#that said there was absolutely a net positive and that's that i think i owe things falling apart between me and my groomer to that trip

[the-firebird69]

There are several things going on and one of them is just abject poverty his people don't care to do anything and make any money and do anything positive make changes get things they need they're just sitting around waiting for some sort of hand out that will never occur. And it's true we know about it and apparently they know that's the way it's going here. There are reasons for them to distribute the funds that they owe to our son first

-first and Paramount is that they are getting pressured from all sorts of people to do so hang on

-secondly those that were kicked out want them to do it to get them kicked out and they said if we get him this then we get kicked out and they don't believe it and they say they're going to and they don't and they say we stopped you and it goes on and on

-another reason is that technically they're breaking the law because they don't pay and if they know about it and a lot of them get fired because they see it and they don't pay or they trying change the record erroneously and they're getting fired a lot of them and yeah after a while there won't be anyone but that won't be for years at this rate even with all this stuff going on no that's one thing that's happening people cannot stand them anymore and it's extortion they did figure it out too and against pseudo empire foreigners us they want to extort stuff so kind of overrides the other reasons they say they haven't gotten anything so you have to prove it and we are others are too

-in his meanderings our son and sometimes daughter have figured out that if they pay out from social security something happens and we know about it and we know what the code is and it is to pursue those of different races and mixed races and people who are have messed up DNA and they don't want that and it is not really now this group is very large maybe issuing a hit against themselves they say and against minority warlock and minorities and by getting him funds and we have people on government support too but we did say this it needs to be lit up a little bit and take a look and see what you're doing these people who are running it have wasted their time doing anything and I'm not paying their people and they're not giving them bonuses and anything else

-if they paid our son he was saying he's our people and they be paying theirs in gaps and say it was real and think it kind of prove it cuz they really don't do anything and there's a whole bunch of gaps because they always make you wait and they were others there doing that so a lot of it is legitimate you can start with that and then start peppering it in and it's kind of tough there's so many and they don't want to do that and we've talked about it for 2 years solid

-another way is if they were to arrest those who are not doing it properly and going after their conspirators their groups and make large arrests and big nets and yeah it's ridiculous you're never going to go anywhere and do anything and people are looking at the problem saying it's too trumpsters and they find out it's not just them it's a bunch of pokey losers and they work for the higher ups and their bunch of s*** having a fight thinking one side will win by all of them being mean but this method is risky and that it exposes the issue and the issue is that they don't feel like paying it out at all but it has been done and quite often recently so it really is getting out I guess that they're not doing anything with it they don't want any security in in the masses or social security they call it which is absolute IDC they're the ones who receive these checks mostly their own people are mad let me see them with robots and ai and it's not there computer program so they're angry and you have Jesus Christ and Mary came back and others they be running it so they try and go after them all the time to kill them

-there's another reason that they would pay it out is if they had to try and move him so far they don't have to and it's taking a while there won't be as long as people think they went out there to fight over possible thorium and lost and died large armies of them and now they're being sought out globally and they're being killed

-and it is also a matter of timing the empire plans on disproofing it to dispersing it to our son and to try and find us and to go after corners and minority morlock and morlock but they're not there yet and they're supposed to get help from others and our son and daughter for free it didn't happen now they're up against the wall and we hear rumors that they might not even go through with it so we have to use force on all of them except foreigners and they have a reason to do it

+ what's happening now the pseudo empire is getting beaten up by the morlock in the rings even though they lost the forces there are beat up and they're going to get beat up tonight and the hardware and stuff will be taken away the max are taking it away too they don't like these folks and what they're doing here is gross and foreigners with the max missing most of their fleet they are not likely to pay out money to our son since they think it's uswho has it further they're trying to cut off social security to a lot of people and have nothing get to people and we are out there pulling these Max in and getting information a lot of it is very valuable and we're going to start taking their bases over underground and topside they've had their time to talk out loud and flab and foreigners are starting to get to them and the clothes took over 400 laser bases and it's precedent and we should go for the jugular while we can and he and she said that last night I put it forwards and they said you're right they look weak and they don't seem to care just like these morons

-that's a heck of a pile of people against you for having anything these people are dog s*** and only to be executed you're f****** losers and I tell you there's a ton of them they're running around circles like it's Halloween saying that they're awesome because they look like someone else for 20 minutes and you can't hold it then they have scoliosis the bones break and then in the hospital for a day and they're better than anybody else at it and they don't have a fleet pretty soon we hate them there are other reasons for it to be paid out but the foreigners will do it and will do it once these guys are held a day and it will draw the max out who are going to end up sitting there like you said it's did just as these idiots did

More shortly and it's a good and powerful announcement it is something to be afraid of these Max need to go none of them are going to help society they need to be cut out of almost everything in the pseudo empire is furious as if we don't have an accident of anything you pieces of s*** and our son has been suggesting to go for the Air supply and they agree they didn't even threatened that might change things

Thor Freya

Olympus

So he's saying an Air supply song to Michael too and he got up and he said the man was brilliant and he talked to the big guys then he talked to the idiots and he said we have a problem here and this might be a solution and it might be what Moonraker is all about but you don't have the gumption to do anything and there's no air intakes right now so they got really mad and they said we know where some are they said there aren't any that's why it's the air supply and it said there must be air going out of the bunkers and into the cavern and out of the cavern so they said oh this tunnels and yeah he said a little but really this is what it is so he got really excited and they start working on it and then he said these guys have been isolated near thorium you thought we had it and you know we don't and also this madness they're going mad and they're going to get angry they hardly flinched when their fleet disappeared and just want to be mean and extort and think it works

..

I was in the top part of this the wow this is great

Hera

Zues

[coremechs]

core mechs by what would happen if you kicked them

jolene: u go to kick jolene and she just. looks at you. you do not kick jolene. you run.

mindy: asks why you did that, but not in a like angry way in a 'clearly ur going through something if ur randomly kicking people so lets sit down and work it out' and then you wind up confessing ur complicated relationship w ur parents and how stressful everything has been and she cant fix it but she will give u a hug and u will be both sad u kicked her but also kinda glad bc this convo did help

shirai: u kick shirai and u realize that that wasnt shirai that was a concerningly realistic doll of shirai and then shirai kicks u and u realize she was behind u the entire time watching u work up to kicking her and then she mocks u for ur outfit

zoey: you kick zoey. she kicks you back harder. you kick her back harder. she kicks you back even harder. you cant kick that hard. also your foot is melting bc acid.

jaylen: dont kick jaylen. why would you kick jaylen. hasnt she been through enough. you monster. how could you. i hope she gives you unstable and then you die. how. could. you.

bees: why would you kick a literal swarm of bees what do you think was going to happen?

gia: shes a fucking robot. congrats idiot you broke your foot kicking the robot. she probably starts working like 5% better based on my experience of kicking machines. your foot hurts.

cannonball: i mean you could kick cb. she'd probably be kinda annoyed bc you just randomly kicked her. she will probably tag your house but bc shes committed to her art it will look super cool so really this is a net positive but she will probably avoid you for a bit bc you randomly kicked her.

kelvin (drumsolo): like a week later you'll come home and your entire house will be booby trapped and you will have to redecorate due to extensive water damage and also burns.

kelvin (andante): kandante will stand there, blink confusedly while ey process, and then like five seconds later start crying and clutching eir left leg. doesnt matter where u kicked em ey will clutch eir left leg. it will be a very awkward scene.

addie: you can kick addie. im sure nothing will happen. i mean captain judochop will absolutely be paying you a visit to tell you off in a few hours. you will be scared witless. she will critique your kicking technique. you dont know how she knows your kicking technique. you are afraid. 

mira: you kick mira. mira drags you down to her chless boxing gym and starts giving you lessons. apparently youve been kicking wrong this entire time. you dont understand how chless works. you wish you'd never kicked mira. you think you're a much better kicker than you were before you kicked mira.

alto: congrats thats a baby. you kicked a baby. a child. theyre sulking now. theyre listening to mcr and sulking and its all your fault. oh god theyre on the phone to dot. oh god theyre telling dot. oh god dot is coming here. oh god. you're hiding. you can hear dot. you're under the bed. the bed isnt there anymore. dot is standing over you. oh god.

combs: i mean there is literally nothing you can do that would hurt combs theyre a skeleton inside a sea comb colony theres no like... nerves. they probably dont notice. theres a small chance they just consume you and now you're within combs but most likely you've just accomplished like... nothing. hope you feel fulfilled. 

jj: you kick jj. you kicked a guy. he said ow. your foot hurts a bit. their leg hurts a bit more.

bottles: you go to kick bottles. lady looks at you. lady narrows her eyes. lady is coming towards you. you back away from bottles. you run away from bottles. lady is following you. you run. you can never run fast enough.

lady: we all know this is going to end badly. why would you even think of kicking lady.

lev: congrats thats even more of a baby. thats the maximal baby. thats a literal infant. the entire team are coming for you. there's nowhere to hide. you apologize. its not enough. mindy looks like you've disappointed her, jolene has crossed his arms, zoey is steaming faintly, bottles is slapping a spanner into their hand, lady is doing her sternest glare, shirai appears to be in about eight different places and you have no idea which one is the real shirai, kelvin drumsolo is even more on fire than usual and kelvin andante isnt smiling at all and ey're always smiling and you are so very, very afraid

[servicetopkaradanvers]

I'm not sure if this is exactly the right place to say this, but I don't know if there is. And you're a smart person and critical thinker who has talked about this before. If this is totally weird, you can just delete it ofc. I've never properly watched Supergirl but I started reading fanfic around the time my mental health got real bad so it was a comfort thing I didn't bring too much thought to. I really identify with Lena and in the past, part of me has understood her actions-

and I know that they're wrong. The anti-alien rhetoric is obviously an allegory for racism or homophobia. She's violated people's basic human rights. And I'm scared that I'm a bad person because sometimes, I kind of get it. Which is insane because i'm a lesbian enby of color, i mean i get targeted by most of the -ist/ism actions. And I'm also too tired to think about things critically all the time. Supercorp was my comfort fic, content thing-

I knew it was problematic (the whole James thing makes me sick to my stomach, scared and sad) but I didn't know that Lena as a character was written that way. The metaphors never really clicked in my head because I never thought about it, but now I feel absolutely horrible about myself because I like and identify with Lena. I'm not really sure how to move on from here- I'm just tired. I wish there could be just one thing, one piece of media that wasn't prejudiced (granted sg is not the place to go if you want decent rep and the like) and all of those things I said earlier. Its just me somehow trying to justify how I felt and empathized with something I shouldn't have. So yeah, sorry that was really long. I hope you have a lovely day- sorry for the spam

FIRST of all, you’re fine, babe! Both in sending me this and in enjoying The Bad Media. That’s my thesis here: You’re fine. With this in mind, let’s unpack this big ol suitcase:

We’re living in a fandom moment where more than ever before, we’re thinking about the ideas we consume in fiction and how they may or may not affect us. This is a net positive! Fiction is not reality, but it undeniably impacts it, so for this and many other reasons, we should always think critically about what resonates with us and why. Does this mean dissecting every facet of something to find all the ways it might fall in line with oppressive power structures? Absolutely not.

You, as an individual, do not owe anyone an explanation for why you enjoy anything. Period. How you relate to a given character or why you like them is nobody's business but your own.

Supergirl, as a piece of media, is singularly awful in its lackluster lipservice to progressivism while simultaneously refusing to deliver any progressive themes. Socially and politically, it is a useless liberal wet dream. Kara is an immigrant from a dead culture working as the muscle for a secret FBI offshoot with zero accountability for all of the other aliens in diaspora she has rounded up and dumped into a cell without trial. Alex is allegedly a lesbian, but the key points of her endgame relationship are constantly deemed not important enough to get screen time, which is made even more absurd when examined from the angle that this series is marketed directly toward LGBT people. An embarrassing percentage of villains on this show are women of color, which is particularly loud when there are only 2 women in the main cast who aren't white. And "main" is extremely generous, given that Kelly is just there to Give Advice Good and everything M'gann says and does is as dry as toast.

My point here is that the whole show is rotted to its roots, and whatever quietly libertarian or even fascism-enabling bullshit they push onto Lena in a given week is par for the crusty, shitty course. Kara deciding that she's ok with the alien detection device because "there are bad aliens" is a lovely (read: awful) microcosm of why this show sucks so fucking hard. "People are entitled to their opinions" is for debates on whether pineapple goes on pizza, not for whether we should casually out, endanger, and disenfranchise our [insert minority metaphor here] because some of them are mean.

