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redwineconversation · 1 year

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PSG - OL OLPlay Postgame Interviews

I know there's other postgame interviews but I'll be honest I skipped them because I really do want the summer off. There's a couple of old OL Night Systems interviews (Abily and I think the video analyst) that I need to watch before really deciding if it's worth committing to. As I've said, those take forever to translate, but as I also say, to know this team is to understand them and the OL Night Systems is a way to get to that. So we'll see.

If this doesn't convert people into being fans of Vanessa Gilles idk what will.

LINDSEY HORAN INTERVIEW

[Note: Horan switches back and forth between English and French, so I will flag it when it was originally in English]

Journalist: Lindsey, thank you for being here with us. Congratulations first of all. There was a lot of emotion tonight.

Horan: Thank you, thanks a lot. I'm sorry, my friend Ada [Hegerberg] is really - [Hegerberg "dances" (??) into the frame] No, I'm really, really happy to have won. Sorry, another one -

[Hegerberg heckles "what good French, what good French" from behind the camera]

Horan: [in English] Stop! We're very, very happy with the win.

Journalist: [in English] Lindsey, it was a very tight game. A new final against PSG, a team that you know perfectly. What made the difference tonight?

Horan: [in English] Honestly, mentally we stayed in the game. It was a case that - sorry, there are just so many distractions right now. PSG played a very good game and they gave us a lot of threats. They had a lot of the ball most of the game. We had to stay in it, and we knew that our chances would come. And we scored. And Bruuni, I'm so, so proud of her, because we've been waiting for that goal for a long time.

[Hegerberg continues to heckle off-camera]

Journalist: [in English] Lindsey, Lindsey. Tell us, what are your feelings after this season, with your third trophy on the national level. You won the league, the Trophee des Championnes against PSG and now the title again. Is it a good season?

Horan: [in English] Yeah, obviously we were a little disappointed with falling short in the Champions League, but now winning two trophies with this club is very important for us, to end on a high. And you know, in a game like this against PSG on their home turf, it's what's most important. And so again, I'm so proud of my friend Bruuni, because this goal means a lot to her, she means a lot to me. And yeah, so proud of her. I'm proud of this team and how we finished the season.

Journalist: [in English] What is your feeling regarding the season? What has been for you the key point to manage to succeed with the team?

Horan: [in English] For me, just being consistent, play at a level that I know I can, to my standards, and doing whatever I possibly can to help the team win. Tonight that was playing [as a] No. 6. Obviously we missed Dama[ris] a bit, and Amandine [Henry]. And yeah, I wanted to come out and play whatever game I could as a No. 6, so I think that was for me the most important.

Journalist: Thanks a lot, Lindsey. We'll see each other on Saturday at the Groupama Stadium to celebrate with the fans.

Horan: Thank you!

SONIA BOMPASTOR INTERVIEW

Journalist: Sonia, congratulations. We saw an excellent game tonight. A great final, which resulted finally in Lyon winning another title.

Bompator: Yeah, I think - hello to everyone - I think you're right to say that it was a game where there was a lot of top quality on display. It was at the Parc des Princes, there was a large crowd, good style of play ... at times, efficiency as well on our end right at the end of the game. In any case, I think that for the development of the sport, it was good promotion, a good final in the league. And obviously the scenario was favorable for us, so we're super happy and extremely satisfied [with the result].

Journalist: [locker room celebrations can be heard in the background] A word on what is happening in the locker room, without giving us any personal details? What were your first words to the players and to the staff? This win was the reward at the end of season that wasn't always easy, but it was a reward of excellent work overall.

Bompastor: Yeah, that's true. That's what I said in the locker room. The season was long, it was difficult at times. So this title is a reward for all the work that was put in, by the players but by the staff as well. We do our job and it's a job we are passionate about, it's a game, it's fun. And when there are wins, but especially when we accomplish our objectives, we need to savor it. it's important, because that's the part of the iceberg we can see. But there is a lot of work put into it that we don't see as much when you win games, win titles, and accomplish your objectives. And this title, this 16th title, obviously we have to savor it, take advantage of it, and tell ourselves that the season was difficult but we were rewarded at the end, and that's good.

Timothee: Sonia, good evening and congratulations. You spent a lot of time this season saying that a win is actually a win for the team as a whole. How symbolic, to have Signe Bruun score off an assist from Amel Majri. Two substitutes, who maybe hadn't gotten the game time they wanted. It's difficult to swallow for players who all want to play but have to be substitutes. Tonight, Signe Bruun scored the deciding header, which put this team and the game in the history books. It highlights what you have said throughout the season, it's a team win, even if daily it can be difficult.

Bompastor: Yeah, it's true. And I'm really happy today for Amel [Majri], for Signe [Bruun], to have made the difference. Signe, it was a really difficult season for her. I was a little sad [for her], even though I was the one who was making the decisions. But she is a player who in terms of mentality is absolutely remarkable, she never gave up even in the most difficult moments for her personally. She was able to keep working and stay focused. And yeah, I'm glad that tonight she was rewarded. I think that it was important for her to score this goal for us to get us the title. And it was symbolic, as you said. It's true that I have a lot of international players on my team. Sometimes they're a little frustrated at not playing more. It's part of the competition that needs to be in a club of this level. When you have all of these objectives, you need a deep bench. And so when the players have the right mentality, when they're able to come in and make a difference, that makes me really happy, for them personally, for us, and for the club as a whole.

Journalist: Sonia, a triple on the French national scene: Trophee des Championnes, Coupe de France, the league. It's a successful season, no?

Bompastor: Yeah, listen, we're still in the heat of the moment, so I will take the time at the end of the season to do an analysis of this season. Obviously three titles out of four is something positive even if, you know, you know our standards, our competitiveness. We would have liked to have kept the Champions League with Lyon. We didn't manage to do that this season. But you need to have humility at the top level, ask questions of yourself. You need that so that next season you do a clean sweep. And each season you have to start over with a blank page to rewrite the story.

Journalist: A quick word, Sonia, on Gerard Precheur, who congratulated you and Lyon on a new title. And on the side, he criticized a little Lyon's style of play tonight. Were you surprised? It was a real battle between these two teams.

Bompastor: Yeah. After, I can understand Gerard's [Precheur] big frustration and disappointment. It's true that he has a reputation as a coach of getting his team to play well so that his team gains the upper hand and maintains control over their opponent. It's what they showed tonight. But the top level, it's also about efficiency. It's being able to win games so you can win titles. As a competitive person, if I can find the balance between controlling the game and efficiency in order win the games which will win you titles, that's what makes me happy. As a competitor, what stands out for me is that winning is important, especially at the top level. And winning titles is important for the history books.

Journalist: Tonight, Sonia, was basically the perfect night. We obviously have to bring up the low point, which is Delphine Cascarino coming off because of an injury. We saw her in tears. Is there cause for concern? [This interview was done before Cascarino's ACL injury was confirmed]

Bompastor: Listen, she felt some pain in her knee. So we'll wait for the tests. It's true that the players are in a complicated situation, there is the World Cup coming up, and there's a part of them which is already focusing on the World Cup. So it's normal that there is some concern. Now beyond that, we have had players who have suffered really minor injuries, sometimes you have to stay composed in these situations, wait for the result of the tests, and cross our fingers and hope for good news.

Journalist: Sonia, we have set a date for next Saturday at the Groupama Stadium. We will be playing [Stade de] Reims. It will also be the opportunity to celebrate everybody, Saturday at home.

Bompastor: Exactly. In any case, by having gotten the job done tonight we can approach the game against Stade de Reims [as a celebration]. We have the opportunity of finishing the season with our last game at home. It will allow us to properly celebrate this season, which was long and difficult. We were able to do what needed to be done to win some titles. So we will really savor it, we'll honor those who really aught to be honored. And that will allow us to finish the season in the best of ways.

Journalist: A huge, huge congratulations on behalf of OLPlay and from the Lyon club tonight. Once again, Sonia, congratulations.

Bompastor: Thank you to everyone.

VANESSA GILLES (ft SIGNE BRUUN) INTERVIEW

Journalist: We found Vanessa Gilles. If Lyon won their 16th title as French league champions, this is the first for you, Vanessa. I imagine it's a special feeling.

Gilles: [laughs] Yes, indeed, it's been five years since I've been in France, if I'm not wrong, and it's my first league trophy. I'm really happy and proud.

Journalist: Especially because it's two trophies in two weeks. The Coupe de France, and tonight the league. Both against Paris Saint-Germain, those games are always a big fight until the end. They're very close. We saw a great game of football tonight.

Gilles: Yeah, I mean it's our direct rival so obviously there's always going to be intensity and good football. There are incredible players on the field, for both teams. So obviously there's going to be good football. Beyond that, we started the game really well. I think we even could have been up 2-0, 3-0 in the first half. After, I think that Paris [Saint-Germain] played really well in the second half. They were able to keep possession of the ball. But we stuck together and were able to defend collectively and go score that goal and win. So I'm really proud of the team and the group as a whole.

Timothee: Hi, Vanessa, and congratulations. Can you explain what happened on the field when you saw Signe Bruun's header and the net shaking? We saw a lot of emotion from everybody. What happened from your point of view and what were you thinking?

Gilles: I wasn't thinking about a lot. I think I blacked out. I think I went to give a big hug to Wendie [Renard], with Chris[tiane Endler]. That's all I remember. And then we got it together and continued the game, because we know that a game lasts 90 minutes and having to experienced what we did in the ChampioSons League against Chelsea, we didn't want to go through the same - [Signe Bruun empties a water bottle on Gilles' head] the same thing.

Journalist: Vanessa, the other good news of the week is your extension. The adventure continues -

Gilles: [yelling to Hegerberg off-camera] Be serious!

Journalist: The adventure continues for you next season.

Gilles: Sorry, I can only hear Ada [Hegeberg].

Journalist: Could be worse. We were saying -

Gilles: Yes, yes, the adventure continues. You're stuck with me and I'm not going anywhere.

Timothee: That works for me

Journalist: Could you tell us what motivated you to extend? We imagine it's also the Champions League which remains a point of interest for you.

[Gilles drags Lindsey Horan into the frame]

Gilles: [patting Horan on the head] She's my motivation. [to Horan in English] What a great question. They just asked me what my motivation. was to re-sign.

Horan: [in French] Me.

Gilles: [in English] This one. [in French] My motivation was obviously, well, it's Lyon, really. I said at the beginning when I first arrived that you don't turn Lyon down. So when Lyon made a proposal and wanted to re-sign me, well, my answer was the same. You don't turn Lyon down. There was a lot of emotion this year. I learned so, so much. I have incredible relationships, friendships on and off the field. So I want to stay, I want to continue this adventure with these players, this group, and continue to - [Gilles gets distracted by Bruun off-camera] and continue to win trophies. It's complete mayhem behind the camera.

Journalist: Vanessa, we all had the same impression here at OLTV. We find you so at ease. We feel as though you have always been at the club. We really feel as though you found your natural place in this team. Is that something you feel as well?

Gilles: Yeah, I said it before and I often repeat it. This group, it's a really special group. There's, there's - yeah. It's a special group. The players who are a part of it, the group, the people who support this team, it's incredible. There's a reason Lyon has won eight Champions Leagues, 16 league titles, I don't know how many Coupe de France. It's not a coincidence. Not only the players - [to Bruun off-screen] yes, I'm still speaking, but I'm complimenting you! Let me compliment you. Anyway, it's a special group. So yeah.

Journalist: In any case, congratulations, Vanessa.

Vanessa: [to Bruun, in English] Move over, it's okay.

Journalist: Don't hesitate to show us what's happening next to you. If you want to interview someone, we're not going to stop you. We'll take it.

[Gilles drags Bruun into the frame]

Gilles: I actually have the goal scorer right here. She's full of happiness. And she won't let me finish my interview. [Bruun wanders off] Sorry, any more questions?

Journalist: We'll glad take Vanessa interviewing tonight's goal scorer.

Gilles: [dragging Bruun back into the frame] Ah, Bruuni, how did you experience scoring that goal? Tell us about that goal.

Bruun: I'm really happy.

Gilles: [in English, pointing at the camera] Don't talk to me.

Bruun: Yeah, I'm really happy for the team to get the win. It was a complicated game, but we kept pushing and we won.

Gilles: Talk to us about how you reacted when the ball was at the back of the net.

Bruun: It happened so fast. I just [in English] How do you say it? I just did it.

Gilles: [in English] You scored?

Bruun: I didn't think about it. I just did it.

Gilles: And after?

Bruun: I don't have the words, because it was a good - stop laughing!

Gilles: [in English] I'm smiling!

Bruun: [in English] You're laughing at me!

Gilles: [in English] No!

Bruun: No, umm, I'm really happy. After all the work, all the practice sessions. Yeah, I don't have the words. I'm just happy.

Gilles: Being a former Paris [Saint-Germain] player, coming back here, scoring that goal. How are you feeling about it? [smugly to the camera] Fuck, I'm such a natural at this.

Bruun: It's kind of special. And a little weird as well, because I played here before. But being here with this group, it was ...

Gilles: Special?

Bruun: Exactly. They're magnificent. The staff, all the players, the club. [touching the badge] It was an honor to play with Lyon.

Gilles: There you have it. Any more questions?

Timothee: We're out of a job.

Journalist: That was perfect.

Gilles: Any message for the fans?

Bruun: Thank you very much for your support every season. [in English] It means a lot to us. [in French] Thank you.

Gilles: [drops the mic]

Timothee: Congratulations.

Gilles: And now everyone is in the showers so there are no players left [to interview]. [to Bruun] Congratulations.

Journalist: Thank you, Vanessa. And congratulations, Signe.

#all good love stories start in the rain #lindsey horan #sonia bompastor #vanessa gilles #signe bruun

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borahaejenn · 7 months

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🩷Dear Jin,🥰 🩷

I wanted to wish you a very🎉 HAPPY HAPPY HAPPPPPPPYYYYYY 31ST BIRTHDAY! 🎉 hehe Thank you for growing another year healthier and stronger, Jin. 🙏 Even if you may not see this I wanted to do my best to wish you the best hehe Something I learned about this past year is that character is built when you do your best and give it your all even when no one is looking. Character development happens when you only have yourself to settle any score. Now I sound like some character in a game lol but I think it is true. So, I am here today on a quest to do my utmost best to show you how much you also mean to me by being here no matter what. 👍How are you today in the barracks, Jin? I read that Jimin and Kook will join you in the same area soon. I wonder how nice it will be to see familiar faces again, but I think you are the type of person to see familiarity with anyone you meet. You are very warm and inviting like that. 🥰I hope you get many greetings today or at least feel the love from afar because ARMYs love is super loud and vast. 💜

So, you are 31 but 32 in Korea, right? I am not sure if they changed the age system yet, but I will just still state it that way. hehe I guess that means you are 4 in the inside lol 3+1= 4. lol I think it is true when people say that the older you get, the youthful you become. haha It is like the rebirth of our earlier days. But, beyond jokes, let us live youthfully together. Let's go, JIN!!!!!! I will soon be 3 years old next year lmaoo 3+0 is 3 haha Gotta love math. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Well, I guess let me ask while I am here. what is your dream, Jin? I know you may go along the lines of doing music with Bangtan and for ARMY, but I want to know beyond that. What is the smallest thing that brings you joy? What is your personal dream that is just yours? I hope you can think about that and later come back to us ready to go for it. I have been thinking lately and mines is to write and write and write, like I got a ton of blank journals lately and I just want to write and write, and I feel so drawn to it. It brings me joy and even now I am in the act of writing, and I would love to keep doing it in many ways and see where it leads me. I don't know why but inside I feel like life coming out of me these days and I mean it in a light way but when I am just writing or even typing it feels so right. I know my dream doesn't sound concrete or super detailed, but I wanted to keep it simple and just go about it. I feel like my journey is finally beginning haha it feels new but right. I wonder what your dream is. But I get to say thank you, for being a part of my dream for if you weren't here and Bangtan was not here I would not have realized this after writing to y'all for a long time. Thank you, Jin. I still remember the one time I had an epiphany in vlive and realized how much I disliked writing essays in high school and during my college years but there I was writing so much to all of you or even a specific member that people kept commenting that it was too much for them to read it and I felt like laughing but smiling because even if no one was going to read my long letters, I know that I gave it my all and it satisfied me. The comments I would get way in the past just fueled my efforts even if others may have thought it was for nothing or if it was a waste. To me it wasn't, and I think that is what mattered all along. I felt like I proved that I was about my business to myself even if others didn't get my business lol I think that is what dreams are about. No one has to get it but you and this reminds me of you, Jin. Remember when you said this: "Only you have to know how hard you work." I think I took it really seriously and I wish to thank you for those words. It has kept me here this long even when I felt like letting the words and thoughts of others internalize in my mind, that I felt that I should leave or quit many times before. You reminded me that no matter what I am still part of a dialogue in the vast letters and posts ARMY makes. I love you, Jin. 🩷

