relieved to feel her return his affection. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Olivia assured him as she pulled away. "Sorry about that. I don't know what happened."

"We need to figure out what it was," Lydia spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest. "If that happens again..."

"Someone might notice, yeah," Olivia nodded and then focused back on Stiles, reaching up to carefully prod at the scratch near his temple. "Did you get that cleaned?"

"Yes, ma'am," Stiles confirmed with a grin. "Oh, I talked to Derek and he, Scott, and Isaac are fine."

Olivia sighed in relief. "Good."

"And Scott wants us to meet them at the old Hale house."

Immediately, Olivia clammed up, giving him a tight smile. "You go ahead," she told him, not wanting to go back to the place where her mother had died. "I'll stay with Lydia and get a ride home from Allison."

Stiles frowned. "Are you sure?"

He knew that she hated to be around the old Hale house but he was worried about her being in a small space with Mr. Argent. They weren't the ones that fought and Argent had actually helped her get Stiles out of his house that spring but Stiles was still cautious. Despite her last name being something different, Olivia was still a Hale and Argent was still an Argent.

"Yeah," surprisingly, Olivia stood on her tiptoes to give Stiles a light peck on the lips. "Lyds and I have that party to go to anyway. It's gonna be fun."

Lydia rolled her eyes at her cousin's sarcasm. "Would you stop being a party pooper?"

"No," Olivia turned her gaze back to Stiles once again. "I love you."

Stiles beamed at her. "Love you, too. Be careful."

-

After getting her things from Stiles, it was just Olivia who went with Lydia to her locker. Allison joined them as Lydia started touching up her lipstick but they stayed silent. All three of them were still bewildered with what had happened in their english class.

Finally, Lydia spoke up, "Is it me or is Beacon Hills turning into more like a beacon for the totally bizarre and supernatural?"

Allison laughed and Olivia rolled her eyes as Lydia shut her locker. They were just about to walk away to head to Allison's car when they came across an older woman. She couldn't have been more than five or six years older than them but she looked a little haggard.

"Where's Scott McCall?" the woman asked them.

Olivia, Lydia, and Allison exchanged looks but it was Olivia who spoke up. "How you do—"

"You're the Anchor," the woman breathed and grabbed Olivia's arm; Olivia's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Hey, how do you know..." Allison spoke up angrily, only for her arm to be grabbed by the woman, too.

Both Olivia and Allison winced in pain as the woman squeezed their arms carefully, her eyes looking at something past them.

"Easy on the physicality, sweetheart," Lydia sneered, forcefully pulling the woman's grip away from Olivia and Allison.

The woman let go and started to run away; Olivia looked back at where the woman had been staring at and saw that the twins that Lydia was lusting after were fleeing the hallway, too. "What the hell?" she muttered and looked down at her arm, which was still aching. "She bruised me."

Allison looked at her arm. "Huh, me too."

"What a psycho," Lydia glowered at the end of the hallway where the woman disappeared to.

"Come on," all three of them turned to Mr. Argent, who had walked up to them. "Let's get you girls out of here."

Olivia exchanged a nod with Lydia. After the strange day she had—which only lasted one class period, by the way—she was more than ready to get out of that school. She and Lydia ducked away from the Argents and walked down the hallway side-by-side.

(Gif is not mine)

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: All Work, No Play

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~3.1k Rating: G Time Frame: The end of their second week of college Story Arc: Setsu’s Ceaseless Study Session Study All Day? Study All Night? A Nap a Day All Work, No Play

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Author’s Note: My original outline for this arc stopped at the previous chapter, but as I was was close to finishing, I realized there were still a couple threads I wanted to tie up. So here we are.

Also, this is the first chapter I’ve written that flatly gives the name of the company employing Setsu, instead of my former vague hints. For readers unfamiliar with my other work, How to Handle a Nico, Egao Jōshō is an idol production company founded by Nico and Tsubasa and it is probably my favorite point of connection among my three non-AU fics.

Also also, Heavenly Life is a doujin created by Riko.

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Ayumu opened her eyes and reached up to the headboard to grab her phone. The device she touched first happened to be Yuu’s, but that was fine. She unlocked it and checked the time. It was Saturday, so she could sleep in a little longer, but there were things that she wanted to do before the Live that night.

She pushed herself up to her hands and knees and crawled backward to the end of the bed. There, she climbed over the footboard, which she was thankful wasn’t much higher than the mattress. Standing, she took a moment to look at the other two girls still in her bed, as she had every morning this week since Setsuna started joining her and Yuu.

Part of her couldn’t get over how adorable they were, snuggled together like that. Setsuna had pressed herself almost flush against Yuu’s back. Ayumu wondered if she was worried about rolling off the edge or if her bond with Yuu was just that strong that she was comfortable doing that.

And that was the other part. Ayumu couldn’t help feeling a little left out, wondering why neither would do that with her. Would it help if she turned the other way? But she liked facing Yuu, seeing her face before falling asleep and again upon waking. And if the other two ended up swapping, she was certain she would be just as happy seeing Setsuna in the same way.

Maybe Yuu was hesitant? No, with as openly affectionate as Yuu had been with her the entire time they had known each other, that simply could not be the case.

Maybe Yuu was waiting for Ayumu to make the first move? That still didn’t seem likely, but it was probably more possible than the other option. Perhaps then she should make that first move and snuggle against Yuu? Maybe even tonight?

Heat gathered in Ayumu’s cheeks at the thought of doing what Setsuna seemed to have no issue doing. But why? It wasn’t like Ayumu hadn’t initiated physical affection on numerous occasions, from simple hugs, to leaning into Yuu while watching something, to holding hands while walking. Heck she’d done most of that with Setsuna as well. Why did it feel different when it involved a bed or sleeping? Was it because it implied other activities? Activities she had certainly imagined multiple…

Ayumu shook her head in a vain attempt to dissipate the deepening blush, or at least shake loose those thoughts. Turning on her heel, she headed toward her dresser to begin her morning routine.

----------

“Alright, we’re heading out.” Ayumu announced after she had finished putting on her shoes. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, Setsuna-chan?”

The girl still sitting at the kotatsu in the middle of the room looked up from her laptop. “I’m sorry.” She declined. “I just don’t want to fall behind.”

“But are you actually behind at this point?” Yuu inquired.

Setsuna blinked as though not expecting the question. “I’m… I’m not sure…”

“You’ve been studying almost non-stop for two weeks, Setsuna-chan” Yuu continued. “And while your determination is admirable, surely they can’t expect everyone to be so diligent, or even be able to dedicate that much time.”

“Hrm…”

“Perhaps you could email your instructor?” Ayumu suggested. “Or your program mentor? Surely one of them would be able to let you know how your progress compared to other students, or just general expectations.”

Setsuna considered the idea for a moment. “I can do that.” She confirmed after a moment. “But I probably won’t hear back from either until Monday. So, while I would love to join you two, for now, to be safe, I’ll stay here today.”

“Alright.” Ayumu relented. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Have fun.” Setsuna replied before turning attention back to her screen.

Yuu closed the door behind them and she and Ayumu began heading down the hall.

“I hope we can at least convince her to come to the event tonight.” Yuu said quietly.

“Yeah…” Ayumu agreed, wondering what they could say or do to convince their stubbornly studious friend.

----------

Setsuna stretched and yawned before checking the time. A quick break should be alright, she decided and pushed herself out from under the table. She then made her way over to the kitchenette area where she filled the electric kettle and turned it on.

As she prepared the coffee grounds, she considered how much she had consumed recently. Ayumu was diligent in keeping a fresh supply despite rarely drinking it herself. Setsuna smiled at the thought of her friend’s kindness and decided she should get the next supply. She considered what places she could stop while on the way to the studio but then wondered if she should just have some delivered.

With a fresh refill of caffeine in hand, Setsuna headed back to the table to resume her studies. But before that, she quickly opened a new browser tab to check where she could order coffee online.

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“We’re back.” A voice announced as the dormroom door opened.

Setsuna looked up over her laptop and smiled as her friends entered. “Welcome back.”

“We got something for you, Setsuna-chan!” Yuu said excitedly, yanking off her shoes before moving quickly across the room. “Kope pan!” She pulled the sandwich out of her bag and presented it proudly.

“Thank you.” Setsuna said, accepting gracefully.

“Yuu-chan actually bought it.” Ayumu pointed out as she moved to the cupboards.

“Well, yeah, but Ayumu was the one to pick it out because it reminded her of Yotomi’s favorite. So, it’s from both of us.”

Setsuna chuckled at Yuu’s insistence as she inspected the package. It did indeed look similar to the snack commonly ordered by the protagonists of one of the anime series they had watched last season.

“Anyway, we decided to make a meal out of it all and picked up some other stuff.” Yuu began to pull other food items from her bag.

“And we brought it back here because we thought it would be more fun to eat together.” Ayumu added, arriving with a set of glasses. She distributed them to each place at the table before producing a bottle of one of her favorite brands of tea from her bag.

“Thank you.” Setsuna said again, feeling warmth spread in her chest at her friends’ thoughtfulness.

“And there’s one more thing.” Ayumu pulled another item from her bag and held it out.

Setsuna’s breath hitched as she recognized the latest book in the Heavenly Life doujin series she had been following online since before it had even started being published in physical form.

“I… I didn’t realize the new one was out…” She admitted, accepting the book.

“Mm.” Yuu nodded. “Earlier this week, it seems. I missed it too because I’m used to relying on Setsuna-chan for release schedules.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s no biggie.” Yuu dismissed. “I know you were busy studying. Though I will admit I’ve missed our anime nights lately.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologizing.” Yuu reached out to gently swat Setsuna atop her head. “Anyway, I got a copy for my collection and Ayumu bought this one for you.”

“Yes, but Yuu-chan had the idea to look to see if there was stock left” Ayumu interjected “and was the one to find them, so that’s from both of us as well.”

Setsuna chuckled at her friends’ insistence on sharing credit.

“Thank you, Ayumu-san, Yuu-san.” She turned her head to address each as she said their names before returning her attention to the doujin in her hand. “I’ll pay you back in…”

“Nope.” Yuu interrupted.

“Eh?”

“If you insist on doing something in return, just come with us next time.” Yuu grinned.

“Once your mentor or instructor is able to tell you how far ahead you are.” Ayumu added.

“Mm?” Setsuna questioned.

“I think it’s a safe assumption to make, based on how hard you’ve been working.” Ayumu explained. “But Yuu-chan is right, we do miss hanging out with you, Setsuna-chan.”

“I’m sor…” Setsuna cut herself off as she noticed Yuu’s expression of disapproval. She glanced back down at the doujin in her hand, causing a spike of excitement. “Anyway, I’m really looking forward to reading this.” She said, unable to resist opening the cover for a sneak peek at the first few pages. “And talking about it with… eh?” Upon looking back up, she noticed Yuu’s expression had changed, becoming more wistful. “Yuu-san?”

“Mm…” The green-tipped girl shook her head. “I was just realizing how much I missed seeing that smile.”

“That smile?”

“The one you display when you’re reading manga, or watching anime, or talking about a series or character you like.” Yuu explained. “I haven’t seen that in like two weeks.”

Oh…

Yuu chucked as she thought of something. “<All work and no play takes Setsu’s smile away.>”

“Mm?” Setsuna blinked. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the phrase, but she could have sworn it ended differently. And why did Yuu say it in English? Was it to make the rhyme? Still, she had understood the words and as their meaning processed in her mind, Setsuna felt heat gathering in her cheeks.

Yuu reached out a hand. “<Come and play with us, Setsu, forever and ever and ever.>”

“Yuu-chan, I don’t think Setsuna-chan has seen that movie.” Ayumu said.

“I haven’t either.” Yuu laughed. “I just know the meme. You do to, apparently. I mean everyone does, right?”

“Uhm…”

“Anyway, anime can wait for bit. Tonight, Emma-chan is performing.”

“I know.” Setsuna nodded. “She and I have talked about it several times this week during training.”

“And Ayumu and I are going.”

“I know that as well. I gave you two the admission passes.”

“I think Yuu-chan is trying to ask, without actually asking, if you were coming with us, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu explained.

“…” Setsuna paused to consider her response. Of course she had figured out Yuu’s intentions, but she retained her reservations.

“I really think you owe yourself a night off every once in a while.” Ayumu continued. “Despite the meme, Yuu-chan does have a point, that you shouldn’t dedicate all your time to work and should leave at least a little time for play.”

Before she could respond, a soft ping sounded from the speakers of Setsuna’s laptop. She glanced down at the notification that popped up on the screen. “Eh?” she uttered.

“What is it?” Yuu inquired.

“It’s a replay from my instructor.” Setsuna scanned the message quickly. “He says I should go to the concert.” She heard Yuu make an excited noise. “He was actually going to contact me on Monday to see if I was alright because I am apparently a lot farther along than any other student he has seen take the course and he wanted to make sure I wasn’t overdoing things. But then he saw my email and he wanted to make sure I didn’t miss an opportunity to see my friend’s performance.”

“Sounds like you have a good instructor” Ayumu spoke up “who cares not only about your success in class, but also about your personal wellbeing.”

“Emma-chan is going to be so happy you’ll be able to make it.” Yuu said.

“Karin, Kanata and Kasumi-chan will also love seeing you again.” Ayumu added.

Setsuna smiled. “They’ll all be happy to see Yuu-san and Ayumu-san as well.”

“Well yeah, but we’ve already established that we���re going.” Yuu pointed out. “Setsuna-chan was the one holding out on her decision.”

“… Sorry… Oh, uhm…”

Yuu laughed again.

“I’m glad you reached out to your instructor.” Ayumu said.

“Well, I did want to go tonight…” Setsuna admitted.

“And we’re happy you decided to come with us.” Yuu grinned. “And since the concert’s not until after dinner, you still have the rest of the afternoon to study if you want.”

Setsuna nodded.

“Or…”

“Or?”

“You can take a short break to watch an episode of anime with us while we eat?”

“I’d like that.”

Yuu’s smile grew as she pushed her meal over to Setsuna’s side of the table. She then crawled over to squeeze in beside the raven-haired girl. On the other side, Ayumu was moving her food as well before fitting herself in with the other two. Setsuna opened a new tab in her browser and brought up her favorite streaming site where she found one of the series they had been watching that season. The three settled in comfortably as the opening song played.

----------

“That was an amazing concert!” Yuu said for the umpteeth time that night as the three girls entered Ayumu’s dormroom. “Emma-chan is a wonderful pro idol! And the event overall really makes me look forward to your first Live, Setsuna-chan.”

“I would have participated this weekend,” Setsuna admitted “but…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, classes and stuff.”

“I could request a slot next weekend though.”

“I’ll be sure to be there to cheer you on.” Yuu grinned.

“I’ll come too.” Ayumu spoke up. “I also want to support you for your first Live, Setsuna-chan.”

Setsuna smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to practice hard this week so I can shout my love as best I can on stage.”

Yuu yawned. “Anyway, I’m going to go take a quick shower and get ready for bed.” She headed to Ayumu’s dresser to grab a set of pajamas.

“That’s a good idea.” Setsuna said. “I’ll see you two to back here in a bit.” She then headed to her room to prep for the night.

----------

“Perfect timing, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu said as Yuu got up from her hair drying session.

Setsuna smiled and sat down.

“I’m surprised you’re not pulling your laptop over so you can study.” Yuu teased.

“Oh, I, uhm, was actually just going to go to bed tonight.” Setsuna admitted.

“Oh? Not going to stay up until the wee hours of the morning again?”

“Uhm, not tonight…”

“Setsuna-chan wore herself out cheering at the concert, eh?”

“A little…”

Yuu laughed. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you though. I did too.” She glanced up. “And I’m pretty sure Ayumu did as well.”

Ayumu felt a bit of heat in her cheeks. “It was just so much fun.” She explained as she ran a hand through Setsuna’s hair. “It’s been so long since I’ve been in the audience, I’d almost forgotten how much energy it can take.”

“Though it is wonderful to be see things from the audience’s perspective.” Setsuna decided.

“That is true.” Ayumu agreed.

“It’s the best.” Yuu stated.

“Hrm…” Setsuna pondered. “I’m not sure I can fully agree with that. I am quite fond of performing on stage.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Yuu conceded. “Ooo, I’m really looking forward to your first performance as a professional idol, now.”

“As am I.”

“How about you, Ayumu?”

“Me? I thought I already said I wanted to see Setsuna-chan’s performance as well?”

Yuu shook her head. “No, which do you prefer? Being on stage or in the audience?”

Ayumu paused. Granted it had only been a few weeks, but she honestly hadn’t thought about performing since their final Live as school idols. However, “I think I would have to agree with Setsuna-chan; both have their appeal, but there is something special about being on stage.”

