Hello, I am the person from a few days ago that mentioned House MD. .y idea for it is very simple and very funny. Tim ends up in House's hospital with House as his doctor. He was found unconscious on the side of the road with 3 stab wounds, two broken ribs, and a broken leg.
Tim is Knocked Out and in Civilian Clothes with No Wallet. Which means No ID. They call him John Doe for now and move on to stitching him up and doing an xray of his chest so they can fix up his ribs and check for internal bleeding from the stabs. They are having some kind of debate about how the kid has clearly had his ribs shattered many, many times and how they healed when House suddenly stands up and says, "all of you are missing the forest for the tree. Ignore the ribs for a second before the kid dies." He then leaves the room to the confusion of all the assistants. It takes almost ten seconds for one of them to yell, "WHERES HIS SPLEEN"
Within an hour Tim has been put in one if their Anti Germ Bubbles for the Immuno Compromised. Oh the bright side he 100% has a room all to himself! Tim wakes up in the bubble, very confused with House looming over him. Tim is Baffled and says, "who send you? What info are you after?" And House just says, "im your doctor. What's your name so we can stop calling you John Doe The Spleenless Wonder."
Tim and House verbally joust almost constantly for Tim's entire stay and honestly? Most relaxed he's been in *years*. However it takes *days* for them to pry him name out of him and it's not even *from* him. Someone saw his face on a magazine in the grocery store check out and went "that's out John Doe!!" And when Tim tells them that he is Tim Drake he simply says, "I didn't tell you for a very simple reason. If word got out it was The Tim Drake in your hospital, which is outside Gothem, could you imagine the Paparazzi? And what would happen? I can garentee you at least one person would show up trying to kill me. Why do you think I was outside gothem beat up? Assassins, obviously." House's boss is terrified this guy is gunna sue them into the ground for how House has been jabbing at him constantly.
House simply asks why his bones look like Swiss Cheese and Tim simply raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I live in Gothem."
Later on after Tim gets released, he buys the entire hospital, becomes its new boss, goes to House's boss who actually runs the hospital and says, "I do not care about running this hospital. It's all up to you, I want No Power here. I am simply here to triple your budget, no quadruple it. And you remain completely in power on one condition. I want House to be my Primary Doctor. He's fun."
Oh and if you want some Angst, House asking if Tim wants to call someone to pick him up and Tim says, "oh, I have a tracker on me. Someone will show up to check me out once they notice I'm missing." House squinting at him and says, "you've been here two weeks. So I don't believe you." But Tim is telling the truth. His tracker has said he's been at an out of city hospital for weeks and no one really noticed he was even gone.
Fuck yeah. I've seen some clips of House and, despite the large amounts of medical malpractice they should be sued for, Tim would absolutely enjoy House's banter.
Also, I'd so live for House and Tim trying to trick each other. Tim realizes quickly that House doesn't believe a word about what Tim says about how he got his injuries. House keeps trying to pull one over on Tim so that Tim actually receives medical treatment (especially because Tim keeps going back out on field with injuries). It becomes a somewhat friendly game
Fair warning, I'm probably about to butcher House's character. Idk enough about him, but here's what I think. Tim would prefer House as his main doctor for two reasons:
How House cares
House isn't Batman/Bat affiliated
For the first point, House does care but not in the way most others do. I think Tim will eventually start telling House the truth about how he gets his injuries because of how House reacts. House isn't going to be overly sympathetic, pity Tim, or try to mother hen him. Tim will stroll up, say he's been held without food for a week and has 3 broken bones, and House will just banter with Tim.
If Tim's being an idiot (like not resting), House won't try to tell him off. He won't yell or undermine Tim. He'll just point blank tell Tim he deserves whatever injury he got for being an idiot while helping the vigilante treat it.
Tim will never admit to being a cape, but he eventually trusts House enough not to hide it.
Then there's House not being a Bat doctor. Leslie may or may not inform Bruce of any injuries Tim gets that Leslie deems is important for Bruce to know about. Alfred for sure won't hide that shit. Either way, whether founded or not, Tim can't trust those doctors to give away his information "for his own good."
House probably wouldn't go out of his way to inform Bruce (especially if we add on your angst angle).