But what I would love for this fandom to wrap its head around, and what I hope you understand, anon, is that just because it happens on the show, doesn't mean we have to give a rat's ass about it. What the hell is The Canon, anyway? Especially in the case for Supergirl, which can't even get its own continuity right. Especially for an IP that has been rebooted dozens of times before and will be rebooted again in the future. We can just decide that Lena realized the horrible injustices she enabled through her position of power. We can even decide that they just didn't happen at all! This is all fake. It's not set in stone. Who came up with it, anyway? A network with a list of buzzwords they want included and a couple of D-tier showrunners cranking down caffeine to meet an absurdly tight deadline. It's not special. I can guarantee that you care about it infinitely more than they do, and you haven't even watched the damn show.

On a more personal level, people who are hurt, depressed, or traumatized have always and will always look for themselves in fiction. Myself included! And despite what lofty platitudes there may be on the matter, suffering does not make us kind. It does not make us better. Sometimes it's just suffering. Often it pulls us further from who we are meant to be. Often it just makes us "worse."

Trauma has made Lena emotionally brittle. A lifetime of manipulation and abuse has taught her to compartmentalize herself and lock her feelings behind a maze of doors. When she does let love in, she accepts it so wild and vulnerable that she can't see the red flags behind the rosy lenses. She latches so hard onto people she deems virtuous that she holds them to a standard none could fulfill. Her pain has to go somewhere, so it oozes out of her, into Non Nocere, into the post-reveal rift. She's a powder keg, and Kara spent 4 years shoveling more gunpowder onto the pile while holding the match between her teeth.

And despite these fatal flaws that make perfect sense through the eyes of Lena's trauma, she is so full of love. Like Kara, her suffering did not make her kind. She is kind in spite of her suffering. These are the characters we are drawn to when we're hurting. Lena’s trauma is an inextricable part of her, but it is not all of her, and neither are her mistakes.

There truly is not and never will be a piece of media that is absolutely innocent of the harmful structures thrust upon us by society, because we ourselves also participate in that society whether we are critical of it or not, whether we strive to change it or not. I'm flawed. You're flawed. Bettering ourselves is not a journey toward an ultimate destination of perfection. It is a garden we nurture in an endless labor of love because the joy that comes from seeing it flourish and change vastly outweighs the work we put into it and the weeds popping up around its unkempt edges. This is a lesson Lena herself could probably stand to internalize. Probably with lots and lots of therapy. Lots. And lots.

So, to circle back to the start of this? You're fine. You recognized the logic in a traumatized character's mistakes because our own gravest errors more often than not stem from the ways we have been harmed in the past. It's what makes Lena (or, at the very least, the many adaptations of Lena that exist in this fandom) a good character. She is, to her core, characterized proof that a crumbling foundation and poisonous soil do not define us. Which is why watching her heal and grow and learn a healthier kind of love is so, so wonderful.

In closing, I think it's worth mentioning that being critical of media does not mean that we stop enjoying the parts of it we like. There is a lot of gold to be pulled from the steaming pile of shit that is CW Supergirl, and that's why we're all here in the first place. So I really hope you can continue to enjoy it in whatever way makes you smile <3

[peonyneko]

Hi! I love your writing so far, and I hope you don’t mind if I send you a request :) I was wondering if you could write something with Tenya Iida x the reader? I was thinking a situation where they’re on a class trip to the beach and he sees mineta bugging the reader with flirts because she’s wearing a bikini. I would love to see how Iida would react. Thanks in advance!

Buzz Off, Pop Off | Tenya Iida x Reader

I am making the class’ ages slightly ambiguous because I know a wide age range of people read fanfics. However, the story makes more sense in a high school or university setting. If you are older, you can make UA a hero university and 1-A one of the hero classes there. Also I apologize over how long this took to do. Hopefully, if you're reading it you like it.

Words: 1791 words | Fluff

Warning: Inappropriate comments, uncomfortable comments

“Say cheese!” Mina exclaimed as she attempted to capture pictures of everyone in the class. A scream emits from my throat as she tackles me into the water. Somehow, we managed to stay up. I hold up a hand covering part of face and body to avoid a full capture.

“Come on! You look absolutely amazing. It’s for the memories,” she pouted while crossing her arm.

“Hm... Try beating me in game of volleyball. We’ll see then,” I challenged her.

“Game on!”

“Pick your team. May all the luck be with you,” I bowed towards her, making her laugh at my response.

“Hey, everyone! We both are playing volleyball. Does anyone want to join?!” Mina shouts while pointing at the both of us. I instantly hear a series of ‘yes’ and ‘me’ throughout the beach.

Looking around, I made sure everyone was in their position. Iida is on my team... Wow. Okay, calm down. Don’t panic. Luckily (and obviously), this portion of the beach was reserved for the class only. The teachers were all still visible talking amongst themselves. As soon as the whistle blew, my focus turned towards the ball.

“____, you look quite hot with your bikini!” And there he goes.

“Wow. I wish you jumped towards me like that.” Dude, let me concentrate. Crap, the block was good.

“How about you and I go somewhere after this?” No thank you. Crap, I need to be careful with my spikes. It almost went out.

“Hehe. I know you’re interested, ____. You keep look at me.” No. I am looking at you with disgust. And I’m focusing on Iida, who is BEHIND you.

Before I can say anything Iida blows the whistle, indicating that we take a break. I try to catch my breath as the group rests. In the corner of my eye, a figure walking towards another captures my eye. I listen into their conversation.

“Mineta, I suggest you stop that disgusting behavior of yours. Can’t you see you are ruining her day?” Iida began. His confrontation immediately warms my heart. He didn’t have to do that but he did.

“Nah, you’ve got it wrong. She’s just chilling. Plus, she keeps looking at me. She’s interested.” Mineta responds while waving his hand up and down to dismiss Iida.

“I’m not.” I instantly blurt out with clear distaste.

“Your comments are still detestable. Her behavior shows discomfort not attraction. You need to stop.”

“Iida, calm down. Things won’t always go your way.” Mineta rolls his eyes.

“Then, I guess you leave me no choice.”

“Both teams, please listen up!” Iida drew the attention to himself.

When both teams gathered near him, Iida laid out a suggestion.

“How about we switch players? Mineta can switch with... Ojiro.” Both teams instantly went into consulting amongst themselves. Despite a few disagreements, the suggestion was not hard to accept. Since my team is aware of his behavior, they had no problem with agreeing with Iida.

The next thing I know, break ends and the games starts once again. We played three sets total. My team won the first set, Mina’s team won the second set, and now we were on the last set. Despite being on the other side of the net, Mineta continued to make suggestive face gestures. He also made some comments towards Mina. However, in response, she shot her acid at him, making him instantly regret his words.

Now, my team was one point away from winning.

“_____, are you okay? Are you able to concentrate?” Iida was focused on the game. Still, he made the time to ensure my state of mind. I reply with a quick ‘yes’. Right then, I see the ball rushing towards me.

“I got it!” I push my arms out to receive the ball, which I managed to do.

“Nice receive, ___!” Iida complimented while setting the ball towards Izuku.

Midoriya was there within a second, harshly slamming down the ball right besides Mineta’s position. The wind that emitted from it was otherworldly. My eyes widen in surprise. My eyes only grew when I saw Iida smiling to himself, then making a happy expression towards Midoriya. Did they plan- No. It’s probably because it’s our winning point.

“Ah! No! Mineta, it was right there!” Mina complains.

“Well, I could’ve died!” Mineta stood there in fear with his legs trembling.

I only chuckle to myself. My team cheers over our win. Soon enough, everyone begins to disperse.

“Aw, I really wanted a picture of you,” Mina whines, trying to convince me with her eyes. I just shake my head and whisper in her ear.

“Peer pressure but fine. Only after you know who leaves.”

Mina vigorously and happily shakes her head up and down.

After the exhausting sets, I decided to go in the water to cool off. I close my eyes, feeling the water against my legs. Suddenly, I heard voice.

“Just one date. What about it?” Mineta was, yet again, near me. Before I can respond, a blast of wind hits my fast. I look up and Iida was towering over me with Mineta in his grasp.

“Now, what did I tell you back there?” he sounded angrier than earlier.

“Uh. That she was not liking what I uh said,” Mineta was visibly panicking against his grasp.

“Do you think this is a joke?” Iida eyes darken and he tightens his hold on Mineta’s arms.

“No.”

“Then, I am sure you know what to do. Please, do not make me repeat myself,” he lowered Mineta back on the ground. Mineta quickly rushes towards the beach house. I also see others going back inside. It is starting to get a bit dark. Cold too.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Iida looked worried. He kept his distance from me as if he wanted to make sure I am comfortable.

“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry. You were able to keep him away from me. I was about to say something but you flew in.”

“Oh, I do apologize. I did not mean to enter your situation. You just looked uncomfortable with his presence,” he fixed his glasses. My heart was beating rather quickly. The cool breeze against my skin was not helping the heat on my cheeks and neck.

“No! You’re alright. Thank you!” I quickly responded.

“Since it is getting cold,” Iida reached for his bag and pulled out a blue shirt.

“Here you go,” he hands me his shirt.

I take it into my hand and unfold it to put it on. A slight blush builds on his face after seeing me put it on. We continued to simply gaze at each other until I looked at the water.

“You look- Well, you see- I- For a while now,” I was confused with Iida’s tense composure. I closed his eyes and breathes in, then breathes out.

“I do not want you for feel pressured. Please tell me to stop when you begin to feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable. I simply need to get this off my chest,” he began. What?

“I’ve liked you for a while now. I can’t help but feel the need to take care of you. Though, I am full aware that you’re completely capable taking care of yourself. When Mineta made those crude comments, my irritation only tripled. I want to be able to fully stop that without making you feel surprised with my sudden interference. I have never wanted to be with someone as much as I have wanted to be with you. We still have a long way to go in life but I can tell that my feelings are serious. Will you be my girlfriend? Will you make me your boyfriend?” he looked calm but his red ears hinted otherwise.

My mouth was slightly open in surprise. My mind was trying to process all the information. I looked at the water, once again. What are you doing?! This is your chance. You’ve like him for a long time too. Do not ruin this for yourself.

“I won’t rush you so take your ti-”

“I like you too!” I interrupted him. He steps back at my sudden confession.

“I have liked you for a while too. I just didn’t know what to do. So yes, I’d love to be partners,” I smiled at him.

His eyes widen and glimmer with light. His face grows a big smiles and his chest swells. He puts out his hands but does not lean forwards.

“Can I hug you?”

“I don’t see why not”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I felt his warmth around my body.

*click* Huh? I internally shrug off the sound that I heard.

Upon entering the beach house, I heard the class talking amongst themselves.

“I told you so! You owe me a hamburger,” Denki told Jirou.

“Hm. Seems like you were right after all, Midoriya,” Todoroki says. Bakugou ‘tsk’ed at both of them.

I was in utter confusion until I noticed the image in Mina’s hand. It was a polaroid of Iida and I hugging.

“And here you were lecturing me about my actions,” Mineta looks at Iida.

In return, Iida only crosses him arms and glare at him.

“Mr. Aizawa wants to have a word with you. I suggest you do not lie. He already saw your actions and I did not leave out any details,” he replies. There were a few giggles from the students.

“Also,” the classroom is completely silent.

“I’m her boyfriend so buzz off, pop off.”

Not even a second after Iida’s confession, the classroom began screaming and laughing. The reaction towards the his changed relationship status and use of vocabulary was undeniably loud. Mineta’s mouth opens with shock at Iida’s words.

Iida gently takes my hands and pulls me towards the main room’s couch.

“Now, tell us everything!” Mina exclaims flopping the polaroid around as she walks near us. The rest of the class, except for Mineta, also gathers around to hear the story.

“Ah! That’s so cute. I didn’t know that’s when you started liking ____.” Me neither.

“Why did it take you so long to realize, huh?!”

“You shouldn’t be talking, Bakubro. You denied their attraction first.” Oh, no.

“Dude, you’re right but I don’t think you should have- Hey, wait! I didn’t mean it like that.” I hope he is okay.

“With the way he looked at her when he and I walked together, I was sure of it.” Always the observant one.

“I love you” I whispered at Iida, underneath all the noise.

“I love you just as much” Iida whispers back into in my ear.

-----

Please leave any suggestions or requests. Not beta read we upload with the 5% of confidence (not even) we have.

[fleetingpieces]

Playing with the stars

What if Remus didn’t get injured and was drafted to play for the Dallas Stars?

This is a very self indulgent piece cause happy-sportsman-Remus pretty much lives rent free in my brain.

I’m fairly new to hockey and very much in love with it, but sorry in advance if there’s anything not hockey-accurate!