I think that is how you make all of us come together. You see all of us as purposeful and you find significance in each of us. You always at some point found a way to see the best in each member and you let them know just like you have with ARMY many times. You never leave any of us out. With you, we can all feel secure and seen. I love that about you. 💕

In the videos I ask If I could be the Nami to your Luffy lol but let me explain more haha Although I see myself as Luffy a lot, I think you can be too as you are one of the most enthusiastic and energetic people, I have known from what I have seen upfront. I only got to flourish my spirit again when I came across Bangtan and then you the more I noticed you over the years. I am childlike but I wasn't a lot of my childhood, and I am making up for that in my adult years more and it was hard to let that come out, but you are one of the people that helped me let that part of me bloom. Like Nami, I felt like I had all the answers to solve my own problems because I didn't feel comfortable to ask for help or to let anyone know I needed help. I didn't see people as friends at this type of extent beyond just the idea of what I thought it should be or even thought of the possibility to even make such social connections or interactions in this way. But then you came along and cracked a joke about food being zero calories when it is delicious, and I started to smile and laugh more. lol You need to know this, but every joke you kept making just made a crack into the tough exterior I had little by little only to later feel comfortable to laugh a long, to take photos, to make my own jokes, to share bits of myself, to even stay here longer. You are like my Luffy. You became my friend as well and I felt more inclined to believe in the power of this type of human connection even if it is in this way. Thank you for showing me what it is to live and laugh. Your presence did that one way or another. 😊

Well, I shall go and leave you to your day, JIN! I hope ARMY has a nice JIN DAY as well. Please enjoy the videos lol I am not at my best in health, but I wanted to give it my all anyways. Because you always give us your all, and yes, I do notice and see it Jin, but let us all give our all to you today too. Even until my voice ran out, I wanted to keep going. 🤣 I also must say before I go, Kim Seokjin, YOU DID WELL. I am proud of you and who you are today. 💪I will wait for you to come back to us soon. We are already in December and soon it will be Summer. haha Welcome to December, Jin. Do your best to keep warm. FIGHTING, OUR JIN!!!! 🙌 I know I said I would come back in Saturday PST time but what better time than 12 am pst time haha I am so early but that is how we role in this Magic Shop. lmaoo I already saw ARMY trending your birthday earlier yesterday, so I think this is suitable. haha Eat something delicious and deliciously, Jin.🤤Thank you for being our one and only SEOKJINIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!! If at some point you miss us today, just look at the moon and we will all be looking at it too. I know I will. The sky will always connect us. haha HAPPY KIM SEOKJINNNNNIEEEE DAY!!!!!!💕🎂

P.S. I went on a walk with RJ for a bit and took some pics because RJ is my training Sensei and always has been haha we dueled for a bit lol it was fun to try these types of photos again after a couple of years of not doing them haha RJ has a strong kick lol But, he made me stronger, so it doesn't even hurt at all. lmao When we duel, we just clash and create light but that's all. Compared to the beginning, I was weak sauce and now I am hot sauce. muhahahaha

Well, I will leave y'all with some cute after pics with RJ. HEHE Just because. I LOVE YOU. BYE BYE! As you can see, RJ is living life lol

HEHE PEACE. ✌️

With a lot of love,

Your Jennifer💪 🐰

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masterandapprentice · 8 months

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Hello! Wanted to say I really enjoy your blog! :D I’m new to the NFL, but it seems some people only support a single team and others maybe have a main team but also like other teams/players. So, I was curious how you came to be a fan of the NFL teams you support? And the players that you like? (And, if you want to share, how you started shipping some of the pairings that you like?)

Thank you! Hope to see you post more works soon, I really enjoy them 😊

Hi there, dear anonymous! :D

So sorry for the late replay! (I didn't forget your questions, just took me a lot more than I wanted to answer you ;) so, this is gonna be long ;)

First of all, thank you for your comments! So glad You like this kinda weird blog here haha, I appreciate it!

Sooo, let's go for the answers!

Yes, I do know there are people who only "support" one team, but I think, maybe, they are fan of a more than one, they just don't say that loud because of certain fandoms haha :P. In my case, I don't care to say it openly, I do support more than one, but, they are like ranked xD

I have been an NFL fan since I was like 10 or something, my older brothers usted to watch sports all day, and well, being the only girl (besides my mom) between a family of 6 it kinda guided me through all this wonderful NFL world :D

Specifically, I've been a Steelers fan for more or less 26 years. It all started when I saw Jerome Bettis running and scoring a touchdown and that's when I saw a curious largue banner holding on that side that said "The bus stops here" so, for me was like "what does that mean?" Ahahaha XD Then I knew Bettis was called "The bus", so, everything made sense in a funny way, and I liked that, and watching him running and people cheering and screaming for him for just going to the end zone with a ball was a great sensation xD (didn't understand still what was all of that football thing was ahahaha), I don't know, my brothers did the same when watching the Raiders play (yes, unfortunately, they were Raiders fans and now they are Cowboys ahaha xD), and I feel the same in that moment and continued to watch Steelers games and becoming a fan. Ups and Downs, wins and losses, superbowls, retirements, change of coaches, a lot to say in all of those years but pretty satisfying :).

At that time I didn't have a favorite player, but all changed when Roethlisberger debuted and he became my fav instantly :).

I didn't root for any other team at that time, until I watched Aaron Rodgers debut with Green Bay (It was love at first sight honestly hahaha, he was sooo cute!) so I also wanted Packers to win everytime and they got the place of my "second favorite team" :3, it was always so nice when they played. And of course he was also one of my fav players.

I must day I also cheered for a couple of other teams, but nothing too serious :P (Ravens and Titans, but just when they are not facing the Steelers or Packers lol)

After that, came the Chiefs. To be honest I never cheered for them until Mahomes. At first I kinda hated them lol and was because after they won the Super Bowl against 49's, everyone was talking about the Chiefs and Mahomes being like the new Patriots, and I just thought "Oh God, not another Brady please" xD

And I was sooooo wrong.

The next season, I fell in love with them. Completely. Not just Mahomes (which I loved once I saw him playing and smiling. Sorrynotsorry) but also Kelce, they were my 2 favorite players but I must say I liked them as a team, as a whole, so they became my new -tied with Packers- favorites :D.

Of course, Steelers are -and always be- number 1, but for now, as they are on a reconstruction period, Chiefs are getting higher and higher ahaha, but I loved them anyway :)

And finally! Jets! Just because is Aaron's new team, so, no discussion here :P

About pairings, well, that's funny because I liked yaoi and MalexMale relationships since I was in high school (so many years ago xD) and I have always found pairings I like, even if the anime/movie/series is not properly yaoi/gay (that's the beauty of imagination ;) )

I have been into sports for a long time (specially male sports, of course that's the extra plus visual I enjoy a lot lol) but almost never thought of them being involved in that way, too much testosterone never let me imagine 2 alpha guys in a relationship like that xD

But.... there's always an exception for everything haha ;D

One time (and it was no long ago) that I was looking on the internet for some players statistics for my fantasy, as I was having Rodgers as my QB and wanted to make a detailed plan for winning the fantasy that year :3, and I found a short, erotic"fic" about him and Alex Smith and I was like "OMG! What the hello I'm reading here!" XD it was funny, because never imagined that kind of guys like that, but, it surely woke up something in my mind that now allows me to imagine them :3

Of Course, Rodgers was one of my favs, and I started looking for more stories with him and.... guess who? Mahomes! Yes! I thought they would fit perfectly, and most of all, I love age-difference pairings, so they were like made for each other ❤️.

Mahomes x Kelce, not so much to say... best friends, same team, great connection, both hot sexy guys, why not? Ahahaha, yeah!

And, there are also other pairings I like but mostly is Rodgers/Mahomes my fav so far :D

OMG! That was too long!! I mean, who writes so much answering a question? xD sorry for the book.

But I really appreciate your lovely comments ❤️, i'll do my best for writing more and post them soon :D

Thank you so much!!!!! And again sorry for the delay!!! :) anything else I'm still here ;)

#nfl #questions #i write a lot lol

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vg-sanctuary · 11 months

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Ore no Ryouri (I'm the Chef)

Argent - PlayStation - 1999

[images from giant bomb, youtube, and emuparadise]

it's very satisfying when the controls for a game feel immersive. it's like using a fishing controller for a fishing game like Sega Bass Fishing, or a light gun for a shooting game like House of the Dead, or the Wii remote for the swordfights in Wii Sports Resort. not a lot of games go for that, and I think that's kind of a shame. one of the most high-action and unique of this kind of game is Ore no Ryouri (which literally means I'm the Chef), a super snappy and arcade-y cooking/restaurant sim for the PS1 developed by Argent (which I can't find any information about at all, if anyone has any please message me). it doesn't use any special controller, only gestures on the Dualshock controller's two joysticks to give you the feeling of cooking: using the left stick to tilt a glass and the right stick to pour beer, spinning a stick to stir batter, or pushing a stick back and forth to flip a patty in a pan. it's simple, but the responsiveness and mechanics around the gestures encourage you to cook as fast and hard as you can with its immersive controls, which is the real essence of the manic Ore no Ryouri.

sometimes when I hear about a game that started a genre, I wonder how good it can actually be compared to the modern alternatives. I haven't heard of any cooking games that came before Ore no Ryouri (message me if I'm wrong) and there have been plenty of cooking games since 1999, like Cooking Mama, the Papa's series, and Cook, Serve, Delicious!, so there's been some time for someone to make something better than the first one. "better" and "best" are matters of opinion, but I still think Ore no Ryouri is easily the best and wholly unique among cooking games and games that aim to have "immersive" controls.

Ore no Ryouri works like this: customers' orders pop up on a list and their patience drains over time, always visible at the side of the screen. different dishes are broken down into different steps, and each step is a different gesture with the sticks. how fast and accurate you are on each step in a dish determines your final score when you finally serve it, so you want to work fast and well -- many steps let you perform literally as fast as you can move the joysticks, which makes it as intense as you want it to be. sometimes you have to wait for something to boil or fry, and you can work on different orders during those waiting steps, though you have to be sure to take it off the stove at the right time. and occasionally there are "problem tasks" that show up and take a little more time to do, like washing dishes or chasing a runaway customer. if you let the time on one of these run out, all your customers instantly leave, which is almost a guaranteed loss. when your score is high enough, you win. that's basically it.

it's also got a really quirky story that I can't read because I don't know Japanese and a bright, fun art style indicative of a Japanese PS1 game. there's an awesome competitive mode where two players can go head to head in an intense culinary tug-of-war, which I've mostly only played against computers because that's the story mode and no one else has ever played this. but still. by the way, the disc looks like this!

what I love about Ore no Ryouri is that it's ultra-responsive: it lets you go as fast as your hands and mind can take you. sometimes you have to wait for things to cook, but that's the time between, and even those few seconds of pause are important. if you take a long task at the wrong time, you might let burgers cook too long or let a customer get impatient and leave. balancing this just right and cooking as fast as you can with its odd immersive controls feels like nothing else. Cooking Mama is actually a great counter-example of responsiveness, since the minigames have lots of fanfare and tutorials between them and a simple dish can take a couple minutes start to finish, while Ore no Ryouri's long dishes take maybe 30 seconds. (Ore no Ryouri's tutorials are found during the "restaurant phase" of the sotry mode, where they show you the gestures you're supposed to do in the corner of the screen. the number of different gestures is also fairly limited, which is either for technical reasons or by design because it's hard to remember too many. either way, it feels great for its short runtime, though I wish there was more!)

by the way, cooking game fans probably already know Cook, Serve, Delicious! (CSD from here on), which is also a cooking/restaurant sim with really similar mechanics to Ore no Ryouri…because it is Ore no Ryouri. or it was. the first CSD was actually the commercial release of a fangame called Ore no Ryomi 3, the third in a line of fanmade PC remakes of Ore no Ryouri. the CSD series has definitely expanded mechanically on the foundation of Ore no Ryouri in a lot of interesting ways, and it does its best to emulate the intensity…but I think it falls short. it's like Guitar Hero on a keyboard instead of a guitar. there's just no comparison, even if Ore no Ryouri isn't as mechanically rich in certain ways. CSD is purely button-based, regardless of whether you're on controller or keyboard, and it just doesn't feel right after playing Ore no Ryouri. any fans of CSD should surely go back and give this one a try.

#my writing #retrogaming #playstation #ps1 #ps1games #ore no ryouri #cook serve delicious

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septembercfawkes · 3 years

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Sanderson’s Character Scales

Hey everyone, today I'm here to share a perspective on characters that comes from #1 New York Times best-selling author Brandon Sanderson. I love learning from Sanderson because he's prolific, experienced, and successful (Wheel of Time, Mistborn, The Way of Kings . . .). I also love learning from him because he shares concepts and techniques that I have found nowhere else. Lately, one of his concepts has been revisiting my mind--his character scales.

So in this post, I'm going to explain what they are and how they work, while sharing my own ideas and interpretations along the way. Let's dig in!

Brandon Sanderson's Character Scales

When it comes to characters, Sanderson envisions that each one has three "scales" or "dials." Basically, these are three different components that make a character interesting to the audience. They are . . .

1. Likeability--how much the audience likes, empathizes with, or relates to the character

2. Competence--how skilled the character is (this often appeals to the audience through wish-fulfillment)

3. Proactivity--how motivated and proactive the character is (when the character has a significant goal and is taking action to reach it, the audience becomes invested in their journey)

These aren't either/or attributes, but spectrums.

For example, we could say that each category can be measured from 1 - 10, one meaning the character scores very low in that category and ten meaning he or she scores very high in that category.

In BBC's Sherlock, Sherlock scores high in competence and proactivity--he loves solving cases and he's very good at it. In those categories, he may be an eight or nine. But when it comes to likeability, he scores lower--he's a sociopath who can be a real jerk to people. In that category, he may be a three or four.

In contrast, Katniss from The Hunger Games is quite likeable (she volunteers herself) and competent (have you seen her shoot arrows?), but in regards to the real antagonist, she's rather passive. She doesn't really believe Panem can change. And for most of the series, she's actually not very interested in defeating the government. However, by the end of the series, this is her primary goal. She grows in proactivity.

It's possible to have a protagonist score low in two of the three. Harry Potter is likeable, but he's not very competent or proactive when it comes to dealing with his problems. Through his journey at Hogwarts, he becomes more competent and more proactive.

Before we continue, there are a few points I need to make.

- The likeability scale is based on how the audience feels about the character, not necessarily how other characters feel about the character. You may have a character that no one seems to like (such as Harry), but the audience still likes, so he may score high there. Likeability typically relates to how the character treats others (petting the dog), is treated (usually unfairly), or how similar he is to the audience (relatability).

- Competence can be measured a few different ways. It might be something like learning magic or shooting a bow, but it may also be something more subtle, like being a skilled negotiator or a born leader or having a silver tongue. A character may be competent in more than one thing, of course, but often this category relates to skills used in the plot. For example, if Katniss is really great at card games, that's not really related to competing in the Hunger Games, so she might as well not be great at card games--it doesn't matter, because it's not pertinent.

- "Proactivity" is always a term I hesitate using in the writing world because it actually means slightly different things depending on how you apply it. Structurally speaking, a protagonist must be proactive to have a great story. The protagonist has to do things to make plot happen. The protagonist has to do things to make story structure work. But characteristically speaking, a protagonist can be innately passive--meaning he or she has no real desire to move forward in the story, but is forced to because of the stakes. For example, Shrek really has no desire to save a princess, but if he doesn't rescue a princess, then he'll lose his swamp (stakes). He doesn't care about Fiona, he just wants to not lose something. This is what Sanderson's proactivity category is about--character not structure. To learn more about characteristically passive protagonists, check out "Getting Passive Protagonists to Act."