“Well, if you ever miss being on stage,” Setsuna mused “Egao regularly invites former school idols as guest performers.”

“Eh? Really?” Ayumu hadn’t considered the possibility.

“That’s true.” Yuu chimed in. “We saw one perform tonight.”

They had? Ayumu realized she probably should have paid more attention to the program. Obviously, she had made sure to watch Emma closely, but otherwise, she had been a bit overwhelmed by the crowd and catching up with her former club members.

“Anytime you want, just let me know.” Setsuna continued. “I’d love to sing with you again, Ayumu-san.”

“I… might have to take you up on that sometime.” Ayumu decided.

“I’ll be sure to be there to cheer you on.” Unsurprisingly, Yuu repeated her offer of support.

“Thanks, Yuu-chan.”

The three continued talking about idol performances, both ones they had enjoyed in the past as well as ones to which they looked forward in the future. And as much as Ayumu wanted to prolong working Setsuna’s hair, it was eventually dried and properly brushed, so the session needed to end.

It felt a little strange as Yuu and Setsuna effectively lined up behind her as Ayumu crawled into her bed, after two weeks of them joining later, or just one week for Setsuna. But by the time Ayumu had settled down, Yuu was already halfway across the bed to her usual position and Setsuna had a knee on the edge as she waited for room to be made.

Was tonight actually the best night to experiment with snuggling? Would Yuu tease her?

“Ayumu?” Yuu apparently noticed the change in her expression.

Ayumu steeled herself for the next move and reached out to place a hand on Yuu’s shoulder.

I want to cuddle too, Yuu-chan. Ayumu pleaded silently. You cuddle with Setsuna-chan and we’re both equally important to you, so you can cuddle with me as well, right? Please don't make me say it out loud though, it's hard enough making the first move! And why do I have to anyway? Geez… Yuu-chan you can be so dense sometimes…

Finally, Yuu smiled, seeming to understand. She slid an arm around Ayumu and pulled the two of them together before nuzzling in under Ayumu’s chin.

Wait, no, I wanted to be the one to… oh well…

“Mm?” Setsuna’s hum sounded confused. Perhaps she hadn’t expected Yuu to move away from her? And did Ayumu detect a bit of disappointment in her tone as well?

Sorry, Setsuna-chan, I didn't mean to make you feel left out. Ayumu thought to herself as she moved her hand off Yuu’s shoulder, reached past her, found Setsuna’s arm and pulled gently. The other girl let herself be guided forward to the position Ayumu commonly observed in the morning. Now, they were even more crowded than before, and yet…

“This is nice…” Yuu murmured as though continuing Ayumu’s thoughts. “Good night, Ayumu, Setsuna-chan.”

Ayumu and Setsuna responded, almost in unison, causing Ayumu to giggle a little.

Yuu didn’t end up teasing her. Strange. But maybe it was because she had wanted the same thing? And if that was the case, Ayumu was still a little confused as to why Yuu hadn’t tried to snuggle with her before. In any case, at least they were now, so she then pushed that concern out to make room for more pleasant thoughts.

Ayumu closed her eyes and enjoyed the comfort of falling asleep nestled together with the two girls she loved.

----------

Author’s Note continued in Followup post

[the-canary]

Wednesdays - L.T (4/10)

Summary: Only you had the balls to deal with his outrageous order on that day. You just didn’t know how bad it would get. (Barista!Reader/Lance Tucker).

A/N: there was a lot of merging things and idk how to pull it off, but now i do and hopefully you enjoy it! 

Feedback is always appreciated.

It’s two weeks since a certain Claire started her ballet lessons and while she was just beginning, her teacher was telling that she was a quick learner and quickly catching up with her other students. It made her a little proud of herself and she needed to tell her uncle all about it. Norma looked at her daughter starting outside of the window every couple of minutes, the need for punctuality and perfection seemed to run deep in their family.

“Uncle!” the young girl yells, as she sees the familiar red convertible making its way into the parking area. Norma tells her daughter to wait before she goes off running like she usually does. The girl pouts but waits for her uncle to make his way to the building, though she is bouncing in excitement to see her favorite person in the world, as she had declared more than once.

“What do you plan on telling your uncle, anyways?” Norma give her daughter a smile, as Claire’s blue eyes sparkle.

“How I’m getting better,” she smiles with her chubby cheeks stretching as a result, “And how pretty my teacher is too!”

Norma can’t help but shake her head at the thought of Claire that might be trying to set up her younger brother once more

“Where’s my favorite munchkin?” a voice declares from behind her, as Claire giggles, gets up, and proceeds to jump into her uncle’s arms.

Blue eyes clashing with familiar blue, as everything is a bit more settled down for the small brood for now.

 You will only be connected  through Mr. Tucker through a company email. Here is a list of his demands and what he wants from the social media sites, aside from the press releases we will be doing at a later time. Please look over the documents and feel free to make edits.

“This sounds so boring,” you murmur to yourself while looking at the documents that came attached with the email. After doing your research and learning more about one Lance Tucker, former Olympic gold and silver medalist plus walking scandal-in-the-making, you were expecting a bit more from him -- maybe, something more creative. But, this..this was all--

“This isn’t going to attract any attention,” you huff out an annoyed breath of air, while rolling in your chair from side to side for a moment. Yes, there good things in seeing daily trainings and occasional pictures of the athletes, but if there wasn’t an personality or emotional connection for the person, then it was just something you could scroll over.

It was one of the reasons why you understood that the Hope Ann Gregory story resonated so much with people -- the struggle of a small town kid who had made all the way to the Olympics only to keep fighting until the very end, even if she only got the bronze -- it was national headline worthy. Lance Tucker was a boy with a silver spoon in his mouth, who got the gold and silver without much of a struggle.

The God of Gymnastics , until just like Zeus his limbo threw him from grace and not many were sympathetic, what with his general shitty attitude but oh so good looks (did you really just say think that?) making him somewhat unlikeable because someone like him could always get back up and start all over again -- like you sure he was doing now, though you could tell he was playing it safe with all his documentation. Though, it wasn’t going to do what he was aiming for and that failure placed itself on your lap to fix.

And, really -- you needed to a miracle to work with all this.    

 It’s another boring Wednesday when you finally see the nightmare that has been haunting your part time job since you received that email the week before -- not that Lance Tucker knew that. He gives off a new strange order for Micah to hand over to you, as you can’t help but wonder why the hell he keeps changing his order every time he comes in. What was the motivation behind the constant change?

It’s in that moment that you freeze, as an idea pops into your head.  

@TuckerGym: WHAT DOES LANCE TUCKER ORDER @STARBUCKS!?

You make the drink before taking out the temporary company phone that you had been given and take a quick snap of the odd drink. Micah is giving you a curious look as you motion her to stay quiet. She understands the message, though you doubt that she will let you leave without you giving her some type of information.

“Lance,” you yell out giddier than ever, quickly catching the man’s attention, “Mini Red Eye for Lance!”

Said man turns around in confusion over how joyful you can be in declaring one order, but doesn’t say anything on the matter as he stands across from you and takes a sip. There is no hint of bitterness in his nod, as he waves goodbye to the both of you for once. You wave back with the biggest smile that you can muster, which causes him to pause for a moment before letting go of the door.

“ What the hell was that about ?” Micah can’t help but ask, as you shake just a little bit to the song that is now playing and laugh -- not caring that some of the customers might look at you a little weird.

“That was the answer to all my prayers,” you nod, but before she can ask anything else a new customer is already waiting in front of the cash register.

 It’s Friday when he first sees it, some of the girls are looking at their phones during break. Their whispers and giggles attract his attention, it also doesn’t help that they keep looking at him in quick glances before going back to their phones. He tries not to let him bother him, but any distraction is something that he has to investigate as much as a hardass as he needs to be for these girls and their potential Olympic dreams.

“Hey,” he starts, standing in front of them, hands on his hips, “what are you girls looking at?”

“The gym’s twitter page,” one of the youngers girls explains, showing Lance their phone and a pinned sets of tweets that were all related to him.

@TuckerGym: TUCK’S ADVENTURES AROUND TOWN.

It wasn’t very prolific but there were some really hilarious pictures of him walking around the streets near the gym -- most notably a gif of him dancing with his earphones on. And let’s just say, dancing wasn’t one of Lance’s better traits, especially with all the laughing emojis that seemed to be placed underneath the original post.

You had to catch the post at the right time too, if not it was lost to the other posts that Lance knew that were connected to the social media he had stated to be focus in his proposal -- but, this --- this was a complete invasion of privacy.

“You’re really popular, Coach,” Katherine --his current star pupil-- laughs, but quickly stops at flash of anger in his face, “It’s only been getting the gym more followers since it started. You might even become a meme.”

“Meme?” Lance states confused at the word for a moment and while he knew what they were, he wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction, “When did these start anyways?”

“Last Wednesday, I think,” Katherine answers, waiting for his response but Lance says nothing more on the subject. He moves and told them that break time is over.  

Lance heads back his groan back until he got back to his office, ready to email a certain social media associate that the PR people told him would be running everything in that aspect.

“God, I hate Wednesdays.”

[mahaliciously]

Atlantis

Rejoice children, for I have finally contributed to the Overwatch fandom with something other than memes.

I’m also choosing to contribute under the flag of my favourite pairing, sadly a rare one, but it’s okay because content is made to be created and I just loved every second of writing this thing!!

It unexpectedly turned out much longer than the initial headcanon suggested, but it’s definitely for the best since it constituted a solid character study for me that’ll help me for my future writings :D

SPECIAL KUDOS TO THE ANON WHO ASKED ME AFTER THE ONESHOT HERE IT IS AND TO THE LOVELY @xallyxcatxs​, @tart276​ and @gngu​ FOR THEIR NEVERENDING SUPPORT AND KETTLE NOISES LMAO

burn in cybun hell

And of course, special thanks to @b3tar3ad3r for the beta :D I recommend going to them in case you need help!

IF YOU LIKED THE ONESHOT, DON’T FORGET TO SUPPORT IT BY REBLOGGING IT OR BY CHECKING MY AO3, IT’S UP THERE AS WELL! O/

archiveofourown: click here!

Word count : 8915

She wouldn’t have been able to tell when her heart had started to ache at the thought of him, or when she’d started to miss her shots when she’d hear him laugh through the voice chat. Wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint the exact moment the stories he told her about his love conquests had started to sting, or when she’d stopped making fun of the girls he’d had wrapped around his fingers like rings.

‘yo d.va when u gonna invite genji and lucio again on one of ur streams??’

Hana Song briefly glanced at the Twitch chat before taking down an enemy to her left, swallowing a curse.

‘so trueeee,’ another message chanted. ‘genji was so cute i love his voice’

‘how about lucio? dat dude is a human puppy lmao’

‘rofl’

The chat box was hectic, messages piling up at an incredible speed, english and korean weaving all over the screen. It didn’t bother Hana who was used to the fraction of a second she had to keep up with the fleeting topics and requests. Her bubble gum popped as she eliminated another enemy with a headshot and she readjusted her camera.

“Aww look at this,” she chimed teasingly. “I used to like Lucio and Genji but it does seem like they’re causing my own fanbase to neglect me now.”

The chat exploded with new messages and she smiled for the camera. Inside, she was pretty much crumbling.

She had organised that last-minute stream in hopes to keep her mind off her budding crush and the existential crisis that had come along with it. Instead, her fans had been spamming her for more content with her friends, and by extension, with the one person she was trying to distract herself from.

She almost felt like sighing, though she knew the camera and the attentive eyes that were watching her wouldn’t miss it. She glanced again at the chat box.

‘just genji x d.va gameplay tbh he’s got some dope skills i want to see competition between them’

Her heart jolted in her chest and she missed. The split second was enough to take her down. The camera switched to the kill cam, a flashy crimson message announcing her death as she popped another gum bubble. She almost winced at the ridiculous come and go her character had made that caused its death killed. She’d hesitated.

It was over for her and she didn’t feel like spectating the rest of the game, so she reported her full attention to the chat. What was this ridiculous suggestion to stay in a room alone with Genji Shimada and play videogames until she died of a heart attack?

Impossible.

But it annoyed her more than it embarrassed her. Or maybe a bit of both.

Because she could have organised that a few weeks ago. She could have invited him over platonically, wrecked his ass and watched her entire fanbase cheer for her. Just like she would have invited Lucio today.

But now she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t have been able to tell when her behaviour had changed, but she could guess the trigger. Maybe that one drunk night they’d spent playing a certain dumb fps game was at cause. Maybe finding her intoxicated self on top of him was the reason she couldn’t stare at him anymore without thinking “I want to spend more time this close to him” and “He’s actually pretty cute”. Maybe that was karma getting back at her for all the girls she’d made fun of.

“Alright,” she announced to the camera, waving. “Sounds like that’s gonna be all for today! Stay cool buns, until next time... Love, D.va!”

She grinned, smile as practiced as it could be, fingers into her signature V right before she turned off her camera with her other hand. She only breathed then.

There was no way in hell she could allow herself to fall for the 24-year-old ninja.

Genji Shimada, playboy extraordinaire, was not the kind of guy she’d let herself be involved with romantically. He was one of her closest friends, too precious to lose over a crush, and her ego would never let her drop to the level of the many girls who pooled at his feet. They had a precise friendship that revolved around platonic, shameless flirting and the certainty that she was the girl he’d never have, he the guy who’d never pursue her. It was but a constant verbal sparring that rhythmed their every interaction. Sass against sass. The very origin of their friendship. Their daily dose of challenge.

Truth be told, he was a lot of great things. He was handsome, even with that ridiculous dyed hair of his, funny, a bit of an asshole but caring still, and he was amazing to hang out with. Along with Lucio, they consisted of a great trio.

Genji was the kind arrogant, Lucio the resident puppy, always happy and idealistic, supporting but probably with one of the greatest senses of humour she’d seen in years, and she was the diva, the princess. All three of them were pretty much a walking disaster. Their brains together only amounted to ridiculous ideas like using Lucio’s speed boost to race on a frozen lake and crash into the snow at the speed of fast, or making fidget spinners out of Genji’s shuriken. They’d gotten a bunch of bruises, but a lot of outweighing laughs and she cherished those two idiots more than she’d care to admit.

Becoming close friends with Genji irremediably led to discover that beyond the playboy reputation and the biting sarcasm, he was a loyal friend. He was boastful, barely ever serious. He was terribly friendly, making everyone at ease in matters of seconds, breaking down fights with a couple of jokes any chance he got. She suspected that was a safe reason that led the girls to run to him in bunches. He was quite like the sun. Summer-like. That, and there was his catastrophic flirting.

He was smooth, she’d concede. But ask her secondhand observer side and she could think of a bunch of hilarious pearls she’d teased him with over the years.

But he wasn’t a sun. Or maybe his rays shone so bright they blinded people and kept them from seeing the deep cracks he bore. Just like any human being. She knew that sometimes he liked to sit on his own because being so social exhausted him, she knew that his gaze got lost more often than he’d like to admit, lost in a whirlwind of doubts he bragged about not having. Like if he’d hurt someone with his raw, spontaneous humour, or if he could have done things better.

She knew he dreamed of travels and adventures, knew that he scolded himself for knowing his flaws but never fixing them. He was a child guilty of acting like a child.

And though she didn’t have the same issues as him, she understood them.

But what had definitely moved her was the intensity of his gaze on that night. There had only been the flashing lights of her screens, sculpting his features, maybe dotting his black eyes as he looked up at her. His cheeks had been almost as red as hers from the alcohol, indicative of the obvious drunkenness of her friend. But it shouldn’t have been weird seeing how they’d played drunk a bunch of times before. Definitely shouldn’t have. She’d been laughing, they may have been playing that game where he holds her wrists and she has to push him back because she was a very strong lady. And she’d been. He had still been holding her wrists in his hands, her own chestnut hair framing his face as she looked down at him. His gaze hadn’t been really focused, hazed by the liquor’s effect, but it had never left hers until he’d pulled her to him and his arms had slithered around her petite figure, wrapping themselves around her. It had taken her a moment to realise he was hugging her.

She’d felt his chest against her face, rising and dropping steadily, smelled his woody perfume mixed with sweat and booze and it should have felt familiar. There had been something in the beating of his heart against her ear though, and she’d loved the warmth of his arms, the little drum of his fingers against the small of her back before he’d said:

“I love you.”

Hana groaned at the memory, shaking her head to snap herself back to reality. It hadn’t meant anything. It had been a platonic confession. The kind they threw at each other to joke around, or to really appreciate each other as friends. Because love was way more than the eros and the grand amour. It was something she firmly believed should be told more without any over calculation.