Once again, thank you Jazzy @inloveoknutzy for beta-ing this! <3 You’re amazing

And the beautiful world building and OCs belong to the amazing @lumosinlove Thank you so much for such a great story <3

CW: mentions of past abuse and mild spice.

Sirius Black was not a clumsy person. He was fearless, dedicated, precise and ruthless against his adversaries.

At least, that’s how he usually behaved.

Today however, Sirius was just stepping on the ice, glancing around the rink, when his eyes landed on a familiar player on the other end and he slipped. Sirius cursed as he grabbed onto the boards to prevent a fall, mentally slapping himself. He was never like this. And he already knew the man would be there, so why was he even surprised? Of course he was there. They were facing his team after all.

It was the first game the Lions would play against the Dallas Stars this season, but Sirius wasn’t sure if he was ready for it. Every game against the Stars was torture, and it had nothing to do with them being insanely good. Sirius liked that part actually, it meant he had to really push himself to beat them.

No, his problem came in the form of one very fit Remus Lupin.

Sirius hadn’t actually, properly seen Remus play in a couple of months, and the impact was even greater because of that. He watched as Loops skated effortlessly on his half of the rink doing warm ups. The way his body moved as he glided through the ice, his muscles flexing underneath his uniform, and the glint in his eyes were enough to take Sirius’ breath away.

Of course, everyone knew who Remus was. First draft, golden boy, star rookie a few years back. Sirius was slightly embarrassed of how well acquainted he was with the man’s career. He’d watched his every game since Loops had started playing for the NHL, and when he was alone in his house he would sometimes watch his old tapes, even though he would never admit that to anyone.

There was a loud clunk from one of the goalposts when Remus took a hard slap shot, and Sirius cursed again. His lithe body seemed to flow over the white surface, his stick an extension of his arm with how confidently he wielded it, and that fiercely joyful smile. Damn that smile. Sirius could only stare as Tyler Seguin went over and crashed into Remus, grabbing him into a headlock and saying something that sent the man laughing.

How the fuck was Sirius supposed to focus on the game with something so beautiful right there?

Shaking his head, Sirius went the other way with a frown etched on his face. 

“What are you so grumpy about?” said Pots as he went past him.

“It’s nothing,” Sirius replied. He leaned over his knees and breathed slowly, before slapping hard on his thighs once and setting his eyes on the thing that mattered right then. The puck.

And if there were a pair of amber eyes following his movements from the other end of the rink at that exact moment, he didn’t really notice.

The puck dropped not too long after and the game started. Sirius was first line and won the face off, swiftly passing the puck to Finn, who took it all the way to the Stars net where Dobby was ready for him. Before he could do anything else though, Loops cut his way and stole the puck from right under his feet. Sirius found himself staring in awe as Remus dribbled past one of their defensemen, before he snapped out of it and turned quickly to give chase.

“What the hell was that, Cap?” Pots shouted a few feet ahead of him. Sirius could almost hear the smirk in his tone.

He grumbled but did not lose sight of the puck in front of him. Those two seconds of distraction had been enough for Remus to reach their defensive zone; the way he teared up the ice was ridiculous. He took the shot, but it went straight into Kasey's glove.

Well, that was a way to kick start the game.

“Yeah, Bliz!” Finn congratulated, tapping his helmet.

When it was time for the first change, Sirius sat down heavily as Dumo’s line went out. He clasped his hands together between his knees, with his head bowed down. He had to focus. This was no time to admire what a great player Loops was. Or how obscenely good he looked in his gear.

The Lions knew him to be the dedicated, focused captain of the team, not this silly mess of a man who couldn’t take his eyes off another man from the opposite team. No, there was too much at stake for him to lose it like this. It didn’t matter that his friends knew he was gay, he couldn’t just flaunt it in front of the cameras and the wild crowd. 

He owed it to his team to get it together. He started picking up the pace after that, slowly falling into that absolute-hockey headspace, but still he felt that he couldn’t play his usual game. He kept getting slightly distracted for short periods of time, and by the end of the first period he felt incredibly frustrated with himself. It was mainly thanks to his teammates’ skills that the score was still tied 0-0.

He made his way back to the locker room behind them all, admonishing his own behaviour and telling himself he would do better in the second part of the game. He was so focused on his internal rant that he barely noticed Dumo falling into step beside him, and jumped when he placed a hand on his shoulder.

There was a knowing smile on his face that Sirius wanted to wipe off, but his tone was kind as he spoke, albeit slightly teasing.

“Mon fils, if you want to stare you have my full support, but perhaps we should focus on the game now, non?”

With that he chuckled, squeezed his shoulder and entered the locker room ahead of him.

Sirius took a second to stand outside the door, smiling at how simple and easy it was to talk about it with Dumo. The man was like family, a good kind of family. He’d taken him in and protected him against Sirius’ own mother, he’d given him a real home. It was such a Dumo thing to do, talk about his biggest secret as if it was the most normal thing in the world; Sirius could only shake his head as he followed behind him.

“Damn that Lupin!” was the first thing he heard as he stepped in. Finn was in the middle of complaining while making big gestures with his hands, and Logan and Leo were staring at him with fond, amused smiles on their faces. “It’s like every time you turn around he’s there! It’s insane how fast that man is.”

Talker came over then and slapped Sirius on the back.

“Don’t feel too bad Cap. He’s a beautiful man; sometimes I also find myself getting distracted by him.” At Sirius’ raised eyebrow, he added, “I stare with respect.”

He said it with a completely straight face, but Sirius saw the mirth dancing in his eyes. Some of the guys around laughed, adding a few comments of their own to the friendly banter. Sirius wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such an amazing team. Although the last thing he needed right now was to keep on thinking about Remus, so he tuned them out until Coach came in to go over their strategy.

Second period started in a similar way than the first had, only the pressure had increased. The players were marking each other more tightly, the puck kept going from the Stars’ zone to the Lion’s, and there had been no shots on goal so far.

Halfway through, the whistle blew as one of the referees called an offside on Dallas, and both teams skated over for the face off. As Sirius was getting closer, Loops skated in his direction, locking eyes with him as he circled behind him, and Sirius had to will his body not to jump when Remus started talking with his mouth close to Sirius’ ear.

“I wonder what got the great Captain Sirius Black so distracted?” he said in a playful tone, and Sirius didn’t have to look to know he was smiling.

He was taunting him, the bastard, and fuck if that didn’t ignite a fire inside Sirius’ body.

“Worry about losing your own focus Lupin, or you’ll end up biting the ice,” he replied in the same tone, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

If Remus wanted to play like that, Sirius would give him a performance to remember. It was a challenge, Sirius could feel his body thrumming with the adrenaline of it as he finally relaxed completely and played the way he was supposed to from the start.

Sirius managed to change the rhythm of the game with a fast pass he sent Pots’ way, that ended up being the first goal; then Logan scored another one right before the second intermission, setting the team’s spirits on a high. But then Remus scored two incredibly gorgeous goals in the third period that left Sirius slightly light headed.

They were tied.

And right now Sirius was having an internal battle as well as the one going on by the boards, as he and Loops fought for the puck, their bodies close together and Remus’ witty chirps in the air. It was taking all of Sirius’ years of discipline to keep his head in the game.

“Oh hey, you finally decided to come out to play?” Remus said as he bumped into him from behind and Sirius had to bite back a laugh, before spinning around and lightly sending Remus against the boards in retaliation.

“Look alive, Lupin!”

With barely two minutes left on the clock, Sirius managed to get the puck across to Talker, skated behind the net to position himself on the other side of the rink, shook off two defensemen as the puck headed his way again, and immediately whipped it into the goal, making the horn blare.

Screams and cheers erupted all over as the whole team crashed into him. They won, but it had been a very close call.

Nonetheless, it was over now and Sirius could go back to his hotel room and be alone for a bit. And probably watch some tape. The guys were going to grab food on the way, so Sirius excused himself to go lie down and whack himself for being such a klutz during the first half of the game. He was sure it would become easier with time, today he’d just been less prepared than he’d thought he was, and he vowed to make it better.

Just as he was heading outside through the empty hallway, a door opened and he turned around to see Lupin and Seguin coming out of their own locker room, and the sight was just a bit too much for Sirius right then.

Remus was in his game suit, his hair wet from the shower, with a stray curl falling on his forehead that Sirius desperately wanted to brush off. He was once more laughing at something Seguin had said, which made Sirius frown as he turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

There was nothing he could do about it, he wanted too many things that he couldn’t have.

Once he was outside, having escaped through the back door that led to the parking lot, he leaned against a wall before he lit up a cigarette and took a few long hauls, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

“Hey,” a voice said beside him and Sirius almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck, are you a ninja or something?” Sirius asked, bringing a hand to his heart, still holding the cigarette. He hadn’t heard Remus coming out.

Loops grinned as he came to stand right next to Sirius, but then his eyes focused on the cigarette on his hand and he lifted an eyebrow.

“Does your PT know that you smoke?”

“No, and there’s no need for him to know. I only smoke when I’m stressed.”

“What are you stressed about? You were amazing out there.”

“Not in the first period,” Sirius mumbled as he took another drag, but Remus heard him.

“And why is that?” he asked with a smirk, taking a step closer.

Sirius huffed in exasperation.

“Fuck Re, do you know how hot you look out there? Did you really have to make it that hard on me?” he lifted an eyebrow at the innuendo, which only made Remus’ wolfish grin go wider.

“Hmm. You didn’t expect me to go easy on you just because we’re dating, right?”

Remus placed a hand on the wall next to Sirius’ head, guarded by the darkness of the parking lot, and looked at him straight in the eye. The golden flecks in Remus’ irises seemed to have a light of their own, and Sirius could only stare, transfixed, as Remus’ long fingers reached up to snatch the cigarette right from between his lips and placed it in his own mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he took a slow drag and exhaled to the side before stubbing the fag against the wall.

“Hey!”

Remus’ hand came to rest on the other side of Sirius’ head, and he pressed their chests together, slotting his thigh between Sirius’.

“Y’know, if it was that hard on you,” he punctuated by pressing his thigh down ever so slightly, smiling as a whine sounded at the back of Sirius’ throat, “there are other ways to help you relax,” he said with a tilt of his head, before he ducked down to suck on Sirius’ neck.

“I...Re...”

“You’re not flying back to Gryffindor tomorrow, right?” Remus whispered against the skin just under his ear, pulling a breathy “No” out of Sirius that sounded more like a moan. “Good. I can stay with you all night then, yeah?” he added before he scraped his teeth against Sirius’ ear lobe, and Sirius had to blink a few times to clear his fuzzy head.

"I...quoi?" He had to resist the urge to slap himself. Use your words, Black.  “I mean...what?” Oh yeah, much better.

Remus leaned back just enough to look at him with a smile, tucking Sirius’ hair behind his ear.

“Will you be missed if I take you home?” he said in an amused tone, tilting his head in a way that was so adorable Sirius had to fight to keep another whine in.

“I thought you had a team dinner you couldn’t miss.” Sirius hesitated before continuing, “Isn’t it too risky for us to do this?”

“No,” Remus said immediately. Then, after a short pause, “I mean, I do, and it is, but...I haven’t seen you in almost a month, Pads. I...I missed you.”

Sirius’ heart melted. It’d been hard on both of them since the season had started; their tight training schedules and the fact that they lived in different cities didn’t allow them much time together. Being apart from Remus felt like being off balance, like his world was tilted to the side, and it had only settled on its right edge the moment Sirius had gone on the rink today and laid eyes on Remus again.

Sirius cupped Remus’ cheek, and the other man pressed against his touch, closing his eyes as a fond smile slowly made its way through his face.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Do you remember that first time I asked you out?”

Sirius was surprised into silence for a few seconds, before he got what Remus was thinking about and he huffed a laugh.

Of course he remembered.

They had been in a very similar situation to the one they were in now, but still, so many things had changed.

The Lions had been playing against Dallas too on that day, only they were at Hogwarts stadium, with their chance at the playoffs at stake. And Sirius’ parents had been there.

Their words, their hard looks, Walburga’s hand digging into his shoulder...it had all been too much and Sirius had found himself spiralling down into the scared, closed off boy he’d used to be before he’d started playing with the Lions. Before he’d been accepted into a real team, a real family.

At that moment, all he could think about was pressure, reputation, and secrets.

He couldn’t let his parents find out. He couldn’t let his friends find out. And then, after the game, he’d been alone at the parking lot trying to get his breathing under control, ripping a leaflet to pieces when a soft hand was placed on top of his, and Sirius had looked up to concerned amber eyes.

To the one person he was supposed to avoid at all costs.

Remus had removed his hand from Sirius’, taking what was left of the paper from him and throwing it in the bin in the corner.

“Hey! I was using that!”