The character scales are not restricted to protagonists. They can be applied to any character to get a better understanding of him or her. For example, John Watson scores high on being likeable--he's probably the most relatable character in Sherlock. But he's lower in proactivity (sometimes he wants to have a normal life) and competence than Sherlock (which is why he works well as Sherlock's Influence Character).

In The Hunger Games, Peeta is decently high in likeability and proactivity (early on he says he doesn't want to be a piece in the Games, he wants to show the Capitol they can't control him), but he's not particularly competent within the context of the plot (the Games). (However, one may argue that his likeability helps him in that he's more likely to get sponsors.)

Let's round out our examples, shall we? In Harry Potter, Hermione starts off as rather competent and proactive--she's doing everything she can to learn magic. But as a bossy know-it-all, she's not very likeable. By the end, she becomes more likeable.

Most characters will start with one or two categories high and one or two categories low.

For example, in the Farm Boy trope, the character is usually low in (pertinent) competence, higher in likeability, and maybe in the middle (a five) for proactivity (generally speaking).

Villains will often be low in likeability, high in competence, and high in proactivity (generally speaking).

Positive steadfast protagonists are often high in likeability (unless the author is making it too easy to be good, in which case, they get annoying) and usually lower in proactivity (the reluctant hero, if you will). Often they are fairly competent (generally speaking).

With that said, it's not impossible to have a character start with all high (like perhaps classic Superman) or all low, but the more focal that character, the more difficult that character will probably be to write, in a satisfying way. It can be done--for example, Leia in the original Star Wars scores rather high in all three categories--but it can be challenging. (I've heard plenty of people and writers complain about how difficult it is to write an excellent Superman movie.)

It's also possible to write characters who are about average in everything--but still, usually not as interesting.

If you start looking around at characters, you'll almost always find them to be high in one or two and low in one or two.

So, what is the point of all this? Well, a few actually.

One, with these scales, you can get an idea of how interested the audience will be in the character. If your protagonist is a jerk, and you are worried about it, you can bump up the other two to help compensate, a la Sherlock. You can also make sure to emphasize the other two more than the low likeability. You can check to make sure you aren't trying to write a "Super" man--unless, of course, that's the point. And you can make sure you aren't trying to write someone who isn't that interesting--someone who scores low in all three.

Two, using these scales to measure your characters can give you a sense of how your cast functions. Sherlock and John pair well together because they are opposites in likeability. They are also sometimes opposites in proactivity. Same goes for Katniss and Peeta, and Harry and Hermione.

However, this is not to say you can't have characters together who are close to the same--like Harry and Ron. But when that happens, often, the two are more likely to function as a unit. Harry and Ron are both learning to be more competent and proactive together (and thanks to the help of Hermione).

You can also find interesting combinations, like pitting a very competent and proactive antagonist against a passive, incompetent protagonist. Or what about a likeable antagonist and unlikeable protagonist?

It's just another way to gauge and measure. In one of my WIPs, each of my trio members is low in a different category, and I feel like that brings a sense of balance to my cast.

Three, the scales can give you an idea of how a character may grow or regress through the story. By the end of Sherlock, Sherlock becomes more likeable. By the end of Harry Potter, Harry becomes more competent and proactive. By the end of Hunger Games, Katniss becomes more proactive.

It's also possible to slide down. Anakin becomes less likeable (and yet, more competent) as he becomes Darth Vader.

And you can slide a character one way through the middle and back by the end. In Sam Raimi's Spider-man 2. Peter Parker slides down in competence through the middle, as he loses his powers, but regains them by the end.

In a sense, you may say that moving a character through these categories is a sort of character arc. After all, technically, a character arc just means that a character grows or changes (or . . . maybe doesn't). But I wouldn't say this is the same as The Character Arc--which is thematic. The Character Arc is about worldviews and value systems. It's about Harry learning love is the most powerful force. It's not about Harry learning to do magic or sticking up for himself. Those may be "character arcs" but they aren't The Character Arc (if you get me)--that's how I look at it.

However, these scale "character arcs" may play into The Character Arc. Sherlock's Character Arc is about valuing emotion and social relationships, which feeds into the theme of the whole series. So surely, growing in likeability--starting as a jerk and ending as a caring friend--connects into that.

In short, while moving along these scales may be thematic, it's not necessarily directly thematic. It may be part of The Character Arc, but it isn't exactly the same thing.

I believe these scales can be particularly useful for steadfast characters, as it gives them more motion, without compromising their steadfastness. This helps keep them from feeling stagnant.

For example, in a show I recently watched, the positive steadfast protagonist holds the correct worldview in the beginning, is tested to his breaking point in the middle, and proves his belief true at the end.

However, in the process, he must move from being passive to proactive. He doesn't really want to deal with the antagonist--he is only dragged into the story by high stakes. In the second half of the middle, he struggles with trying to be proactive. At the end, he completes a "character arc" by initiating the final confrontation with the antagonist.

In this sense, a character may have multiple character arcs. And heck, if you have more than one theme in the story, he or she may have multiple thematic arcs--which we'll talk about on a future day.

For now, I hope you find Sanderson's scales useful to you.

You can hear Sanderson talk about the scales himself, in his Youtube lecture on characters.

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #writing charcaters #writing reference #fanfiction #writer #editor

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boo-nito-flakes · 3 years

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honey thighs [bokuto kōtarō x f!reader]

Bokuto Kōtarō x f!reader

Synopsis: With the deadline for your third year Photo Club exhibition fast approaching, you turn to old projects for inspiration. You get more than you bargained for, though, when that inspiration leads you to a volleyball training camp hosted by your school.

Rating: mature (swearing, implied sex, eventual sexual content)

Word count: 11.2k (part one), 9.9 (part two)

Tags: getting together, drama, light angst, romance, no y/n, Photo Club, Nekoma High, Fukurodani Academy Group, training camp, Kuroo being a little shit, eventual love triangle, unrequited love, pining, original side* characters (*they would take offense to being called side characters), typical third year shenanigans, reader is prone to existential crises, bokuto is the readers muse, big heart eyes for Bokuto, eventual time-skip

Authors Note: Hello! So, I started writing this to avoid my thesis—I’m hesitant to post it because I won’t have a consistent schedule, but the second part is maybe halfway done at this point so soon-ish? Each update will likely be 10-15k in length, and I have it outlined at five parts but who knows. This story is a lot of firsts for me! My first Haikyuu!! fanfic, my first time posting on Tumblr (maybe will crosspost to ao3?), and my first reader insert. Stay tuned for part two!

Idle chatter drifted throughout the room, your clubmates blatantly ignoring your obvious signs of crisis. So rude—all of them.Dramatic, heavy sighs left your lips every few seconds—chin balanced in your palms, elbows slapping against the desk every so often as you re-adjusted your lazy sprawl.

With a whining groan, you loosened your fingers and dropped your head to the desk. The thud was more painful than satisfying; your eyes squeezed shut at the pain, another groan escaping alongside your hissed, “Shit!”

The weight at the table shifted, dipping with a new weight. You peeked an eye open, blurry vision focusing on mismatched socks stuffed into scuffed slippers. A second later a familiar, soft voice says your name with a tinge of humor. “Takami and Ita-kun are taking bets on how long it takes you to drop to the floor.”

You huffed. They laughed.

“Of course they are,” You mumbled into your arm before finally lifting your head.

The lights in the clubroom were abnormally bright and spots danced behind your eyelids. For a moment, you considered going back to the ‘wallowing in misery’ thing. It wasn’t like your club meeting was a particularly productive or educational one; everyone’s brains were a little too fried the week after midterms to do much of anything but hang out. The stakes weren’t high in Photo Club—no tournaments to train for or fairs to compete in, just an exhibit during the school’s culture festival.

An exhibition that was the source of your current suffering.

Emiyo said your name again, her face a mix between amused and concerned. Fully committing to the pomp and circumstance of your misery, you flopped backwards with another dramatic sigh and said, “It must be an easy life when you have your final project figured out. Eating taiyaki and gambling while the rest of us struggle for inspiration like uncultured swine.”

A table over, someone snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

“If anyone here is uncultured it’s Itagaki,” Someone else laughed.

Hearing his name, Itagaki hollered half-heartedly, “Shut up, dumbasses!”

“Aw. I think you’re super cultured, Ita-kun,” Emiyo crooned, wiggling her fingers at her boyfriend. He rolled his eyes, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Y’know, I almost failed my comprehensive lit exam,” Takami remarked. He was stretched out on the ground next to Itagaki, long legs on the verge of a tripping hazard for the rest of the club. He cocked his head to the side with an invitation. “Maybe instead’a crying over film you come over here and help me study since you almost got a perfect score, you uncultured swine.”

You stuck your tongue out and lovingly said, “You’re an asshole, Taka.”

Itagaki snickered and elbowed his friend. “You’ll never get a girlfriend like this, bro.”

“Besides, I only did well because I forced my brother to help me study.” It was more of a bribery situation, but they didn’t need to know the details. “He almost gave up like, three or four times but Reo-chan just scrunched her face up at him and he’d go all heart-eyes. It was really impressive honestly.”

“Ugh, she’s so cool,” Emiyo sighed.

Takami sulked, “S’lucky.”

“I know,” You agreed with a nod, ignoring the lump of teenage boy on the ground a few feet away.

Reo was way too cool to be dating your brother—not that you’d ever say that out loud. He was supposed to be the mature one in college, but he was definitely a dramatic crybaby (not that it ran in the family or anything).

If it weren’t for your dopey older brother dating Reo, you never would’ve gotten into photography. She was wearing a Tokage Photo Lab uniform, smiling cartoon lizard on her nametag, the first time you met her. It didn’t take long for you to wander into the photo lab on your own, armed with a Minolta you picked up at a flea market and a dozen questions. A few months later, on your birthday, you unwrapped an Olympus OM-1, both Reo and your brother’s name on the gift tag. If you hadn’t already been hooked on analog, the first strip of film you developed from that camera would’ve sealed the deal.

Takami said your name as he drew a leg up, balancing his chin on his knee. “Really, I could use your help studyin’ for finals. My grandpa is really pissed I did so poorly.” His eyes drifted away from your face and he rubbed neck. “He wants me to retire from club and start cram school.”

“Seriously?” You squawked. It was the last year of high school for all four of you. Photo Club wasn’t the flashiest club or the most popular, but it was special in its own way. At least for you, it was. You knew it was like that for Takami, too. He was undoubtedly an asshole, but he was your friend and (as much as it pained you to admit) a genius when it came to photo composition. More than that, you saw it… the way his lips lifted when he looked through his viewfinder…the twinkle in his eye when he took a lens to his contact sheets. Takami loved photography. “But our showcase—"

“Wouldn’t joke about somethin’ like that.”

“That’s fucked up, man,” Itagaki muttered.

“He’s suddenly concerned about me getting into a good college. He’s threatenin’ to call Agawa-sensei if I don’t start doing better. Pull me from club for good and cut my hours at Tokage.”

The last day of midterms, Takami flipped through a fresh sheet of proofs while you drowned your exam sorrows in some kind of strawberry marshmallow fluff bar you stole from Emiyo. Taka rarely spent the lunch period with the rest of your friend group, showing up maybe once a week. He spent the whole period breathlessly talking about some alley near the Chikatetsu-akatsuka Station a regular at Tokage told him about during his shift the night before. He was so animated—so excited—when he described the way the broken windows and steel grates from nearby buildings filtered the light perfectly. It was the perfect alley—the perfect subject for his final photo project. You expected no less from Takami; in the three years you’d known him, he rarely captured anything other than urban-scapes.

Nerima City through Takami’s lens was breathtaking.

“Jeeze, okay. When you put it that way.”

Despite your kind of grumpy mood and non-existent inspiration—your lack of direction for your own final exhibition project was the absolute bane of your existence at this point—you slithered out of your chair and walked on your knees towards Takami. The arts exhibition was still four months away. Finals, on the other hand, were just weeks away.

When you were close enough that your knees touched, Takami turned and thwacked a hand against Ita’s chest. “She’s on the ground. You own me five hundred yen.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed and leaned back, arms crossing. Behind you, Emiyo launched a guerilla attack—tossing the contents of her pencil bag at Takami one by one. “You’re such an assho—”

“An asshole, I know.” Takami winced, an eraser bouncing off the tip of his nose. “Ow! Fuck—Emiyo, stop!” He looked at you, soft and pleading. “C’mon, I really do need your help. I’m sorry.”

“Those puppy dog eyes won’t work on me. Say sorry again—oh, and I want 15% off the next time I come to the lab.”

Takami whined your name again, but unlike your brother, you weren’t swayed easily—it would take more than just a pretty face to win you over. Taka’d known you long enough to know this, too, so he sighed and caved. “Fine. I’m really, really, really sorry. And only 10% off, cheap ass. You know what business has been like lately.”

“So 5% and you buy me a soda and some milk candy?” You wagered mischievously, clasping your hands together.

Takami tilted his head back and laughed, tight lines disappearing from between his brow. “Deal.”

“Oh, yum,” Emiyo hummed. “Ita-kun, let’s stop at the market on the way to your house.”

“Tch, no chance. My mom will be home early tonight, and we haven’t fucked in a wee—ouch!”

For what it was worth, Emiyo tried to look angry. Her flushed cheeks and big, sparkling eyes spoke louder than the pencil she launched at Itagaki. Less than twenty minutes later, they rushed out of the clubroom—nearly an hour before their usual ending time—with a half-baked excuse, their hands linked and Emiyo full of giggles.

For what it was worth, you tried to look enthusiastic as you shared your notes with Taka. Thanks to your brother’s borderline terrifying organizational system (you still had nightmares about his color-coded-tabs), your notes were easy to transfer. You put on your supportive friend smile, trying to soothe Takami’s worries with crappy jokes and declarations of success. By the end of club, you and Taka made a study schedule for the rest of the month. You needed the extra study time, anyway—your good midterm scores a stroke of memorizing the right things and a hell of a lot of luck.

As the most responsible (and last) third years in the clubroom at the end of the day, you and Takami made quick work of powering down the equipment and locking up for the day. Time passed quickly. Quietly. Takami swung the key ring around his finger as the two of you walked towards the front of the school. The metallic whirr grated against the silence that seemed to stretch on forever. You wondered when silence stopped feeling comfortable when it was just the two of you.

Just before parting ways at the edge of campus, Takami reached for your arm; the keys clattered in his hand, clammy metal itching into your skin as he said your name. “Earlier when you said… I guess—are you really that upset about your exhibition piece?”

Your cheeks heated with chagrin, and you quickly looked away from his too-serious expression. “Did I go too far with the uncultured swine bit?”

“Maybe a little,” He laughed softly, then said, “You’re really tied up in knots over it?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” You winced; you sounded way too defensive to play it off as a joke, and Takami was looking at you with dark, pensive eyes.

“Yeah, a little bit. You take excellent photos. That Week at Neokoma series you pulled together durin’ the end of the schoolyear was stellar. Those black and white shots were like, annoyingly cool.” He must’ve realized how serious the emotion in his voice was because he cleared his throat and quickly added, “Plus, it’s hot when you yell at the first years who trash on analog. You’re all ‘integrity of the film’ this and ‘fucking dimwits look at the resolution quality’ that.”

At that, you laughed. But the somber melancholy that had you by the throat squeezed tighter. You took a step back from Takami, gripping the straps of your bag with sweaty palms. “Do you remember that night last summer—”

He snorted, “Like I’d forget, idiot.”

The night Emiyo and Itagaki started dating after months of mutual pining. The night you all drank too much for the first time, letting loose at a farewell party for the graduating senpai’s in Photo Club. The night Taka’s lips found yours over and over again in the dark, the warm wheat on his tongue chasing away your heartache—your first serious boyfriend dumped you just a few days prior, and you were desperate to numb the pain.

The night everything changed. The night nothing changed.

“Before that,” You muttered, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “When we were talking about photography being about feeling, not looking?”