But in the dim light of her room that night, tangled in a messy hug with her friend, lulled by his breathing and the buzz of her console, her heart had fluttered before she’d fallen asleep, and it had been her biggest mistake.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the 8-bit ringtone of her phone and a familiar contact picture lighting up the rectangular screen of the device.

“Hey there, frogman,” she picked up, trying to sound as enthusiastic as humanly possible.

She could feel Lucio roll his eyes before he even spoke. “It’s Mr. Frogman thank you very much.”

“Sure, frogman,” she replied, teasing. “What’s up?”

“Eh well, the usual,” the musician chuckled. “Just wondering if you have any time to kill with Genj and I?”

Once again, she hesitated. It wasn’t like her, but the bubble of unease that was growing in her chest was distracting her coherent thoughts. She opened her mouth, hoping that it would help her brain form a faster sentence, but she couldn’t decide whether to say yes or no. She knew that Lucio wouldn’t press if she refused, and she was afraid to be disappointed at the beep of her phone when he’d hang up.

She bit her lip. “I don’t really know… I could but probably not for long.”

“Feeling sick?”

“Not really, just meh,” she said with a humourless puff, chewing on her gum.

“Huh,” Lucio acquiesced. “Well we’ll get you better. Healing beats by yours truly and all.”

She really laughed this time. A small, but genuine laugh that cheered her up instantly.

“Okay fine, I’ll see you in 20.”

Swiftly, she jumped into her trainers and grabbed her headphones. That along with her phone and portable console were all she needed in her sweatshirt’s pockets to exit the flat and head towards their usual spot, the arcade square.

The weather was fairly nice for an autumn day. She’d grown used to the occasional chill and the complete closet confusion in the morning. She still loved the salted remnants of summer that floated in the air but preferred the calm and peace of office days. The streets were mostly empty, shops deserted from the jam of customers that came in the evenings and weekends, an occasional laughter from one of the nearby cafés would break the tranquility of the walk. As Hana approached the arcade, the city sounds shifted and fluctuated, roadworks and klaxons replacing the flutter of the trees and the exclamations of children in their courtyard, gasoline perfumes weaving with that of coffee and urine. The sun reflected on the glass windows of skyscrapers and towers, its rays slithering their way through the buildings to lit up the cold, shadowed avenues below as she hurried down the underground entrance. A puff of heat welcomed her when she walked down the stairs, the smell of rubber and iron filling her nostrils, chatter and screeching trains swallowing the noises of the city as she aptly made her way through the wide, tunnel-like corridors of the station. It was a common thing to use the tangle of underground networks to avoid the stoplights and the many avenue crossings, and to Hana, it was more convenient as every single crossroads below had far more indications than the streets and the boulevards above.

She let out a sigh when she finally exited the underground to find the flashy neons of the arcade facing her. Lucky for her, her usual spot with her friends was right outside the station, a little square lost between towering buildings that seemed to have forgotten its existence. As such, there was one old tree in the middle, a couple of broken benches, a café and the arcade. The location was meant to be in a fancy business neighbourhood, but the spot had become so hidden by the city’s continuous metamorphosis that it was mostly frequented by students and a few hippy omnics.

She spotted her friend’s ponytail on the first glance.

“Yo Lucio!” she called, grinning.

“Hana,” the young man exclaimed with a soft smile, pushing off his headphones as he stood up to greet her. “You ready?”

“To beat highscores? Always,” she said before looking around. “Where’s Genji?”

She nervously avoided eye contact as she asked the question, which was in itself a very bad idea since the whole point was for him not to suspect a thing. She scratched her arm and forced herself to look back at her friend, adding a smile for good measure. Lucio didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he frowned and focused his entire attention on her. In that instant, she could feel her own heart stumbling like a cartoon character, panic clutching it under the observing eyes of the musician. She caught her breath, widened her smile in hopes to get him off her back. Finally, he shrugged.

“Saw that college freshman from the other day and followed her inside.”

Ouch.

“Of course,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Typical Genji.”

“Right,” Lucio answered, raising a dubious eyebrow.

Sensing the danger, Hana grabbed him by the hand and pulled him after her and into the arcade. The air was cooler inside, due to the many air vents that peppered the walls. It was dimmer there, blues and pinks lighting the huge room and the machines, green strobes running around the walls and the floor. She glanced around and spotted Genji at a shooting machine, not so far from the entrance. There was a girl with him, more specifically in his arms as he seemingly showed her how to use the plastic gun to shoot the enemies.

From where she stood, Hana couldn’t hear much of their conversation, but she could see the way the girl’s shoulders shook in hilarity, the closeness of their two bodies, the way his thumb gently stroke the back of her hand. His mouth was on her neck, hovering, teasing until he pressed a quick kiss under her jaw. When she blushed, he flashed a satisfied smile, borderline smirk that Hana knew by heart. The girl smiled to herself, elated, and moved a bit closer to him. Too busy to flirt, she missed the shot and looked taken aback by the game over screen, causing Genji to chuckle in her neck and nuzzle her.

It was a sight Hana was used to. She’d seen him coax a thousand of girls before, walked on him making out with a thousand more and teased another thousand if they came asking after Genji. She found it funny, entertaining, didn’t mind the PDA. It had become the usual and he barely even flinched whenever she or Lucio would stumble upon him with a girl, almost said hi and asked about their day.

Well, they had limits. Wouldn’t barge in during more private activities.

It was therefore a sight she was used to. But now she was envious. Envious of the way the girl’s hair curled around his shoulder, her hand under his, the giggles that escaped her tangerine lips. She wanted his arm around her waist too, and his hair tickling her temples and his soft chuckle in her ear. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be one of those stupid girls she laughed at.

Her chest swelled with an all too painful sadness. Envy was a terrible emotion. It didn’t come with jealousy or directed anger, it just nibbled at her, brought doubts and fears and swallowed her whole as she sat alone in her room.

Envy was the very reason she was so upset with herself. For allowing herself to stoop so low, for wishing something she mocked so much. She shouldn’t be crushing on Genji. She shouldn’t wish to be a weak girl, a toy. He would probably be too afraid to ruin their friendship, so she couldn’t even stand where that girl did. He would try to reject her as gently as possible, probably feel bad, she would smile. She would understand that he valued her too much to play with her, that she deserved a real relationship, a caring boyfriend.

And yet… She ached for his touch, and it killed her inside.

She felt something around her hand snap her back to reality, and she glanced down to see that Lucio was tightening his grip. She noticed he was responding to her own steel-tight grasp and that she’d been crushing his hand for the past couple of minutes. She abruptly let go and wondered in panic if she’d outed herself to her friend.

“Wow they’ve brought a new machine!” she announced excitedly to hide her embarrassment, cheeks burning. “Sounds like a new highscore for me to set!”

In an attempt to convince him of her genuineness, she turned around and accompanied her exclamation with a little V sign and a wink:

“MVP D.va ready to rekt.”

“Get good D.va, I already set the highscore to beat.”

She jumped when she felt an arm around her shoulders. Only the familiar woody scent and silvery voice allowed her to put a name on their owner. That, and the more unsafe skip of her heart. She took a short breath.

“Do you hear something, Lucio?” she asked, looking away to dissimulate her sudden difficulty to breathe. “It sounds pretty distant, can’t understand a word. Could it be… A scrub?”

“Wow,” Genji gasped. “How could you call me a scrub? After everything we’ve been through.”

“I have sudden amnesia.”

“You mean you forgot our bonding episode over the delicacies of ramen?”

“Completely.”

Genji gasped again. Louder. More dramatically. The sight was funny, quite Genji-like, and just as expected, his honeyed chuckle followed the antic. Hana felt a little flick on her cheek and almost jumped when she felt his breath tickle her ear:

“You look out of it, could it be you’re jealous?”

She almost choked on her saliva as alarms started blaring in her head.

“Please do enlighten me,” she scoffed, not quite looking at him yet. “I can’t seem to catch what I’m apparently jealous of.”

She knew he was smirking as he leaned closer to her ear, murmuring:

“I saw you looking at us moments ago.”

“Saw me? You mean you look at other girls while flirting with one?” she tried, firming her trembling voice with a huff. “Aren’t you the one trying too hard to make me jealous?”

He laughed and she finally felt his weight on her lessen.

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Genji conceded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he briefly greeted Lucio with a grin.

“Man you guys should totally sort out this tension you two have going on,” Lucio declared, crossing his arms with a little disappointed shake of the head. “The air is getting hard to breathe lately.”

He chuckled.

“Nah,” the ninja replied. “Might miss our back and forths. Genji and D.va, D.va and Genji, how could I ruin our mythical duo? We’re tension builders.”

“He can’t stand ramyun,” Hana commented. “I’m not going out with a wimp who can’t stand spicy food.”

Genji clutched his chest. “Shots have been fired. Lucio, I need healing.”

Their banter was interrupted by an excited squeal from behind Hana. Turning around, she saw the college girl excitedly skip in front of the arcade machine.

“Genji, look!” she exclaimed. “I did it! I killed the boss!”

“See,” Genji cheered, walking back to his companion. “Told you I had a radar for talented girls.”

The girl blushed lightly, flattered by the compliment. Hana watched her look up at him when he reached her, and she could’ve sworn the girl was dying to kiss him. The sight was painfully evident, and though she knew Genji would undoubtedly play with her for a few days before granting her wish, Hana felt repulsed by her obviousness. How much respect was there in not being hard to get?

She rolled her eyes and sighed, meeting Lucio’s gaze as she turned back.

“You totally like him,” he said, taunting her with the biggest shit eating grin.

“I totally don’t,” she protested.

“Oh come on,” he pressed, wrapping an affectionate arm around her shoulders. “You know you can tell Papa Lucio anything. Especially things he’s already figured out.”

“I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

“You totally do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s okay, no need to beg me, fofinho. I’ll wingman you.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

Lucio looked at her for a full second, studying her silently. “I’ll read that as a yes.”

“It’s not!”

D.va pulled her hood over her head, tugging at the fabric to cover half her face as she groaned. What was her life?

“We’re just friends and that’s how it should stay,” she declared, revealing her eyes from under the hood. “That’s just how we roll. You know it.”

A giggle erupted from where the lovey-dovey couple was standing and D.va couldn’t suppress a wince.

“I’m just a bit touchy lately,” she concluded.

Lucio watched her without a word. His gaze had softened, stance more relaxed as he closed the gap between them. He put his hands on her cheeks and squeezed them, giving her a funny fish face as he did so.

“You know,” he said with a smile. “Reality is the mirror of our very own consciousness. What we notice. Change, on the other hand, is what we realise. And maybe it’s our inability to fathom the entire picture that deceives us into thinking that everything is only what we’ve been, up until now, conscious of.”

She pouted, shoving her hands in her sweatshirt pockets, but didn’t answer.

“In other words… You gotta let the beat drop when it has to drop,” he added, laughing. “That’s always the best part of the song.”

This time, she couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at her lips. “That’s pretty deep, Mr. Frogman.”

“Of course it’d be,” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t be selling albums if it weren’t.”

“Still waiting for that autograph, by the way.”

“Still waiting for yours.”

She laughed. There was a part of truth in Lucio’s words, probably when it came to how focused she was on her own interpretation. But it was only in part, and she’d been brooding on her situation long enough to be overwhelmed by fears and doubts. She wasn’t convinced. The change had been too sudden, and it had probably affected her only.

Genji couldn’t be crushing back on her.

Her mulling was interrupted when Genji walked back to them.

“Hana, Lucio, let me introduce you to Aya,” the sparrow’s familiar, cheerful voice chirped. “I asked if she’d like to join us for the day, if you don’t mind of course. Lucky for me, she said yes.”

Oh how Hana knew where Genji was getting to. Knew that he hadn’t mentioned any friends whatsoever. Knew that he was toying with the poor Aya, and her expression as she realised it wasn’t a date was priceless. The little twitch of her smile as she tried to keep a polite face, tried to hide her disappointment. Her gaze lasted a bit longer on D.va, probably measuring how much of a competition she represented. It was petty, but necessary, and Hana was more than used to the calculating gazes of Genji’s conquests. Sometimes, she’d pretend her and Lucio were a thing to get them off her back, or on the contrary, taunt them shamelessly by flirting openly with Genji. The urge for the latter was the strongest in that instant, despite Hana’s emotional confusion. She was a gamer, a challenger, and her passion for games was the hardest to fight.

Pulling out her tongue, she V signed over her eye and stared directly at Aya, taunting.

“As for this beautiful lady,” Genji continued, battling to keep a straight face at Hana’s antic as he pulled Aya closer. “She’s a foreign student going for a history degree, and very probably my heart. I guess you can just call her Mrs. Shimada already.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Here I thought that title was reserved for me.”

“Should’ve stated your claim on my heart before, darling,” he replied with a smirk. “You took your time and got caught off guard.”

“I don’t need flirting lessons from you, honey,” she scoffed.

“Graciously offering my help only to be brushed off like a mere peasant, do you see that Aya dear?”

The young woman made a tight smile, as though she didn’t feel comfortable with the faked tension. Still, Genji was surefooted and Hana watched him lean in to murmur something in Aya’s ear. It seemed to lighten the mood from the way her features relaxed and she wrapped herself around his arm.

Hana knew that Genji would never badmouth her, that she was sure of. But the intimacy stung, and it took her inhuman efforts to keep a smile plastered all over her face as she watched the two together.

“So how about that new arcade game?” Lucio asked in an attempt to break the tension. “Maybe we should grab something to eat first?”

“Totally,” Genji acknowledged with a strong nod. “I’m starving.”

The DJ gallantly offered his arm to D.va as they walked towards the food court. Gladly, she took it and instinctively moved away from the couple, rather focusing on the arcade machines and the various players. There were younger gamers, boys hanging out together to beat each other’s scores, girls gathering around dance machines or air-hockey tables. Many couples were meeting up at the arcade too, as it called for proximity and adrenaline. Their own voices gradually died in the mayhem of bgm and sound effects as they got closer to the snack bar. There were a few free tables, wobbly, missing a few chairs, but the group settled at one regardless.

It was Lucio and Genji who offered to get the orders, and soon Hana was left alone with the college girl. Though it should’ve been uncomfortable, both girls barely gauged each other, one checking her phone, the other pulling out her portable console to resume her platform game.

Despite the buzz around them, the silence that weighed on them was particular. None could tell if it was rivalry or just plain disinterest that filled the air between them. Not even them. It was just there. An unqualifiable silence.

“Do you think I should pursue this with Genji?” Aya asked finally. She’d said that without looking up from her phone, nails swiftly tapping the tactile screen as she typed.

Hana played with the stylus caught between her teeth, eyes glued on the jumping character of her game. She felt her heart skip a beat at Aya’s question, making her wary of herself.

“What do you mean?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Well,” the college girl elaborated. “You two seem pretty close. I’m not looking for anything serious, but I also don’t want to get caught into any drama between you guys. I have better things to do than play third wheel. So I’m asking for your opinion, because I don’t want to be a thorn in your side.”

Hana blinked.

No, she was supposed to say. Genji is a famous playboy, so it’s kind of our game to flirt back and forth. It’s got nothing to do with any feelings between us! I’m not crushing on him or anything like that. I’m just teasing you. Just enjoy your time with him. If it’s not you, it’ll be another girl.

It sounded more like an inner ramble than a potentially coherent answer. There was no way D.va could say that out loud without sounding like she was desperately looking for an excuse. It looked meek even to her.

Focusing back on her game, she didn’t answer immediately, rather clearing the level until she spoke again.

“There’s no way you could be a thorn in my side since there’s nothing going on between Genji and I.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t see why there should be.”

“Maybe there is,” Aya retorted, flashing a glance towards Hana. “At least from the way I see it.”

The gamer girl pressed the last jump button before the checkpoint and let her character fall into the river. Only then did she look up at the other girl and smirked.

“Are you shipping us, by any chance? Because we do have this one fanclub…”

Aya rolled her eyes with a little laugh. “That’s ridiculous. But it is true that you’d make a nice couple. Maybe Genji’s right. You’re the problem.”

Hana raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not my role to nudge,” the girl answered with a contrite shrug, smiling.

The girl’s smile seemed genuine, which felt weird considering all the mean glances D.va had grown used to over the years. It made it difficult to be upset at this strange girl, and Hana didn’t like one bit of it. It put her off guard, brought down her sarcasm defenses and made them inadequate.

She was confused. She didn’t know what any of Lucio or Aya’s words truly meant. It felt as though they knew so much more than they wanted to let on, and it drove her crazy. They were evasive, puzzling, and she couldn’t figure out a reasonable reason to justify it. A reason her defenses would appreciate. She liked clear objectives, clear instructions.

Not half sentences she couldn’t allow herself to interpret.

She couldn’t afford a game over.