Probably fucked up House's characterization, but let me know what ya think! Feel free to send another ask or reblog or whatever with changes ya think I need to add
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003. they're not soundproof (wc: 1046)
Mark sits at the end of the study table, arms crossed as he takes slow breaths. When he left the room, only you and Allen had occupied the table. But once he returned, four of your classmates had joined his little ‘study group.’ Everyone was off in their own little conversations, but you couldn't help but send him a small smile. His blood would boil if it were any other person there, but the sight of that sly smile that played on your lips just left his heart pounding.
“Sorry, my brother and Jungwoo said they wanted to join,” you whisper to him, pointing at the two that sat on the opposite side of the table: Jiwoong Kim and Nicha Yontararak, or Minnie. Two upperclassmen that were friends with your brother and Jungwoo and also a part of your Japanese class. You stared at the two on either side of them, “those two, I don't really know why they're here. I thought you said they couldn't make it?”
‘Those two’ were Mark's friends, Donghyuck and Julie, who sheepishly smiled at him as they conversed with their classmates. “Well, that's what they told me,” he tells you, huffing.
Julie, closest to the two of you, leans over to butt in. “We had something come up with our other plans,” she starts, shrugging before she mouths a quick ‘sorry’ towards Mark.
Before Mark can respond, Jiwoong starts on the other side of the table. “I'm so glad somebody started a study group,” he says, smiling softly. “I was starting to go a little crazy because of Mr. Suh's lessons, and we're only one week in.”
“Oh my Gosh, same,” Minnie continues, hands falling down on the table. She sends a sorrowful look your way, “your Japanese is literally so good already, girl. How do you do it?”
You laugh lightly, shaking your head at her words. “Oh, it's nothing, come on,” you draw out.
Allen, who had now moved to the chair on the other side of you, threw his arm over your shoulder with a bright smile. “Y/Nie here is a multilingual genius. I genuinely think she has a superpower to learn any language she wants just like that,” he snaps his fingers to emphasize the word ‘that.’ “She's amazing.”
“Stop it,” you say sheepishly, swatting his arm away. “I want to learn just like you guys, I've just got a few languages down, so it's easier to learn others.”
“I agree with Allen,” Mark starts, smiling sweetly at you. “It's really amazing.”
Your eyes don't stay on him long, as Hyuck's loud voice calls you back to the group. “Well, then, you will just be a great help for our study group then, won't you?” He asks you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glances back and forth between you and Mark. “Mark is just terrible at learning new languages, so he might need a lot of help.”
“Haha, shut up, man,” Mark laughs, though his eyes stare daggers towards his friend.
“Well, I think this is going to be fun,” Allen exclaims, tapping the table excitedly. “I've never been in a study group before.”
“Actually, uh, before we start,” Mark interrupts, eyeing Hyuck again. “Can we talk real quick, outside?”
Despite his previous cheeky mood, Hyuck tenses up at Mark's gaze. He nods quickly, following his friend out into the hall. But of course, he doesn't forget to send you a friendly wave before the door shuts behind him.
“What the hell, man?” Mark starts instantly, huffing as he crosses his arms once again. “This was supposed to be just me and her. What the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck are any of you doing here?”
“Listen, Y/N invited everyone but me and Julie, alright?” Hyuck rebuts, scoffing. “And Allen only invited us because he had no idea we were ‘supposed’ to be a part of your little study group.”
Mark rolls his eyes, letting out a pained laugh. “Listen, roll your eyes all you want,” Hyuck continues, jabbing his friend in the chest. “I can try to help you out as much as you want, but forget studying alone with her. This study group's happening. If I have to study, so do you, sweetheart.”
The sound of the door opening brings their attention away from each other, and their eyes fall on you. You peaked your head around the door, “hey.” You said softly. “Just wanted to let you guys know that these windows, y'know the windows that completely surround the study room. They're not soundproof.”
“Fuck, Y/N,” Mark starts, following you back into the room with Hyuck. “I'm sorry, really.”
“What, sorry that your plan got ruined?” You ask, sitting back down at the table. Your classmates stayed silent, watching the scene play out in front of them. “Or sorry that I heard how disappointed you were in the plan not working out?”