Softness tinted Takami’s features and he nodded. “Mmhm.”

“It’s like… nothing lately has really felt inspired for me. Like, when I’m picking up the camera I’m just looking. Looking to be captivated. Looking to find the little sliver of life that steals my breath and makes me go, ‘wow—if only I could savor this forever’. No matter how hard I try or where I look, I just… I can’t find it. I can’t feel it.”

A moment passes. Then another. Neither you nor Takami look away, eyes locked for what felt like forever. Your heart thundered in your chest, and it felt like a weight had finally lifted off your shoulders. You’d joked earlier, sure, but there was more than a little truth behind your self-deprecating words. Saying them out loud maybe made the words a little more real, a little more truthful—but it was a relief, too.

After the longest second of your life, Taka’s lips curled into a slow smile. He reached out and ruffled your hair, smile growing when you swatted him away. “You’re thinkin’ too hard about it.”

“Obviously.”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re freakin’ out when the exhibit isn’t even until September. You have all of summer and then some to work on it.”

“I know, I know. It’s just—this is the last one. Our last chance to show everyone.”

“You’re an idiot, but you’re not stupid. Sure, this is our last high school showcase. So what? You’re not plannin’ on retiring from film, are you?”

“Don’t start with me on the art school thing again. You know I don’t want to go, and even if I did—my parents would so not support that.”

“There you go, thinkin’ too hard again.” Takami swung his keys a few times. When he said your name, there was an air of determination to it—it took you by surprise. You looked at him with a question in your eyes; his response was to roll his and say, “You’re not getting’ rid of us that easy, okay? The arts showcase is cool, but only ‘cause I’m with you guys. I don’t really care about the other shit. We’re always gonna be takin’ pictures together, right? Doesn’t matter if we’re in school or not. So stop worrin’ about doing something amazing. Whatever you do will be great because it’s you doin’ it.”

Takami’s cheeks were ablaze by the time he finished speaking, his words deftly clinging to their honest rigor. You were sure you didn’t look much better.

“Thank you, Taka-kun.”

“Don’t start with that or I’ll tell that first year who is way too into image restoration you’re interested in his World War II airplane projection.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. I will.” Takami sounded—and looked—so serious, you couldn’t help but giggle. At the sound of your laughter, he laughed. When you sobered up a few seconds later, Taka looked like he was going to reach for you. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, “Look, if it’s really eatin’ at you just go through your old stuff. Stuff you hated. Stuff you loved. Figure out what makes you feel in those and maybe you’ll find some inspiration.”

For the second time that night (not that you’d admit it to anyone), you thanked Takami. The entire way home, your skin felt warm. Not wanting to worry your mom or worse, be on the receiving end of one of her parental interrogations, you put on a brave face and went through the motions at dinner. You couldn’t help but replay Taka’s words over and over again: figure out what makes you feel in those and maybe you’ll find some inspiration… whatever you do will be great because it’s you doin’ it.

Before your mom has a chance to ask you to watch television with her for a while, you excuse yourself under the pretense of extra studying. As soon as you were alone in your room, you pulled the poorly kept folders of contact sheets from your desk and spread out on your bedroom floor. You were never very good at keeping things organized—your brother would definitely have an aneurism if he peeked into your desk drawers. You liked to pretend like there was a rhyme or reason to your mess, but the state of your contact sheets indicated otherwise. With one headphone in, you started sorting the sheets into projects—stopping only to respond to Emiyo’s texts.

You thanked her for ditching you to get laid. She said she’d never apologize for matters involving Ita-kun’s eggplant emoji.

The more you sifted through your mess, the more annoyed you felt. Annoyed with your clutter. Annoyed with your lack of motivation. Annoyed with the inspiration you desperately sought on a daily basis.

It took longer than you anticipated, but sometime around midnight you finished sorting your contact sheets. Triumphantly (but quietly—you’d already been warned by your mother not to stay up too late ‘studying’), you pumped your fist in the air. Eyes aching, you picked up one of the stacks. You’d done most of the hard work, all the sorting and squinting, and since you had to be up for school in… mere hours, going to sleep was probably the smart idea.

You never claimed to be that smart of a person. Not really. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, music abandoned for the still serenity of the late night, you stared at the meticulously organized contact sheets—eyes drawn to one of the stacks at the middle of the paper explosion. A week at Nekoma. A smile ghosts your lips.

Annoyingly cool, Takami said.

Compliments like that were rare from Takami. Maybe that’s why you picked up the stack of sheets, little grin growing as you thumbed through the glossy pages.

You hadn’t used your go to camera, instead opting for a reusable Kodak you picked up at a secondhand market with Emiyo. The camera was priced too high, plastic case and buttons worn from use—worn from capturing memory after memory. It was perfect. You forked out the cash and immediately dragged Emiyo to the photo lab to pick up a few rolls of film.

It took you a week to fill the seventy-two frames on the rolls. And it wasn’t like you set out to put a series together in the first place; you were messing around with your camera, looking for something to cure your boredom.

The first few were tester shots—you and Emiyo messing around in a nearby convenience market. The rest, though, were candid shots you’d taken around campus. Pictures of the gardening club, fingers in soil while they tended to their tomato plants. Your unwrapped bento. The baseball team walking back to their club room, uniforms stained shades of green and brown. The AV club nested in their dark room, copies of the newest Jump in hand. The vending machines during the lunch period. Half-erased math problems on the chalkboard in your classroom. The boy’s volleyball team mid-practice, all serious faces and long limbs. Bikes lazily leaning at the bottom of a set of stairs. The photo club, Takami’s face a shade too serious as he taught some of the first-years how to develop film. A confession under the flowering dogwood at the edge of campus, the couple nothing more than blurry figures embracing in Nekoma uniforms.

You were still smiling when you got to the end of the contact sheets, so you reshuffled the pages and tabbed through them again. This time, you paid attention to the sheets with frames circled in thick white marker. Frames you selected as the best—the ones you printed for your series. There were only a few you’d call annoyingly cool—Takami was definitely exaggerating. Indolently, you separated those contact sheets from the rest; at the end of your second passthrough, three pages sat separate.

The first sheet was mostly indoor photography shots. Empty classrooms that felt nostalgic. Long hallways that felt haunting. Discarded uniform jackets that felt like heartache. The pictures were okay. They made you feel, but they didn’t feel… special.

The second sheet had a few strips from a rhythmic gymnastics team practice you’d dropped in on. One of the girls on the team was in your class, so instead of doing a few candid shots you took a few portraits (on the way out you stopped to take a picture of your classmate midair, delicate silk ribbon twirling around her body like a halo—it ended up being your favorite shot of the afternoon).

Every single frame on the third sheet was occupied by the boys’ volleyball team. You couldn’t really remember how you ended up at the gym that afternoon, but the sound of squeaking shoes sparked your curiosity. The same sound echoed in your ears as you looked through the photo proofs. It was your first-time watching volleyball outside of gym class, and you were so wow-ed (definitely not overwhelmed) that you almost forgot to take pictures—only remembering to frame up a few shots when you thought ‘wow, I wish I had my camera right now’ as you watched practice. The same feeling itched beneath your veins as you looked at the sheet.

You scrambled to your knees and waddled through messy stacks of contact prints to your desk, knees sticking to a few glossy pages on the way. It took a few minutes of cursing and anxious hunting, but you found the sleeve of developed photos from the Nekoma series. You flipped through the photos until you found the ones of the volleyball team.

The black and white photos were far better than the tiny proofs. High resolution with that special, grainy film look that always stole your breath. You smoothed your thumb over a photo of a volleyball on the gym floor near a ball basket, angle canted to get the net and the empty gym in the background; the composition was stellar, a light flare slashing through the ball drawing attention to the near perfect balance of the photos’ composition. Bleary eyed and brimming with excited energy, you let out a delirious laugh.

For a second, you were there.

For a second, you ached to be there.

Like an artery burst in your chest, feeling flooded your veins as you cycled through the printed photos. Once. Then twice. Then a third time. The feeling was still there—that electric pulse, that bittersweet nostalgia. Without a doubt… you knew what you wanted to do for your final photo project.

•••

You were late to school, sneaking in almost halfway through first period with a ninety-degree apology aimed at your teacher and a crude gesture for Emiyo as you rushed to your seat (on the opposite side of the room—your teacher deciding she wanted absolutely none of your combined bullshit at the beginning of the year). Sleep deprived, ferociously hungry, and still reeling from the wakeup and subsequent argument you had with your mom, you weren’t sure if you wanted to burst into tears, punch the wall a few times, or spend your measly life savings buying out everything in the vending machines.

By the time the lunch period rolled around, you were more ‘moderately peeved’ than ‘irrationally pissed’. Though when Emiyo slammed her hands on your desk a whole two milliseconds after class was dismissed, you reconsidered the ‘irrationally pissed’ thing—especially after your teacher, who already requested you stay back to speak with her, shot the two of you a dirty look.

Emiyo wrinkled her nose when she looked back at you. “Where were you this morning?”

“Where does it look like I was?” You muttered, ignoring her as you pulled money out of a side pocket in your bag. If the bags beneath your eyes weren’t a clear indication that you’d overslept, the rumpled uniform and bedhead surely gave it away.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Why’d you ask in the first place if you’re going to be an ass about it?”

“Because I’m a concerned friend and you were ignoring my messages.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot threats to steal all of my camera equipment if I died were a sign of a concerned friend.”

“It’s not stealing if you’re dead. That’s called bequeathing or something.”

A laugh wheezed from your lips. “Who taught you that word?”

“Don’t make fun of me!”

Midway through your very mature response—a scrunched face, tongue poked out the middle—your teacher said your name, nodding her head towards the hall. All eighteen years of your life flashed before your eyes, and you pushed the wad of money into Emiyo’s hands. “Here. I’m bequeathingthese bills to you, now please go buy me some goddamn food. Something preferably with a lot of sugar.”

“Only ‘cause you said please,” She grinned, flashing a peace sign on her way out of the classroom.

One of the only things worse than being scolded by your mother on just a few hours of sleep was being scolded by your sensei on just a few hours of sleep and an empty stomach. By the time you slunk out of the faculty lounge, your brain was sludge. Just like one of the gardening club’s tomatoes after a heat wave. Instead of heading for the clubroom—your typical lunch spot with Emiyo, Itagaki, and a few of the younger members—you returned to the third-year classrooms, doing your best to ignore your grumbling stomach.

Bypassing your homeroom, you peek into what you hope is the right class, eyes scanning the few lingerers with growing disappointment. Their bento looked so good. Your stomach, refusing to be ignored, grumbled again; you dismissed yourself with a rushed bow and flick of the wrist, embarrassed flush dusting your cheeks. Two more classrooms were subject to your awkward half-in, half-out shuffle (and the borderline erotic way you were staring at their lunches) before someone took pity on you, asking if you were looking for someone in particular.

You were.

“Hmm. I think he takes his lunch down in the second-year hall with—”

Less than half of the lunch period remained by the time you burst into the nearly empty Class 2-B room. Nearly empty because the person you were looking for—the one you were skipping lunch to talk to, the one you’d stayed up all night obsessing over—was sitting backwards, arms lazily crossed on the desk behind him. The high summer sun cut through the tall glass windows, blurring out everything the outline of his spikey hair.

“Kuroo-san!” You all but wheezed, “Thank God you’re here.”

Every pair of eyes in the room turned towards you, but only two lingered. One curious. One annoyed. You rushed towards them, not caring that you undoubtedly looked a little crazy.

“Eh?” He adjusted his arms, propping his head in one hand while the other tapped at his chin. After a second, recognition softened his expression and he said your name. Despite spending your entire high school careers together, you hadn’t ever been in the same class. You only knew of him—and Kenma, for that matter—as an occasional face around campus before you crashed the volleyball team’s practice. “Uh, is everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you,” you said, cringing slightly when you realized how it sounded.

Before you could correct yourself, though, Kenma muttered, not even looking up from his Vita. “If you’re going to confess, please go somewhere else.”

Kuroo snorted a, “Jealous, huh?”

You spoke at the same time, words overlapping as you rushed to clarify, “No! Nothing like that. This is about volleyball.”

At the mere mention of ‘volleyball’ Kuroo’s mood shifted, teasing swiftly giving way to a curious yet mischievous glean. “Oh? Volleyball, huh?”

“Volleyball,” You said again, nodding as you invited yourself to sit down at the closest desk.

Not wasting any time, you began rambling about your idea. Saying it out loud made it feel real—it filled your veins with adrenaline and inspiration, and you weren’t embarrassed in the slightest when your passion leaked into your words. It’d been way too long since you’d felt so excited for a creative project. You’d known the last year of high school would be tough, but you’d underestimated exactly how draining the workload was—and it wasonly the first week of July. Lately, life felt… suffocating. Absolutely suffocating. And you refused to let your spark of inspiration go to waste.

Breathless and a smidge on the feverish side, you leaned back in the chair with a sigh.

“So, yeah. If you think it’s dumb, I’ll find a neighborhood league or see if I can bum around a few practices at a college or something.”

Kuroo laughed, voice loud and boisterous, before sending a smirk your way. “Do I look like the type of guy who’d call that dumb?”

Without missing a beat, Kenma said, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“I don’t really know you, so maybe?”

A few students filtered into the classroom, shooting you curious glances. You looked at the clock above the door and groaned, slumping down into the chair. There was no way you were making it to the clubroom. Not one to shy away from dramatics, you briefly considered the logistics of gnawing your own arm off before you realized you’d have to re-learn how to take photos with only one hand. If you lost enough blood, though, you wouldn’t have to deal with Emiyo’s prodding stares the rest of the school day.

Something landed in your lap with a crinkle. You blinked, attention refocusing on the task at hand. Well, focusing on logo of a popular protein bar company. With an eyebrow raised, you looked at Kuroo.

“If you go back to class without eating anything, your stomach will be setting off seismographs. I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

Too thankful to glare (so maybe you pouted a little—tongue sticking out while you crossed your eyes), you ripped the corner of the plastic wrapper and said, “They’d probably let us go home for the rest of the day.”

“Shit. You’re right—give that back!”

“What? No way!” If the protein bar tasted any better, you would’ve shoved the entire thing in your mouth on principle. The dry, crumbly bar tasted like beans and nuts. It was somehow simultaneously the worst and best thing you’d ever tasted in your life. You nibbled on corner, ignoring Kuroo’s smirk—the bastard knew how gross his pity ration was—and sighed, “So, what? Are you going to help or do I need to ask the grandmas in my neighborhood if they have a league? Either way, thanks for whatever this abomination is.”

“Good source of protein,” Kenma commented, the corner of his lips curling ever so slightly.

Kuroo looked at him and laughed again before looking at you. Unlike Kenma, his smile stretched across his face—sharp, white teeth gleaming as he said, “I’ll talk to Coaches at practice tonight and see what he says.”

“Really? Thank you, Kuroo-san!” You beamed. Relief washed over you; you hadn’t realized how stressed you were he might’ve said ‘no’ to the whole thing.

“Yamamoto was kinda distracted when you showed up last time so I can’t say Coach will agree to anything, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Uh, pardon me?” Wide-eyed and willowy, a boy stepped beside you. He clutched a book to his chest. “But um, that’s my desk?”

“Hmm. I dunno. You don’t sound too sure about that,” You taunted impishly, grinning at the cherry-red color on his cheeks and the immediate ramble of nonsense spilling from his lips. Too easy. None of your underclassmen in Photo Club were this easy to tease. You were tempted to hang around the last few minutes of the lunch period to see if you could get steam to come out of his ears or something, but if you didn’t talk to Emiyo before afternoon classes started she would definitely spend at least one class period plotting your murder. Rising from the desk, you flashed the desk’s rightful owner an apologetic peace sign (he approached fire-engine levels of red cheek and you cursed the universe for blessing you with inconsiderate kouhai) before turning to the volleyball captain. “Thanks again, Kuroo-san! Talk to you later.”

Figuring Emiyo was on her way back to your classroom, if not already there, you climbed the stairs to the third-year hall and hustled back to your homeroom. Sure enough, Emiyo pouted at your desk. She tapped at her phone screen, foot bouncing anxiously. A wrapped sandwich and a melon soda sat in front of her.

“You get lost on the way to the club room?”