“You shouldn’t bother yourself with interpretations,” she said, though her voice sounded smaller than she would’ve liked as she looked back at her console. “If you’re not looking for anything serious, Genji is the right pick. You’ll both enjoy it.”

Aya couldn’t answer as the boys came back, putting down their trays as they resumed their festive conversation, roaring with laughter. Under normal circumstances, Hana would have joined, bullying them to get them to share the topic. Obviously, they’d tease her, Lucio would pull his signature “Why are you so angry” line as she’d feign being mad. It would probably end with her challenging them to the arcade games in exchange for their apologies, with Lucio breaking the highscore of the dance machine, and Genji fighting body and soul to beat D.va’s shooting game score.

But this time, she was silent, focused on her own little game, barely caring about the surrounding noise. She had too much to sort out and only the repetitive jumps of the character emptied her mind from the anarchy of her thoughts.

She felt upset and confused, and not where she needed to be in that instant.

For the first time in ages, D.va, the outgoing cheeky world renowned gamer, ached for silence and solitude.

“Oh no, my smoothie is already empty.”

“Thirsty much, babe?” asked a playful Genji.

“Very funny,” Aya answered, probably rolling her eyes in amusement.

“Well I do hear that pretty often so… I think I can safely highlight that as one of my many qualities.”

Aya laughed and Hana almost cringed when she felt Genji’s leg under the table as he moved closer to the college girl.

“I’ll go get you a drink,” he announced finally, voice dripping with cajolery.

He stood up, his chair creaking as he pushed it back but was interrupted by Aya’s sudden exclamation.

“Hold on,” she said. “I’ll just come with you.”

And she did, couple walking away, arm in arm as they murmured things in each other’s ears. It was in that instant that Hana made the mistake to look up and meet Genji’s gaze, looking back at her even as he had another girl with him, even as he walked in the opposite way and had no reason to be glancing in her direction.

It had been fast, lightning fast but it had been enough to tighten the knot in Hana’s chest. The knot she’d been carrying ever since Lucio had implied that there could be more than friendship towards her from Genji’s part. The knot that had grown unbearable as Aya implied that she was a problem, that she was a coward. Because none of them knew how much she valued Genji, and how devastated she would be if she were to lose it all.

She felt dizzy, nauseous almost, the sounds around her merging into the most disastrous of cacophonies. She needed to leave.

“Lucio, I think I’m gonna go,” she managed to say as she stood up.

“Are you sure? We haven’t even played yet,” her friend replied, worry starting to paint itself on his face.

“Yeah, I just don’t really feel like it today.”

She smiled at him, shrugging. She was becoming a great actress, even though she knew Lucio was smarter than that. It also meant he wouldn’t press because he knew.

“Okay,” he said. “Just stay safe, okay?”

“I promise, I’m a big girl.”

She hugged him before leaving. A tight hug, the kind that didn’t really need any words, any language. The kind to which he responded with the same strength, if not more. It was comfortable, comforting, familiar. She needed the warmth and the understanding of her best friend, the calm drum of his heart to soothe her and the rugged texture of his dreadlocks tickling familiarly her cheek.

“Don’t worry too much about this, Bunny Hop,” he murmured in her ear as she pressed her face in his shoulder. “Everything comes in its own time.”

She didn’t answer, nor nod. She simply stood up, smile not leaving her face until she turned around and left, not even as she V signed to Lucio to signal that everything was okay.

Nothing was okay.

The walk to the underground station felt surreal, but the cool air of the evening soothed her nerves and made her sight less blurry, though her heart showed no sign of calming down. She took a deep breath as she entered the station, hurriedly walking down the stairs as she pulled out her underground card from her phone case. She’d decided that a packed train would be better than walking through the wide avenues of the city and risking to get run over by a car. She would squeeze in there and give free reins to her thoughts as the stations passed one after the other, people came and went, tunnels started and ended.

The train arrived shortly after she sat down and she scurried inside, apologising as she tightly tucked herself away between two passengers, the lack of space making it useless to cling to any hanging strap. She sighed deeply, pulling her headphones over her ears, scrolling down her music player as she waited for the door to shut down.

She hadn’t found a proper song when someone slipped inside the metro right before the doors closed, disturbing the careful arrangement of the packed vehicle as he made his way to a specific area of the train. She hadn’t planned to look up and glare at the newcomer for lack of interest, but her eyes definitely widened when she recognised his voice.

“Hana.”

It took her approximatively all her self control not to look up at him. Especially when she recognised the orange hoodie and the woody perfume that stood out despite the mixed scents of sweat and dust, she recognised the concerned tone in his voice and she wanted to be far away from there.

She hoped he would think she was listening to music and didn’t hear him. Hoped he would give up.

But the latter was far-stretched.

“Hana, I know you can hear me,” he said, reaching for her phone where no song was being displayed.

Without thinking, she pulled away before he could touch the device, shoving it in her pockets as she lowered her head further.

Fuck, she thought.

This was going horribly.

The train stopped at the next station, the pre-recorded voice repeating emotionlessly the name of the stop as the machine halted abruptly. The jerk sent D.va forward and into Genji. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her waist, protecting her from the wave of passengers who hurriedly left the train by fear of colliding with the hasty crowd who tried to get in, and Hana felt almost deaf from the erratic scramble of her heart in her ears.

“Look at me, Hana,” Genji asked again. His voice seemed firm, but in the jolt of the train starting, she could have sworn she heard a slight shake at the end. Whether it had been caused by the movement of the vehicle or something completely different, it would’ve been hard for her to tell, even less bring herself to ask. But when she didn’t answer, she heard him again:

“Please.”

It was way more than she could take. And for that exact reason, she was all the more terrified to look into his eyes.

“I did something wrong, right?”

She glanced at him at that exact second, shaken by the train’s inconsistent trajectory and the unbalanced passengers who bumped into her. Those should’ve mattered, even more so than the chest of the boy in front of her, even more so than the gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. That gaze shouldn’t be tugging at her heartstrings the way it did. That look of pure worry shouldn’t be this intense and genuine.

“No, you didn’t,” she breathed out, throat clogged.

He sighed. “Then why do you look so sad whenever you look at me?”

“I’m not sad,” she mumbled, looking away.

The train stopped again. It was Genji who bumped into her this time, pushed by the incoming passengers until D.va felt the metal of the pole grip against her back. The heat was more intense in this part of the train, probably due to the fact they were far from the doors now and people were the most concentrated where they stood. She almost lost her balance in the tangle of legs below, but held onto the pole to keep herself standing as the train started again. She vaguely wondered how many stops there would be until she’d be able to leave.

When Genji spoke again, she realised he was too crushed against her to be able to look at her, his breath tickling her ear as he seemed to think of an answer, almost stumble as he searched for proper words. She was about to break the silence, narrowly missing the murmur that eventually escaped his lips. The sound was drowned in the screech of the railways, in the cough of a nearby commuter and the whine of a little child in the distance. She hadn’t been supposed to hear him, but she had. It had been crystal clear.

“Why do you make this so hard for me?”

Maybe Genji’s right. You’re the problem.

“Do I?” she asked, tightening her grip around the pole.

He inhaled, taking in the sweet perfume of her hair as a self-deprecating chuckle escaped his lips.

“Yeah,” he said. “You do.”

“Then why not cut me off, if I’m so problematic?”

The train quivered again as it stopped at another station. She quickly glanced over his shoulder to see that she would be able to get off in two more. She tightened her grip around the pole and Genji took advantage of the new wave of passengers to put enough space between them and look at her. She didn’t meet his gaze.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, increasingly fed up. “I just don’t know anything anymore. I’ve been struggling for weeks, trying to make sense of emotions that everyone around me seems to understand better than I do. No one wants to explain anything to me and it makes me feel like I’m being toyed with.”

He tilted his head, puzzled. “What emotions?”

She gestured frantically towards the both of them, using the little space she had and sighing all the while in frustration. She shouldn’t be getting this upset. “This… You, me, us.”

“Us?”

“And I just can’t sort anything out. All my attempts at fixing myself fall apart and I don’t know-”

“No, what about us?”

She looked at him then. He had tensed all of a sudden, his gaze intense, maybe expectant. It felt almost like he was hoping for something, hoping for a specific answer but she bit her lip, reluctant to deceive herself with unfounded interpretations.

“There is no us,” she asserted. “At least beyond our friendship.”

Hana would have been unable to describe the exact emotion that flashed in Genji’s eyes in that instant. Spontaneity would have wanted it to be disappointment, hurt, maybe sadness somewhere? Reason, however, couldn’t find any valid argument and she decided to overlook whatever misunderstanding there could be, preferring to blame her own treacherous mind rather than fool herself.

“Right,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “We’re just friends, of course! Wouldn’t want to retire from my playboy days so soon, eh.”

She raised an eyebrow, genuinely startled.

His eyes widened slightly before he looked away, the train’s motion briefly making him lose balance.

“I mean,” he spouted. “Should there be an us… I believe you’d deserve to be more than just another girl.”

If her heart hadn’t been loud enough before, Hana could have sworn she’d heard a gear or two pop out of their place as she struggled to keep herself from paling. No, her reaction was being ridiculous. He was doing exactly what she’d predicted he’d do if she ever confessed.

Remind her that she deserved more than a playboy, and that she didn’t belong with him. That he was nowhere near retirement and that he wouldn’t like her to waste her time on him.

The simple thought was enough to bum her a bit. It was something to anticipate a thing, another to take the impact. And she didn’t think she’d been ready for her pessimistic scenarios to turn out to be correct.

“Which further strengthens the idea that we’re not suited for each other as anything other than friends!” she announced with forced positivity.

She didn’t expect that Genji wouldn’t answer immediately, rather finding a sudden interest in the surrounding passengers he decided to contemplate. He looked back at her after what felt like ages and put on the widest grin he could.

“Definitely, you couldn’t have said it better,” he acknowledged, tensing a bit when the jolt of the train pushed him back into D.va. They were once again crushed against each other, but for the first time since they’d gotten into the train, Hana noticed the way her arms had instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist. She let go.

“So, how does this ‘us’ thing link to people knowing your ‘emotions’ more than you do and toying with you?” he asked after managing to position himself at a respectable distance.

“Oh well uh,” she stammered. “It’s just…”

Her voice trailed off for a lack of explanations. She nervously looked around.

“You know what? I have to go,” she mumbled as the train stopped again. It wasn’t her stop yet, but she needed to leave this place as soon as possible.

Hurriedly, she slipped under Genji’s arm and sneaked her way through the passengers, aiming for the door as the recorded voice repeated relentlessly the station name. It was more difficult than she’d assumed, the compressed bodies barely giving any space for her to leave, each passenger fighting to get in and off the train as quickly as possible.

She felt his hand on her wrist halfway through her escape.

“Hana.”

She tried to free herself from his grip, as the beep signaling that the doors would close soon resonated in the vehicle. But it was in vain.

She didn’t want that frustration building in her chest, or the growing panic that was blurring her sight. She wanted to leave and never have to confront Genji. This was a mess and she hated every second of it.

“Let me go,” she whined almost, still pulling her arm.

“Not until you’re okay!” Genji retorted and she knew he was shaking his head vehemently as he said so.

“Why would you even care?”

“Have I ever not cared?”

She bit her lip, unable to turn around and face him. She hated how right he was.

“Why shouldn’t I care, Hana? Give me one reason and I’ll do it. Right away. I’ll stop caring. Because I care way more than friends should and the fact that… No matter what I do, no matter what I try, I can’t get you out of my head… It’s driving me crazy.”

There was something in the way his voice cracked that made her turn around even as the train rattled again and weakened her balance. Grabbing the pole by the door, she looked at him and the hurt and regret caught in his eyes. There was that and it was although there was so much more than just his voice that had cracked, making her wonder why it was that his sentence just didn’t sound the way it should’ve. Wonder why it was that it made her heart skip a beat.

Maybe it’s our inability to fathom the entire picture that deceives us into thinking that everything is only what we’ve been, up until now, conscious of.

He briefly looked away, breathing out in irritation, fingers still around her wrist. Eventually, he closed the gap between them, pressing her against the plastic of the wall as he prudently cupped her face in his hands.

“Do you know how hard it is for me not to kiss you whenever I see you?” His voice was barely a murmur, lost between a sigh and a whisper. “Do you just have any idea of how hard it is for me not to kiss you right now and you’re asking why I would care?”

Her own consciousness seemed to slip away as she took in his words. She felt numb, but somehow still stood on her feet, as though her body had gone on auto-pilot while her own brain tripped. The sounds around her hadn’t vanished, contrary to what books and movies tended to suggest, nor had the heady smell of the underground or the flickering light of the wagon. But she was painfully aware of Genji’s presence and the weight of his gaze on her, dark and pained, albeit with a flicker of hope and nervousness.

She took a ragged breath, trying to make sense of the fluttering thoughts that invaded her mind. She had to say something, anything, but no words came to her as she only stared at the boy in front of her, his hands burning against her cheeks.

“You’re-” He looked away from her gaze, eyes running over her cheeks, her lips, her chin, as though they held the words he was so desperate to find. “You make it so hard for me to keep it to myself. I’m not brave. I’m not brave enough to risk losing you. I can stay your friend and banter with you back and forth if it means you’ll still call me to hang out. I don’t mind. But it’s so hard. And then you just- you start waving these signs that maybe you like me back, that maybe it’s not so wrong from me to be so wrapped. And I can’t trust myself, but I do, only for you to tell me there is no us and leave again.” He peered at her again and the grunt of the machine below their feet got louder. “Why?”

“I’m scared,” she finally whispered.

“What?”

“I’m scared of losing you.” She drummed nervously her fingers on the pole at her left, head throbbing, heart quaking. “I’m scared of the way my heart has started to run wild when you’re around, of the way I ache for your touch and the confusion and the feelings that build up in my throat whenever someone mentions your name. I’m scared of these feelings, because I don’t know how strong they are and if they’re worth me ruining our friendship over a no-tomorrow adventure. I hate myself for envying all these girls that strut about and end up in your bed, for wishing for what I abhor and what I mock. I don’t want to be them, and yet… It hurts so much not to know what to do.”

“Hana…”

His arms were around her before she could even comprehend what was happening, her face pressing tightly against his chest and the zipper of his hoodie. She felt his hands on her hair and his chin on her head, fingers soothingly playing with her brown locks. She could sense his heart pound against her face, hasty, and for the first time, she allowed herself to hug him back, her hands clinging to his vest like a lifeline as she inhaled his familiar scent.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled in his chest. “I’m being really lame and cheesy right now.”

“It’s okay.” His shoulders shook with the little chortle that escaped his lips and he pulled her closer. She heard his voice through his ribcage, as though there was only him to be heard in the train. “I don’t care. I love you.”

Again, her heart skipped a beat. Just like it had so many weeks ago, as he held her in his arms in a similar way. This time she smelled no booze and no sweat, only the soap of his clean clothes and the incense. She felt precious in his embrace, as though she would break or flutter away, and it felt strange because she’d grown up a soldier, trained by her ragged government. It felt strange, and at odds with her strong diva persona, but she liked the feeling of being protected.

It was supposed to be soothing, probably one of those sweet movie scenes with a ridiculous upbeat romantic music and a guitar in the background. Hollywood had definitely taught her a thing or two about snuggling and letting the credits roll, but right now, she was a disaster. A secret disaster. Her heart was scurrying through her chest, running around alarmingly, brain packing for Hawaii, throat begging to let out kettle noises Hana was desperately trying to stiffle.

There was very few words to express her current state of panic, and even less to describe the inhuman effort she was making at hiding it.

Because Genji Shimada had just said he loved her. Genuinely. And none of her half-baked scenarios had prepared her for the eventuality.

“People might start believing you if you say it so loud,” she scolded in a poor attempt to look nonchalant.

He slid a hand under her chin to make her look at him. “Would it include you if I do?”

Yes.

“What am I to you?” she asked carefully, drowning in the brown of his eyes as she urged herself to play hard to get.

“Much more than the girls you envy.”

“And why would I believe you?”

“I don’t know.”

He’d answered spontaneously, as though it was the most natural response to her question. It felt odd, and Hana realised she’d expected him to have a script readied. A series of smooth lines and compliments to every single one of her questions. She’d expected flowers and his regular Genji gear, but there was none of it and she felt dismayed. The train trembled again and jerked as it stopped, pressing Genji further against her as the usual crowd poured out. The placid voice repeated the name of the station. Her station.

The distance between their faces was negligible, and she only needed to tilt her head to feel his lips on hers. It could’ve looked like an accident. But her gaze was glued on his, on the warmth and tenderness and lit his dark pupils, and she couldn’t move. He was beautiful.

She needed to leave.