He watched as you prepared your books for studying, ready to completely ignore him if absolutely necessary. “Obviously the latter, come on,” he tells you, eyes too focused on you to notice that Hyuck returns to his seat. “I really want to study with you, genuinely.”
You stare up at him with a blank stare, “drop the act. I'm not falling for it,” you reply, returning to your notes. “If you don't want to study with us, then fine. You know where the door is.”
“Y/N,” he says, but all he gets in reply is you pointing at the door in silence. He looks to Julie and Hyuck for help, but their eyes are glued to their textbooks. His eyes graze over the others, who awkwardly avoid his gaze by looking at each other or their notes. “Fine, I'll leave.”
He begins to pack his things back up in silence, though his eyes keep wandering back to you. To see if you'd look back at him. To see if you'd tell him to stop, just sit down and join them. But you never do. Your eyes stay on your textbook, never leaving to meet his.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he throws his backpack over his shoulder. Without saying another word, he exits the study room and doesn't turn back.
synopsis ⤏ mark, desperate to talk to the cute girl in his japanese class, forms a study group. who knew that other struggling college students might want to join a study group?
a/n: i'm imagining their seating arrangement to actually be like it is in community 😭😭 so like mark in jeff's spot, y/n = britta, allen = abed, hyuck = troy, jiwoong = pierce, minnie = shirley, and julie = annie. i hope that all makes sense !
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💐 Catching the bouquet + bucktommy please?
• Ficlet Friday Sunday•
Outside a small chapel on the outskirts of LA, a small wedding was taking place.
The wedding reception was taking place outside the chapel.
It was the wedding of Tim, one of Tommy's old army buddies. Tommy had been invited to said wedding and decided to take Buck as his plus one.
It was the first time they had gone to an event like that since they started dating, but Buck was excited to go and Tommy was excited and proud to be able to show off his boyfriend to all his former battle buddies.
Buck and Tommy were at one of the tables enjoying a Tequila Sunrise and a Negroni respectively, enjoying the wedding cake and different snacks.
"Y'having fun?" Asked Tommy with heart eyes.
''Oh absolutly! Y'know? I have to admit, I was a little nervous about coming...but It's been a lot of fun so far! Everyone is so friendly, and the music is great!"
Tommy smiled and patted his hand "Well, I'm glad we came...I knew you'd have a great time once we got here."
"And the food is delicious. I didn't realize how hungry I was." Buck said
"Yeah, me too. They really went all out for this reception." Tommy answered. Their conversation got interrupted by the sound of laughter and the bride preparing herself for the bouquet tossing.
They shared a knowing glance, amused by the tradition.
''Ooh the bouquet tossing...I've never seen one of those in person'' Buck chuckled.
''Oh this 'bout to be good...'' Tommy said as he grabbed his drink ''Who do you think will catch it?''
''Who knows but they all seem very determined to catch it'' Buck answered
Tommy grinned amused by the anticipation. "Yeah, it's always interesting to see who ends up with it."
Tommy takes a sip from his drink and is enjoying the celebration when suddenly, the bouquet is tossed into the air. Tommy, caught off guard, finds himself the target as the bouquet lands squarely on his lap, the bouquet lands right on his lap, startling him and causing him to spill some of his drink. The nearby guests burst into laughter.
Buck and Tommy can't help but exchange a look of surprise and embarrassment as they process what just happened. Tommy sets down his drink, his cheeks reddening slightly. Buck stifles a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Well, that was unexpected." Tommy said
''Oohhh Tooommyyyy'' Laughed the groom.
''Oh that woman is gonna be a widow at the end of the day'' Tommy chuckled pointing at the bride, he then grabbed the bouquet and looked at Buck with a small bashfull smile.
''Y'know what that means...'' Buck teased
Tommy's cheeks redden even more.
''L-let's not get ahed of ourselfs Evan....'' He chuckled.
''Oww....'' Evan pouted ''Can I at least get a kiss now?''
''Well of course...'' He smiled and pulled Evan closer for a kiss.
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HOT TAKE : Makarov was a bad father (and a bad grandfather)
I'm expecting a big wave of hate with this one... BUT LET ME EXPLAIN
We can dive into the generational trauma theory : we know Yuri has been profoundly hurt by his wife's death (giving birth to Makarov) and this is a thing we should consider. In most cases, people live with the burden of the death of their partner until they die, which could have been Yuri's case. And the idea that somehow his wife died for his son... Well, angst potential.