“What for?” He’d sounded genuinely curious, which confused Sirius as they were cordial with each other but they weren’t really friends.

Staring ahead, Sirius had avoided looking him in the eye as he ran a hand through his hair.

“There was something on my mind.”

“Hmm,” Remus hummed.

Sirius had glanced to his side and found Remus staring at him straight in the eye, before the other man stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the wall beside him.

“Are you free?”

“Hm?” Sirius asked absentmindedly. He’d been too busy staring at the way Remus’ shoulders strained against his shirt to register what had been said.

The corners of Remus’ mouth turned up in a sweet smile, making Sirius’ breath stop completely. He couldn’t help but think he was gorgeous. 

“Are you free right now or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh. No, I’m done for the evening,” Sirius said, confused as to where that had come from.

“Well then, wanna go grab dinner?”

“I...what?” Sirius was perplexed. He’d not been expecting that.

“Dinner. With me,” Remus said, amused. What was going on? Was this...was Remus flirting with him? No, that couldn’t be it; Loops was known to be one of the most caring players out there, he’d probably seen that Sirius was struggling with something and just wanted to help. But even if that was it, he was not about to turn the man down.

“I...yeah. Yeah, I would like that,” Sirius said as a small smile spread over his face.

When Remus gave him a happy grin of his own, eyes shining bright, Sirius’ stomach had done a flip, and he’d known he was totally, and absolutely fucked.

He felt his body tingle just like it had back then when Remus trailed his fingers along his jaw, bringing him back to the present.

“Yeah, I remember,” Sirius placed his hands on Remus’ cheeks and kissed him, slow and steady, making Remus sigh and sag against him as he talked between kisses, never letting their lips part further than an inch. “You were so cute. And sweet. I was so fucking surprised that you asked me out, but I didn’t dare believe you actually wanted...well, me.”

Remus laughed, nudging at Sirius’ nose with his own. 

“How could I not want you? Did you look at you? Do you know how sweet, caring and amazing you are?”

Sirius groaned as he nipped at the other man’s bottom lip, making him jump in surprise. He let his fingers run among the wild tawny curls, pulling at them slightly at the back of Remus’ neck. Remus let his head fall back, and instantly felt Sirius’ mouth on the soft skin under his jaw, trailing warm open-mouth kisses until he reached his collarbone.

“Re,” he whispered, feeling his boyfriend’s chest rising and falling in short shallow breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Please take me home.”

[kanmom51]

I wouldn’t say that JK was uncomfortable in that clip but he did look like he wasn’t in the mood to me & that’s ok imo !!! lol I’m a hardcore Kookmin lover and that’s what I saw in his face. Everyone can see and interpret different things. Couples or people that are super close with each other are allowed to be annoyed with each other every once and a while.

I’m a firm believer that small instances like that don’t disprove anything for me as much as the super close moments they have-often might I add- don’t necessarily prove anything for some other people.

I, for one, still think they have a really close relationship that goes beyond just friendship & a 1 second clip of Jungkook looking like he wanted to say ‘Really Jimin??, we’re doing this right here and now???’ does not mean that they aren’t close or that Jungkook is ‘uncomfortable’ with Jimin touching him or being close to him. Now THAT narrative is absolute bullshit.

I have received many asks like this or similar to this or just all up about JK's reactions, so I will answer them all in one ask, because I don't want to repeat myself. These are the asks I received (all your voices will be heard):

Ask2:

u cant blame people for thinking jk is not comfortable with jimin because everytime jm does something with him he looks annoyed as hell

ask 3:

Look I've been a supporter since 2017 and Jikook has never once made me cringe or feel awkward. JK has literally almost kissed JM and brushed lips with him and just smiled and never looked awkward. Whatever is happening with Jikook the last several months JK looks stiff and odd anytime JM interacts with him. If he is with JM, then they need to have a talk, cause All I've seen all day long is people calling JM an assaulter and homewrecker and they all say its because of JKs reactions every time.

Ask 4:

If they are broke up, JM needs to learn boundaries. If they aren't, then JM needs to have a long serious talk with JK, cause new army's coming in are already convinced JM makes JK uncomfortable. JK shouldn't have to change to please others, but if JM is his boyfriend, he needs to stop acting repulsed or annoyed or stone faced when JM touches him, cause people feed off his reactions. He fuels it. It really looks like he doesn't want JM touching him if thats the case he needs to leave JM alone too

Ask 5:

JM has looked like an extremely clingy boyfriend lately and usually I love that, I love it even more when its JK being bold and clingy, but the last several months JK's reactions make me cringe for JM. I definitely think JM is over the separation shit, the way RM rolls his eyes or they have to lie and he's probably over everyone shipping his boyfriend with his best friend, but JK isn't going a long with his boldness cause he probably is worried. I just hope this doesn't cause them more problems.

Ask 6:

Either they broke up or JK has become more private about their relationship, because there is no more excuses for JK's reactions toward JM anymore. He KNOWS JM is being hated on every single time they interact, esp here lately and he is doing NOTHING to change the narrative. Therefore its either cause they really aren't together and JK really is uncomfortable or the company told them to tone it down and JK's worried and stiffens up around JM. Its not funny anymore JM is getting formal complaints

Ask 7:

I'm tired of jikook interacting thing when it's only jimin interacting with jungkook and jungkook looks like he's in a funeral. I believe jm likes him but the narratives y'all create about jungkook are so different from his actual reactions and everyone can see that and it's the only reason jimin gets so much hate.

Ask 8:

JM deserves someone who treats him equally. Its clear JK has tapped out of whatever they have and JM isn't letting go. 2017, 2018, 2019 JK would not treat JM this way. In fact, it seemed like JK was ready to tell the world he was dating JM. His boldness in front of cameras, then. He never shunned/made JM look bad. If I did not know Jikook's relationship, I would think JM was an aggressor who makes JK uncomfortable cause that is how it reads no matter how hard we defend it. JK doesn't deserve JM.

Ask 9:

i cried so much today, honestly fuck jungkook. i hope jimin realizes how their "interactions" look on camera and sticks to his word of not even talking to him

ask 10:

JM is telling us one thing, JK is telling us another. Every time something happens with Jikook, its usually because of JM and JK looks uncomfortable, then JK will wear green & purple. JM leans on JK butter pic, JK wears green & purple shirt next day. JM trying to have moments with JK at muster, net day, JK wears purple & green earrings. I'm guessing JK will wear purple & green together soon again. JM deserves better, cause that's not cool if JK is his boyfriend and its not cool of JM if Jk's not

Ask 11:

It's not the same anymore with Jikook and Jk is the main reason. His actions towards Jimin is why its hard to continue defending Jikook. If they're together, then JK needs to treat him better period. I'm not saying he has to kiss his boyfriend in public or shout he's mine, but stop flinching, cringing and sitting there with a pissed look when he interacts if he's your boyfriend. If he's not, set boundaries and leave JM alone and stop leading him on. I'm scared for JM. BH might let him go.

Ask 12:

Genuine Q, why does everyone say jungkook is clingy with jimin? Even always behind the scenes is jimin clinging to him, looking for the tiniest way to interact with him and jungkook is always a passive receptor of all his affections. I like them together but seeing so many people say things I have never seen makes me confused and it's frustrating. Even lee hyun hugged jimin today more friendly than jungkook ever has. ANd I don't mean a 'backhug'.

Ask 13:

If he's going to be fond of JM, I'd rather he show it rather than leave JM out to dry.

So, here we go.

First thing I have to say is, please everyone take a big breath, let it out and lets start talking here.

I will start by saying that neither JK nor JM ow us a thing!! JK doesn't have to prove to us he likes or loves or wants JM, and visa versa.

If they choose to show us, every once in a while, it's their prerogative, not our right.

So, if JK loves JM, if they are in a relationship, it's JM he has to show he loves him, not us.

Where were all of you when JK was practically forcing his arms around JM to hug him after the recording of the Black swan performance? JM clearly didn't seem pleased at that moment. Were you discecting his reaction then? Either way, if your answer to the question is yes or no, you need to stop for a second and think why you were.

Moving on.

JK is not impassive to JM. JK is not hating what JM does. JK is being JK.

I have said this soooo many times before. JK in control of a situation is not the same JK caught off guard or surprised.

When JK is caught off guard he goes into a panic mode of sorts. Many times it looks like a total shut down. Freeze mode, if you wish to call it that. Resting bitch face is also good here.

When JK is in control of a situation he is happy, he is bold, he, in his mind, knows what he’s doing, where he is taking things and f**k the consequences, as far as he is concerned (at least for that split second he decides to do his crazy).

When JK is not in control and caught off guard he loses it. This is a shy introvert that suffers from anxiety. Please don’t let his stage persona confuse you.

JK isn’t uncomfortable with JM. He loves him. And even if you don’t believe they are a couple, I’m sorry, but that is something no one can deny, JK’s love for JM.

JK is an adult, he can be pretty assertive when he wants to. Yes, there is the age hierarchy, but he has shown us on more than one occasion that if he doesn’t want someone to hug him or touch him, he will push them off. We need to understand this. If JK didn’t want JM to touch him, he would push him off. If JK didn’t want JM to jump on him, he wouldn’t have caught him, it’s not like JM would have fallen on the ground. Do I have to remind just how many times JK has lifted JM and loved every single time he has done it.

But you ask, why a big smile on his face then and not this time?

Again, he knew what was coming then, he had control over the situation. He wasn’t caught off guard.

That’s JK, that’s who he is, and you cannot expect him to change who he is, how he reacts, how his face looks just because it doesn’t look good on camera to you, just because fans will dissect it to pieces and then go all nasty and turn it against the one person he loves most.

You can’t turn it on him.

It’s on the fans that as far as I am concerned shouldn’t be even called fans. The haters that instead of loving BTS and all their members are busy trying to break them down.

I will say this both to JM and JK stans:

Those are your bias, each one of them. And you bias loves the other one, JK loves JM and JM loves JK (no matter the level of love, friend, boyfriend, partner, they love each other).

You claim to love them, so how can you point so much anger and hate towards the one person they love so much????

If you don’t have something good to say, don’t say it. Because, saying something bad about the one your bias loves, well, don’t you think it would hurt them too???

Your bias, the person you claim to admire, care for, support, he chose to love this other person. Why don’t you give him some credit that he knows what he’s doing? That if that other person was treating him badly, he would no longer be with him, no longer gravitate towards him. No one is forcing him to always, always, be by his side, rub his neck, hug him, talk about him (always positive things, at that, unless it’s giving us information we didn’t really need to know about the other, like how long they shower, how loud they snore, who they were with at 4 am etc.).

PLEASE give your bias the well deserved credit that he knows what his wants and needs are. If JM didn’t want to be with JK, if he felt his needs weren’t being met, he wouldn’t be with him. Same said about JK.

They know how to disconnect, how to distance themselves and still stay professional, and yet, they choose to be at each other's side. That should say something to you.

So, my suggestion to you is to just leave them alone. Yes, I said it.

Let them be who they want to be. We cannot impose our needs for JK to show TKK’s he likes it when JM goes on the way he does on JK. He is who he is. If JM is unhappy with it, well he won’t put up with it, believe me. He is not a damsel in distress and doesn’t need the fans to save him from mean ole’ JK. JM is a strong ass man, I’ve said this many times before. He can take care of himself, and believe me, if he had a problem with JK’s reaction, the boy knows how to deal with it without fans coming to his rescue.

Fans need to stop inserting themselves into these young men’s lives. We are spectators, no more no less.

If you can enjoy them while understanding that, great. If not, well maybe the right thing is to take a breath, re-evaluate things and then come back.

[dark-mnjiro]

desperate measures . part one

Theme: post breakup/rekindle romance, sharing hotel room trope, multi-part fic, oikawa toru x f!reader

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (later), angst and fluff, alcohol use, also original character in this (only for plot purposes), aged up characters

Author’s Note: So I’m not sure where this idea came from other than taking a “bed sharing” trope and going maybe one step further with a “room sharing” trope. This is my first Haikyuu fic and I’m terribly nervous about posting it, especially as this fic is multi-part and a gift to the lovely @shinsotired​ who also made me this gif because she’s a gem and I love her so much. D: She pretty much encouraged me to write for haikyuu and forced me to watch the anime to begin with - so I figured I’d write her favorite character :P

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Part One

Bouncing your leg, you pulled his warm-up jacket, with his number one plastered on the back, closer to your body as your eyes lit up watching your boyfriend play his final match. You caught a glimpse of his chocolate eyes looking up in the stands for you, causing your breath to catch in your throat before embarrassment crept up your neck before burning at your cheeks. The whistle blew again before you watched him return his attention to the game as you watched him do his signature jump serve. 