“Then why is it that my heart’s still running?”

She felt his mouth at the same time that she heard a sigh, something like defeat, escape him. She couldn’t tell if she’d kissed him or if he had, but as she brushed her lips against his, she tasted exhilaration and something that intoxicated her senses and her thoughts. He cupped her face in his hands and her own instinctively found the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as she tilted her head.

She heard the doors beep, then close, and the train resumed its chaotic journey, bumps and creaking sounds and heat surrounding them.

She’d missed her station.

But right now, as she tangled her fingers in Genji’s hair, it didn’t matter at all.

[ask-art-student-prussia]

The R.R. Phenomena; A Summary and Addition - By Leon Rekjavik

Hello again, ladies, gents. 

Epic-essay writer Leon Rekjavik is here again! Today, I just felt like posting more analysis on R.R.’s posts, because, they’ve quite clearly changed since the last time I wrote an analysis on R.R. 

For those who have literally no idea who I am, a couple weeks ago, I wrote a long essay where I talked about R.R. in general, as a person, everything, and submitted it to the awesome ask-art-student-prussia blog here, because R.R. is only present here, seemingly. This was back when everyone kept doing those jokes on R.R.

Why do I even write this stuff about some random person who anonymously posts asks on this blog? I don’t know actually, I just feel like I NEED TO, for some reason. To serve some justice to this sweet, person…?

Anywho, now onto the analysis!

———————————————————————————————————

Initially when R.R. came to this blog, they were merely someone who posted these asks to this blog talking about how much they admired the work Mun uploaded onto this blog, but at the same time, talked about themselves in a self-deprecating manner. 

Now, when I say “merely”, I don’t actually mean “merely”. When R.R. writes, it’s not just a random ask, they standout with the the things they submit. A lot of time and effort is put into each ask they put through, and they clearly care a lot for Mun as a person, as an artist, etc. There’s a poetic drive of admiration when they send something, yet they always seem to constantly try to remind everyone, that no, don’t see me- see Mun! See how beautiful their art is.

No one knows who R.R. is, which is a shame, but, I think it’s understandable. At this point in time, where a single R.R. post receives 35 notes on Tumblr, anyone who’d claim they are R.R. (even the real one) would immediately be shot down as a fake. Such a case were very prominent some weeks back, when a trashy meme started circling around the blog.

Other than R.R.’s writing prowess, there’s also the mystery of their identity, and that’s what the real interest is with R.R. Who are they? As mentioned in the previous analysis, R.R. loves this blog, clearly a lot, but wants to remain hidden due to their insecurities, however, at the same time, they want some way to be recognised. This is where the signature end to each R.R. post comes, “-R.R.”. This is their trademark, their way of showing the world, yes, I am R.R. and this is the post I send to you, Mun showing my love! In a purely platonic way, of course, or at least assume.

Unfortunately, being the Internet, the trashy-meme became very popular, with people claiming they were R.R., when they clearly weren’t. This wasn’t just a one-off incident. This lasted for several days, and even resulted with R.R. actually writing a post, where they said that they felt that their presence had caused Mun trouble. Now, remember, R.R. loves Mun, this blog, and everything with it. All this attention that had enshrouded R.R. wasn’t why R.R. even began putting posts out with their insignia. They didn’t want attention.They wanted to show their love to Mun and her art. Though, this had an entirely backfiring effect. Now Mun's blog was all about them. 

So, R.R. decided to take LEAVE from the blog.

And tragically, this transpired literally right after the submitted an analysis that was made for people to understand R.R. better as a person and to back them up (nobody understands the crippling deprussian I went through, because of that. However, all this information is dumb and irrelevant, because no one cares about me lololol). 

R.R. decided to take leave from this blog, because they felt that their love DAMAGED this blog and what it was made and known for to begin with. With this, the silence period began. No posts from R.R., not a sound. People began apologising profusely, some people even coming out from anonymity and saying they were sorry. The blog went back to how it originally was- an art-student Prussia blog. However, a lonely ache remained with those who knew about R.R. 

This is a direct copy and past of what R.R. wrote in terms of leaving the blog, in two separate posts:

“I’m very sorry Gil, but this is the last ask I’ll submit. I’m afraid my presence has caused disruption to your blog. Those previous asks from yesterday were not mine. I won’t submit anymore asks after this one with my initials to avoid anymore trouble for you. For those saying I’m doing this for attention, I will probably never reveal my true identity out of fear. So you’ll never know who I am. Farewell, Gil. It was lovely sending asks those few times. I hope you’re successful with your blog.”

“-R.R. (I ran out of characters)”

You see, everyone who posts stuff on this blog either does an M/A! ask, or a question to Prussia or even Mun directly, or just saying stuff, and I quote, “I love this blog. Please have my babies.” No one, and I mean, no one, wrote the way R.R. did. They were special, people loved their pureness, and they missed it. 

And then, it happened. R.R. RETURNED, and they returned in a manner worth bragging about, for centuries to come (I am not exaggerating). 

“Perhaps one day, when time is nothing but the movement of leaves, and the sun’s died, there will be a moment of solace where everything is just everything, and nothing is just something. The next moment in ‘time’, they will not exist, but with lives so fleeting, even a moment is extensive enough. Their last words will be "thank you”, before they’re suffocated by heat and dust. Humanity’s falling grace would have echoes permeating light years away. -The one who left this blog, R.R.“

They came back, with POETRY. And it wasn’t just any poetry- it was MAJESTIC poetry, as you can see above. This piece got 31 notes- it is rare for an anonymous post with no picture underneath, no nothing from Mun, purely the anon, to get that many notes. 

As if that’s not enough, R.R. returned, YET AGAIN!: 

"Fatherland, o’ dear noble creature of war. From the moment of your creation, you struck the soil with the sword of your soul, sending tremors leagues away, notifying every breathing being of your presence. Your tenacious nature and valiant efforts bleed through history’s timeline, embedding itself over the course of countless lives. We shan’t forget your existence, for none would be here now without your cause for our effect. You will return to us again, one day, in solidarity. -R.R.”

Can I say I fanboyed/fangirled when I was this, as unprofessional as it is? 

(and this is where leon rekjavik gives up on professionalism completely)

LOOK AT THIS FINE ART, MY FRIENDS. THAT IS LIFE IN IT’S PUREST AND R.R. IS GODLY POET. CAN WE JUST LOVE THIS HUMAN BEING, LIKE A LOT. YES, THIS IS THE ONE THAT 35 NOTES HOLY ****!

I honestly don’t care what gender, sexuality, species, ANYTHING you are {(unless you are secretly evil like that anon said; 

“…-Anyways, from the very few asks they’ve posted, they seem cute, whether they’re boy or girl. And cute people don’t fake stuff unless they’re secretly evil (omg R.R. please be a pureroll).”}

I LOVE YOUR WORK!

(and this is where leon rekjavik gains their sanity again)

Excuse me for that.

Of course, the R.R. hype sort of came back, with people all but screaming in the ask-boxes about R.R.’s comeback, poetry prowess, just everything R.R. There were some sceptics, but that’s just the general Internet. Everything was back in the flow. Then, some people began to ask… questions. Like, what’s R.R.’s sexuality, what do you think R.R. looks like? I think R.R. is a boy/girl! No, they’re not a boy/girl, come fight me.

And then, R.R. replied, in the most sweetest, most serene way humanly possible:

“To those who wish to know my face, look away from hither, for you shall not find the answers you seek for. Whether I find myself interested in boys or girls is nothing special. For now, why not enjoy the sweet summer that rains down from the sky, for it only lasts a few months before it’s a memory again. Leave your homes and walk bare-foot on the grass, feel the wind on your face, hear the nature around you. We don’t know if we’ll have a future where such luxuries exist. -R.R.”

They have talent, and I don’t care what anyone says. Fight me. 

This new era of R.R. is obviously a way of R.R. showing their love to this blog, by submitting a form of art, poetry! And Lord, does it compliment the blog so well with the was they weave the words…

——————————————————————————————————

I wanted to write more, but I can’t…

Anyways, that’s a summary/analysis/explanation thing for R.R., for now, from Leon Rekjavik!

I was thinking of actually making a master-post for the R.R. asks, if Mun would be okay with that. I’m just another visitor to this blog, who likes your work a lot, but I couldn’t help but notice the amount of times someone posted an ask asking who is R.R. It may help clear some things up, and just help the people catch up with the entire R.R. phenomena.

I don’t know why I do these, even now… mysteries are just so fun to look through I guess?

I’m sorry if this wasn’t written as nicely as the other one I did. This is a link to the previous one if anyone is interested, it explains everything R.R. to the point, like it’s a must read:

https://ask-art-student-prussia.tumblr.com/post/162708791482/the-case-of-rr-an-analysis-by-leon-rekjavik

I’m not doing this in any form of promotion or attention. If you look at my Tumblr, I literally have nothing in my posts. It’s because I just like looking for cool blogs like Mun's here, and don’t feel like posting anything I do personally. 

I just want R.R. to be understood a bit better, that’s it. Also, I have a little too much spare time on my hands… (at the moment. Just wait for college to start).

I hoped you liked it.

Bye.

-Leon Rekjavik (it’s still not my real name, try finding me, stalker!)

P.S

Mun, please accept my humble submission! Don’t throw it in the reject pile!

how the fuck did you write all this what the hell oh m y hofdod?

[missmeikakuna]

Chad and the Incel Chapter 4

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

4th Post: Incels are the real oppressed group

Going to the local library became a regular occurrence for Chad and Noah.  They went there every afternoon after Chad’s detention, deciding not to give up on their romantic conquest just yet. Every time they would start off reading books and discussing plans for winning their respective girl’s heart but they inevitably veered off course and began chatting about whatever they felt like. 

Noah told Chad more about manga and recommended some. The list of recommendations was initially intimidating in its length, but Chad couldn’t help but stare with a warm heart when Noah talked about something he loved.

It didn’t take Noah long to notice that Chad wasn’t fully listening, so he came up with a new course of action. He collected a pile of manga from the library and read the blurbs aloud to him. The ones Chad looked interested in were put in one pile and the others were put in a different pile. He pushed the interesting manga towards Chad and suggested he pick one to read for the day. The one Chad picked first was entitled, ‘My Girlfriend is a Giant Robot But She’s Also My Therapist’.

Noah beamed at him. ‘I’ve read the light novel for that.’

‘The what now?’

‘You know, light novels. They’re short novels that usually come in series.’ As he went on and on about this particular light novel with a manga adaptation, Chad paid more attention to the boy’s glowing face than what he was actually saying. That last light of concentration was extinguished when he saw a girl walk past him with a smile on her face.

She had frizzy strawberry blonde hair and wore rectangular glasses that perfectly balanced the roundness of her face. In her thin but muscular arms, visible via a singlet top despite the weather, were three thick books she carried easily. Her lips had seductive curves to them, aided by ample use of apricot lipstick and matching lip liner.

After heading to one of the shelves/lockers, she turned her gaze to Noah, who also smiled at her, and dropped her own smile. However, she didn’t frown. In fact, her expression was neutral and free from judgement. Noah did not see it this way.

He looked at the manga in his hands and used those hands to hide the cover. He hung his head and scowled at the lines in the oak desk.

Chad turned his head and saw Noah’s tense shoulders. He leaned towards him and whispered, ‘Go for it.’

Noah’s head jumped up. He looked at him like he’d just suggested he commit genocide. ‘Me? Why me? She’s going to choose you.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that. And if it doesn’t work out, you got some practice before trying to get Stacy.’ Chad felt a twinge of guilt saying this, not knowing if Stacy could possibly like a guy, though that guilt certainly wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to encourage his new friend. ‘Put these books to good use.’

With a sigh, Noah stood up and plodded towards the girl. He stood behind her for a moment, mentally preparing what to say to her. He continued standing there for enough time to make Chad make a shooing gesture.

After a few more seconds the girl noticed someone was behind her and turned around. ‘Hi, do you want to talk to me or something?’ she asked after she gave way to him and he stood still instead of looking at the books. Her voice sounded like someone had converted honey into audio.

Noah’s shoulders leapt up and he began to sweat. Even though she was smiling at him, he thought he could sense the stone-cold judgement in her eyes. She hated him. She was disgusted by him and wanted nothing to do with him. He was but a piece of snot that had stuck to her wrist when she sneezed into it.

He turned around and marched back to the desk. Chad gave him the eyes of someone seeing a kitten in the rain. Noah shoved his books and manga away from him before picking up his headphones from the desk and putting them on, taking a few deep breaths.

Inside Chad’s heart was a bit of pain. That bit was the size of a poppy seed and thus relatively easy to ignore, but it was there. What was bigger was the sudden need to make Noah smile again, though Chad didn’t know how.

He decided to use a weakness of his as a strength. His quick plan relied on the strawberry blonde girl’s reaction being the exact same one as every other girl Chad talked to. If not, well, at least he had someone to distract him from Becky.

He stood up and swaggered, or rather attempted to swagger, towards the girl. When she saw him she bit her lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘Hey,’ she cooed. ‘I’m Luce. You?’

The plan must have been working as Chad felt sweat drop down his back. ‘I’m, uh, Chad.’

‘Hi, Chad. So what do you like to read?’

‘Me? I’m, uh, not much of a reader.’ Luce raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t mean I hate it or anything, uh, you see, I’m here with a friend and, well, uh…. Why don’t you teach me what books are good?’ She scrunched her nose. ‘Wow, that sounded a little pervy. Haha. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sure you’ve spent a lot of time with your nose in a book, right? Oh, not in an insulting way, just, you know, you seem really smart with all those, uh, books.’ Luce swapped eyebrows and took a step backwards.

‘Uh, yeah… It was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you here again.’

As she walked away, Chad said, ‘Yeah, totally. I’ll see you some time in the future.’

His shoulders drooped as he headed back to the desk. Noah hesitated before patting him on the shoulder and smiling.

‘There, there. So how exactly are you a Chad? Did your parents have the wrong kid when they named you?’

‘Hardy har har. Yeah, I suck. So don’t feel too bad.’

Noah crossed his arms. ‘Did you just pretend to be awkward just to make me feel better?’

With a shake of his head, Chad said, ‘I couldn’t be smooth to girls if I tried. That was a case in point.’

‘Sure, sure.’

Knowing nothing would change Noah’s mind, Chad instead decided to change the subject, picking up a manga from the desk with the title, ‘Love ☆ Lace’. It had two men who appeared to be very close to each other, one holding a measuring tape that tied the other’s wrists together. His heart beat a little faster. Just a little bit.

‘So there’s gay manga?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. I haven’t read that one since I don’t read that stuff, but I do know it’s for girls. I just grabbed whatever manga I could find here.’

‘Girls? Seriously? But they’re both guys!’

Noah laughed at Chad’s confused face, ‘I don’t claim to understand the average fujoshi.’ When Chad looked even more confused, Noah explained what little he knew about gay manga for women.

After he was done he said, ‘Anyway, tell me what you think about ‘My Girlfriend is a Giant Robot But She’s Also My Therapist’. It’s one of the best manga of the past few years.’ He spoke quickly and made large gestures as he detailed what made the manga so great, and, once again, Chad partially listened while staring at the boy’s ever-growing grin.

Another day, Chad started hanging out with Noah at school. During lunch they would talk about a range of topics from what movies they liked to what conspiracies seemed the most likely to be true. They both liked and felt nostalgic over the movie ‘Beauty and the Beast’, though Noah thought it was a bit unrealistic.

‘As if a femoid would choose the Beast over Gaston. I mean, look at his muscles! And that Chad jaw. How could any girl resist? At least the French movie understood that.’

Chad rubbed his jaw. When he saw Noah’s smile, he realised why he said that. He didn’t thank him for the reassurance but returned the same facial expression.

As for conspiracy theories, they disagreed over whether feminists had plotted to ruin ugly guys’ dating practices, with Chad not convinced that feminists were that powerful. However, they both had their scepticisms about the official JFK assassination story.

Whenever they talked about a new subject, the ratio between things they had in common and places where they differed was pretty even. Despite the disagreements, Noah’s passion during their conversations was enough for Chad to wake up each morning with his pearly whites showing.

During their discussions, people would regularly pass Chad and wave or high five him, interrupting Noah to talk to Chad for a little bit. When the frequency of this became too much for Noah, he put his headphones and listened to music while waiting to talk to Chad again, often posting to Incels.me on his phone about how ugly men were the social class facing the most discrimination.

Over the next two or so weeks, Noah did this less and less, even joining in on the conversations between Chad and other students on occasion. At one point he stopped bringing his headphones into the classroom altogether. He considered grabbing them again when Chad told him how proud he was of him for talking with others, but upon seeing Chad’s gentle expressions, he decided against it. He couldn’t help but wonder how hunter eyes could at times look like the eyes of a duckling.