Now : death of a loved one + wife who dies giving birth to his son = difficult father-son relationship
And even if Yuri didn't do it intentionally, there could have been a distance between the father and the son, and it has repercussions on the futur.
So yes, it maybe happened completely differently, but let's consider this hypothesis to understand what comes after :
Makarov was raised in the guild, where everybody is friendly. The only thing is his daddy issues. He ends up considering the guild more important, so the thing to cherish and protect at all cost.
Everything is fine.
Then, Ivan enters the game.
I know it's very fun to have an antagonist in the family of the master, the man presented as the most loving, a father for all the lost children, etc. BUT maybe we can go a little deeper.
We sometimes have this idea that some characters are born meaner than others, it allows us to ignore psychology and sociology, but it's not fun.
We can suppose Ivan was born in the guild, like Makarov and certainly Laxus. And as it's shown every single second that Fairy Tail is a very healthy environment, a "big family", so even if Ivan was a bit twisted, he would not have been so mean with his colleagues, provoking his exclusion, and he would have not tried to destroy the guild.
Unless he have daddy issues too. Let's consider : Makarov has a son and the mother is nowhere to be found. Doesn't it remind you of something ? But Makarov know his relationship with his father wasn't awesome, so he tries differently.
So two possibilities can be explored :
1- Ivan is a spoiled child. Being the master's son allows him to do reprehensible things and not be punished after, or not too much, and Makarov wants to give him all the freedom he didn't have. Until he almost kills another member of the guild. Then Makarov is forced to expel him. He takes away the thing that gave Ivan an almost unlimited power, and he doesn't like it. So if he can't have Fairy Tail, nobody will.
2- Makarov prefers the guild to his son. He doesn't know how to raise a kid, what if he screws like his father ? (Spoiler : he does) So when Precht makes him the new master, he puts all his soul into his job. But Ivan wants a father. So he does everything to make his father notice him, to make his father proud. It leads him to dark places, and thus, being strong = being good enough. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, because he ends up expelled. So, by pure rage, he decides to destroy the thing his father loved more than him. (It's my favorite version)
In both cases, Ivan manipulates his son into believing that being strong is the only way for him to be respected, to be seen.
Which leads us to the Laxus part (finally)
It's canon that Ivan pushed his son to be the strongest (to the point he put a lacrima in his body) so yeah, Laxus has daddy issues. But he has gampa issues too.
Let's continue with the theory we built on this post : Makarov doesn't really raise his son, why would he raise his grandson ?
But we see Makarov taking care of a very young Laxus. Thus, Laxus once loved his grandfather. Except Ivan didn't. So we can suppose he decided to keep his son under his control by manipulating him into thinking he has to be the strongest.
Then Ivan was banned.
The problem with an abusive relationship is that the victim thinks the abuser is on the right, which explains why Laxus was all but happy his father was expelled. But he stayed in Fairy Tail, because despite everything, Fairy Tail is his home. But this home is controlled by the man who banned his father (his abuser)
Laxus becomes a rank-S mage, which means he's the strongest. He has all the rights to make Fairy Tail his home, not Makarov's.
Well yes, but no.
Because there's Mirajane, a prodigy so fucking strong she becomes a rank-S mage too. But Lisanna dies, and suddenly everybody loves Mirajane. She even becomes the right arm of Makarov, because she's too weak now to create problems now.
And there's Natsu and Gray, Makarov's little boys. They're noisy, annoying, but they have potential. They have the potential to become stronger than Laxus. And Makarov loves them.
But more important, because there's Erza, who is so strong, so kind, so nice... Who is his grandfather's favorite. The same grandfather who did nothing when Ivan imprisoned Laxus into a psychological jail and who banned Ivan for somebody else's weakness. And Laxus knows it : she is the future master of Fairy Tail. She will steal his home and make it even weaker.
So he has to take Fairy Tail now, even if his grandfather dies in the process. Better, it will make things easier !
But in the end, Laxus loves Fairy Tail. He loves the guild enough to not betray everybody by joining his father's guild.