“You’re so jealous, Emi-chan,” You teased, laughter cracking with the soda as you opened the can.

Her screen illuminated the creases of her pout as they deepened. “Whatever. Did you not even look at your phone? I sent you like, a dozen messages.”

“It’s dead. I forgot to charge it last night.”

“Hmm. Well, Takami ate with us.” Emiyo kicked your ankle, finally looking up from her phone. “He was really worried about you when you didn’t show up.”

Squirming under the sudden seriousness of her stare, you stuttered, “O-o-oh? He was probably just worried about losing his study partner to detention or something.” You gulped and looked away, tongue tripping over your words. “I can’t believe his grandpa is being so strict. A little too late, right?”

Emiyo said your name. The bell rang. And you hoped she didn’t see the way your shoulders sagged with relief.

•••

It was entirely way too early in the morning for Itagaki’s dour mood. That morning, his mom announced they were taking a family trip over summer break. A week on a beach in Kamakura sounded amazing to you, but Itagaki saw it as a missed opportunity for a week alone with Emiyo. She was in the middle of consoling him—reminding him Kamakura wasn’t even that far from Nirima City—when the sound of your name rang across the courtyard.

Kuroo, both hands shoved in his pockets, strolled your way. Kenma trailed a few paces behind, eyes glued to his console screen.

“Good morning, Kuroo. Kenma.”

“Morning.” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, nodding at the packaged sweet bread in your hand. “That looks… nutritious.”

Sticking your tongue out, you said, “I’m rebuilding my gut-biome after whatever the hell it was you fed me yesterday.”

Kuroo laughed. “Aw, c’mon. It was just a protein bar.”

“She’s allergic to things that are good for her,” Takami interjected; he was sitting beside you, leaned back with his palms flat on the grass. Something about the tone of his voice made your cheeks heat up.

You ignored it—ignored him—and rolled your eyes. Even though you apologized the day before for your flakiness at lunch, explaining how both your tardiness that morning and the skipped lunch were because of your brilliant idea, Takami was still giving you the cold shoulder. It wasn’t like you missed one of your study sessions or an important club meeting.

Wiggling your toes in your slippers, you looked at Kuroo and asked, “Did you talk to your Coaches?”

“Yeah. One of em’ wants to talk to you first—”

You pumped your fist victoriously in the air. “Yes!”

“—but this weekend we’re hosting a training camp. Stop by the gym this afternoon, we have practice and Coach Naoi is always there early.”

“We’re studyin’ after school,” Takami said, voice hard.

You whipped your head to the side to stare at him, a half dozen insults on the tip of your tongue. When you saw the way he looked at you, you swallowed what bits of the anger you could and settled for a terse, “It won’t take long. This is important to me, Takami.”

His eyes were hard on you for a few agonizing seconds before they cut away, wrinkling as he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Fine.”

This time, it was harder to ignore the tension between the two of you. It was harder to ignore him—his eyes boring into the back of your head—as you turned back to Kuroo, sheepishly muttering an apology. “Anyway, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He winked and pulled a hand out of his pocket to wave his goodbye. “Later, Anpan.”

The wrapper in your hand crinkled as you flipped your middle finger his direction. Beside you, Takami sighed.

•••

Usually, you avoided being on school grounds on the weekends. Despite your most recent exam marks, you weren’t all that studious. You didn’t sign up for extra cram sessions or study groups, and you did your best to dodge serious questions about ‘the future’ in advising meetings with your teachers. It made you nervous, thinking about the future. College and majors and picking an adult profession—something serious, something that wasn’t the feel of glass shuttering in your hands, capturing life on 35mm—you didn’t want to think about it, so you didn’t.

The weight of the kit on your back, camera bag stuffed with extra film and a backup camera—just in case, offered a good distraction to any thoughts of ‘the future’ as you strolled onto campus. You tugged your headphones off as you got closer to the gym behind the main building. One set of doors was propped open, and the sound of squeaking shoes and flesh on ball drifted outside.

You smiled, stomach bubbling with nerves and excitement. Things moved fast with this project. Faster than you expected, but in a way, it felt like fate. Apparently, the few pictures of the volleyball team in your last exhibit brought in a few donations to the team so the Coaches were okay with you observing the team for a day during camp. To make everything official you had to meet with your club’s faculty advisor; the signed forms giving you approval to be there were tucked in a pocket inside your kit.

With one last steadying breath, you toed into your indoor slippers and entered the gym. Despite Coach Naoi’s explanation of the camp and his thinly veiled warning it might be a little rowdy, nothing could have prepared you for the sight inside. It was so much more than the regular Nekoma practice you’d been at.

A few hours into the camp’s official starting time, teams were already facing off on the court. All unfamiliar faces—not a single jersey representing Nekoma’s trademark colors. You hardly had time to question it or find embarrassment in maybe being at the wrong place (this was your school, so where the hell were your classmates?!). Instead, you were mesmerized by a blurring rainbow—long limbs springing in varying hues, cheers echoing off vaulted ceilings like a battle cry as they overlapped with thuds of impact and urgent calls.

A blur of blues, black, and white jolted across the court in front of you. The number 4 on the jersey crumpled, partially obstructed. Two-toned hair spiked, lean muscle and tan skin peeking through strips of cloth. It was almost hypnotizing, the way he moved. Rooted in place, your breath stalled in the back of your throat as you watched him jump. Watched his arm roll above the net, hand curving to ball for a single moment—the impact instant and booming.Watched him stop time. He crescendo-ed so fast it stole your breath—so fast, your fingers itched on the strap of your camera bag.

Could you capture it on film? The moment he stopped time?

His feet landed with determination, fist crunched with victory. He called a boisterous, “Hey, hey, hey!” in celebration.

“What’s got your eye, Anpan?” Kuroo’s taunting voice hovered over your shoulder, his shadow blocking the light coming through the door. His teeth clicked next to your ear. “Ahh. Interesting.”

“Are you trying to get punched? Shit!” You gasped, peeling your eyes away from the blue blur on the court at the last possible second. The scowl you directed at Kuroo was menacing; you felt it deep in your bones. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

He looked at you for a second, then laughed. “I’ve been standing here for at least a minute.”

“Lying doesn’t look good on you, Kuroo-san.”

He said your name with a smirk. “You walked right past me and have been standing here totally zoned out.” He leaned over and bumped you with an elbow. “I won’t tell your boyfriend you’re making heart eyes at another man. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Confused, you muttered, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” The cogs unstuck slowly. Was he talking about Takami? And heart eyes at… who? The blue blur? A frenzy of emotions fluttered beneath your skin. You settled on a mix of angry and embarrassed. “Wait—what secret? I’m not—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You prayed a volleyball would rocket across the room into Kuroo’s face. “Stop trying to distract me. I’m trying to lecture you about lying, yeah?”

“Cute.”

“I will punch you.”

He laughed again, eyes wandering across the court for a second before landing back on you. “I’m here to take you back to Gym 2. We don’t have an even set of teams, so we’re running individual practice there then switching after sets. Kenma saw you go by.” He quirked an eyebrow, voice swinging back to a playful taunt as he crossed his arms. “Promise I’m not lying. You just jumped to conclusions because you were staring at the annoying owl—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Kuroo!”

“He’s so predictable,” Kuroo chuckled.

Multiple sets of eyes looked at you. The newfound attention made you rock on the balls of your feet. Not entirely uncomfortable at the center of a crowd, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your denim overalls (still wanting to show your Nekoma spirit without dressing in your school uniform on the weekend, you wore a black and red striped tee beneath a pair of overall shorts—you weren’t as boy crazy as some of your classmates, but you weren’t not going to look cute walking into a gym full of teenage boys…) and craned your neck to stare back.

You were a second away from sticking your tongue out at them when Kuroo said your name and tilted his head back towards the door. “Let’s get back before Coach makes you do drills, too.” At the look of horror on your face, he snorted. “C’mon. As soon as Karasuno and Fukurodani’s set is finished, we’re swapping in.”

You nearly tripped over your feet to follow him out the door.

Behind you, a voice called out, “Kuroo, damnit!”

“Tch. So loud.”

As tempting as staying was, you didn’t want to disrespect the coaches by keeping Kuroo away—they were doing you a favor, after all. Like he’d said, Nekoma’s team was in the smaller Gym 2 working in pairs. The doors were open, just as the doors in the main gym were; you weren’t entirely sure how you missed the team practicing. You felt a little bad for assuming Kuroo was lying, but your excitement far outweighed your guilt.

You checked in with Coach Naoi, offering a polite greeting to the older Coach Nekoma at his side. Even though you’d met most of the team already—either earlier in the week when you met with Coach Naoi or from the practice you photographed at the end of the previous year—but upon the coaches’ insistence, you reintroduced yourself to the team.

Kuroo warned you not to get too comfortable—they’d be switching gyms soon and all the good action would be on the main court—so you kept your kit on your back and opted to instead watch the team practice. As excited as you were, you were also a little overwhelmed. This kind of volleyball was serious. It was fast balls and quick reactions. Clever spikes and diving falls. It was absolutely amazing; you wanted to photograph it all, the moments that made your heart stutter with anticipation and exhilaration. If you didn’t sharpen your vision, you were going to run through your film before the day was even half over.

The gym switch happened fast. A girl dressed in yellow, black pigtails sitting low on her neck, peeked around the corner. And then suddenly the team fell in line, gathering their belongings and filing out of the gym. Melting into the flow, you stepped in line with Kai (you were in the same homeroom your first year) and offered to carry a stack of towels. His smile reached his eyes when he said it wasn’t necessary, gathering another stack beneath his arm. The two of you made polite small talk about school as you trickled into the main gym.

He was nice enough to introduce you to the two managers—Yachi, a timid little blonde who knew about as much about volleyball as you did, you soon found out, and a dark haired third year named Shimizu—of the school they were playing first before waving a goodbye and returning to the other side of the net. Yachi and Shimizu were easy to talk to. Despite it being their first year the camp, Shimizu was well informed about the other teams and did her best to catch you up. You followed along the best you could alongside her and Yachi (who was endearing in her own way… probably because she reminded you of one of your kouhai from Photo Club—both afraid of their own shadows).

Not wanting to get in their way—and needing to set up before the match started, you excused yourself and looked for a good spot to set up a temporary camp. You didn’t want to leave your things exposed to stray volleyballs, but you wanted to keep it somewhere in sight that allowed easy access into the kit. You did a half lap around the gym, alternating between squints and frowns, before you picked a random spot along a wall and dropped your bag.

Kneeling beside it, you surveyed your equipment. You ran through a mental inventory quickly and, once satisfied everything was there, you pocketed a few cans of film.

“I recommend moving your belongings. Bokuto-san’s cross shots have been landing over here all morning.”

Leaning back on your heels, you blinked up at the shadow—outline popping against the too-bright fluorescents in the gym. Dressed in the same blue as the white haired blur, a 5 printed on his chest, he looked down at you with an unreadable expression. Or maybe that’s because you were looking at him upside down. Releasing your camera strap, you spun around to face him the correct way. He looked kinder the right way around. Black hair wayward, eyes deep and pensive.

“Right. Thank you.” You half-zipped your bag before asking, “Where would be a good spot to put my bag?”

“Hmm.” Seriously considering your question, he turned and scanned the gym for a second before pointing out a spot near a set of double doors by the stage. “I don’t think anywhere down here is safe, honestly, but over there is probably your best option.”

You followed his finger, nodding. “Thank you… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your nam—”

“Akaashi!” A mix between a whine and a shout; the voice ricocheted against the walls, the last syllable long and drawn out. Before you could turn your head to the noise, a blur—all blue and white—passed you. “I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

“Bokuto-san.” Number 5—Akaashi—canted his head but did nothing to shrug the arm off his shoulder. More indifferent than annoyed, he explained, “I was warning our guest…”

He paused and looked at you, like he was waiting for something. The smell of boy—menthol, pine, and sweat—was fogging up your brain. It took you a moment to realize he was waiting for your name. Somehow, you didn’t trip over your tongue when you provided it. To cover your (totally misplaced) embarrassment, you focused all your attention on zipping your camera bag shut.

Akaashi repeated it with a singular nod, then added, “Her equipment might get damaged if she leaves it here.”

Yellow eyes turned down to where you sat on the court. Suddenly, you wished you weren’t on your knees. (Suddenly, you wished you were on your knees somewhere private—just the two of you—nope, nope, nope—not going there…). You squeaked a very, very uncool noise of panic and stood up. The approximate three seconds it took you to brush the hypothetical dust off your overalls was enough time to collect your composure.

You thought.

As soon as you made eye contact with Bokuto, the quip you had queued up fizzled out. There was something fervid lurking behind layers of glassy citrine. No, not lurking—you had a feeling Bokuto wasn’t the type to hide anything. He looked at you with curiosity and excitement. Wasn’t that how you leered at him, though, when you first saw him on the court? Your heart thumped faster; you chewed on the inside of your cheek until you forgot about the steady beat in your chest.

After a second, his lips turned down with a pout. “But I want you to take my picture.”

You blinked, your surprise morphing to nothing short of giddiness. The memory of him frozen in air, limber limbs curling for impact, was fresh in your mind. Smiling brightly, you said, “Oh. I’m still going to take your picture.”

“Really?!” Straightening, his limbs falling in line as he pushed away from Akaashi, he put his hands on his hips and looked at you. “Make sure I look cool!”

“I think she is taking pictures of us on the court, Bokuto-san.”

Again, Bokuto deflated. “But—”

You decided you hated the way his shoulders sank, so you swung your camera bag around and said the first thing that popped into your head. “I’ll take your picture now, if you want, but you look really cool on the court so—”

“You hear that, Akaashi?!”

“I’m right here, so yes, I did.”

“Hear, what?” You asked, hating being left out of the loop.

“Do you really think I look cool?”

“Oh. Well… yeah. Of course. You’re kind of amazing.”

There was something about his earnestness that made you respond in the same way. It wasn’t like you knew anything about volleyball, really, but you knew enough to know he was a skilled player after catching only part of a match. Really, you wanted to ask him if he’d seen himself out there—how could anyone say he didn’t look cool… that he wasn’t cool? Bokuto stopped time.

“Hey, airhead!” Kuroo’s voice carried a taunt as he took a few steps your way. Both you and Bokuto looked his direction at the insult. You narrowed your eyes and stuck your tongue out while Bokuto continued grinning. “Stop flirting with Anpan—”

“Please stop calling me that,” You groaned. It was the farthest thing from a cute nickname. Maybe this was your wake-up call to stop eating so much sweet bread. As if.

Steamrolling on as if you hadn’t said a thing, Kuroo smirked at Bokuto and Akaashi. “Hurry up and get over here so I can crush you.”

At that, Bokuto seemed to forget your existence. Mind switched from girl-mode to volleyball-mode in an instant. Back straightening, broad shoulders puffing out at the mere mention of defeat, he bounced on his heels once and rocketed across the court. “There’s no way you’re going to beat me, Kuroo-kun!” Then he said your name—it rolled off his tongue effortlessly, trailing across the floor like unwieldy film until it landed at your feet. “—said I’m amazing, so I’m definitely going to win!”

“Kind of amazing, dude. There’s a difference,” Kuroo quipped.

“There is not!”

Your fingers gripped your kit strap, tightening around the nylon to distract yourself from the rapid tick in your chest and the flush heating your cheeks. He was long gone—far enough away, at least, that you felt safe enough to mutter, “Why did I say that?”

It was a stupid thing to say. Embarrassing, really. You didn’t get the feeling that Bokuto was making fun of you, though. If anything, the compliment was taken as a mantra.

Next to you, Akaashi sighed. Somehow, you’d forgotten he was there. There was no way you could play off the hue of your cheeks or your ramblings. Luckily, Akaashi filled the air between the two of you. “That’ll probably keep him focused most of the day, so thank you.”

“Anytime?”

He was already walking away.

Feeling a little bewildered and beyond eager to start taking photos, you hurried to a stash your bag in the Akaashi approved safe zone. The set between Ubugawa and Karasuno was already a few points in (the former taking an early lead), and Kenma was preparing to serve the first ball of the second match between Nekoma and Fukurodani. You made quick work of getting your Olympus out and loading a roll of film (it was a familiar routine, one you could probably do in your sleep).