[thezoequinn]

“Triggered”

Today I heard the last shitty joke in passing I can handle about my mental illness without speaking up. Not about the people making the joke, or even the joke itself, but about the illness - it’s extremely poorly understood, partially due to media presentation of it, and partly thanks to the internet hijacking the terminology of one of the symptoms and extrapolating it so far from it’s original, highly specific meaning that most people have no idea what they’re referencing. 

I don’t blame anyone who doesn’t know the first thing about PTSD, because I didn’t know what PTSD was until I was diagnosed with it. Not really, anyway. I had the same pop culture version of the illness most people have - it was something soldiers had, and flashbacks were hallucinatory caricatures about as accurate as most portrayals of what taking LSD is like in pop culture - with the character and the writer equally divorced from reality.

When my doctor handed me the preliminary screening inventory sheet to fill out while I was mid-sentence during our first meeting, it seemed so obvious. So many things that I’d chocked up to having depression and going through a… significant amount of stress, but that weren’t getting better and seemed to just kind of linger unwanted in my head, ready to flare up and shit all over whatever I was doing made sense. He explained to me what flashbacks actually are, that it wasn’t simply a hallucination and more a spiral down a memory well of horrible shit you’ve gone through, of feeling like you’re mentally and emotionally “unplugging” in response to something bringing all that up, and the feeling that everything is just as fragile and fight-or-flight as it was when you were actually in danger. He explained that the most common sufferers of PTSD aren’t soldiers, but survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault, and were more often women than men. He even explained the changes to my body that had occurred, that the acrid, metallic taste that would pop up in the back of my throat was *adrenaline* - that I was physically tasting the flood of “oh shit” that my brain was producing because parts of my body had a hair trigger for locking into survival mode.

I scored a 73 out of 100 on the inventory, and later my doctor would categorize my ptsd as “severe”, but told me with trauma-specific treatment I could hope to see that number lower into the teens. It’s been over a year since then and it’s taken *so much work*, but he was right. I’m a lot better than I was several years ago, especially before I knew what the hell was going on with me.

I’m a comedian and can find so much to joke about in my mental illness. When my doctor added a C for “complex” onto the PTSD I felt that combined with my ADHD, I had started collecting an alphabet. My doctor laughed when he prescribed me the medication that would take my extremely vivid, constant nightmares away and told me that it would also take my regular dreams with it, and I responded with “I’m sorry doctor I’m an artist you can’t just phrase things that way without spawning a million insufferable conceptual pieces”. Anything can be joked about - being a dick about it is more related to how you do it.

I make jokes because comedy can take the sting out of having a nasty knot of pain lodged inside my skull that my ex planted there when I took away his ability to hurt me himself. If I didn’t have the jokes, all I’d have is the anger and violation I feel at being someone who can go from joking with friends in a UPS store to a crying mess because someone grabbed my arm and spoke to me in the same place, the same way, as that ex the last time I saw him, before I had a friend stay with me for a while because I was so afraid he’d come back. I hate that I’m like this, and that even with all the work I put in and the therapy I do, there are still these little, extremely specific things that cause that familiar ember in my brain to ignite and immediately need to be dealt with. It’s a nightmare to feel like there’s any part of you that seems so frail where it was once strong, to be someone who has to be tough enough to put up with an enormous amount of shit but still have these things out there that can immediately pierce any armor you have, like the shittiest version of magic words. The sheer irrationality and the sense of lost control is such a deep and frustrating violation, it’s hard to write about without seeming too melodramatic.

There aren’t many things that will send me down that rabbit hole anymore, or make me taste adrenaline and feel the same fear that everything I have is about to be destroyed again. But they exist. They’re extremely specific, innocuous to everyone else but poison to my peace of mind. I’ve calloused over a lot of the minor ones, but there are two or three big ones that feel like a crack across my skull and immediately knock me on my ass seemingly no matter what I do.

You’d think the specificity of these things would make them easy to avoid or to tell people in my life about, but it’s kind of the opposite. I largely don’t bother, because the language around it has been so completely and utterly demolished and politicized in a way that makes it nearly impossible for me to use in a productive way without having to take on the additional, exhausting work of explaining my illness to people.

I’m talking about “triggers”. It used to be that only anime nazi assholes used it as a joke, but then “trigger warnings” became a cultural battlefield over imaginary “political correctness” and a ton of other shit I don’t remotely want to get into. I don’t want to talk about other peoples’ experiences when it comes to triggers, and I know triggers aren’t limited to PTSD - but speaking for myself, as the Discourse evolved, I felt completely left behind. My mental illness doesn’t have any political affiliation, it just exists. Now I see obnoxious “trigger” jokes just about everywhere, even people who are just parroting a “meme” 20 steps removed from the anime nazi assholes who send me the corresponding Junkrat UI image along with their misguided efforts to actually trigger me. It’s to the point where even nice people say shitty things without realizing it.

And that fucking sucks, man. Having a very real aspect of your mental health made into a meme and a joke that has seemingly worked its way into nerd culture at large helps make it feel impossible to actually talk about my mental health, especially when it’s an illness that pop culture constantly misrepresents. The last thing anyone needs when they’re trying to speak up and identify something to someone as being bad for them is to be made fun of. It’s like showing someone a knife in your back and asking them to pull it out for you, only to have them kick it a little to see if it’s real or not first.

Hearing “triggered” jokes is grating and tiresome, especially since bringing up what being triggered actually feels like makes you a huge no-fun killjoy (not to mention the inevitable backlash of people with underdeveloped empathy glands actively trying to trigger me after saying this), but here we are all the same. If it sounds annoying, trust me, I am *way* more annoyed that I have a mental illness than you are. I’m tired. I want to be able to explain to people what is going on with me without the baggage of other people misusing a word for cheap jokes with hidden costs, simply so I don’t have to do all the heavy lifting of educating people just so I can get them to understand that a specific thing messes with me. I’m not about to tell anyone what to say, and I largely feel that plenty of otherwise well-meaning people legitimately just don’t know any better (I know the people who want to continue being little shits will continue to be little shits, water is wet, don’t @ me about it). I want you, dear reader, to know all this so you know what you’re actually making fun of.

I want you to know all this so you know why I’m not laughing with you - it’s because you’re laughing at me.

(in b4 bland peepants hacks respond with lazy “triggered” jokes)

[ladyoftheglaive-blog]

Ignisxreader fanfic chapter 1

So here is my fanfic, I’m definitely nervous to post this just because I haven’t written in many many years, I used to write all the time but I fear I’ve grown rusty so please forgive that. I really do hope you all enjoy and id love some feedback. So this is a FFXV fanfic, and is Ignisxreader, it’s just much more in depth then that. So this fic is really based on all my daydreams I have, I have a very active daydreaming mind and so this character is kind of my OC and her adventures with the Chocobros, so this is incredibly near and dear to my heart since it is a piece of me since I’ve spent many hours and days daydreaming this up. I just wanted to share it all with you, so jump in and enjoy! I welcome any and all feedback! Also help me come up with a title for this fanfic I’m at a lose.

It was early morning and you knew you hadn’t been asleep for long when you heard the clinking coming from the kitchen. You were stiff and your left arm was asleep, that’s what you get for sleeping on the couch. It was so much easier for you to crash at your best friends home then your own, his was much closer to the Glaives headquarters and you had spent the whole day and most of the night training new recruits. You sat up on the couch slowly stretching your arms above your head, your hair falling in your face as you gave a loud yawn. “Ah you’re awake, I’m sorry if I was too loud” he walked out of the kitchen carrying two steaming mugs “I was hoping to let you sleep a bit longer” he sat down next to you handing you the mug, you took a deep breath of the ebony coffee and smiled before taking a long sip. You noticed he was only wearing black lounge pants, and no shirt, whenever you saw his perfectly sculpted body you couldn’t help but stare a little, he has the body of a gymnast but it seemed more like a god to you, hell he even gave Gladio a run for his money in your mind. “No don’t be sorry, I was almost awake already” you lied with a smirk, he knew you well enough to see right through your lie. “Thanks Iggy,” you nodded at the coffee “I’m sorry I crashed here again, it was a stressful day and having to train the newbies right after coming back from fighting daemons, just I was exhausted and didn’t think I’d make it home, hell I almost crashed at HQ” you said with a small laugh trying to hide your exhaustion, your lips going straight back to the coffee. God you loved how perfectly he made your coffee, you always miss it when you leave for missions. “Don’t you be sorry, if I had an issue with you staying I wouldn’t have ever given you a key or offered in the first place” Ignis sighed as he pushed up his glasses with his middle finger giving you a stern look, he was very sick of having this conversation with you. You just nodded and looked away. He broke the silence between you two" How was the mission?“ You sighed and your shoulders sunk down, you could only manage to stare off and put your chin into your hands and give him a quick side stare. He immediately knew this was the wrong thing to ask. “Ignis” you breathed out “I’m so tired of watching my Kingsglaive die” “It was a defeat, they overpowered us with daemons, huge ones I’ve never seen before,” you motioned with your hands “they shot fireballs from their shoulders!” Your eyes got big “and after our retreat the empire just…left” your voice trailed off in defeat. All Ignis could do was sit in silence and listen, once you were done he stood up and took your empty coffee cup and went back to the kitchen and refilled it. “Well,” he walked back handing you your cup of liquid gold “you honestly did all that you could do, I know you and you did everything in your power to protect your Glaive, and succeed” he stared you down with such caring eyes and the feeling you always got in your gut when he gave you that look was indescribable “don’t blame yourself.” you sighed deeply, he always managed to say what you needed to hear and knew how to ground your feelings. You set your cup down on the coffee table and tucked your legs up under you, wanting to change the topic you ask what he’d been up to since you left “oh the normal,” he said nonchalantly “errands, council meetings, tending to the prince. Things haven’t changed but I feel they may soon” He ended his words slightly ominously, you just watched him and in your heart knew exactly what he meant. “Well let me get out of your perfect hair” you said with a laugh standing up and grabbing the pieces of your uniform you had discarded all on the floor the night before and putting them back on. Ignis looked slightly disappointed for a split second but understood you’re a very busy person just as he is. You headed to the door with your typical saunter, and gave a look back at Ignis “stay out of trouble, I’ll text you later” you smiled with a wink. “Same too you, also next time you stay over please don’t sleep on the couch and please wake me and take the bed, I see the kink in your neck, I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell you” Ignis smirked behind his hand which were pushing up his glasses again, you just laughed with a wave of your hand and walked out the door closing it behind yourself. You made your way along the busy streets of the Crowned City making very careful to not bump into the people you were rushing past, you needed to get home, take a shower and get into a clean uniform, you didn’t realize how dirty you were and felt a tinge of guilt for sleeping on Ignis’ spotless couch. You walked up some stairs of a rather old apartment complex to your door and pulled out your keys, opened it up and walked inside turning on a light switch. Your apartment was rather basic, considering you were rarely home between commanding the Kingsglaive, training, missions, and spending your free time with your favorite boys, you mainly used your home as a stopping place to sleep and store your belongings but nonetheless it felt very homey and welcoming. You walked to your bathroom and stripped down turning on the hot water and stepping in letting the heat relax your aching muscles. You looked over your arms and legs seeing all the new bruises, cuts, and scrapes you had acquired on your last mission, you knew you’d get a couple new scars to add to your collection. You thought over your last mission, how you had lost so many good men and women, how you needed to write the letters to their families, you felt your heart sink, your job was never easy. You were in a position of high authority, you helped command the Kingsglaive, the kings military, you were right above the lead of captain Titus. You were the Commander but you let Titus take most control of the Glaive for the most part, as you were typically sent to do special missions from the king himself or from his right hands. You did your best to always be by your Glaives side during battle and to lead them showing them you would always be willing to die at their sides and how they meant more to you then just being another soldier, but these times during the war were becoming rarer. The king was sending you on many missions alone to attempt to infiltrate and take plans from the Empire or take out a bass in secret. You were an incredibly skilled fighter and had many a special talent. You tried to keep it secret but most everyone knew, you were very special and rare, a gift from the gods as King Regis put it. You could harness and use magic without the need of the crystal, you could summon your own array of weapons and had your own secret move up your sleeve, one incredibly deadly secret that only the king and his closet confidantes were aware of. You’re only sole purpose on Eos though was to protect the king and his kingdom at all costs, you in essence were a weapon and bodyguard from the gods for the Kings of Lucis. It probably didn’t hurt your cause that you had originally been born in a far off land to a long line of famed daemon hunters. To put it in the best of terms you were a badass, and you knew it. You turned the water of your perfectly temped shower off and stepped out and wrapped a towel around yourself, you walked to your room and got dressed. All you really wanted to do was lay in your cozy bed piled high with blankets and sleep a little but sighed as you knew your day was going to be busy, you knew you needed to write reports to the king, write letters to those poor families, train with the Glaive, catch up with Captian Titus, and to spend some much needed time with your favorite boys at dinner. You left your apartment with just enough time to get to the headquarters, you walked briskly through the crowds of people to busy to notice anything but what was a concern in their own life. You were about to be at headquarters when your phone went off letting you know you got a text, you figured you’d check it later so you wouldn’t be late. But as you got closer your phone went off multiple times. “Must be Prompto spamming me memes again” you thought out loud as you dug your phone from your pocket. You opened the messages to see you had a message from Prompto, Gladio, Titus, and a couple from Ignis. You thought this was rather odd to have them all texting you at once so you opened them and began to read them. “I just saw what happened on the news, are you ok?” Prompto wrote with a sad face emoji “Call me when you are most available to talk” “I hope you’re doing ok” Ignis had sent “I’m sorry. How’s the Glaives taking the news?” Gladio wrote You started to become incredibly worried “I need you at HQ immediately, peace treaters have been signed, bad news for the Glaive, they need you now” Titus had sent You immediately felt your heart sink and face lose all color, you full on sprinted to the Kingsglaive headquarters.

[pussymagicuniverse]

Trusting After Trauma

Trigger Warning: Contains references to childhood sexual abuse 

When one experiences abuse, particularly as a child or adolescent, their growth into adulthood is layered with the emotional and psychological effects of trauma. As someone who experienced sexual abuse as a young girl, my instincts for survival developed coping mechanisms that protected me from the possibility of more pain. Lots of survivors attest to the startling revelation that later on in their lives, when abuse is no longer present, they still latch onto their previous methods of enduring hardship. And this attachment creates negative results.

I first confronted the reality of my childhood sexual abuse when I was 19 as a freshman in college. It was the first year I was living away from home, and this newfound independence helped me understand my adolescence from a different perspective. I’d write dark, heart-wrenching prose to express the layers of rage, sadness, and confusion the experience caused me. But it wasn’t enough to mediate the storm brewing inside. I finally broke down to my best friend and roommate and told her everything.

In retrospect, this moment is five years past. Yet the emotional intensity of that period can still be found in the moments I’m triggered. The expected triggers are obviously depictions and references to sexual assault, but I’ve recently discovered that moments of vulnerability with my girlfriend provokes similar feelings.

My response is always the same: I freeze up, becoming an immovable stone. I disassociate from my body and feelings, refusing to communicate any of my internal processes. This is what kept me safe as a child who sought an escape from the nightmare of abuse. But as an adult in a safe, supportive, and loving environment that I mutually created with my partner, my response to vulnerability is a reaction to the hellscape of my past.

How is this possible? Why do I have a negative association with revealing my truest thoughts, feelings, and desires to those I trust? 

The conflicts with my girlfriend were never arguments, but rather a one-sided conversation where she talked at me because I refused to engage. Refused to acknowledge my complacency by avoiding ill-feelings and problems. You let people who hurt you in the past haunt you, people who aren’t even here. She’d say to me. The stone would crack and I’d eventually break down, sobs shaking my body until I admitted she was right.

My cold response to moments of intimacy wasn’t a reflex, where the stimulus of love caused my walls to build distance between us. Was it instinct to protect myself from something I perceived as a threat to my stability? Or was it caused by my intuition, which had been conditioned to fear kindness and respect because of previous, negative experiences?  

Instinct is defined as an innate impulse or tendency, a natural pattern written in a species’ biology. Spiders know how to weave webs from the moment of their birth. A bear knows when and where to hibernate for the winter. Instincts are often understood to be animalistic, primitive behavioral patterns that humans distance themselves from. I am reminded of the many ways the Western man has tried to distance himself from the rebellion of the natural world: the creation of fences, borders, machines and inventions that make formerly hostile environments habitable.

It’s not to say that these material things and societal patterns disrupt instinct; but the purpose of modernity has always been to create distance between the present and human’s humble origins. What if this cultural attitude was linked to my perception of human vulnerability? It’s ability to expose and hold someone accountable reflects society’s distrust of open spaces. With no place to hide, how do we protect ourselves?  