Laxus broke the cycle. And I don't think it was thanks to Makarov. If Laxus broke the cycle, it's because despite everything, he has weirdos to stick with. The Raijinshuu are a safe place for Laxus, they are strong enough to be his friends colleagues, they don't call him "psychotic" when he tells them he wants the guild, and more important, they care for him.
Laxus broke the cycle thanks to people who cared for him. They even wanted to follow him when he was banned ! But he said no, because he care for them and he knows they will be better in Fairy Tail.
Now, let's consider : travelling must have felt like therapy for Laxus : he's not part of Fairy Tail anymore and he's sure he will never have the possibility to come back, but he will not join his father because he doesn't want to put his friends in danger. So he has to do something by himself, not under the influence of his father. And I believe this emancipation was beneficial for him. He could learn what it means to be himself, not Ivan's son or Makarov's grandson.
I don't think he fully forgave Makarov for his inaction and for loving other more than him, and he's not completely out of Ivan's philosophy, those things need time, but he escaped the cycle.
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ALIEN SKINCARE. v! blue lock/male! reader. originally posted on quotev. masterlist.
CHAPTER I. YOU JUST LOVE BEING NOTHING, RIGHT?
Your daily routine is a terribly ordinary, if not a rather dull one.
That’s fine, however. Its normalcy comes from predictability, and with predictability comes a sense of control. Every and each new possible variant is easily molded to fit into what is already established.
Days come and go, much like clouds in the sky, and you’re content. You love your painfully droll, boring routine.
Which would be a lie by definition, so to deny your restlessness would be the same as trying to deny that humans need air to survive. Or to deny that the Japanese football team will never win the World Cup.
But alas, you live.
One of your classmates, Hamada, you think pensively, since you make a passable effort at remembering names of the people you have to spend considerable hours of the day with, is acting rather friendly today.
You think he wants something from you. That’s probably why he’s asking you to go somewhere with him after school. Sadly, it seems he’s unaware of the few universal truths of life.
That is that you’re never free after classes.
Everyone in your immediate vicinity is aware of this, so you’re led to believe that Hamada is extraordinarily out of the loop. Or maybe he’s being a contrarian just to appear unique in your eyes.
Which is not working, by the way.
“Sorry, but I’m busy today.” You say, an apologetical smile creasing your face in a familiar way.
“Oh.” He recoils, losing confidence at your rejection. “Maybe some other day, then?”
Whatever. He should just steal all of your money and fill your shoes with nails at this point. He should spit at you and kick you until you’re a stain on the floor. Unfortunately, you’re [L/n] [Y/n], so you nod. Kindly. With all the positive hidden implications in the world.
Hamada regains some of his previous enthusiasm. Thankfully, the teacher enters the room before he could take your politeness as an invitation to further communication.
Like a good student, you listen and take notes carefully. This teacher in particular talks very slowly and often loses track of his thoughts, which greatly gets on your nerves.
That’s okay. You’ll live.
School time passes by comfortably. You demonstrate your gracefulness and virtue at every chance. Some students swoon. Plenty of girls, and curiously, a good chunk of boys as well. Some scoff at your supposed imitation of perfection. Talk about how you’re probably a faker, eager for attention and praise and whatnot. Not that you mind. They must think about you a lot, enough to start making theories on the topic of you and the nuances of your character.
Not that they'll ever get any confirmation. You let the invested have fun. Do the divine throw bricks at the religious? No.
Your school’s football team is having a game tomorrow. Obviously, you make your way to practice. Though, ultimately, you believe you’d be making a better use of your time by trying to fold a thousand origami cranes with just your feet and then wishing for a better team. Yet, here you are.
You move across the field like a corpse. Metaphorically, of course. To the other’s untrained eye, it looks like you’re giving it your all. However, in your head, you’re trying to to remember at least the first ten digits of pi (you’re failing), so you switch to creating a satirical retelling of some subpar movie you and Bachira watched at the premiere some time ago (you got reasonably angry at the mediocrity of the so-called social commentary that was flaunted around as “never seen before” and “a heart clenching story that dives into the complexities of our society”, and Bachira got bored, so you both ditched it, wasted money be damned).