The entirety of Aoba Johsai erupted in cheers as you watched him ace another serve on the opposite side of the net. You jumped to your feet before throwing your arms around your best friend, Sumiye, sitting next to you. She giggled in response as you both peeled away from one another and turned your attention back to the game.

“Oikawa’s serves are amazing today!” she squealed. 

“I know,” you replied, clutching his warm-up jacket closer to your body. “He and Hajime are doing amazing. This match has been insane. It’s like they’re playing a completely different team from the last time.”

“You know,” Sumiye said, grinning. “Oikawa owes them all ramen if they lose the match, at least that’s what Hamije texted me last night before I went to bed. Boys are so weird.”

You opened your mouth to respond when the entire crowd gasped forcing you to turn back to the match and seeing the score read: 24-25, favoring Karasuno. “...one more point and they win the set,” you whispered. You felt your spine go rigid as you watched the next serve take place. 

“Don’t worry,” Sumiye said, grabbing your hand. “They always manage… no matter what!”

The words from the court of “CHANCE BALL” echoed throughout the gymnasium, pulling your attention back toward the game. Your eyes went wide as you watched Oikawa rush out of bounds at the ball after being knocked out by a fellow teammate. A rush of anxiety washed over you as you watched him point to Iwaizumi and manage to hit a perfect set toward him before tumbling into the seats along the sidelines. He jumped to his feet, rushing back to his vice-captain for assistance as Karasuno managed to read the play to set up to block the spike.

“COME ON!” Sumiye screamed out to Iwaizumi, jumping up onto her seat. “HIT IT HAJIME!”

To your relief, you heard Iwazumi make contact with the ball before slamming it down onto the Karasuno side before being received by the Karasuno captain, Daichi, before rocketing out of bounds. “YES!” you screamed, jumping up next to Sumiye on the seat. “IT’LL BE OUT NOW! THEY’LL TIE!”

“...oh no.” You heard Sumiye’s voice as you watched another member of Karasuno strike the ball back in bounds and toward the ace. The ball was spiked hard back toward Aoba Johsai before being stopped and hit into the net. You felt your stomach rising almost to your throat as your grip on Sumiye’s hand tightened before Mad Dog was able to strike the ball back into the air and over the net toward…

“Kageyama…” you said, your body beginning to tremble as you watched Oikawa move his position on the court.

“BLOCK HIM!” Sumiye screamed as Kageyama’s attempt to spike was blocked and struck the Karasuno’s vice-captain in the face before Kageyama moved to set the ball again.

Your eyes widened, noticing number ten on the other team on Karasuno’s side rushed towards the net at lightning speed. This had to be the secret weapon of Karasuno that Oikawa had always mentioned to you after every practice where you would greet him to walk home. Your boyfriend’s eyes were fixated on his rival’s movements before shifting towards number ten.

“N-no way, he broke the wall!” Sumiye shouted.

Oikawa quickly moved to slide across the floor before receiving the ball. The sound of contact with his hand echoed throughout the gymnasium before seeing the ball soar behind Oikawa. Your stomach fell to your feet as the whistle screeched over the roaring crowd. The ball had fallen out of bounds, earning Karasuno the winning point.

Tears beaded at the corner of your eyes as you took a step down from your seat. Your hands clutched Oikawa’s jacket even tighter before you felt Sumiye pull you into another hug. Her body trembled and you could almost tell she was crying with you. “They-they played so well,” she managed out before tightening her grip.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you gently pushed her away and flashed her a tearful grin. “Let’s go see our boys,” you whispered. “They probably need us more than ever now…”

—

“Sumi—”

You watched your best friend sprint to her boyfriend, Iwaizumi, before she reached out and brushed the remaining tears in his eyes away with her thumb. It was clear he was embarrassed to be caught in such a  vulnerable state by her but immediately pulled her into a bear hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. Sumiye’s arms snaked around his waist, returning the display of affection. “You did so well,” she cooed. “I’m so proud of you.”

Iwaizumi finally took notice of you standing behind Sumiye and a sigh fell from his lips before pulling away from his girlfriend. “Shittykawa is still in the locker room pouting,” he said flatly. “Maybe you can drag his ass out otherwise we can leave him here.”

“Hajime!” Sumiye hissed, smacking his chest. “Not now.”

He merely shrugged. “What? He is. He’s acting like a child,” he explained. “He’s upset she saw him lose…”

A giggle bubbled from your throat. “Thanks, Iwa,” you replied before racing toward the locker room. You slowly pushed open the door, careful to shield yourself from other guys that happened to be left as you stepped inside. “Toru?” you asked softly. “Are you still here? Iwa said you were…”

“I’m here,” he mumbled, sitting on a bench alone, resting his head in his hands. “I told Iwa-chan I wanted to be alone…”

You kneeled in front of Oikawa before placing your hand on his thigh. “Hey,” you whispered. “He figured I could drag you out so you didn’t miss the bus ride home.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he replied, refusing to look up at you. 

“Toru… You did well.”

“...not well enough.”

Your hands moved to his wrists before pulling his hands away from his face. His dark eyes were swollen from tears as he sniffed back a sob. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you. He hid his face in your shoulder, trying to force back his tears. “You were amazing Toru,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “I was so impressed, especially that last set. You fell into those chairs just to save your team. You even landed on your bad knee.”

“...you noticed?”

You giggled lightly. “Of course I noticed. You were wincing when you got back to your feet. Does it still hurt?” You felt him shake his head against your shoulder before turning his head and planting his lips against your neck. “Toru, let’s get you changed and ready for the bus okay?”

“I just wish I could’ve faced Ushijima one last time,” Oikawa mumbled. 

“Well seeing as you'll be a world-famous volleyball player one day,” you commented. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance to face him again, and win.”

He chuckled in response. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you replied, pulling back before kissing him lightly. 

“...hey,” he whispered, grabbing your wrists gently. “I need to talk to you about something…”

Tilting your head to the side, your eyes blinked in confusion. “What is it?”

“Argentina called…”

Your stomach dropped to the floor, “Did they?”

His eyes gazed up to catch yours. “I love you. You know that right?” he said as you gave him a silent nod. Leaning his forehead against yours, a sigh fell from his lips before he closed his eyes. “If you want me to stay… I’ll stay for you. Just compete on the Japanese team—”

Pulling away from him, your eyes went wide, shaking your head furiously at him. “Absolutely not,” you tutted. “You will not give up on your dream just because of me!”

“But,” Oikawa mumbled, sheepishly. “I don’t know when I’d be able to see you again. I can’t just leave you.”

Your eyes softened. “But Toru, you deserve to chase your dreams. Please don’t let me hold you back…” you replied. As much as it pained you to say those words, you knew deep down you could never be responsible for keeping him from the team he had always dreamed of being. You just couldn’t do that to him. You cared too much. 

Oikawa stared at you with confusion filled in his eyes for a moment before grabbing you up in his arms and hugging you tightly around your waist. “This isn’t—”

A lump formed in your throat as you hide your face against his neck. “Please don’t say goodbye… it’s not goodbye.”

—

“You WHAT—!”

“He’s going to Argentina…”

“But, what… HAJIME!” Sumiye yelled before turning her attention to her boyfriend and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. His bored expression was unchanging as she shook him in frustration, seemingly used to her outbursts. “He’s your friend!”

Iwaizumi let out an aggravated sigh. “Why is he my friend when he does something stupid?” he asked. 

Shaking your head, you forced a smile. “We both agreed it was for the best,” you explained. “He wants to go. I’m not going to be the reason he regrets not taking his chance.”

“But you broke up!” Sumiye nearly screamed. 

“Sumi… please lower your voice. People are staring at us,” Iwaizumi said before glancing back at you. “And you’re both okay with that decision?”

“Of course!”

“...but why?” Sumiye interjected. “You two were perfect—”

Your hand shot up to silence your best friend. “We decided if we were supposed to be together,” you said. “We’ll find our way back to each other.”

“In different countries?!”

“Yes.”

“Hajime—!”

“Yes Sumi,” he replied, rubbing his temples. “I hear you…”

“I’m going to text him—”

Iwaizumi snatched the phone from his girlfriend’s hands, holding it over her head, causing her to pout. “No,” He said, his voice going stern. “None of that. We aren’t interfering, Sumi.”

“Asshole! I can’t reach! Give back my phone!”

“You can have this back when you promise to act like an adult.”

“Don’t think I won’t climb you like a tree—!”

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbles from your throat as you watched the two. It was a much-needed break from the loneliness you were experiencing after you and Oikawa had ended your relationship. While it had been weeks, no one seemed to notice only because Oikawa spent so much time practicing even when you two were together. It wasn’t until Sumiye noticed you had returned his warm-up jacket and sweatshirts that she had begun to suspect something had changed. 

“We graduate soon anyway,” you said mostly to yourself. “He’ll probably forget I even existed…”

“NO!”

Your attention was jerked back to your best friend as she shot a glare in your direction. “Sumi—“

“He could never!”

Iwaizumi sighed before covering her mouth. “If you two thought this was best,” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “Then fine. I won’t push either way…as for mouth here, she needs to respect both decisions on this.”

Sumiye peeled his palm from her mouth. “Mouth?!”

Another smile formed over your lips as you continued to enjoy this outing with your friends, and before you knew it… it was time to head home. You gave Sumiye a tight squeeze before bidding the couple farewell. Pulling out your phone, you sighed, scrolling through your texts. While yes, you and Oikawa had split, you were still texting back and forth constantly. Mutual breakups almost seemed a little more difficult than the more messy ones. You were both on speaking terms, conversing about meetups, and when you could stop by to drop off his clothes he had lent. Needless to say, it was a weird state to be in. 

Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, realizing that tomorrow morning - he would be leaving. His flight to South America was set and despite his family’s plea for you to join them, you had refused. Swallowing hard as you wiped away the tears, you knew deep down you couldn’t stomach the idea of him stepping foot onto that plane. Saying goodbye, wasn’t an option.

The street lights cut on as the sky began to darken as you made your way down the street to your home. It was so bizarre just how much life would be changing for everyone in the coming weeks. Oikawa was leaving for South America, while you, Sumiye, and Iwaizumi planned to stay behind in Japan and attend college.

“...hey, Y/N.”

You stopped in your tracks as you reached your home, finding Oikawa sitting on your front steps. Your eyes fell to the pavement below, wondering just what he was doing here.

“Hey Toru,” you whispered back. 

“My sister says she tried texting you,” he continued. “But you didn’t want to come to the airport tomorrow.”

You fell quiet.

“If it’s because of the breakup, my family isn’t-”

“Toru no,” you replied softly. “It’s not because of that.”

“Then what? I want you to see me off…”

The corners of your lips dropped into a frown as the tears began beading in the corner of your eyes again. “I just can’t watch you get on that plane,” you forced out. “Please don’t make me.”

Oikawa’s eyes softened at your distress before taking a step toward you. He tried to reach out and touch your cheek in an attempt to comfort you. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to go?”

“I do!” you exclaimed, the tears finally slid down your cheeks. “I want you to accomplish all of your dreams Toru! But watching you step foot on that plane tomorrow… it’ll kill me! Don’t you understand?!”

His brown eyes went wide with surprise at your outburst before his hand fell back down to his side. “Do you think this has been easy on me?” he asked, his voice strained. “I’m going to a country where I don’t know a living soul… for volleyball. While you and Sumi and Iwa-chan get to run off to college and enjoy more time together—” He paused briefly, choking back a sniffle. “And to find out you don’t even want to see me off?”

“Because… I know I said I wanted you to go,” you whispered. “But… Toru.”

He quickly took another step toward you before pulling you into him. His arms snaked around your waist as you buried your face against his chest. Your eyes slid shut as you took in the scent of his cologne, trying to imprint it in your memory. A small sniff came from you before you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. His grip tightened around your waist as you began to sob, wishing this wasn’t how it had to be. 

“Toru,” you cried out. “I just…”

“Shh,” he whispered, planting a kiss on top of your head. “I know, I know you do…”

“Is it going to hurt forever?” you asked him. 

“God, I hope not,” he replied honestly.

You pulled away from him, rubbing the heel of your palm against your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Oikawa tilted his head. “For what?” he asked. 

“...this?”

He flashed a lopsided smile. “Oh please,” he said, waving you off. “I’ve seen you in worse states.”

“You know I love you, right?”

His smile grew wider. “And I love you.”

“Just don’t forget okay?”

“Never…”

—

But he had.

You both had. 

You found yourself standing at your mailbox on the first floor of your apartment building as you thumbed through your mail. It had been years since that fateful night, and you found as time moved forward, the pain in your chest hurt less and less. You heard from him less and less, and before you knew it. It was strange really as the distance grew… you noticed he had started dating through social media until you were seemingly strangers. It was over.