A few color negative blanks clattered in your pocket, but the Olympus was made for black and white film. There was something so satisfying—so harmonic—about framing up the perfect shot, capturing the nuanced highlights contrasting on 35mm. Immortalizing the moment in black and white. Before zipping your bag back up, you grabbed your light meter. Just in case—the built in reader on your Olympus was temperamental, and you didn’t want to chance any ill-exposed photos.

Sports photography had never previously interested you. You weren’t entirely sure it did interest you, actually—or if it was just a volleyball thing. There was something about the moment of impact stole your breath and made you want to freeze time. It was exciting and inspiring and that was all you needed. You spent the two days leading up to the camp watching YouTube videos (your recommended page was full of V-league matches…) and reading photo blog for best practices and tips.

After a few test shots and an adjustment to your shutter speed—and an aperture tweak, you decided with furrowed brows—you were comfortable with your spatial awareness inside the gym. Nervous excitement bubbled beneath your skin as you slinked around the perimeter of the court. Tucked right alongside it was a feeling of undeniable pressure.

Despite all your talk about inspiration, all the long rambling monologues about your ‘creative vision’—you were still working out exactly what it was you wanted to capture. You watched long volleys almost breathlessly, camera tight against your chest. The ball moved faster than your eyes could track it. Faster than your finger could react. The sets moved quicker than you could make sense of them, but you were stubborn enough to try to follow through your viewfinder.

Maybe it was naïve to think you’d have some big ah-ha! moment and figure out the heart of your project. Nothing was ever that easy for you. As soon as the thought materialized, you snorted. It was too early in the afternoon for you dip into the dramatics. Attempting to shake your surly mood, you found a spot on the floor close to the Nekoma team’s bench that you hoped wasn’t in the way or distracting and tucked your camera to your side. Pulling your knees up, you rested your chin on folded fingers and watched the game.

Volleyball was a game of momentum, you discovered. Fast and unrelenting. Calculated and choreographed. It was amazing.

He was amazing. Bokuto. Perched on Nekoma’s side of the court, you only caught glimpses of Bokuto. Tufts of two-toned hair. Owlish eyes watching—calculating— through the nylon net. You heard him, more than anything. The hard thumps of his spikes (they were so powerful you felt them beneath you, vibrations pulsing through your slipper soles). Heels thudding on shiny wood floors. Boisterous cries of victory, full of contagious energy.

When he was closest to the net, you couldn’t help but watch him. There was something absolutely predatory about his smooth, deliberate motions. Bokuto was unrelenting in the most unassuming way possible. Your first impression hadn’t been wrong: he was amazing, alright. An egoist brimming with unfiltered charm.

And… and he was so fucking hot. The sharp definition of his face, his eyes like sparkling yellow sapphires—the more you stared at him, the more brazen you felt. He was beautiful, though, demanding to be seen. Lean, taut muscles moving beneath sweat soaked cotton. You couldn’t help but stare when his shirt lifted—couldn’t help but wonder what his damp skin would feel like under your fingertips.

It was all Emiyo’s fault—never shutting up about Itagaki’s eggplant emoji had you more than curious… more than anxious… more than wanting. You’d fooled around a little with your last boyfriend, but it’d been nearly a year since you two broke up. Sighing wistfully, you tried focusing on the game: it was Nekoma’s serve—Fukunaga, if you remembered correctly—and they were down 4 points in the second set.

Suddenly, sunlight filtered through the gymnasium.

“Hey, they’re still at it. We totally made it! Not bad, at all.”

A ball thudded to the ground, and murmurs echoed around the room. Unsure of what was going on, you hummed a curious noise and shifted to your knees for a better look at the commotion. In an instant, the mood of the gym shifted. Charged. What the hell?

A few meters away, Kuroo huffed, “So the stars are showing up fashionably late? How annoying.”

The stars? You leaned forward as the metal gym doors groaned open. The crowning sun was blinding, but you blinked into it anyway, surprised at the seemingly mismatched duo outlined in the doorway. One was tall, dark, and brooding. The other, shorter in height with bushy orange hair, was just as austere. Your eyes widened, taking in the scene as they met up with a very enthusiastic (you didn’t know how they had some much energy after the losing diving drills they’d just finished) Karasuno; the intense haze around them seemed to dissipate, the court creaking back to life.

Still on your knees, you watched Nekoma lose the second set in a row. It was hard to feel bad for your classmates when Bokuto bellowed your name, victorious smile crooked in place as he pointed a finger through the nylon net. “Wasn’t I amazing?!”

All you could do was lift your camera to hide your smile.

It didn’t take long to see why Kuroo called the duo from Karasuno stars. Well, you didn’t quite get it. The nuances of volleyball were still unclear to you, but you knew athleticism when you saw it. Number 10—the sunflower redhead—moved with an almost superhuman speed, and number 9 seemed to know exactly where to put the ball for him to get it over the net. Something about a freaky quick? Whatever it was, it was magnetic. No, they were magnetic. The energy in the room shifted to pulse to their beat.

Or maybe it was just you. Halfway through the first set, you couldn’t even pretend not to be interested. Abandoning the Nekoma-Ubugawa match in favor of the Karasuno-Shinzen one, you lurked along the line markings of the court. Trigger finger itching and heart syncing to the thump, thump, thumpof Number 9 and 10’s quick, you watched the rallys through your viewfinder. Number 10 moved fast—too fast, your shutter clicking what felt like a half-second too late every time. You were too enamored to feel frustrated.

Maybe even more than Bokuto, these two demanded to be seen.

Number 10 jumped to meet the ball. You held your breath, body running on instinct. Praying the framing was as good as you envisioned, your finger brushed the shutter. His body compressed like a spring when he landed, his shoes hitting the court moments after the ball thudded on the opposite side of the court.

“It’s nuts that Shrimpy kid can jump like that, right?”

Startled, you jumped in your skin and turned to blink at Bokuto. He stood what was probably considered too close to you, a damp towel draped over his shoulders. He blinked back, white eyebrows arched high, as he mirrored your expression. Cute. A slight sheen of sweat covered Bokuto’s forearms, and you remembered how intensely you’d been leering at him courtside. Fighting to keep your cheeks from warming, you hummed pensively to buy yourself a few seconds.

“I did horribly in physics, so I could be wrong, but there’s no way he’s not bending the laws of gravity or something when he does that.”

“You think?” Bokuto’s face scrunched up and, almost as an afterthought, he added, “I jump pretty high, too.”

“Hmm. Yeah, you do.” You nearly cringed at how dreamy your voice sounded. An impish smile instantly bloomed on Bokuto’s face. Instead of rolling your eyes, you shrugged a shoulder and teased, “I don’t know if it’s gravity defying, though.”

“What?!”

To placate him, you said, “You look cooler, though. I promise.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bokuto propped a hand on his hip and somehow leaned in closer. “Did you actually take my picture or did you just stare at me the whole time?”

“I take back all my compliments,” You mumbled, crossing your arms. “Ya big show off.”

“Maybe. I wanted to impress you.” He said it so simply—so boldly—you didn’t have time to react before he changed the subject. “So, did you get any good pictures?”

“I hope so. I won’t know until I get them developed.”

Bokuto pulled a face and pouted, “I don’t even get to see them?”

Tokage was closed on Sundays, so you couldn’t drop off the film until Monday after school. Going to another lab felt like cheating—and it wasn’t like you really trusted your film with strangers, anyway. Takami had the supplies at his place for home development and you were going to his place to study since he had the day off from work… but your commitment to help him pass exams outweighed your need to see the developed photos. Knowing Takami, he’d be more than willing to derail the study session help. So Monday, it was.

Feeling playful and a little drunk on his nearness, you rocked back on your heels and smiled. “Maybe I’m just looking for a reason to give you my number.”

Bokuto blinked, and the slightest pink dusting the high points of his cheeks. “For real? I mean—yeah, uh.” He swallowed once, his color evening out, and grinned sheepishly back at you. He tugged at the corners of the towel around his neck. “Let me go get my phone.”

You watched Bokuto bounce away, hands curling around his mouth while he called out for Akkashi. You felt restless—body warm. Anxiously, you continued to rock on your heels. Cans of film rattled in your pockets.

“Tch. I can’t believe you’re the type to fraternize with the enemy, Anpan.”

“If you don’t stop calling me that I’ll… I’ll…”

You turned to Kuroo with a sullen frown, your frustration stemming entirely from your inability to think of anything threatening. The smirk on his face only added to your growing irritation. With words failing, you fell back on old reliable: you pulled your eyelid down and stuck your tongue out at him.

He doubled over with laughter.

“Go away, seriously,” You whined.

“Sure, sure,” Kuroo chuckled, his eyes flashing over your shoulder. “Later, Anpan.”

Before you launched a one-woman attack, Bokuto’s wide chest blocked your field of vision. He gave you a curious look. “Anpan?”

“He’s a menace. Don’t listen to him.”

“I never do. Not gonna start now.”

You looked at him and immediately forgot why you were even annoyed with Kuroo in the first place. Yep, still stupidly handsome. Bokuto walked with you to your camera bag, where your phone was safely tucked away in a side pocket. You carefully tucked your Olympus away and emptied your pockets of film before grabbing your phone. There was a message from your mom—probably about getting home for dinner—and a few from Emiyo. Ignoring them, you tapped over to your contact list.

“Cute charm.” Bokuto leaned over and played with the strap (admittedly, it was an adorable little Rilakkuma), again finding a way to wiggle into your personal space. You didn’t mind one bit.

“Isn’t it?”

The two of you exchanged contact information. Bokuto’s hands lingered over yours too long to be considered just friendly when he passed your phone back to you, his name now listed with a little owl emoji next to it. Distantly, someone called his name. He let go of your hands. Belatedly, you blushed.

“You should come back and watch tomorrow.”

“Ahh. I would, but I have study plans already. I can’t skip.”

Earlier, you considered asking Coach Naoi if you could return for the second day of camp. Honestly, you wanted a few more hours to watch the duo from Karasuno. They arrived late in the afternoon, and you didn’t have nearly enough time to watch them play. Bokuto would’ve been a bonus. You had a few rolls of what you hoped was stellar film, though, and you weren’t going to blow off your plans with Takami.

Bokuto looked a little dejected, his smile falling only a little. “Exams are no joke, right? Akaashi’s been helping me prep for English. It’s so hard!” His bottom lip jutted out. “He’s so strict, it’s annoying.”

“I get it,” You commiserated. “My brother helped me study for midterm, and he was like, way too serious about it. He told me I was actively making him dumber by standing next to him.”

“Ouch, that’s a little harsh.”

Reo-chan hit him over the head after her said it, but still.

“I’m pretty sure he said it affectionately, at least.”

Akaashi materialized at the door again. “Bokuto! They’re closing the dinner line soon.”

The gym emptied quickly. You didn’t realize you and Bokuto were the only two there. How long had you been alone?

At the mention of missing food, Bokuto’s back straightened. He glanced at you, then Akaashi, then back at you. “I don’t think I’m allowed to walk you out.” A constipated look wiggled across his face. “But it’s getting really dark—”

“It’s okay,” You interrupted, a little giddy that he was concerned about your safety. At your instance, the two of you started walking towards Akaashi. “I’m only a few stops away. Besides, you probably shouldn’t miss dinner.”

“Yeah,” He said, his stomach growling in agreement. You both laughed, your camera bag bouncing against his duffel as you both squeezed through the gym door. Akaashi promptly flipped the lights and started locking the door, somehow entrusted with the task. Still standing entirely way too close, Bokuto cast his gaze down towards you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “Message me when you get home, though, okay? So I know you made it.”

“Sure,” You breathed.

The three of you departed not long after that, Akaashi issuing a polite goodnight before dragging Bokuto towards the main building. Feeling lighter than you had in weeks and completely and totally alive, you practically floated to the station. The entire day felt surreal, like you watched it happen to someone else. The weight of your kit on your shoulder and the warmth spreading through your chest were proof otherwise. Not to mention, you could still feel the ghost of Bokuto’s long fingers on top of yours. That had really… really happened. Hadn’t it?

Your phone vibrated with a message before you even made it on the first train.

Bokuto🦉 : ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

#bokuto x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto fanfic #bokuto kotarou x reader #bokuto kotarou x you #hq x you #getting together #drama #light angst #romance #no y/n #honey thighs 🍯#pining #fluff and angst

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walpurga-nacht-academy · 2 years

Text

KRIEGSKALD DORM - BIRTHDAY VENUE

SCENE I

PUPPET: [Upon this blessed day, we bring to you an offering that seeks to satisfy your whims. On behalf of us, servants, we present to you the one which the fates considered worthy: IDIA SHROUD.]

MARCIA: JACKPOT!

IDIA: HUH?! Wh-What?! Wh-Wh-What's that supposed to mean?! And why are you standing so close?!

MARCIA: Oh? Whoops, got carried away there for a second, hahahahaha!

IDIA: ... Laughing so mindlessly after invading somebody's personal space like that... It's what I should have expected from an always grinning normie like her, but...

MARCIA: Hm? Did you say something, Shroud-senpai?

IDIA: N-No, forget about it... Let's just get this over with so I can go home already.

I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Ortho and Vita. Making me come all this way when I could have just done it online... Are they trying to punish me or something?

MARCIA: BWAHAHAHAHA! You're super funny Shroud-senpai! That's why I'm glad that I got partnered with you of all people!

IDIA: ............

MARCIA: What's with that distrustful look? You look like you want to say something, hahahaha!

IDIA: No, it's just... That's not something I'd expect you to say...

MARCIA: How so? You know, Vita-senpai and I get along suuuuuuper well so I thought it was good luck that allowed me to end up with her husband as my presenter for today! We have a lot of stuff in common actually! Even Vita-senpai said so!

IDIA: ... She did?

MARCIA: Yep! Totally! I mean, it's definitely what I got from our conversation before so that's gotta mean something, hahahahaha!

IDIA: ... Right. In any case, here's your gift since I was told I had to bring one...

MARCIA: THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

IDIA: !!! Wh-What's with the sudden shiny atmosphere?! It's way too bright! I feel like I'm gonna go blind!

MARCIA: AHAHAHAHAHA, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY HILARIOUS, SHROUD-SENPAI! Making all these jokes and getting me what I assume is a super-high-end-edge-of-the-line type of gift!

IDIA: ... Eh?

MARCIA: I heard that the Shroud family is even richer than the Asims! Man, Vita-senpai sure scored big when she bagged you. Gotta admit that I'm a little jealous of her even though I don't think I could be ok with being engaged that young, hahahaha!

IDIA: .... Right... The money... That makes a lot of sense. Normies are always after one sort of thing or another, huh...

MARCIA: That's normal, isn't it? People just don't go through life without some sort of plan... I mean, unless they can afford to do so, I guess, hahahaha! Man, rich people sure have it good!

IDIA: ... Eh, Vita did say you're the straightforward type... I don't see how it's cute though.

MARCIA: Cuteness is relative! Ya gotta take what you're given! Right, senpai?

IDIA: I guess... A lot of people trash talk idol groups online too despite the whole thing being up for grabs depending on the person. Everybody's got different types so obviously, one group's appeal can't work for everybody... For me, though, it has to be Moirai above all else~

MARCIA: I've got no idea what you're talking about-

IDIA: Figured.

MARCIA: But I have to agree on the Moirai stuff!

IDIA: ... Huh? Wait, you mean...

MARCIA: Yep, yep~ I'm tooooootally a fan, ya know!

IDIA: Se-Seriously?! A normie like you... Actually, maybe... Hehehe, that's so unexpected, but you're probably just a bandwagon fan, right? Jumped in when the group got big and start trying to shoulder you're way in even though us older fans have been here first...

MARCIA: Hey, hey, are you sure about talking that way to a fellow fan! We gotta be united, that's what they'd want, you know?

IDIA: Th-That's- !!! Ok, gotcha, then I've gotta restart the level-

MARCIA: Huh?! Hey, why are you-

IDIA: This gift is just something I got at random for you but if it's a fellow Moirai fan... Then I gotta go for a real good drop!! Material goods mean nothing when compared to the feeling you get when supporting your fave! That's why I gotta look for something like that... Merch, or tickets, or... hmm...