All that, and yet nothing of worth is happening before you. For shame, since you do think your teammates are decent people, in the same way drivers who stop their cars before they hit you are decent people. Except the probably forty something father of two who let you safely cross the street this morning probably had more ball expertise than these frankly appalling clowns throwing themselves around do.
Of course, you pride yourself on your ever persisting decorum, so you keep your mouth shut as you pass the ball to the guy a bit to your left, since you’re a good teammate and teamwork makes the dreamwork and yadda yadda. Even with your absent minded play, he just needs to push the ball with some semblance of force and boom, it’s a simple and clean goal.
But as if by some otherworldly intervention, the boy trips. Genuinely gets sent sprawling over the central object of the game.
It takes you every drop of self control to not lunge at him with the intent of questioning just how does this happen a day! A day! Before the match. Now, keep in mind, this strange specimen is known for his blunders. At least to you, but the rest of the team and the coach seem to hold this guy in some type of high regard. Which is crazy, since you don’t think he’d be able to score a goal without you specifically holding his hand, making the whole predicament even more baffling since you’re the actual ace of the team.
Now, you think this team could go places, if you had the time to score more, but you have to spend it making sure your companions don’t sabotage the game by playing like it’s their first time seeing a football. You surely have grinded quite a bit of your teeth mass down by pretending to be content with this charade, just so the court jester of a coach wouldn’t call you uncooperative or something similarly humiliating again. God forbid he sends you to meet the bench.
The comically incapable guy turns to you, after all the shock and laughter has faded from the group. “Ah, I’m sorry for ruining your pass, [L/n]-kun. I guess my nerves have been getting to me, haha.”
You wish it was “the nerves”.
“Don’t worry about it.” You respond, channeling every bit of kindness you could find remaining within yourself. “I’m sure you’ll do fine tomorrow.”
Well, he doesn’t do fine, that’s for sure.
The morning of the next day came quickly. As usual, you woke up early, got out of bed, and went through your usual routine with the goal of looking the best you possibly could, which did turn out to be a rather lengthy process, although that was nothing new. You still thought it was an insanely long and dumb.
What meets you next is the sight of your legal guardian, sprawled across the couch, still clad in her work clothes. You conclude that last night was a busy one, so you sneak past her quietly. Making things worse for her is the last thing you want, after all.
Next is making a nutritious breakfast. As a product of meticulous repetition, you’re quickly done with it, making sure to leave a portion for Sayaka as well, along with a note about your plans for today.
It’s a nice, sunny Saturday. So, like you always do, you set out on a morning jog. Chiba has quite a few pleasing sights, especially when there are no hideous eyesores scrambling around in the form of people. You specifically pick a time when the crowd’s minimal, right after the early workers leave for their job. Beautiful. The fresh air stirs up every fiber of your lungs.
All this joy and wonder, you almost forgot about the match that’s supposed to be held in the afternoon. In fact, the memory of that shitshow of a football practice from yesterday almost entirely left your mind. From your increasing frustration, you don’t notice how your pleasant jog turned into a full blown sprint. After a good hour or so of this, you notice just how sweaty you were.
Gross. You’d have to shower again.
Right as you’re about to open the gate of your residence, a weight slams against your back at full force. You remain entirely unbothered, however, as you’re already very well versed in such occurrences.
Bachira Meguru has his arms wrapped around your back, clinging onto you much like an eccentrically colored koala. It seems like the fabric soggy with your sweat doesn’t bother him at all. He’s always been a bit strange like that.
“Bachira-kun.” You smile. It comes easier to you. “Good morning.”
“Good morning!” He grins, lips pulling back to reveal the full expanse of teeth. “You didn’t invite me to go jogging! Again!”
Having a conversation in this position, with your posture being as straight as a tree and Bachira acting as some type of a humanoid backpack or a large parasite, would be inconvenient to most, but the two of you have long made this a part of your “normalcy”.
“That’s because you’re never awake that early.” You retort easily, with a light teasing tone. “I’m surprised you’re even up right now.”
“My monster got restless, so I wanted to play football.” He says, like that’s a totally normal thing to say. Like pointing out how the weather is nice or such.