Intuition can be synonymous with instinct, although it’s most commonly understood as a perception of truth or fact without any reasoning process to back it up. Patriarchal institutions over-value the importance of objectivity, or hard cold facts, which marginalizes intuition as an unreliable and “feminine” method of understanding. This pattern of distrusting innate capacities reveals our culture’s obsession with hiding, and conflating avoidance with protection.

I remember thinking when I was 19 and entering into my first serious relationship: how can I trust my intuition when it’s wrong? 

This question hasn’t left me, even as I lean into healing. The conditioning still exists, perhaps indefinitely. At least in this lifetime, in a world that’s structured to stop people from questioning its violence. Trauma is a fickle thing, gone in some moments only to reappear suddenly and unexpectedly.

In Sarah Schulman’s fantastic book Conflict Is Not Abuse, she writes: “We react constantly through life…Most reactions are not really observed because they are commensurate with their stimuli, but a triggered reaction stands out because it is out of sync with what is actually taking place. When we are triggered, we have unresolved pain from the past that is expressed in the present.”  

Reminders of trauma are like ghosts. Their invisible, ethereal forms make them impossible to prove. But the feelings are still felt, as if we are haunted by echoes of cruelty. Triggers are often avoided, and rightly so. Experiencing them can be incredibly difficult; why relive painful memories when you don’t have to? Yet if they’re indications of unresolved emotions, shouldn’t triggers be something we embrace rather than actively avoid?

I took a Multicultural Literature Class in college, excited to read about non-Western perspectives from people of color. My professor had an unconventional approach to this topic, however, and included work by the famous author Vladimir Nabokov. To my dismay, one of the books on the syllabus was Lolita, a novel I was obsessed with as a teenager because it reflected the sexual abuse I was experiencing. 

Seeing the word on the page made my heart flutter and my palms sweat. I felt dizzy, and longed to run out of the room and never come back. I could have dropped the class if I wanted to, but I didn’t. Both the inconvenience of it and the possibility to confront a triggering artifact anchored me in place. 

But at first, I objected to the book. I even spoke about it in class and wrote my professor a note. But it didn’t change the fact that I was required to write about it and sit through my weekly three-hour classes to discuss it. The whole experience was a nightmare, as it brought up countless memories I longed to forget. At night, when I’d come home after class, I was so on edge that I relied on smoking weed to calm my nerves.

I was face-to-face with reminders of my sexual abuse, forced to confront my tactic for survival as a child. Lolita simultaneously saved and trapped me. It articulated an experience that was my reality, but also caused me to idealize it. This wasn’t the fault of the book, but of my own lack of self-awareness and inability to grapple with my abuse.

This realization was more painful than having to reread the predatory and horrifying novel. I needed to accept that Lolita helped me navigate something that was messy and confusing. But it also hurt me, because it helped internalize that the abuse was my fault. Instead of a victim, Dolores Haze was a seductress. This fantasy was more appealing than accepting my powerlessness. I never heard Dolores’ perspective, but was forced to glean it through what she does and says in the eyes of her captor. I learned about my exploitation from the mouth of my abuser.  

It’s no wonder that I react with fear when a lover offers their support. Why should I trust anyone, when people closest to me were capable of immense cruelty? This struggle is not uniquely mine, and I’m sure all victims of abuse share similar sentiments. Our stories are not identical, but they overlap. 

I seem to spin round and round in circles trying to distinguish between instinct and intuition, reality and projection. Even in writing this, I wonder what my point is. Or how I can offer hope or insight about trusting after trauma when I’m still trying to figure it out myself.

This discourse is present in even the most minute and humorous formats. Remember a few years back when the Dark Kermit the Frog meme circulated the internet? There’s one that struck me as revelatory and sad about our culture’s tendency to be self-destructive. I was unable to find it but I’ll summarize the gist: when you realize your toxic impulses are only hurting yourself.

As a member of the generation who uses humor on social media to cope with the devastating reality of our fucked up world, indulging this mindset is often easier than confronting what causes it. But maybe there’s something powerful in revealing our demons. Is Dark Kermit not only a darker version of ourselves but also a reflection of our subconscious desires? Embracing the shadow self can be a healing experience, because allowing it to thrive in darkness only makes it more powerful.

Writing about Lolita was a cataclysmic experience for me. I was almost a decade older than the girl who first experienced sexual abuse. Where there was previously a void of silence and shame, suddenly I had language. My feminist studies helped me articulate the toxic elements of the novel and how they reaffirmed a misogynistic culture. In confronting Lolita, I confronted a part of myself hidden from sight. I spoke it into existence, and then released it.

Speaking out about abuse is cleansing. It doesn’t change what happened, but it’s a step forward in controlling how we deal with it. There’s something powerful in acknowledging the past; it allows us to see ourselves more clearly. Coming to terms with my sexual abuse blessed me with the knowledge that I was right in trying to protect myself. For I was a child with no armor, and I didn’t deserve to be exploited.

I think this is the moment survivors begin to distinguish between instinct and intuition; embracing truth grants us insight into realizing what is and isn’t a conditioned response. When we understand our triggers and how we respond to them, we can create modes of action to confront them. When we’re self-aware, our impulses to self-destruct have less power. There’s more room to honor the quiet knowing of intuition. We began to recognize our real selves, buried underneath the layers of experience, expectation, and the past.

Moving beyond the effects of trauma is not a uniform experience. Everyone copes in different ways, and some methods work better for others. But I think the key in allowing oneself to be open to love and vulnerability is the same across the board. If you trust yourself, you can rely on your intuition to guide you to trustworthy people.

Cassidy Scanlon is a Capricorn poet and witch who uses her artistic gifts as a channel for healing herself and others. She writes poetry and CNF about mental health, astrology, queer love, pop culture representation, and how social structures shape our perceptions of history and mythology. When she’s not writing, she can be found petting the local stray cats, exploring the swamps of Florida, reading 5 books at a time, and unwinding with her Leo girlfriend. 

You can visit her astrology blog Mercurial Musings and explore more of her publications on her website. 

[thomdunn]

Smash Mouth wrote “All Star” to warn about climate change & anti-intellectualism 20 years ago—and we turned it into a stupid meme.

Smash Mouth wrote “All Star” to warn about climate change & anti-intellectualism 20 years ago—and…

Medium · by Thom Dunn · August 24, 2018

It was the fall of 1998. Guy Fieri was preparing to open his second Johnny Garlic’s Restaurant, while his clone-twin, Steve Harwell, was in the studio with his bandmates wrapping up their sophomore album, “Astro Lounge.” Beyond the studio walls, military tensions were rising in North Korea, Pakistan, and Iraq, and a little company called Google had just opened up in Silicon Valley; but all anyone cared about were Bill Clinton’s blowjobs.

Smash Mouth had carefully curated the sonic landscape of their first hit single, “Walkin’ on the Sun,” to use as a musical weapon to avert the coming damages that would soon be caused by nuclear apocalypse and climate change. The dopeass organ riff was specifically designed to vibrate on a frequency that would deliver a message of peace, hope, and sustainability directly into the prefrontal cortex of anyone who heard it. Even the title of the song itself was a direct nod to threats of rising global temperatures largely caused by carbon and greenhouse gas emissions. Yet somehow, it failed to stop the dystopian vision of the future they had seen that one time after communing with too much California weed.

The members of Smash Mouth knew they had an obligation, as all pop-ska-rock groups do, to deliver a totally sick jam that would also save the world from its own impending doom.

And thus was born “All Star.”

 Unfortunately, we were all too stupid to figure out the idyllic message hidden in its rhythms. Something did resonate about the song, however. That cleverly diminished chord in the chorus took root in our heads and found new life as a sonic meme, a viral idea that would spread from person to person and perpetuate its own existence.

Rather than heeding the foreboding prophecy that Hartwell and his bandmate, songwriter-guitarist Greg Camp, laid out for us in that little earworm, we just used it to make “Smashups” and other esoteric Internet jokes.

We should have listened more closely.

Like Moses parting waters with the tablets of the Ten Commandments, the truth was revealed in a tweeted photo of the original handwritten lyrics:

#TBThursday #tbt Original "All Star" Lyrics by: @GregCampMusic pic.twitter.com/65zzzT3caG

— Smash Mouth (@smashmouth) February 9, 2017

As you can see, the last line of the chorus was originally different. Perhaps if Smash Mouth had left that line “Wave bye-bye to your soul” intact, rather than replacing it with “Only shooting stars break the mouooohuould,” then perhaps we could understood the truth sooner, and avoided the predicaments of our current political climate, just as they had intended.

When you look at the song line-by-line in this new context, it all makes sense.

Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed

From the very opening of the song, Steve Harwell invokes the imagery of some kind of higher power, and a greater global purpose — and the fact that humans are a bunch of fucking idiots by contrast. He cleverly plays on the idea of the “world” and “rolling me” to allude back to the days when people thought the world was flat, and how they mocked and ridiculed the scientists who tried to tell them otherwise.

She was looking kind of dumb with her finger & her thumb in the shape of an “L” on her forehead.

In every verse, the narrator stands in for humanity at large, and this case, humanity is largely a bunch of uneducated manual laborers who think that Galileo is the stupid one, standing there making the classic “loser” sign of the 90s. Except…what if he was actually measuring right angles, attempting to use the physical science to better understand the world?

But no; these anti-intellectual raptors go so far as to mock his masculinity, swapping out his gender pronouns like a trollish Twitter egg. “LOL what kinda loser believes in science?” they say with their French frog cartoon faces, willfully ignorant to the measurable truths of the natural world, and all of the potential it contains.

Well the years start coming and they don’t stop coming Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running

This couplet is revealed as a critique of the US education system, and how for-profit agendas collude with Creationist beliefs through misleading text books that spread mass disinformation across the generations. From an early age, children are told not to break the mold, but instead to fall in line and maintain some preconceived sense of “order” that follows them from school into adulthood, when they start to scold the individuals and revolutionaries for not breaking rules in the “right” way.

This also alludes to the passage of time on a grander scale, and how the anti-intellectualism and stubborn war between science and religion would repeat themselves in endless cycles, even as mankind continues to grow and evolve. Rather than look back and learn from our past mistakes, humanity is encouraged to hit the ground running, and never to question anything—including the fact that we’ve dealt with all these same conflicts before.

Didn’t make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb

This is where Smash Mouth predicts the rise of “snowflake” as a pejorative. Imagine Galileo’s anti-intellectual haters mocking his gender while they chant, “Can’t you take a joke?”

So much to do, so much to see So what’s wrong with taking the back streets?

Now we start getting into issues of carbon emissions and sustainability. Our narrator-as-stand-in-for-humanity is clearly coming from a position of privilege, with no concern about temporal or financial obligations—or the damages that his gas-guzzling joyride does to the planet. It’s generally accepted among climate scientists and activists that ecological catastrophe will have a disproportionate impact on marginalized groups, since the rich and powerful can always afford to shield themselves from the brunt of it in their ivory towers.

You’ll never know if you don’t go You’ll never shine if you don’t glow

These words are sung from the point-of-view of climate deniers, who seem to think that unless they, personally, can recognize the precise moment that a 2°C temperature change occurs, then there’s nothing to worry about. Worse, they think that something bad will happen if people stopped using carbon-based energy and greenhouse gases. Until the day that people start literally glowing in the aftermath of nuclear fallout, they’re not going to see a problem or care to prevent the seemingly inevitable.

Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid

And all that glitters is gold

In true punk rock style, Smash Mouth invokes the anarchistic belief that Capitalism is a disease, and that overly-toxic economic competition is an impediment to peace and progress. It’s all about games and money.

The use of “gold” can also be read as a reference to oil as “liquid goal,” and the ways in which oil industry profits have steered most of the social, political, and technological progress of the last century, particularly in the form of Koch-sponsored legislation.

Wave bye-bye to your soul

This should be pretty self-explanatory.

It’s a cool place and they say it gets colder You’re bundled up now, wait till you get older

Yet another direct jab at climate deniers who insist that the continued existence of winter and/or snow supports their belief that “the climate is always changing.”

The second part of this couplet plays on a double-entendre: it can be interpreted as the condescending voice of an older generation basking in their ignorance and the dismissive of when-I-was-your-age attitudes that reinforce the aforementioned rule establishment brainwashing of the for-profit school system; or, it’s yet-another intentionally ironic allusion to rising global temperatures, the idea being that there will be little need for us to bundle up by the time that 2099 comes around because we’ll all be dead from freak storms, flooding, or mosquito-borne illnesses.

But the meteor men beg to differ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture.

Despite the fact that it was written 20 years ago, this is another example of how “All Star” predicted our current circumstances in which media, expertise, and evidence are no longer trusted.

This also alludes to the idea that “weather” and “climate” are two separate things — a distinction that continues to elude people—as well as the notion that scientific prediction is not 100% reliable. Climate scientists in particular use the available information to form models and calculations, and while the specifics have been incorrect at times, the larger idea that the climate is changing in disastrous ways still shines through. Climate Critics will always miss the forest for the trees, at least until naturally-occurring brush fires wipe out all the forests.

The ice we skate is getting pretty thin The water’s getting warm so you might as well swim

Crumbling ice floes. Rising global temperatures. Rising water levels, caused by that melting ice. The struggle is real, my friends.

 That’s right: by predicting our fiery doom, Smash Mouth also inspired the popular “This is fine” meme. This is an historical fact.

Somebody once asked could I spare some change for gas? I need to get myself away from this place.

Income inequality has grown drastically in the 20 years since “All Star” first graced the airwaves—and Smash Mouth saw this coming, too, as evidenced in this vignette of a poverty-stricken person forced to beg for change in order to afford gasoline, despite knowing that their own contributions of carbon emissions will get them away from this place, that is, bring on their impending death.

I said yep, what a concept I could use a little fuel myself And we could all use a little change

This was clearly intended as an ironic juxtaposition, urging us to make a change from our fossil fuel-based energy system to one of more sustainable production—particularly if we are going to continue taking the back streets (once again, a double entendre both for gas-guzzling fuel waste, and the hope that we could extend human life using biotech advancements that now collide with the ecological damage that threatens to shorten our lives.

And then we return to begin, as we’re once again reminded that the years start coming and they don’t stop coming—because Smash Mouth the future was inevitable, unless we did something about it.

But all we did was make a bunch of stupid Smash Mouth memes, ignoring the clear warnings they placed before our ears.

It’s why the songs ends on that ringing chord, Steve Harwell’s warbling vocals fading off like the dying echo of our not-so-distant future. It’s why the song has persisted as a meme: because somewhere in the deepest, darkest recesses of our subconscious minds, we understood what Smash Mouth was trying to tell us.

“All Star” resonates with something primal and shared by all of mankind—but sadly, it was not a truth that we would find within until it was too late.

“Wave Bye-Bye to your soul” indeed.

[globlenet-blog]

The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/the-alternative-2016-sports-awards-the-years-best-quotes-gaffes-and-meltdowns/

The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

Your investment medal tables: it had been another big year for sporting soap opera. The quotes, the rows and also the capybaras that made yesteryear 12 several weeks special

Star of the season

Cristiano Ronaldo won a 4th Ballon dOr, launched a variety of CR7 blankets, tossed a microphone into a lake, inspired a tantrum meme, and located the eras defining football press conference, using the press banned from asking them questions. He denied it had been his idea to possess the questions resulting from a Uefa media officer rather: I decide nothing. Also, he made an appearance to goes a magic fully-created Euro 2016 TV graphic during Portugals quarter-final. Perfect.

Ian Finch (@FinchIan)

Not only a skilful player, Ronaldo may also gob out a replay wipe #POLPOR pic.twitter.com/UC44YRv5TA

June 30, 2016

Manager of the season

Claudio Ranieri, using the edge off 2016.Hey, man, dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Seriously! Former Ranieri player Gianfranco Zola revealed the saying was attempted and tested. Hes always stated dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Hes a vibrant guy. Initially when i first heard it’ understood what he meant. He explained it a lot of occasions.

Modern footballer of the season

Lots of contenders, but two Rental property men share the title: club captain Gabby Agbonlahor, relegated on the nitrous oxide legal high 2 yrs after extending his Rental property deal because: I get that very same buzz pulling around the Rental property shirt, and team-mate Joleon Lescott, who livened up last seasons harsh run-in by tweeting a photograph of a sports car following a 6- defeat and telling the press how going lower would be a real weight off the shoulders. He left on the free in August.

Also standing his ground: Poultry midfielder Ozan Tufan upset with media critique throughout the Euros after he was caught on camera doing his hair as Croatias Luka Modric formed as much as score before him. I do not get the way a single moment by which I actually do my locks are considered an error. It damages my confidence.