MARCIA: Hu-Huh?! Shroud-senpai? Shroud-senpai! Hey!

He just got on that tablet and is now typing away... Crap, maybe making up all that fan stuff wasn't a good move. Aaaah, there was definitely something heavy and expensive in that box!! I could almost smell it!!

SCENE II

IDIA: Hehehe, shipping should only take a few days at most then the package will arrive~

MARCIA: My dreams... they're all dust now... I bet that merch doesn't sell anything more than a few madols...

IDIA: Huh?

MARCIA: Ne-Nevermind, ah! That's right, that's right! Shroud-senpai, let's play a game!

IDIA: A game? Just what kind of games would a normie like you think of? I bet it's all the party kind that super-extroverts like you can't get enough of...

MARCIA: It's true that I do enjoy those, but today's game is a liiiiittle special!

IDIA: ... Is that so?

PUPPET: [Shall I proceed with the game?]

MARCIA: Take it away!

IDIA: Haaa? That thing will be the console? It's really outdated and the mechanism seems to have been last updated a hundred years ago or something...

MARCIA: Hey, hey, hey! Don't be so harsh! That's the pride of Kriegskald, I'll have you know! One of our own Prefects repaired it back in the day and it's been working ever since! Talk about talent, right?

IDIA: ... Haaa, guess normies would be impressed by just about anything, huh?

MARCIA: Hey, hey, let's have the puppet take it away otherwise we'll be here all day! Do you wanna spend time with me so much, huh?

IDIA: Absolutely not! I have a lot of banners to pull for and can't afford to waste any more time on this! Let's get it over with!

PUPPET: [Understood. I shall now proceed to ask a question that Marcia Pyroeis will answer and which Idia Shroud will be tasked to interpret.]

PUPPET: [Sometimes a stroll along a sandy beach can transport you much further from your everyday reality than the actual distance you walk. That may be why the sea holds a special place in lovers' hearts. It provides them with the chance to journey together, if only for a brief time, into another world. As you walk along a quiet beach, you spot a surfboard washed up on the sand. What kind of impression does it make on you?]

IDIA: .... This is just a party game question.

MARCIA: Bwahaha, you think so? Still, it's kinda fun to think about it though~

Well, I guess, 'cause I know for sure that I'm would a super brand new surfboard that's a limited edition replica of a famous one used by an athlete or in a movie!!

IDIA: Huh? You mean like a collector's item? I guess that would have some value to it...

MARCIA: EXACTLY! Usually, those kinds are the ones that sell the best 'cause everybody wants a limited-time item in their collection, right? That means they're willing to pay a pretty madol out of their pocket for it. And that's where people like me come in~

IDIA: That's-!!

MARCIA: Genius, right?

IDIA: Genius?? Don't make me laugh! Any insects with a brain could do as much! Not that it makes it acceptable, you know?! Scalpers like you are the reason ticket sales are always such a chore! Do you have any idea what people like you put us true fans through every time, huh??

MARCIA: Huh? Eh? Suddenly it's gotten really high stakes...

AHAHAHAHA, SHROUD-SENPAI, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY SUPER FUNNY, YOU KNOW THAT? IT WAS ONLY A JOKE! TOTALLY ALL A JOKE, HAHAHAHAHA!

IDIA: .... A joke? Seriously? What kind of sense of humour do you have, huh?

MARCIA: A poor one, I guess, hahahaha~

I-In any case that probably sufficed for the interpretation part... I don't wanna be scolded again, ugh...

IDIA: ..... Vita was right after all...

SCENE III

PUPPET: [Please proceed to the last part of the interview.]

IDIA: A-Another one?? Ugh, I guess, fine... Since it's the last part of the interview anyway...

"If you had to choose one to be your sister, who would that be?"

What sort of question is this... ?

MARCIA: IT'S VITA-SENPAI, OBVIOUSLY!

IDIA: Huh?? Vita?? Seriously??

MARCIA: Huh, why do you sound so surprised? Aren't you and senpai engaged?

IDIA: Th-That's... But it's got nothing to do with your question, so let's just...

Why Vita of all people?

MARCIA: SENPAI IS SUPER KIND TO HER LITTLE SISTERS!!

IDIA: EH?

MARCIA: I mean it's just Agatha, for now, but I imagine she'd behave pretty much the same if I was the one in her place! All the presents that I could dream of! Unlimited access to her funds!! The Dies family is pretty well off but ever since their union with the Shroud family, they've jumped up in estimates!! Their value is twenty times what it was and once Vita-senpai becomes the new matriarch, then she'll all but set for life no matter what!! Right??

IDIA: A normie's greed is something else... But... I think Vita would be amused to hear all this. She has that sort of sense of humour that enjoys this sort of humiliation... hehehe...

MARCIA: Hm? Are your tips turning pink, Shroud-senpai?

IDIA: DO-DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!! IT'S NOTHING LIKE THAT!!

Besides, you're not the sort of little sister Vita would have in mind anyway... You're too shiny and cheery and she'd never go for someone that athletic anyway...

MARCIA: Hm? Is that so? But from what I've seen, Vita-senpai and I get along pretty well. Since we're both super driven people who don't back down from any challenge. She said as much when I finally finished doing an errand for her a while back.

IDIA: Errand?

MARCIA: Yep! She got really busy that day and said she wouldn't be able to walk Larna around the campus as she usually does, so she asked me to do it instead. Obviously, since it was my esteemed senpai asking me to do that, I obliged. I'm a really kind underclassman, you know? Hahahhahaha!

Well, it turned out that Larna was a lot bigger than I remembered so I kinda got dragged all over the campus, instead of the other way around. Senpai even said that she's super surprised I still had my limbs attached after that bit of exercise!

IDIA: ... Larna tends to be a lot tougher than people give him credit for... And that sounds like Vita was having a bit of a laugh at your expense too.

MARCIA: THAT'S OK!! 'Cause at the end, senpai gifted me with some really cool stuff and managed to get a good price for- I-I mean, I totally cherished it and have looked after it since! Yep! That's it!

IDIA:....

[*]

PUPPET: [Congratulations. The interview portion has been completed. Please proceed to the last event of the celebrations. A bottle has already been prepared for you.]

IDIA: Champagne is so bitter... Couldn't we have gotten anything else instead? These sorts of celebrations are just... I wanna crawl into the ground...

MARCIA: Come on, come on! It's definitely gonna be super fun! You can be sure of it!

IDIA: Haaa, if it gets me out of here faster... Ok, prepare yourself.

Ha-Happy Birthday, Miss Marcia Pyroeis!

#walpurga nacht academy #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst #twst oc #twisute #twisute oc #marcia pyroeis #idia shroud #kriegsklad #ignihyde #wna birthday campaign

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maxiemumdamage · 3 years

Text

Yuri On Ice reactions from my mom; this time episode five. Minami’s my absolute favorite character, so I’m really excited for this one!!

She couldn’t tell the intro song is in English and asked me what it was saying. This meant we went back to the start after five minutes so I could sing all of the words to History Maker over the actual song. Yes I know all the words, and now she’s singing it too. She thinks it sound like he’s saying “Joseph” instead of “yourself” and won’t budge on that. I don’t hear it at all.

Mom: (About Minami’s fanboying over Yuuri) “oh, he has a crush??” Me: “Kinda” Her: *disapproving stare*

She laughed at Yuuri’s rant at Viktor, and again at Minami’s staring.

She laughed about Viktor’s drama too. And at the cameras flashing when he hugs Yuuri.

“I like the way the texture of the ice looks”

The Katsudon bit still cracks her up every time. And I do mean EVERY single time.

“I have a recipe for chicken Katsu, we should try that”

(About the audience in Hasetsu being more fired up) “yeah, cause that was your hometown, babe!”

She thought the focus on his face during the spin was weird.

“Why is everyone sweating?” (Great question, my best guess is nerves)

She was confused about how Yuuri got such a high score with mistakes, so I talked about GOEs and how they get inflated at domestic levels, the super high base value of the program, etc.

About Minami: “oh he totally has a crush on Yuuri, what did you mean ‘kind of’??” “That’s a baby.” “See! Lohengrin! It’s a real thing!”

I asked her about it months ago cause it came up on Jeopardy and her parents liked opera when she was a kid.

She wanted to know what the food on the ad break slide was, and googled it during the break. She also said that the google search autofilled as “what are those three Japanese things on sticks” (It was dango!)

Her: “Is he gonna implode? So there’s more drama?” Me: “I’m not gonna spoil it.” Her:“So he is.”

She was shocked when Viktor stormed off. And disapproving. She really doesn’t seem to like him.

“I LOVE THE WAY THEY MAKE THE ICE LOOK! The reflection of the lights! The little shine to it! It looks beautiful!”

She cooed at Yuuri’s cheering for Minami, and laughed at Minami’s reaction. She doesn’t think he’s a very good skater though, and she isn’t exactly wrong.

She noticed that Viktor WANTED Yuuri to cheer up Minami, because he looked so satisfied afterwards.

She laughed at Minami’s air guitar. She said his skating reminded her of stuff she’s seen in actual skaters who do that kind of music.

“Oh my god, stop it” when Viktor did the lip balm thing

During Yuuri’s Free Skate:

“Don’t get distracted— Oh no, he’s distracted.”

“Haha, he’s hiding his face behind the dog!” (Viktor, after Yuuri changes the elements)

“Why did he look at the judges??”

*As I was explaining the changes to the program jumps* “So why is it a bad thing that he—Oh, fuck me” (When Yuuri Hits the Wall)

Afterwards: “So why isn’t he bleeding? …There it is.”

She laughed at Yuuri’s teary chase towards Viktor at the Kiss and Cry. Not at the actual fall though, and then again at Minami’s fanboying. But she thought the Grand Prix thing was sweet.

I just noticed the other Japanese skaters ask Yuuri for an autograph while Viktor is right there. A five time world champion standing two feet away, and they all completely ignore him!! Yuuri really is the skater they all look up to, huh? I’m so proud of him.

She was CACKLING at Yurio’s shenanigans with the phone and screaming at Mila

She also got excited about “Baba” cause she recognized it as part of Baba Yaga and realized what it meant.

*My theme this season is love* “that’s a stupid theme”

She was distressed about Yuuri’s family’s love not being acknowledged, and wants him to apologize to them.

She also momentarily wondered if Cialdini coached Phichit to fuck with Yuuri before remembering that they’re former rinkmates.

This then devolved into her saying “Chele-stee-no” to her cat in an Italian accent over and over again cause I accidentally pronounced it with a hard C instead.

So yeah, I had great time here!! I’m really glad she liked Minami, and that the celebrity crush thing didn’t weird her out too much.

#snarly reacts to yoi #yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #yuuri on ice #yoi #minami kenjirou #yuuri katsuki #yuri katsuki #celestino cialdini #original post

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kinglazrus · 3 years

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Deep Wounds Ch. 1 - Who's to Blame?

Phic Phight | Next | AO3 | FFN

Submitted by @q-gorgeous: Identity reveal. Dash finds out Danny is Phantom. Could be swagger bishie or not, either or is okay.

Submitted by @aj-itated: Dash catches Danny changing after gym, and spots a huge (poorly stitched) wound on his side. Dash is now convinced Danny is either abused or part of a gang, and has no idea how to deal with either - or how to interact with Danny, now that he can't bully him.

Summary: Dash didn't mean to see it, not that it was his fault. If Danny didn't want anyone to notice the bloody mess on his side, then he shouldn't be checking his bandages in the middle of the boy's changing room. But it's too late, and Dash has no clue what to do now that he thinks Danny might be getting hurt at home.

Word count: 4253

“He’s gonna know.”

As Tucker's shadow falls over him, Danny starts, rudely yanked out of his daydream. The hand cradling his chin drops to his lap, fingers brushing the grass, and he fixes Tucker with a confused glare. "What?"

"You are super unsubtle," Tucker says. "He's gonna knooow."

Tucker and singsong aren’t two words Danny would normally use together, but it is the best way to describe the lyrical bounce in Tucker's voice as he drops onto the grass. Too bad his musical prowess seems limited to teasing jabs and not the screeching caterwaul Danny usually associates with Tucker and singing.

"What are you talking about?" Danny asks, his annoyance mounting.

"Oh, come on." Tucker leans back and sweeps his arm out to the field, motioning to the warm-up game some of their classmates are playing, which Danny had been watching fervently until he was interrupted. His gaze skims over the scuffle taking place over the ball, settles briefly on Dash lounging in front one of the nets, then goes back to Tucker.

"I don't know what you mean," Danny says.

"Tucker, be nice. Don't tease the oblivious," Sam cuts in. Sitting on Danny's left, she is flipping through a book rather than watches the scrimmage. How she got the book past Tetslaff, Danny has no idea. Magic, maybe. The more likely answer is that Tetsflaff saw it and just didn't care since Sam one of the best students in their class.

Danny could never get away with it, though. "Seriously. What are you guys talking about?"

"Oh, poor Danny." Tucker tsks and shakes his head. "In time, you, too, shall mature enough to understand your own emotions."

"I'm mature enough to ectoblast you in the face," Danny says.

"That is literally the exact opposite of mature."

"You're the exact opposite of mature."

"Game time!" Tetslaff's bellow cuts off what surely would have been a clever retort from Tucker. Her booming voice, powerful enough to challenge Danny's father's, echoes across the field and brings the scrimmage to a halt. At the far net, Dash rises to his feet and brushes the grass from his shorts.

"Captains!" Tetslaff calls. Valerie and Dash's hands shoot into the air, faster than anyone else's. Sam, still focused on her book, raises her hand half-heartedly, then lowers it to turn the page. No one else offers to be team captain, but Tetslaff doesn't seem to mind. This is how their classes usually go when they do team sports. "You know the drill. Pick your players, take your positions, and for heaven's sake, someone take Fenton."

Snickers break out through the class. Danny drops his face into his hands, muffling a groan against his palms.

He hates gym class for a lot of reasons. For one, sports aren't really his thing. He might be strong, thanks to his ghost half, but that doesn't make him any better at sports. Because of that, he's usually the last picked when it comes to games like soccer. And then there's Dash, who sucks sometimes, but he used to suck more. A lot more. He has mellowed out since freshman year, although he's not opposed to jostling Danny in the hallway now and then.

But the absolute worst thing about gym class is playing when he's injured; it doesn't happen often. Danny's been ghost fighting for nearly three years now, and he doesn't get hurt as much as he used to. Experience has wizened him up to the wonders of dodging. His enemies still get lucky sometimes, though, and last night, Technus got him good. Hacking and slashing isn't usually Technus' thing, but the rabid dishwasher the ghost sicked on Danny was damn good at it. He has the deep slash across his left side to show it.

It's healing well, but a wound like that needs more than a few hours before he is back in peak condition. Sam, whose house was closest after the fight, stitched Danny up as best as she could. Both she and Tucker had gotten good at that over the years, but for all Sam's skill, she was still just a high schooler who learned off YouTube tutorials. Before bed, Danny bound the wound tight, took a couple of Advil, and slept with an icepack slapped against his side.

It still hurts like hell, though.

A sharp whistle pierces Danny's thoughts. He winces at the noise, along with most of the class. Dash and Valerie, the victims of Tetslaff's ire, actually flinch.

"Baxter, Grey, stop bickering," Tetslaff says.

Caught up in his thoughts, Danny hadn't noticed their argument, but it's impossible to miss the tight anger in Valerie's crossed arms or the annoyance in Dash's glare.

"Baxter, Grey made her pick. Mr. Cheong goes with her." Tetslaff points at Kwan, then jerks her thumb toward Valerie. With a despondent sigh, Dash pats Kwan on the back, watching his best friend trudge to Valerie's team as if he was going to his grave.

"They're so dramatic," Danny says.

Tucker nods in agreement. "I know, right?"

Sam lowers her book to stare at them. "You cannot be serious."

"What did we say?" Danny asks.

Sam sighs and rolls her eyes but doesn't elaborate further.

Back on the field, Valerie gestures to the dwindling number of classmates yet to be claimed. "Your next pick," she says to Dash.

Dash scans the lineup, his gaze lingering on Danny for a few moments before skipping right over Tucker to Sam. "Manson, you're with me."