Listen, you genuinely do like Bachira (as far as someone like you is capable of liking), and you suppose he shares the same sentiment to some degree, because his whole “Monster” thing isn’t something that you talk about with just anyone, unless you want to be wheeled off to the nearest institution and shunned forever. You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, so you tend to brush this topic off whenever it comes up in a conversation. Mostly because you have no idea what to say that wouldn’t be extremely harsh. You want to honor Bachira’s companionship and trust in you, which means that him getting upset over something you stupidly spat out without thinking is not on your to-do list.
You do think that seeing a professional sometime in the future would do him some good, though.
Putting that aside, you nod in understanding. “I see. But-” You poke at his leg. “-Can you get off, please? I want to take a shower.”
Bachira hums a long tune, but he makes no move to do what you’ve requested of him. After a passage of silence, he asks a question, even if he knows the answer already.
“Hey, can we play together? Just for a bit?”
He can’t see your face, but he can clearly visualize the apologetic expression that graces it. It looks the same, every time he asks. “Sorry, but I need to save energy for later. Maybe next time?”
There it is again. Despite it being a few years since you two met, both lovers of football and everything football related, you’ve rejected his proposal again and again. You always have an excuse, something about being busy, or not feeling well, or this and that.
Bachira has been resigned to it. Yet, he still repeats the inquiry, like you’ll change your mind someday. Maybe next time? As if that will ever come.
He lets it go, as he always does.
Finally stepping down, he leans onto your side. He’s rather sweaty too, you notice. “Right! You have a match today! Make sure to score lots of goals, ‘kay? I’ll be there to cheer for you!”
Bachira thinks you’re not aware of the fondness you let slip into your gaze. It’s for the best, though, since if you knew you’d probably try to mask it with some form of artificial politeness. He likes you the most when you’re honest, in these small tidbits of time, after all.
“Sure.” You say, simply, as some things are.
The tensions are high before the match. For what reason, you don’t know. The match is purely for practice, although you’re curious on how a low tier school such as Kagayaku High managed to schedule a match against some bigshot from Kanagawa. You’d think they’d consider it a waste of time, but you guess not.
A notification lights up the screen of your phone just as you’re finishing putting your jersey on.
Sayaka
I’m so sorry that I won’t be able to make it to your game!!!! Work is hell today 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹
But I hope your team does well! Do your best ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
You snort at the woman’s usage of kaomojis. It was hard to imagine that she was nearly forty years old. Keeping your eye on the clock, you quickly type a response.
You
Please don’t worry about it!
Take care of yourself!
Sayaka
You’re too nice to me, haha
The breakfast was delicious, by the way! It really made my day O(≧∇≦)O
I’m gonna make us something to eat later, as a celebration and payback! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ
You gnawed at your lip worrieldy. While you truly did appreciate the sentiment, Sayaka’s cooking skills … weren’t something you’d write home about. Her message truly left you worried for the safety of the stove. Before you could try to change her mind (and save the neighborhood from a possible fire), one of your teammates gestures for you to move.
Ah. It’s time.
You
The game is starting, ttyl
The match goes just as well as you thought it would.
The opponent’s defense tears through the clumsy guy like a knife through butter within the first few minutes of the game. They’re not too shabby, you have to admit. But the more you watch them, the more holes ripe for exploatation you notice.
The rush of excitement still evades you, as you circle an opposing player who is attempting to take the ball from you. Your mind is still in its autopilot mode, where you make boring, yet entirely rational plays that have carried your team to where it is now. Move your leg and lean to the right, and when the guy is still thinking of his next move, kick the ball between his legs. A safe and classic nutmeg. After that-
A movement leaves you startled; someone dashes past you with unforseen speed and snatches the football right from your possession. You’re forced to be wide awake, left feeling like a bucket of icy water was thrown over your head.
Huh?
For what seems to be the first time in years, your heartbeat echoes loudly in your ears and shakes your very core.
You gape at the distancing back of the player who had just turned your world around. In bold letters, the name Itoshi acts as a mockery of you. Helpless in your shock, you can do nothing but watch as your newest adversary scores a clean goal into the net, while Kagayaku High’s goalkeeper does nothing.
For once, you don’t blame him.
The clowns of your circus are talking amongst themselves. You think they’re trying to include you as well, but you’re too busy rebooting your brain to care.