Sighing, you noticed a pink envelope that seemingly stood out from the rest of the mail. You flipped it around before tearing into the paper, revealing lovely stationery inside, a wedding announcement, and one you had been waiting weeks for. 

You beamed as your eyes traced over the intricate lettering as it was finally official: Iwaizumi and Sumiye had formally announced their wedding. While you had known details for months, it seemed even more real to see the announcement physically in your hands. You were thrilled for your two best friends and happily accepted the role of maid of honor for her. 

Smiling, you pulled out your cell phone before unlocking the device and tapping on Sumiye’s name to FaceTime with her. You both squealed upon seeing the other before you held up the wedding announcement for Sumiye to see. “It’s gorgeous!” you squealed, happily. 

“Oh my god! You got yours already! That was so fast!” your friend cried out happily. “God… I can’t believe how fast this wedding is coming. By the end of the month, I’ll be married. I’m getting nervous.”

“Cold feet?” It was Iwaizumi in the background. 

“In your dreams!” Sumiye hissed. 

“Have you warned Y/N yet?” he asked. 

Confusion filled your eyes. “Warn me about what?”

Sumiye shot a glare toward Iwaizumi over her shoulder before turning her attention back to you. She flashed a nervous smile before letting a sigh. “...So. There’s something I have to tell you and I don’t know how you’re going to feel…”

“...what is it?”

“Hajime’s man of honor…”

“Okay? What does that have to do with—”

“It’s Oikawa. He’s flying up here from Argentina for the wedding. He’s staying for the month.”

You froze at the mere sound of his name. Things hadn’t ended terribly between the two of you but you could understand your friends’ concerns about the sheer awkwardness of your ex-boyfriend.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly. “It’s fine. It’ll be nice to see him.”

“You swear you’re okay with this?”

“Totally!” you added, shaking your head. “It’ll be fine. We just have to walk down the aisle together. No big deal.”

Sumiye smiled at you. “So when are you heading here? We have your room reservation set up.”

“This afternoon,” you explained, thankful the drive to the city was only about an hour away depending on traffic. “Is that okay?”

“Well, that’ll give us time to pick up Shittykawa from the airport. We can meet up with Y/N tomorrow.” Iwaizumi started, rolling his eyes. “The princess can’t be bothered to get a shuttle to the hotel so we’ll have to leave soon.”

“...how are you, two even friends?” Sumiye asked, staring at her fiancé. He merely nodded before exiting out of the video frame. “Just head to the hotel and we can meet up tomorrow.”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Sumi, I’ll be fine and I’ll stop by your apartment tomorrow okay?” you said. “And we can start all the party plans!”

“Sumi! We need to leave!”

“Sorry,” Sumiye said, sighing. “Hajime’s excited to see Oikawa again so we have to go to the airport now. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything okay! Bye!”

You waved to your friend before the video chat ended. A sigh left your lips as you adjusted the purse slung over your shoulder. You shut your mailbox, locking it before making your way back to your apartment to grab your suitcases and drop off your mail. You slowly opened the apartment door, tossing the mail onto the kitchen counter before grabbing the handles of your two suitcases before pulling them out and locking the apartment door behind you. 

Anxiety began building up in the back of your mind despite your earlier sentiment that you would be fine seeing Oikawa again. It made you feel almost nauseous. Thankfully you two wouldn’t have to spend too much time together and figured that Oikawa would rather stay with Iwaizumi and the other boys for an impromptu reunion. You couldn’t help the smile that broke out over your features as you thought the boys would probably demand a volleyball game against the pro.

You perhaps it will be nice to see everyone again.

You opened the trunk of your car, tossing the two suitcases inside and slamming it shut. Making your way to the driver’s side of the car, you opened the door before sliding into the seat and starting the car. You wondered what Oikawa had been up to since moving to Argentina and playing for the national team. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t watched some of his matches. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, gripping the steering wheel as you made your way toward the highway. This was going to such a long drive with your thoughts. “Damn it…”

Your hand moved to turn up the dial to the volume up on the radio, trying to drown out the thoughts of your past relationship bouncing around the walls of your mind. And thankfully, made the hour-long drive tolerable and before you knew it, you had arrived in the city as you parked your car.

Random dings from your phone alerted loudly before you were able to even exit your car. Random texts from the boys from Aobajohsai blowing up your phone in excitement to see you and the others again. Giggling, you quickly typed a reply announcing your arrival before receiving another message from Makki claiming “we know”. 

Confused, you stepped out of your car before grabbing your bags from the trunk and heading into the entrance of the hotel. And the message made sense. You were instantly pounced on by members of Aobajohsai and slammed with a million questions about what you had been up to after high school and college. 

“Guys guys,” you said, raising your hands in defense. “Settle down I can’t understand anything you’re saying when you all talk at once.”

“You look great!” Makki said grinning.

“Oh boy,” Matsun said, almost smirking at you. “Someone is going to have a heart attack when they get a good look at you.”

“When who does?”

“...Y/N?”

Your body went rigid as you recognized the voice behind you. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to turn around and come face to face with a ghost from your past. “Toru…” you whispered, noting the almost seemed taller and his muscles even larger. But you couldn’t help but smile when you noticed he still had the same smile from high school… despite the glasses on his face now. 

“Hey…” Oikawa said softly. “How are you?”

“O-oh I’ve been great. Busy teaching, and running the girls’ volleyball club now,” you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “...since when do you wear glasses?”

Oikawa opened his mouth to reply before being struck in the back of the head. “He doesn’t,” Iwaizumi’s gruff voice said as he appeared behind him. “They’re fake. Don’t let him lie to you.”

“Iwa-channnn~” Oikawa whined as he rubbed the spot he had been struck. “That wasn’t very nice. I just got here!” 

You watched as the two, old friends continued to interact and it brought a nostalgic smile to your face. It was so strange how some things never change no matter how much time had passed, but at the same time, you and Oikawa were so different now. He was a professional volleyball player for the national team in Argentina while you had stayed behind and become a teacher at Aobajohsai… 

“Y/N?”

Your eyes widened as you heard your name. “Yes?” you said, looking up at Iwaizumi. 

“If you’re able to wait an hour,” he said. “I have to run and grab Sumi from her mom’s. They were finishing up food plans for the wedding—”

Shaking your head quickly, you forced another smile on your face. “No no!” you exclaimed, much louder than you had meant to. “I can meet up with you and her tomorrow. I’m really tired from the drive and just want to lay down.”

Iwaizumi offered you a knowing smile. “I’ll tell her to call tonight.”

You nodded before heading to the desk to check-in before grabbing the card key from the desk clerk. A small sigh left your lips as you trudged to the elevator with your bags behind you. You stepped inside before pressing the third floor and resting your back against the elevator wall. 

“Hey wait!”

Your eyes shot up to see Oikawa racing toward you. For a split second, you thought about hitting the door close button before putting your foot down against the door to stop it from shutting. Grinning at you, he glanced at the buttons and never pressed - you figured he would be on the same floor. 

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I wasn’t sure I’d make it.”

Rolling your eyes, you chewed on your lower lip as anxiety began building in the pit of your stomach. “It’s fine. I figured we’d all be on the same floor,” you said, shrugging your shoulders lightly. The elevator dinged, catching both of your attention. The third floor, it read as the door slid open. Oikawa stepped aside, allowing you out first. You flashed him an awkward smile before making your way to your hotel room. You fumbled with the card in your hand as Oikawa came up next to you with a confused expression. 

“What?” 

He looked at you, then the room number, and then between both car keys. “This is my room.”

“No… they told me 305 is my room.”

“Jesus Christ…” he grumbled before snatching the card key out of your hand and examining it. “This-this can’t be right…”

“What?”

“How the hell did they give us the same room?!”

“What?!”

“They booked us to share a room!”

[himbeaux-on-ice]

Can I just say that Habs “fans” who act like Carey Price’s contract is somehow patient zero of all this team’s problems drive me absolutely fucking insane? Seriously. Buckle up. This is about to be a rant.

Now. First things first. Is it ideal that the $10 million goalie is currently uh, not doing very good? Fucking NO! I am disappointed as shit with that and I don’t like seeing him struggle. I know he can be better. He has to be better. Obviously.

However. That being said.

Do I think it’s an incredibly stupid look to spend several tweets complaining about all the issues Habs defence have been having, and then also griping that they haven’t started Jake Allen enough for how he’s performing, only to then for some inexplicable reason state that the FIRST THING, the first thing that needs to be dealt with after the new coaching staff have had ONE GAME (and zero practices) to work on things, is somehow “well, the ten million dollar man in net is weighing them down, that contract has gotta go!”?

Yes! That’s stupid!!

I think that’s a very ice cold small-brain take, and not just because Price is my favourite of favourites for as long as I’ve been a hockey fan! I have reasons, dammit!! I put THOUGHT into this!!

Here, dear ppl of Habs twitter who will never read this, are some reasons why this narrative you’re concocting is dumb, and why management/coaching are unlikely to think of trying to ditch Price mid-season to fix the current problems:

1: Time. It has been one (1) game under Ducharme. He has been able to run zero (0) full practices on off days with the team. We just changed up a major piece on the Habs chess board — why don’t you give it a minute to see what fresh eyes and minds can do with this roster before you decide we are fucked? This season is fast-moving, sure, but there is time for us to ride out some little bumps here and still make a playoff spot in this Canadian division. Have patience. Do you remember what patience is? Dom is a new head coach, not a wish-granting fairy godmother. Chill. Do you remember chill?

(rest of this under a cut because I actually LIKE Habs Tumblr, and I want to be nice to you all by not making you scroll past all of it if you don’t want to)

2: Jake Allen exists. There are a couple of things I like for what this means for the Habs. Firstly, for basically the first time in his NHL career, we are not in a situation where if Carey Price is in a slump, we have to go “Ah, shit, so now our options are let his stats tank while he tries to get the groove back in net, OR throw whoever the poor backup is out there to get murdered while we plummet through the standings.... 😬” We don’t have that problem right now, because the backup is... actually good? Oh my god, the backup is actually good! Thank fuck! We’re not doomed. If I’m Ducharme, I put Allen in net for a few consecutive starts to put a solid backstop behind all my fun experiments I’m probably planning with the skating roster (to catch their slip-ups, while also giving Carey lots of time and rest with which to work hard on sorting out whatever his issue is along with the goalie coaches).

2b: Jake Allen exists and is competition. Hell, if I’m Ducharme, maybe I even play a little hardball and say “Look, Carey, I don’t want you to be an expensive benchwarmer, but if things don’t pick up soon I am going to start whoever is doing best and you will have to compete for that net.” Related to my last point, when was the last time Carey Price had to push himself to compete for net time against anything other than his own injuries, and wasn’t simply always the default starter? Has that EVER been a thing? Honestly as much as I love the idea of him being The Goalie for the Habs, I also kinda like this idea a lot because I think it could really push him to a higher standard of performance. Maybe that kind of high-pressure situation (given how much he thrives in the pressure-cooker of the playoffs) could be what he NEEDS in order to Be Carey Price again. Worst comes to worst, he doesn’t respond to that challenge, and I am very sad but the Habs have a good goalie in net anyway, because Hallelujah, Jake Allen exists! God, isn’t it nice to have Jake Allen? Bless him.

3: Money. Guys, this league is so broke right now. Seriously. Seriously. Nobody has any fucking money. The Habs probably have more money than most teams, and that does not help when it comes to offloading large contracts. Trades are a NIGHTMARE both because of the flat cap but also because travel is complicated (especially cross-border) but also nobody wants to trade within their division if possible because all your games are against them. Who in the name of fuck do you think is jumping at the idea of taking the $10 million per through 20-lots-and-lots-of-years-from-now contract of a goalie who is currently struggling, impressive past record aside? What kind of astral plane of fantasy hockey are you on to think there’s a trade out there for that within this season. Shut up. And no, don’t bring up the expansion draft, this post is a rebuttal SPECIFICALLY to the people who think that Price and his contract are the biggest problem that needs to be dealt with RIGHT NOW and first on the list of ways to immediately remedy the team’s struggles.

4: Spite. Specifically to piss you off, bud. You personally.