"Ugh, of course." Sam marks her page and passes the book to Danny. "You gonna be okay? How's your side?"

He holds back a grimace. "I'm good. I'll tell Tetslaff I'm sick or something so I can sit out."

Sam nods, satisfied, and joins Dash's team.

"Tucker!" Valerie calls.

"Good luck, dude." Tucker gently pats Danny's shoulder before stepping onto the field.

With his friends gone, and the rest of the class distracted by the team pick, Danny shuffles over to Tetslaff. "I don't really feel good. Can I sit out?"

Tetslaff looks him up and down. "You gonna throw up?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"You got a fever?" Before Danny can even answer, Tetslaff slaps her hand against his forehead. He flinches back, wanting nothing more than to peel her warm palm off his skin. She holds it there for a few seconds before finally drawing away. "No fever. got a doctor's note?"

"Uh... no? I've been at school all morning."

"If you feel like you're about to throw up, book it off the field. Otherwise, you're playing."

"But—"

"Fenton, do you really want to be the only kid in Casper High history to fail gym class?" Tetslaff asks.

The threat might have been more effective if Danny hadn't spent half his high school career one bad grade away from flunking out, but he doesn't have the energy to fight her on it. "Okay, Coach."

"That's the spirit! Now get out there and show me some hustle!" Tetslaff slaps Danny on the back. He bites back a cry of pain as he stumbles forward, one hand shooting to cradle his side. Tetslaff's hand, though broad, missed the actual injury, but the sheer impact made his bones rattle and his wound flair with pain.

"Okay," Danny mutters. Just stay out of Dash's way and move enough to escape Tetslaff ire. It can't be that hard. He presses a hand to his side, feeling the thick gauze through his shirt. Closing eyes so that no one sees them glow, he phases his palm through his shirt and ices over his injury. The numbing cold helps, somewhat, and it should hold up for the whole class.

"I can do this." He falters when he steps toward the field. It looks like Valerie and Dash finished picking their teams while he was busy with Tetslaff and the game is already underway. He hovers on the sideline, unsure where to go.

"Getting worked up already?" Valerie's voice startles him.

Danny flinches and twists toward her, sending a sharp twinge across his ribs. He hisses, regretting the sudden move, and squeezes his side once more.

"You okay?" Valerie asks.

"Just fine. Sorry, what did you say?"

"You look like you're stressed out already. It's just soccer."

Danny rolls his eyes and nudges her arm. "Sure. Tell me that when Dash's team is up by five and I have stop you from kicking his kneecaps in."

Valerie laughs, no denial falling from her lips. "Oh, please. We both know I'd go for the throat. You're with me, by the way."

"Oh, thank God."

"Don't kid yourself, Danny. We both know you'd love to be on Dash's team."

Danny's mind blanks for a moment, his cheeks growing hot against his will. "Uh... what? He literally used to beat me up every day."

"Keyword, 'used to.' And I never said you had good taste." Valerie shrugs. "Except for me, at least. But don't worry about it. Now come on; I want you on defence. You suck at scoring, but at least you can take a hit."

Danny hopes he doesn't need to.

—

No hits come his way, to Danny's immense relief. At least they are playing soccer and not football. Or floor hockey, God forbid. Danny's ankles still smart from the last time they played that. With soccer, there's not a whole lot of opportunity for Danny to get knocked around. Stuck on defence, he even has an excuse to hang back, hold off on all that "hustle" Tetslaff wanted to see. His teammates charge up and down the field, shouting and jeering as they fight over the ball, and Danny gets to trail behind, halfway between the throng and his team's net. He spends most of his time watching Dash. Purely so that he's ready if Dash decides to go after him, not for any other reasons.

"Suuure that's the reason," Tucker says when he notices Danny staring.

"It is!" Danny's protest falls on deaf ears.

Dash catches Danny's gaze more than once. Rather than looking away, Danny can't resist offering a shit-eating grin and a friendly wave every time. If he had any self-preservation skills, he would stop immediately. But there's a reason he's half-ghost now, and it's definitely not because of his critical thinking skills.

He manages to stay out of the action, for the most part, only rushing in when the ball comes close to him. Otherwise, Tucker and Elliot handle the rest. Tucker knowingly spares him the pain of ripping his stitches. Elliot, meanwhile, likes to swoop in at every opportunity to show Danny up. It might have gotten a rise out of Danny any other day, but right now, when his side throbs every time he takes a step, Elliot is welcome to do whatever he wants.

When they have class outside, Danny can't tell how much time is left. He guesses they are about halfway through, and nothing bad has happened yet. Maybe he can get through this, after all.

That's when he jinxes himself.

"Heads up!" Valerie's warning shout comes just in time. Danny ducks instinctively, hissing when his injury pulls. The soccer ball flies over his head, skimming the top of his hair. Then, Dash collides with Danny, his shoulder digging into Danny's side. He cries out as he goes sprawling, hands shooting to his side. It burns, searing across his ribs, almost as bad as when he first got the wound. The pain makes his head spin and his breath ragged.

He must blackout for a moment, because one second his face is pressed against the cool grass, and then suddenly he's staring up into Tetsalff's concerned face, Valerie, Sam, and Tucker hovering behind her.

"Deep breaths, Fenton," Tetslaff says.

It would be great advice if breathing didn't make his chest expand, and his chest expanding didn't make the gash on his side strain against the few stitches that hadn't popped when Dash rammed into him at full speed. What the hell. That was such a dick move.

"Okay, Fenton. You're out for the rest of the class. Go to the nurse if you need to," Tetslaff says.

He nods but makes no move to get up. He doesn't know if he can.

Tetslaff sees his plight, whether she understands the reason for it or not, and barks over her shoulder. "Baxter! Your fault, your problem. Help Fenton inside."

"We can take him," Tucker says. At the same time, Dash whines, "Come on, Coach. There's no way I hit him that hard."

Tetslaff sticks out an arm, holding Sam and Tucker back. "Get to it, Baxter."

Dash groans but relents and steps into Danny's field of view. Rather than kneeling, or doing anything actually helpful, he bends down a little and sticks out his hand.

Danny stares at it.

"Well? You're holding up the game, Fenton."

Danny almost gets up on his own, just to spite Dash, but the second he tries to lever himself up, his side screams, and Danny has to bite back another cry of pain. Reluctantly, he grabs Dash's hand. Dash hauls him upright, far from gentle, and sets Danny down on his feet. Dash starts forward, but Danny hangs back.

"Hurry up," Dash says.

"Just... hold on a second." Danny squeezes his eyes shuts and clamps his hands against his side. The pressure helps, a little. If he's bleeding, it'll at least hide the evidence. He really hopes he put enough gauze on the wound. He didn't exactly think he'd be dealing with this today when he wrapped it.

"Dude, we can take you," Tucker says. He and Sam haven't moved away. Even Valerie still hovers close by, giving Danny a concerned look over his friends' shoulders.

"Manson, you're team captain until Dash gets back. Foley." Tetslaff shakes her head. "Your grades aren't much better than Fenton's here. Let's go, back on the field. It's game time.

"But—"

"It's fine, guys." Danny tries to smile, but he is sure it comes out like a grimace instead. Neither of them look like they believe him.

"Ms. Tetslaff!" Valerie steps in front of the teacher. "Danny's on my team. I want to make sure he's okay. Kwan can take over as captain for me."

"Okay, fine. Now let's get back to the game, people!" Tetslaff puts a hand on Sam and Tucker's shoulder each and pushes them toward the field. Over her shoulder, Sam mouths "Thank you" at Valerie.

"Can we just hurry up?" Dash says. Before Danny is ready, Dash's hand clamps down his shoulder and starts driving him forward. Danny stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and is forced to open his eyes or else go tumbling all over again. Valerie appears on his injured side, walking fast to keep up with Dash's pace.

"Are you okay?" she asks. She reaches toward Danny, but holds back, her gaze flitting down to the hand over his ribs.

"Yeah, totally fine. I, uh, got caught up in that ghost fight yesterday, got a little bruised," he says.

"You should have told Tetslaff. She would have let you sit out," Valerie says.

"Yeah, I should have." Too bad Danny hadn't thought of that lie before. And it wasn't even a lie, technically.

The walk to the gym doors feels much farther than it did at the start of class. Dash yanks the door open once they're close enough and deposits Danny on the nearest bench. "There, you're fine. Whatever."

"Don't be such a dick, Dash," Valerie says.

Danny wobbles, bracing himself against the wall as he sits down. While Valerie helps, grabbing his arm and keeping him steady, Dash doesn't make a move.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna sit for a bit."

"If you say so." With one last concerned glance, Valerie leaves the gym.

Danny sits, one hand pressed against his side, feeling the deep, pulsing ache that won't leave. The ice he applied earlier hasn't faded yet, but if Danny's stitches are ripped as he suspects, a little numbing cold won't help for much longer.

Dash clears his throat, reminding Danny that he hasn't left yet.

"What?" Danny glares at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Sorry, or whatever. I thought you were gonna move, okay?"

"You sure sound sorry."

Dash bristles. "Whatever, Fenton. I was trying to be nice, but I guess I'll just fuck off then."

"Yeah, you do that."

Dash stomps out of the gym without looking back, slamming the door behind him. The bang echoes through the empty room. Alone at last, a whimper slips through Danny's lips. You would think that, over the years, he would get used to getting injured so much, learn to adjust to the pain. Whoever first said that was such a liar. It never stops hurting. Dizzying pain is dizzying pain no matter how often you experience it.

Danny sits for a few minutes, breathing slow and even, bracing himself for what he knows is coming. Peeling his hand away from his side, he checks his shirt. Faint pink splotches greet his eyes, not a lot, but enough to make him groan. He reaches under his shirt, slipping his fingers underneath the bandages, and probes the tender skin. His fingers come away slick and red.

"Shit." He applies a fresh coat of ice, enough to seal over the wound, and pushes himself off the bet, slick hand sliding against the wood. The entrance to the boys' changeroom lies only a few feet away, but it feels farther. He shuffles inside, bracing one hand against the wall. The hall leading in stretches for a good ten feet before cutting into a sharp right angle and opening into the main room.

The silence inside is just as oppressive as the quiet of the gym. Even though it's the middle of the school day, being here without the chatter of other boys as they change feels odd.

Danny lets himself slump onto the bench, breathing heavily

"I'm gonna kill Dash," he says to the empty room. But knowing his luck, Dash would come back as a ghost and haunt the hell out of him. It seems like the kind of asshole thing he would do

Danny fumbles for his bag, hooking his finger around the strap and dragging it close. It takes him a minute of digging to find his phone, which he stuffed inside at the start of class. He quickly checks the time. There are ten minutes left of class. More than enough time to check his side and get patched up before Tetslaff dismisses everyone to get changed.

The smart thing would be to go into one of the showers, make sure he has complete privacy, but he doesn't want to put in the effort of walking that far.

"It'll be fine," Danny says and gets to work

—

Dash doesn't return to the game. As the gym door slams beside him, he leans against the wall and stares down at his shoes. Outside, he looks composed, but in his head, his thoughts tumble about. He can't shake the image of Valerie's glare. Fenton couldn't take a hit, so what? It's not like Dash actually didanything. He's gotten Fenton a lot worse than that before. It's not his fault the guy was already banged up from some dumb ghost fight. Not his problem.

And yet, the pained cry as Dash bowled Danny over, the sight of his crumpled body on the grass... it makes Dash shudder.

"I apologized," he says. There's no one around to hear it, to justify him. He wonders what his therapist will say about this, if Dash bothers mentioning it at their next appointment.

Valerie's glare flashes through his mind again.

"Okay, fine!" He throws his arms up and shoves away from the wall. One quick moment to check on Danny, then he'll return to the game. He's only doing this so that his therapist doesn't give him that look on Monday; the look that isn't quite disappointed, because she could never be disappointed in one of her clients, but comes pretty damn close.

Dash only receives that look when he does something dumb, like shoving nerds in lockers or taking his anger out on someone else.

Dash eases the door to the gym back open and peeks inside. The bench he left Danny on is empty. A smear of red stands out against the pale wood. Dash creeps inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His heart sinks as he nears the bench, and comes to the unmistakable conclusion: blood.

Not my fault, Dash reminds himself. It does little in the way of reassurance. Walking briskly, he heads for the doors leading further into the school. If Danny is bleeding, he must have gone to the nurse. Which means he will be fine, but Dash needs to be sure.

A low groan stops him in his tracks.

For a moment, he thinks he imagined it, but then it comes again, accompanied by a pained hiss. The sound comes from the changing room. Holding his breath, he turns from the door and enters the changeroom.

Short, sharp breaths greet him, growing louder as he nears the main room. A shaky whimper cuts through, followed by a gasp.

Dash peeks around the corner. He sees Danny's shirt first, discarded on the bench. Next to it is a pile of wrappings. It looks like the ace bandages Dash uses whenever he gets a sprain, although he doesn't remember seeing Danny wearing any. And then, he looks to Danny himself and pales.

One arm drawn back, head tilted forward to see his side, Danny peels a stained gauze pad away from his bloody ribs. Suddenly, Dash can't breathe. His throat feels clogged. His heart hammers in his ear. The gash in Danny's side is easily the length of Dash's hand. It rips across his ribs and curves up toward his armpit, ending just under his arm. Dash doesn't know much about first aid, but the stitches holding the wound together look sloppy. They pull in different directions, turning what appears to be a clean cut into a wobbly mess. Around it, Danny's skin is stained red. Blood seeps between the stitches.

A few small drops slide down Danny's exposed skin as Dash watches, pooling briefly against the waistband of his gym shorts before they are absorbed

"Fuck," Dash whispers.

Danny jumps back, spinning mid-air to face Dash. In his horror, Dash doesn't think to question the impossibility of that action. Danny drops the gauze pad, which lands bloody side down on the floor, and clamps his arm down over the injury.

"What are you doing?" Danny's voice hitches, caught between an accusing growl and a startled squeak.

Dash gapes, mouth opening and closing as he searches for something to say. His mind comes up blank. "Danny, what... what the hell? What happened to you?"

Dash's voice seems to snap Danny out of his shock. All at once, his body goes rigid and his expression turns cold. "Get out."

"You need to go to the nurse!"

"DASH!" Danny bellows.

Dash stumbles back, falling against the wall. Tetslaff's laugh voice is loud. Jack Fenton's voice booms. But just now, Dash felt the floor shake under his feet. Danny's voice rumbled in Dash's chest, knocked him off his feet. The whole school must have heard it, they had to.

"I won't say it again. Get the hell out right now," Danny says.

Dash obeys. Whether it's out of fear or a genuine desire to follow Danny's will, he can't tell. He books it out of the changeroom, across the gym, and bursts outside, only to come face to face with Kwan and the rest of the class.

"Whoa!" Kwan reels back in surprise. "You missed the rest of the game. Val's team won."

"Oh, the game. Right." Dash takes a deep breath, struggling to get himself under control.

"So... you gonna let us in?"

Dash doesn't move.

"Get out of the way, Dash," Valerie says. Pushing to the front of the group, she tries to shove past him.

Dash leaps in front of her. "No!" He can't let anyone else see Danny.

"Dude, not cool. We want to check on Danny," Tucker says.

Dash wavers. Danny's friends have to know what's up with him, right? There is no way he could have stitched that up himself, not with how much struggle it took to even look at the injury. When Tucker and Sam slip by Dash, he makes no move to stop them. Their entrance opens the floodway, and soon enough everyone is pushing past Dash into the gym.

"Wait!" He latches on to Kwan's arm as his best friend passes.

"Did something happen?" Kwan asks.

Dash swallows, unsure how to answer. "Sort of?" Now isn't the right time to tell Kwan, though, not with their classmates around them, and the rest of their friends absent.

"Let's go get changed." Kwan pats Dash's shoulder and guides him forward. Every step closer to the change room, Dash's anxiety mounts. Danny reacted so poorly to one person finding him. Dash can only imagine what will happen—what stricken look Danny will wear—when half their class walks in on his shirtless and bloody.

Except, when they turn the corner into the change room proper, Danny isn't there. His stuff is gone, too. Tucker's crumpled gym shirt covers the spot where the gauze pad landed. There are no signs Danny was there at all.

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #dash baxter #swagger bishie #danny/dash #deepwounds

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