You wanted Itoshi gone. An irritation so strong its frightening festers under your skin as you stare, long and hard, at the intruder who had come to ruin everything for you.
But was he truly ruining anything?
When a teammate of yours moves with the ball, you abandon all uniform strategy. This stupid team could go to hell. Both yours and the enemy’s. This game should be just between you and him.
Much to the shock of your team, who had probably gotten too comfortable with your usually passive way of playing, you pick up the pace, with the speed and technique built up through many regular torturous sessions of trying to polish yourself to your extremes.
It’s something you had to do, lest you want to be left in the dust when the real threat appears.
Is Itoshi a real threat?
A wispy smile still hangs from your lips. It looks … out of place, possibly, as it’s no longer a carefully planned tool of deceit.
Astonished shouts of your team as you steal the ball from your own comrade is nothing but background noise.
There he comes. His gaze is glacier cold as he weaves between the humanoid obstacles in his path. Surely, he’s wholy confident in his domination of this match. You wait.
Itoshi moves with clear intent of making you crumble under his might. That won’t do. Who does he think he is? Who does he think you are? Does he think you’re a mere bug, a speck of dust on his road to victory? That doesn’t make sense at all.
“Pass to me!” Someone yells at you, as if you weren’t the damned ace, as if you weren’t the one who gave this shitty team the ability to get off the ground in the first place.
You’re nowhere near the penalty area. The other team’s defense is scattered around, trying to cut off all your routes. Now aware of the possible danger you represent, Itoshi is right by your side, with his eyelash rimmed eyes watching you like he might tear you apart. At least he’s fast on the uptake, you muse, as you almost carelessly roll the ball across the grass.
The angle is terribly narrow, but it’ll do.
Avoiding Itoshi’s attempt at ridding you of the ball, you raise your leg and deliver a swift kick to it, sending it flying in a rather flimsy arc (your brows furrow slightly at that), which manages to slam into the net at a spot left open.
1-1.
You stop and take a long look at the goal. That was a five out of ten. Hell, maybe even four. But it seemed like it was enough to make your current “rival” appear like he wants to explode you with his mind.
That makes you … giddy? Edges of your lips wobble as you attempt to keep your expression under control. Even if you just single handedly destroyed the foundation of your team as well as the way its members saw you, you still had appearances to keep. From the corner of your eye, you spot Bachira watching, with a grin so manic it bordered on deranged.
In the end, you lose the game. And yet, to you, it feels like a victory, sweeter than any other. You managed to keep Itoshi from scoring another goal (well, you didn’t score another one either, but that was fine), and you got the front seat to the slow unraveling of his stoic disposition.
His team manages to secure a victory with their goal. But their ace, visibly pissed, makes his way to you. His tone is biting, befitting of an untouchable beauty such as himself.
“Next time, I’ll crush you.”
And then he leaves. One for dramatics, that’s for sure. Mommy’s little edgelord. Deciding to play along, you wave at his retreating back, signature smile set in place. “If you say so, Itoshi.”
Pointedly ignoring the troupe of mongrels, you collect your belongings and make a swift departure. Of course, nothing is that simple for you, because Bachira is waiting for you outside. Predictably, he lunges at you, but is considerate enough to take note of your possible exhaustion and not jump on your back like he usually does, instead opting to sling an arm around your shoulders.
“That was pretty insane, you know.” He begins, although you note the sharpness of his grin that was unknown to you, up until now. “I never knew you could play like that.”
Then, he goes on to speak more, but you’re already ensnared within your own mind. A familiar thing; anger, ire, all-consuming, starts to ignite your entire being. A combination of many factors give way to its rise, both from Bachira’s subtle and probably unintentional downplaying of your perceived capability, and from … well, everything about the game. Especially Itoshi. What, did they all think you were some insignificant ant? A poser, perhaps? Maybe a-
You pause all thought. Suddenly, your legs feel weak. Not from tiredness, of course not. Embarrassingly, the weight of emotions was always a bigger burden than anything of physical kind.
That was your weakness. A flaw that you needed to demolish.
“Bachira,” you gasp out, voice small and uneven. “Bachira-”
The boy in question tilts his head. “Huh? What is it?”
“Hold me.” You say, just before you collapse.
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