Best Olympic moment

Recording the atmosphere: Nikki Hamblin and Abbey DAgostino helping one another finish Rios 5,000m after colliding mid-race. Hamblin: After I went lower it had been like: Whats happening? Why shall we be held on the floor? And all of a sudden theres this hands on my small shoulder. That girl may be the Olympic spirit, immediately.

Story from the summer time

Syrian teen Yusra Mardini winning her heat within the 100m butterfly for that Refugee Team in Rio, annually after surviving the capsize of the six-man dinghy transporting 20 refugees towards Lesbos. This is actually awesome there are plenty of tales about me now and lots of people who wish to take my picture: its assisting to spread our message. This doesn’t stop here This isn’t the finish.

Most off-message

1) US womens football star Hope Solo, reflecting on their own Rio quarter-final defeat to Norway: We performed a courageous game but we performed a lot of cowards. The very best team didn’t win, I strongly, firmly think that. They wont allow it to be far. They provided the ultimate. And 2) The uniform golfers delivering their pre-Games causes of not likely to Rio. Rory McIlroy: Though the chance of infection in the Zika virus is recognized as low, it’s a risk nevertheless. Dustin Manley: My concerns concerning the Zika virus can’t be overlooked. Jason Day: The only reason behind my decision may be the danger to future people in our family. And Vijay Singh: I must take part in the Olympic games, however the Zika virus, you realize everything crap.

Best change of direction

Originated from Sepp Blatters substitute at Fifa, Gianni Infantino calling his new pay deal evidence of its emerging anti-avarice culture. Infantino stated his modest contract 1.15m fundamental plus bonuses, vehicle, house, 1,542-a-month expenses and funding for just one-off costs for example 1,100 for any tuxedo and 660 on flowers reflects greater than any word can reflect my strong will to finish recent conduct.

Former Fifa man of the season

Most relaxed because the FBI required a grip: former Concacaf mind Jeffrey Webb, who located a Harlem Renaissance-themed blackjack party in Feb while under house arrest in the Georgia mansion he bought with fraud money. Webb, looking for sentencing next May, required the Concacaf presidency this year pledging to attract a line underneath the organisations shameful Jack Warner era: We must move the clouds, and let the sunshine in.

Interview of the season

Gary and Paul ODonovan, live on RT in August after winning Irelands first rowing gold discussing the craic, Nutella, peeing in cups, how you can row (close your vision and pull just like a dog), and just how sad they believed to stay in Rio simply because they were missing the Rio-themed parties in Skibbereen. Recently these were named RT Sport Team of the season, appeared inside a new documentary Pull Just like a Dog, were interviewed for Graham Nortons New Years Eve BBC1 show, and named as Britains most Googled Irish-related search phrase within the entire 2016. Gary: Its funny the way in which its labored out.

Best commentary moments

Icelands Euro 2016 coverage, which from Irelands Cathal Dennehy and Ronan Duggan, live streaming Aprils Irish Universities Athletics Association womens 4 x 400m dramatic relay final being an outsider billed in the depths of hell to victory. Dennehy accepted later hed achieved a pitch approximately your dog whistle along with a squealing pig All of us lost the brain.

Worst commentary moments

1) Canadas Olympic broadcaster CBC apologising in August after their swimming commentator known as the entire mens 200m individual medley mistaking Michael Phelps for Ryan Lochte and 2) John Virgo, confident he was off-air during BBC1s live coverage of Mark Selby and Marco Fus epic contest at snookers World Championship in April: I wanted to watch a bit of racing this afternoon. Ill be lucky to look at some fucking Match during the day. Spokesman: Hes embarrassed and apologetic.

Pundit of the season

The clip that never grows old. Skys Steve McClaren in June, together with his in-play analysis of Englands reaction to Icelands equaliser: It has been the right response from England. You simply think: Not a problem, begin anew, keep dominating, keep getting pressure around the Iceland back four the only real factor they have got may be the big boy in advance Sigurdsson, nobody Sigthorsson Oh, ohhh

Best attitude

Mike Allardyce negotiating the 400,000 top-up that ended his 67-day England reign. He guaranteed undercover reporters hed deliver their pretend clients keynote speaking, thats what Id do, Im a keynote speaker plus good value not only the keynote speech but additionally within the bar after. I do not are available in like many of them, bang, youre off. What happens I am talking about? Im likely to stand in the bar. Possess a couple of social drinks.

Best protest

Charlton and Coventry fans, staging some pot protest in October against both clubs boards by hurling hundreds of plastic pigs in the pitch. @CAFCofficial, 3.02pm: Play is stopped. Pigs on pitch. 3.03pm: (A fantasy ones).

Social networking awards

Best live tweeting: 1) Danny Willetts brother Pete, watching the Masters in April with tweets including: Without words. I once punched that kid in the head for hurting my pet rat. Now look and: Ive shared a shower having a Masters champion. His Ryder Cup online preview in September which branded US fans pudgy, filthy cretins along with a baying mob of imbeciles didnt go down so well. 2) @hastingsufc, remaining professional from the odds in October: Apologies for insufficient updates / Ive been stung with a wasp. Even game, no significant chances. 3) And Icelands @rvkgrapevine, giving one minute-by-minute evaluation of keeper Hannes Halldorssons summer time performance against Portugal. dinns breath propelled our heroic goalkeeper to swat away that weak-ass header and: Goalkeeper Such As The High cliff FACE AT DYRHOLAEY The Only Real Factor Which Will DESTROY HIM IS CENTURIES OF Seaside EROSION.

Most sincere tweet: Sunderlands Victor Anichebe, copying and pasting an excessive amount of what his PR team sent him after Octobers defeat to West Pork @VictorAnichebe: Are you able to tweet something similar to: Unbelievable support yesterday and great effort through the lads! Hard lead to take! But we go again!

Most confused: Californian Facebook user Petra Fyde, asking her buddies and family in June: At the chance of sounding stupid How come a lot of strange men within my facebook inbox saying WILL GRIGGS Burning, YOUR DEFENSE IS PETRA FYDE?????? What the heck is happening?

And also the best-crafted pledge: @Joey7Barton, 24 May: To be a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. 15 Sep: I apologise unreservedly.

Frederick Barton (@Joey7Barton)

To become a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. pic.twitter.com/nb5yTKq420

May 24, 2016

Best put-lower

Andy Murray in August, requested by John Inverdale: Youre the very first person to ever win two Olympic tennis golds, thats an remarkable task, is it not? Murray: I believe Venus and Serena have won four each. @jk_rowling: Murray just advised John Inverdale that ladies are people too.

Best analysis

One of the footballers reacting to Brexit in June: @PetrCech:It appears as though the greatest decision within the good reputation for the united states is made with different fake campaign and lies. Italys Giorgio Chiellini:The primary problem is an eventual domino effect. I do not think the straightforward United kingdom exit can alter the equilibrium from the whole European economy, besides the acid reflux everyones feeling. I believe the discontent shouldnt result in disintegration. Jermaine Pennant @pennant83: Now we’re not in Europe whats going to take place using the next euros 2018??? And Nolito: What’s Brexit? I believe its dancing. I might be wrong.

Wisest words

25 November:England coach Eddie Johnson, hailing wing Elliot Daly within the buildup for their game against Argentina: He is doing stuff you dont coach. 26 November:Daly sent off after five minutes.

Sharpest PR

Rio 2016 spokesperson Mario Andrada explaining why organisers couldnt be anticipated to simply fix the eco-friendly water within the pool overnight: Chemistry isn’t an exact science.

Best customer support

In August Englands slow over-rate against Pakistan motivated spectator Alexis Larger to tweet: I would like 10% of my money-back. Wouldnt visit football and discover it ended after 80mins. Alex Hales tweeted back: ok DM me your bank details then transferred 4.10.

Miss of the season

Italys Simone Zaza tiptoeing his way to stardom in the place against Germany in the Euros the summers single greatest non-Ronaldo meme. Among the remixes: Zaza like a seagull rubber stamping for worms, Zaza doing Olympic dressage, and Zaza inside a queue for that toilet. Zaza: Regrettably the ball went excessive. It will likely be beside me throughout my existence.

Single worst moment of 2016

Setting a dark tone for Trump, Brexit, Farage and exactly what adopted Germany coach Joachim Lws distressing televised in-trouser scratch and sniff routine in mid-June. Im sorry for this. When you’re filled with adrenaline, unexpected things happen that you simply dont see. I’ll attempt to behave differently later on.

President of the season

Palermos 74-year-old owner Maurizio Zamparini entered 2016 searching to place his coach-eater image to sleep. Heres the way it unfolded:

10 Jan: Zamparini denies hes already feeling twitchy about his new coach Davide Ballardini. I won’t sack him, despite the fact that I possibly could. 11 Jan: Sacks him and hires Guillermo Barros Schelotto. 11 February:Finds out Schelotto hasn’t got his badges and hires Giovanni Bosi rather. 15 February: Sacks Bosi and rehires Giuseppe Iachini, who he sacked in November. 8 Marly:Calls Iachini a fool that has gone mad and replaces him with Walter Novellino. 12 Apr:Sacks Novellino, rehires Ballardini. People say Ive gone mad, but Im the victim here. 6 Sep: Hires Roberto de Zerbi after Ballardini resigns two games in to the season. 28 November:Denies he already has his doubts about De Zerbi. I’ll keep him. That’s my decision. 30 November: Sacks De Zerbi to be pitiful and hires Eugenio Corini to determine out a hard year. Why Corini? There wasnt much on the market.

Most British moment

In April West Indies needed an unlikely 19 in the final to win the planet T20 and Englands Ben Stokes was the person using the ball in the hands to shut the result. Four balls and 4 Carlos Brathwaite sixes later, it had been over. I send Ben commiserations, stated Brathwaite. Hes a complete legend.

Most unpredicted hero

Marcus Willbomb Willis, world No775 as he stunned Wimbledon and, almost, Roger Federer sticking it to trolls who dubbed him Cartman because of his big bones. His Wimbledon run ended having a cheque for 30,000. It is the greatest pay day Ive ever endured. I’m able to repay a few charge cards now.

Chant of the season

Huh! by Iceland. Also worth a mention: tactics-minded Carlisle fans having a Peter Andre-themed message to manager Keith Curle: Woah-oh-oh-oh, Mysterious Curle, I wanna play 3-5-2.

Best falling lower

2016s best football tumbles: Brazilian players Marcelo Cordeiro and Rossi pretending to have been headbutted by each other in October (Cordeiro: Thats just existence. Thats the sport were in) Toulouse coach Pascal Dupraz feeling upset in November by critique of his response to a paper plane brushing his head: Each one of these critics, theyre so brave and Louis van Gaals Miranda Hart pratfall in Feb, because he designed a serious point.

Best Strictly contenders

a) Everton manager Roberto Martnez, filmed dancing at a Jason Derulo concert in Feb b) Mike Allardyce, spotted in Marbella in May spinning on the spot to Rihannas We Found Love and c) Alan Pardew, marking Castles FA Cup final goal by throwing dad shapes on Wembleys touchline. The 3 of these were sacked within several weeks.

Politicians of the season

Were Icelands Ministry for Foreign Matters, @MFAIceland explaining how their 23-man Euro 2016 squad chose itself by whittling lower their people in this country of 332,529.

MFA Iceland (@MFAIceland)

@pin_upicierno pic.twitter.com/ot0Mq2lsjM

June 27, 2016

Best celebration

Michail Antonios horizontal-running grass-dance in Feb after scoring for West Pork. I saw The Simpsons Movie a few days ago. I believe I pulled them back.

Least foreseeable setback

British cyclist Adam Yates, out while watching primary peloton within the Tour de France in This summer, simply to be flattened whenever a fans belt punctured an inflatable Vittel advertising arch. He still continued to win the white-colored jersey, though.

Best clarification

Skiing star Lindsey Vonn, ambassador for Mind skis and bindings, reacted to some ski detaching mid-race in Feb by posting a video of herself destroying her Mind bindings having a hammer. After talks together with her agent she clarified: It was by no means, shape or form an expression around the performance from the Mind skis and bindings. In my opinion in Mind.

Most distracted

French fencer Enzo Lefort entering the Rio Games declaring: Ive given something to arrive here. Its important to not be distracted then being booed through the crowd after his phone fell out of his pocket mid-bout.

Best pose

Roy Hodgson, recognizing themself around the giant screen as England trailed to Iceland.

Danny Bloodstream (@dannyswfc)

Whenever you place your self on the giant screen and wish individuals to think there is a plan… pic.twitter.com/YLX3Mf6kB0

June 27, 2016

Best comeback

Andy Townsend, back on ITV for that summer time: Thats as blatant a problem as youll ever see. Could it have been certainly within the box? I do not know.

Worst luck

Australian rugby league star Jarryd Hayne, cutting short his presentation to 200 school pupils around the risks of the web when his screen began flashing up porn. Organisers stated the pictures didn’t originate from Jarryds device Hayne: It had been awkward. Wow.

Greatest last laugh

Louise Watson obtaining the second biggest fine in Wimbledon history, 9,040, for racket smashing 1,500 greater than Viktor Troickis acceptable for ranting from the worst ever umpire on the planet. She arrived on the scene ahead, though: winning 50,000 on her mixed doubles victory.

Cheapest blow

Spare a concept for Serb rowers Milos Vasic and Nenad Bedik, who showed up in Rio feeling good after 4 years of beginning training and sank after 1,250m.

Greatest attention seekers

Headlining 12 several weeks of viral animal cameos: a) an unflustered cat supporting play at Januarys Everton v Dagenham game, then losing its poise when keeper Joel Robles shooed it b) a squirrel doing the same at Marchs third T20 between Nigeria and Australia (@samuelfez: Watson in to the attack. Zampa at square leg. Maxwell gully. Squirrel deep point #SAvAUS) c) 20 mongooses storming a green during Novembers European Tours Nedbank Golf Challenge in Nigeria

and d) two pitch-invading dogs one sparking an earlier tea in Novembers second India v England Test, another chasing Gois left-back Juninho throughout a Brazilian Serie B game. Juninho stated he ran since you cant tell with dogs locals told RBS TV the stray, Zulu, is simply soppy If he sees a ball, he goes chasing. Not one of them outshone time top sporting animal, though: Brazils hefty and nonplussed golf course capybaras. Australia captain Ian Baker-Finch: That bloody factor is big. Have you ever seen it? Its half wombat, half dog. US player Matt Kuchar: Its just like a moosehead on the gigantic rat. US director Andy Levinson: It appears as though your dog. A just like a dog-pig.

Plus special mention for: Lorenzo the horse, dancing to Smooth by Santana in Rios individual dressage.

Most thorough

These warning notices stuck over the toilets in Rios Olympic Village, banning a variety of unlicensed toilet activities. US basketball star Elena Delle Donne: Guess I will not be toilet fishing today.

Most depressing fact

For fans of the certain age: in May Burys Callum Styles grew to become the very first footballer born in 2000 to look inside a League game in November fellow millennial Moise Kean switched out for Juventus within the Champions League.

Getting people together

Wales midfielder Joe Ledley: dancing for Europe last summer time. One of the headlines: La drole de danse du Gallois and Ledley enflamme le vestiaire.

Best message

Cricketer Liam Thomas wasnt frustrated in October when his prosthetic leg came off as he dived close to the boundary while fielding for that England Physical Disability team. He jumped following the ball rather and delivered a fierce return. Should there be kids available watching who thought they couldnt take part in the game before week, he stated later, I would like these to know they are able to do anything whatsoever installed their mind to.

Most satisfactory reply

Originated from 15-year-old Wimbledon women singles champion Anastasia Potapova answering press questions regarding her existence after winning the ultimate. I do not have siblings or siblings but I’ve got a duck, Vita. Shes small.

Best swagger

Haitian hurdler Jeffrey Julmis the undisputed star from the 110m hurdles in Rio. Within the selection before his race he gave your camera some textbook Usain Bolt-style attitude, then went mind over heels in the first hurdle.

Most uplifting

Showing the planet isnt totally damaged: Barcelonas under-14s side, lightly consoling their tearful Japanese rivals after beating them within the final of Augusts Junior Soccer World Challenge a mixture of hugs and pep talks.

Plus: most offended

Japanese pole vaulter Hiroki Ogita upset by reports in August that hed knocked the bar off with his penis. Irrrve never expected the foreign media to consider me lower such as this. Its false, and i’m devastated they mock and ridicule me a lot. He later tweeted: Watching again, this really is pretty funny, basically let them know myself. LOL.

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2017/jan/01/alternative-2016-sports-awards-quotes-gaffes-meltdowns