5: Knowing how to troubleshoot properly. Fellas, if my computer is running slowly and freezing up a lot, do I immediately decide the first step to fixing it is to crack open the chassis, remove the hard drive, and try to sell that hard drive to someone to see if I can enough money back to somehow get a better hard drive for less? No, dipshit. That’s not how troubleshooting a complex system works works. It’s the same with hockey teams. Ah, my star goalie is not performing great. This situation is deeply less than ideal. If you’re actually good at troubleshooting, the first thing you do is not “WELL. I GUESS WE’LL HAVE TO THROW THE WHOLE GOALIE OUT. HE’S TOAST.” The first thing you do, if you’re a smart coach, is you say “Okay, what are my defence doing in front of him? What are they doing to reduce the amount and quality of our opponents’ scoring chances? Oh. Oh, they’re taking a lot of penalties, and... oh, uh, some of this is very not great. Yikes.” And then you start your work by trying to make the defence actually work instead of running the same Pairs That Everyone Is Very Much Over And Tired Of, because your goalie is actually supposed to be your Last Line of Defence. And maybe during that time you give more starts to Goalie Who Is Absolutely Slaying It, so that when you start trying new D-pairs and they inevitably have some mistakes, it doesn’t immediately turn into an Oh God Holy Fuck moment every time, because that last line of defence backstopping them is solid. The reason you need to deal with defense first is because a) You know you have a reliable goalie (Allen) in your pocket right now if you need him. What you don’t have is a whole-ass proven and tested and practiced Backup D-Core you can swap into the roster in front of your goalies to make their lives easier. Fix your defense and it WILL improve your goalies, even marginally. Defrag the hard drive before you ask why it’s not working. and b) If you need to go looking for any new D-men to solve the issues, those are WAY easier and cheaper to find than top-tier goalies, and you always want to start any troubleshooting process with trying the simplest solutions first to hopefully save time and money. The better that D-core is, the less it fucks your team over if the goalie isn’t feeling themselves, because the D is going to stop more of those pucks before they ever even become the goalie’s problem. FIX. DEFENCE. FIRST. Then try to train your goalie back into top form. THEN explore your other options.

6: The vicious cycle. Guys. We literally do this once every year or second year. EVERY time Carey Price has a slump, this fanbase gets into a tizzy like the Bell Centre is burning down and he was the one with the matches. And what ALWAYS happens literally within the year, every single time? He gets his mojo back like he did last summer in the bubble and goes on a heater and everybody goes “JESUS PRICE!!!! 🙌” and is ready to name their firstborn kid after him. Until eventually that performance becomes unsustainable, and he becomes mortal again, and suddenly he’s The Real Problem With This Franchise once again. I know he’s the guy they chose to build the team around instead of a superstar forward, but oh my god folks. You’d think he was the only player on the team. Guys, I feel like fucking Sisyphus pushing a blue blanc et rouge boulder up Mont Royal once a year with this shit. This man’s entire career has been a constant seesaw narrative between “Carey Price is our saviour!” and “Carey Price should be exiled to Nome!!!!” from parts of this fanbase, I swear. Look, slumps suck, but for once we are actually lucky enough to be in a position where this team, for the first time in YEARS, does not solelylive or die by the inscrutable magical cycles of Carey Price’s goalie powers — because when he has to step back and work to get back into his groove, there is FINALLY a SECOND GUY who is GREAT. Honestly, given that the state of this team for so long has been “they will go as far as Carey Price can take them” and he has put in a pretty fucking decent job of it despite all of the team’s other struggles, I feel like it is owed it to the guy to be like “Okay, well, we have somebody else solid to fill the net right now, and a chance to really figure out our defence and special teams with this new coach. Why don’t you take a step back and work your ass off at trying to get back into the form I know you can still perform at, and we’ll go from there?”

Anyway. Some parts of this fanbase have been waiting for a fresh excuse to claim Price is overrated, washed-up, and to blame for all of this team’s flaws and ills ever since he signed that contract, if not since the start of his NHL career. Just unreal how nasty some of this fanbase is willing to be about a player who is ON. YOUR. TEAM.

Am I saying he is beyond critique of his play and can do no wrong and his contract is perfect? No! I want this team to have the best goaltending it can get, and I want them to kick ass and take names. The difference is, I still believe Carey Price is a part of that winning formula, and I also think Twitter is overflowing with idiots who just repeat what everybody else says. He’s still a better goalie than your ass would be if I stuck you out there to stop shots from Mark Schieffle, for crap’s sake.

“The first thing that has to go is Carey Price’s contract 🤪”. Shut the fuck up. You are actively making other people stupider by talking. Go eat sand. Good day.

[l8rhader]

What are your Top 5 Paragraphs from You Can Change...? How about from the Everything Has Changed verse?

ADJFKLSJFGWOIB WHAT A SWEET QUESTION ARE YOU KIDDING ME I LOVE YOU

In no particular order from You Can Change Right Next To Me

1.  They stood that way for about a minute.  Eddie was astounded.  All it took was a little determination and creativity to come up with a simple adjustment, just so that she could do what she needed to do as a mom without hurting them.  That was it. 

2.  It was silly, he knew, but an act of, he felt, bold defiance struck him.  He stood up and motioned for Richie to do the same, stripped the top sheet from his bed, and looked around the room for something to use to affix it.  Catching his drift, Richie crossed to the bulletin board behind the desk and snagged 4 push pins from their line at the edge of the cork, then walked over to him, pushing them into the wooden frame as Eddie held the sheet in place.  It wasn’t much, and he knew it would never last if she came upstairs, but it felt like something.  

3.  All at once, the weight of everything that had happened to them crashed down around Eddie.  He'd been "strong."  He'd been "brave."  He'd been "mature."  He'd been all the things that he thought he needed to be.  And one moment of pure vulnerability from Richie and he felt it all.  The fear, the joy, the giddiness, the love, the anger, all of it.  For the first time in ages, since that day on the floor outside the cafeteria, the world started to spin.  His chest started to constrict.  

4.  “Oh, yeah, that,” Eddie smiled, nodding.  “You owe me big time for that,” he added, turning him around and giving him a gentle prod toward the basement.  “Such a large inconvenience.  Woe is me, however will I go on-” he joked.  As he wrapped his arms around Richie’s middle, walking behind him, he pressed another gentle kiss to the space between his shoulder blades.  “Having a mildly uncomfortable conversation with my mother-in-law who is, quite possibly, the only one of the four of our parents I'm not currently even a little mad at, to protect my husband from having an even more uncomfortable one?  I’m a hero.”  He shoved Richie down onto the bed and popped on the TV, crawling in front of him and nestling their bodies tightly together.

5.  “Yeah, idiot.  You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon or something,” he said gently, looking up at the Toziers’ house across the street.  He looked back at Richie, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to help him at all if he couldn't get him to Eddie.  “Which means that you’re supposed to be not leaving Eddie’s side.  I think being two houses away is pushing it.”  He looked around, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to do this.  He stood and tried to pull Richie to his feet, but it was like he was made of rubber.  “Let’s get you home, man.  Come on,” he said, voice belaying a frightened sense of urgency.  “I don’t know how I’m gonna do that because if I touch you it’s going to hurt and I know that I couldn’t carry you even if I tried and The Cardinal is in pieces,” he looked over his shoulder and looked for anything he could use; Any way he could get Richie home.  “I could probably…”  In the corner sat his old bike, abandoned since the day he got his driver’s permit.  “Do you think you can hold yourself up on my bike?”  He nodded limply and Stan pulled him closer to the car.  He turned back to grab it, immediately interrupted by a deadweight thud.  “Richie?” he asked, turning back.  Seeing him on the ground, he cried out, “Richie!”

Bonus line:  While the boys had spent time gaining proficiency in diving into the quarry, Sonia had years on them, but the only thing she was ever good at jumping to was conclusions.

Everything Has Changed is so much harder because there’s just so much of it but:

1.  They locked eyes and the whole cheesy speech, full of raunchy jokes and sentimental anecdotes Richie had been working on for weeks flew out of his mind.  Recently, memory lapses were jokingly called "The Derry Effect" between them. This wasn't "The Derry Effect." This was "The Eddie Kaspbrak Effect." The breathless, mystifying way Eddie left him feeling had carried through since they were 11 and he dragged him across his mother's house to make him wash his hands before they shared popcorn out of the same bowl.  [highest hopes]

2.  “Okay, I’m Richie because…” he whispered and huffed, cutting off his soliloquy and quietly climbing toward him.  “Hi?” He offered his Eddie a quick peck through the open window, then flicked his eyes upward, exasperation comedically magnified by his glasses, “Who else would I be?”  He lugged his upper body in the window and, aided by his still-too-long legs, managed to get inside without falling. “We’ve definitely got the father denying down and we’ll put a pin in the name changing,” he laughed, imagining a day when, maybe, he’d be Richie Kaspbrak or the smaller boy in front of him would be Eddie Tozier, feeling a familiar warmth in his chest, “but like, I’ve got some baggage here, babe.  A little help would be nice.” Aided by Eddie, he started untangling his limbs from the straps and setting the bags in a pile in the corner. [coming home]

3.  He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, trying to capture the last time he’d been that scared.  There had to have been a moment. He could feel it. A movie projector and a ramshackle old house. A dead girl floating.  But he couldn’t voice any of it. “I haven’t felt that way since…” A hammock. Bikes. Sewers. Paul Bunyan. Shared Ice Cream Cones.  Fleeting images fell through his mind and petered out. It was like trying to catch smoke in a butterfly net. “I don’t know why my brain filled in dairy?”  He shook his head, trying to figure out what he meant by that. Not dairy. What the fuck? “I haven’t felt that way since dairy? What does that even mean?”  He took one of the strawberries from the bowl and bit into it, releasing juice down his chin as he spoke. [mine/yours]

4.  Tutting, Pennywise wagged his finger.  “Oh. Not so gentile language, pretty bird.”  He pointed to the room below, where Bill was fighting against the current to get back to Mike.  “See the way this one swims? All of your friends, all the losers, they swim! Just like at the quarry.  Jump, fall, swim. It’s fun!” He laughed, licking his lips and reaching in to tease Stan once more. “Soon, they’ll float like itty,” poke , “bitty,” poke , “Georgie!” Stan kicked the clown’s hand and it pulled back.  It was not happy about that. “Not you, Stanley! Not you. You can't even tread water,” he snarled, plucking through the ropes that suspended the box in midair.  “Let's see if you can fly!” Laughing once more, he broke the final cord and sent him plummeting to the ground. “Don't forget your parachute!” he prompted, littering the ground with blood splattered yarmulke. [feeling like I missed you]

5. (arguably this is 2 paragraphs but like... it’s one of my absolute favorite moments i’ve ever written)  Laughing, realizing how ridiculous he must look, a seventeen-year-old boy standing out in the woods cradling a babydoll, he was overcome with an idea.  He took to wrapping the doll to look as lifelike as possible. When he’d swaddled her in the tiny blanket she came with, he mussed his hair up to look a little more frazzled.  Then, he found a position for her in his arms that looked believable for an actual infant to be in. Finally, he cooked up a little story about a certain redheaded Loser who had popped back in a little while ago to visit and, well, surprise, Ma!  He couldn’t believe what he was going to do, but now that the idea was in his head, he couldn’t get it out. “Let’s go see if we can’t give your Grandmonster a heart attack, okay?” He laughed as he moved in through the back gate, whispering to the small bundle in his arms.  “Roll out…”  //  Heart attack was pretty close.  Eddie slunk into the house as guiltily as possible, then shook Megan a little harder than what one would classify as a rocking motion.  As soon as he did, she let out a piercing scream that he managed to quell. His mother yelled out for him and he quietly edged into the room, keeping his back to the wall and the doll’s face hidden.  His mother blanched then turned scarlet and they were off. He worked up some tears and spilled his whole sordid story. “And now she’s here, and she’s mine, and I don’t care. She’s all I have left of-” he trailed off, imagining shaking Billy Crystal’s hand at the Oscars over this riveting and raw performance.  “She’s a part of me. I can’t lose that.” [butterflies]

Bonus Line:   “ Anyway, ‘Handsome, what the hell do you call that? How are you going to censor a whole building?’[...] This asshole turns to me and goes ‘It’s great, isn’t it? And no one noticed!’” [measuring]

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.6 - Young Yunichika

6. ENTRY SHEET

If I get anything about volleyball wrong, let me know

Translation Notes

1. Tokyo is called a city, but it’s treated as one of the 47 prefectures since it’s so big. Its official name is Tokyo Metropolis or Tokyo-to (東京都)

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His class duties took longer than expected and he rushed out of the classroom later than usual. As soon as he turned the door at a right angle, he ran into Itoko coming out of the classroom next door. He barely caught her wrist when she bumped her face against his collarbone and got bounced back.

“Ow… Yuni? That’s dangerous, you know.”

“I didn’t know. You’re the one who was looking away.”

While insulting her back out of habit, he was inwardly flustered because her wrist was thinner than he thought, and immediately let go.

“Hmm? Are you going to club now?”

Itoko let out a “Hmm?” with a rising inflection when she looked at Kuroba’s bags. He was feeling like he had been using the enamel bag he carried on his shoulder for a long time lately. Starting this month, they would be wearing their summer uniforms, and his t-shirt could be seen from the front of his wide-open shirt.

“Do your best, sports lad.”

“Don’t, don’t make fun of me!”

“How? I wasn’t. Wasn’t I praising you?”

“You sound like you’re looking down on me when you say it like that.”

“Even if I wanted to look down on you, I can’t!”

She gestured to compare the heights of their heads by holding up her hand. When he felt an itchy feeling down his back and bent back, Itoko leaned forward on her tiptoes and looked up at him from under his chin.

“W-what? Don’t get so close to me, it’s weird.”

“You got taller again, haven’t you?”

“Huh? R-really?”

Now that she said it, the position where Itoko’s face bumped into him was considerably lower. Recalling the scent of her shampoo, the itchiness ran down his back again.

***

“One-seventy-nine-point…zero.”

“It’s true! I did grow taller!”

It had been a long time since they measured their heights at that scale on the door of the equipment room. He smoothly removed himself from beneath the powder drink box that was held up by Haijima and checked the scale for himself.

“Hm. Isn’t it…nine-point-two? Don’t cut it off.”

Haijima didn’t even hide his tongue click when he corrected him. Haijima was 176.9cm. Even without being jealous of Kuroba, they were growing together, but he didn’t like the fact that their height difference of 2.3cm wasn’t shrinking even a millimeter. Well, I’m in a good mood now, so I can tolerate Haijima’s aggression.

“Fufu…Fufufufu…I’ll be one-eighty soon, with this.”

“Don’t your knees hurt?”

“It doesn’t bother me that much. It just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He answered, tilting his head as he bent and stretched his knees. “You’re too healthy,” Haijima said, half-opening his eyes with a look of resentment.

“Does your knees hurt?”

“They do. I can’t even sleep some days.”

“Ho. Heh. So that’s how it is.”

“Tch…that loose face is pissing me off.”

Currently, there were eight active members on the boys’ volleyball team. There were some dropouts during the intensive spring break practices, but three people joined miraculously in the new school year. They could be in matches if they had seven people, but it was great that they could have one member in reserve (Since it was six-people volleyball, there were six people standing on the court at the same time, but the player specializing in receives called the libero could be registered separately, and they rotated while replacing a player on the court).

Within the club, Kuroba was the tallest, and his position was outside hitter as well as opposite hitter. Simply put, they were the positions that spiked the most. Next was Haijima, whose position was the immovable setter. It was the position where one set the ball up. And after him was Nagato, who was 175cm tall and also a third-year like the two of them, and his position was the center. It was a role that was the center of the blocking in front of the net and to act as a decoy. Other than those three, the rest were on par with the average middle school boy, and none of them were outstandingly tall enough to surpass 180cm. It was undeniable that they didn’t have the fighting power, but those who had good physiques drifted to more popular clubs.

“We’re having a meeting!”

The advisor called for them to gather while they were being noisy in front of the equipment room. Their ghost advisor, who had been grumbling about his holidays been used up for accompanying their club activities, seemed to have gotten more enthusiastic about it in the course of going along with them seriously. Lately, he had started to cooperate with practice, not just watch, and he was studying from the coach’s manual.

Haijima’s frank way of doing things and his single-mindedness towards volleyball infected everyone else before they knew it. An unfamiliar but not unpleasant something permeated their cells and remade their bodies unnoticed—.

It had already been three months since that incident with Yorimichi before spring break, but there was still a faint scar on Haijima’s right temple. If you asked him if there was any change in Haijima’s personality after that incident, he could tell you that there was absolutely none at all, and that he was still the same volleyball fanatic who went his own way.

But thanks to that…he felt in his body that he had gotten better. This week was better than last week, today was better than yesterday, and he was able to move up a level. Kuroba especially liked the back-row attack hit from right in the center of the court. Hitting from there, he was able to jump the highest, hit the hardest, and get the best view.

“This is the entry sheet for the middle school prefecturals. This year it’s two days from July twenty-six to twenty-seven.”

In a corner of the gym, they sat in a circle with the advisor in the center. Except for Haijima, everyone peered at the sheet curiously and said, “Wow, this is?” They had a few practice games with the middle schools in the city, but now it was time for the summer prefectural tournament, their first official game.

“It’s right after we go into summer vacation.”

“You get to play around for the rest of summer if you lose,” their advisor let slip out of his mouth, then cleared his throat when Haijima glared at him. Kuroba had almost blurted that out as well, but he was glad he hadn’t. “Ahem. Well of course since we’re going to compete, our goal is to win. I was told that for last year’s schedule, the first day was the first and second rounds, and the second day is the semifinals, third-place deciders, and finals. The top three schools will advance to the Hokushin’etsu Tournament.”

“That’s all?”

It was Haijima who raised his voice in surprise.

“No subdivision qualifiers, already the prefectural finals?”

“Hmm, you’re referring to the block qualifiers below the prefectural level, Haijima. To tell the truth, we’re lucky that our block doesn’t have qualifiers. The girls do, but it seems that the number of participating schools for the boys has been below the minimum for the past few years. The number of schools where Haijima’s from can’t be compared to here, and you have to win a lot of block qualifiers before you can get to the prefecturals, right?”

“It’s the metropolitan tournament, but yeah.” (1)

Haijima nodded, and Kuroba and the other members blinked in surprise. As he stared at the entry sheet, his face became tinged with red and his eyes turned piercing. Uwah, it’s that face, the dinosaur-loving boy…Kuroba had an ominous feeling that he was going to say something bothersome and felt like holding his head.

Haijima raised his eyes from the entry sheet, and then looked at his teammates one by one, as though confirming something. His gaze stopped on Kuroba’s face. In a hoarse yet somewhat lively voice that sounded like he was repressing his excitement, he said,

“We win the championship if we win four. If we win at least three, we break through the prefectural tournament.”

A “Huh” slipped out of Kuroba’s mouth, and he gulped.

“That’s surprisingly…”

Close, he was about to say, but felt ashamed at himself for forgetting their position. Excepting Haijima, it was an amateur team where everyone else had no experience with regular games. If they won once, that was all they could ask for, but if they somehow won twice against all odds, then that was a remarkable achievement. They should be thinking that humbly.

However, even the letter H in the word “humble” didn’t exist in the dictionary of the man named Haijima Kimichika. He didn’t have the sensitivity for being embarrassed about his overreaching statement, nor the thought of making a precautionary low estimate.

“We can do it.”

He said confidently, without a hint of doubt or hesitation.

“We’re gonna win.”

He always wondered how this guy could boldly put such words on his tongue as though they existed just for him. Win? Did that mean being the best in the prefecture? Those were words he thought he would never have any relation with. Or rather, he was so far removed from them that they never even crossed his mind. The reason was because he never devoted himself to anything that he wanted to be the best at. Although he was passionate about volleyball now, it wasn’t because he wanted to win, but more because at this point, he just enjoyed the feeling of getting better at it.

But, only four wins. Or even three wins.

It would be easier to become defiant and fight back if it was some eternally distant place like having to win dozens of times or something like that… He still couldn’t accept the fact that it was in a place they might reach if everything went well, and now he was just bewildered.

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[enchantedlokii]

Mistakes I’ve Made

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of slavery

Characters: Brunnhilde, Bruce Banner, Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson, Heimdall, Korg, Miek, Grandmaster, Topaz

Relationships: Brunnhilde & Bruce, Brunnhilde & Loki, Brunnhilde & Thor, Brunnhilde & Grandmaster, Brunnhilde & Topaz, Loki & Thor, Brunnhilde & Bruce & Loki & Thor

Brunnhilde would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised that the guilt of her secret had been growing ever since she first saw a graying man trailing behind Thor during the riots. She had never felt guilty about any of the slaves that she had captured for the Grandmaster before. She realized now that must have been because she was constantly drowning the guilt of failing Asgard and had eventually grown numb to the familiar feeling. At one point, she would have been terribly angry learning about a planet that still held slaves, even outside the Nine Realms. After centuries of drinking, she had found that she no longer cared. That’s why the twisting feeling in her gut took her by surprise.

The Valkyrie had managed to hide her newfound emotion in the moment, pretending like she didn’t recognize Bruce and had never known him as anyone other than his alter ego. He had bought it, and so had Thor. She had acted surprised on the Bifrost bridge when he attacked Fenris, and the topic hadn’t come up again until weeks later when Brunnhilde found herself being approached by Loki.

“So, when are you going to tell Banner the truth?” He had asked casually, appearing out of nowhere as he leaned against the wall of the shared quarters. Bruce had only just left the room, and she was under the impression that she was now alone in the room. Apparently Loki had been there the whole time, hidden by one of his many illusions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied easily. There was no way that Loki knew the truth. Even as close as he had been to the Grandmaster, she knew that the man would never release the secret to anyone. As far as she knew, not even Topaz knew the truth. The leader had ensured that their meetings were held in private, never letting anyone eavesdrop on their conversations that he shielded with his seidr. Seidr that only a few Sakaarans knew he possessed.

“You do realize that I am the God of Lies, Valkyrie,” Loki shot back, his green eyes locking on hers. “You can not deceive me as easily as you can my brother. I may not know the truth of the situation, but I know that you knew who he was before you brought him to your apartment. You knew the whole time that he was the man behind the monster, yet you continue to let him believe you were clueless.”

“Why do you even care?” Brunnhilde finally snapped, moving forward in an attempt to pin him to the wall. Loki simply phased to the other side of the room, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You two don’t even like each other.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Loki retorted. “Our history is not the best, but I have revealed truths to him that have helped the situation. I would not call us friends, but we are not enemies. Not anymore. He is a very understanding character. Not bad for a Midgardian, truthfully.”

“I assure you, the truths I am withholding from him will do nothing to ‘help,’” she huffed, turning towards the door. “Though I suppose you know very little about friendship.”

Brunnhilde had left with that, but Loki’s words burned in her mind for days following the conversation. To his credit, the prince didn’t treat her any differently after the confrontation. He did, however, give her a sharp look any time he caught her talking to Bruce. He seemed insistent on her coming clean, but she had yet to determine whether his intentions were positive or negative. It was hard to tell with Loki, she had learned.

“You good, Val?” Brunnhilde blinked at the sound of her name, glancing around at the others. She was at one of the many council meetings that Thor held on the Statesman. The aforementioned king was sitting to her left and Bruce was at her right; he was the one who had spoken. Loki was sat across from his brother, Heimdall was in front of her, and there were a few other Asgardians that Brunnhilde still didn’t know all that well sitting at the table as well. Korg stood at the door with Miek by his side, taking on watch duty because of the lack of Einherjars who survived Hela’s massacre.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “Sorry. What was it?”

“I had just asked if you would care to lead the patrol on the upcoming outpost,” Thor told her. His voice remained as casual as always, but she could see the twinkle of concern in his eye. “Though, someone else can take it if you are feeling unwell.”

“No, no, I can lead it,” she told him. They would be at the outpost in three days or so, Heimdall had told them. She could get herself under control by then. She just needed to clear her head. That was all. But. . .

Val found herself glancing over at Bruce as he turned back to Heimdall, who had begun to speak. She knew she should be paying attention, but they were already far past that point. Looking at her friend, she felt another stab of guilt. He had started to become much more relaxed as time passed, easily falling into line and interacting with the Asgardians as if he were one of them. He was most comfortable with Thor, which made sense considering they had known each other for years, but he was comfortable with her as well, and was getting there with Heimdall and Loki and the rest of the council. On Sakaar he had seemed far too stressed, constantly on edge. And it’s all my fault.

Brunnhilde pushed away the thought, managing to finish the meeting before leaving the room and trying to get as far away from the others as she could. Eventually, she found herself in a storage room, sitting on a crate and just trying to clear her head. She stared at one of the bottles of mead that was pushed to the back, debating on breaking down and getting a drink, but her thought was broken when she heard a creak, the door pushing open. “Val?”

Brunnhilde forced a smile as Bruce stepped in, glancing around the room with a confused expression. “Hey, Big Guy,” she said lightly, leaning back in an effort to seem “chill.” She realized she was doing a poor job when Bruce turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s up?” He asked. “You’ve been acting. . . I don’t know, off, lately. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Bruce,” she assured him. “No need to worry about me.”

“That’s the thing. I do worry.” Bruce came over, pulling a crate in front of her and sitting on top of it. The position looked much more uncomfortable for him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I worry about my friends. Just ask Thor.”

Brunnhilde hummed noncommittedly in response, her eyes trailing to the bottle of mead again. She could easily play this off as withdrawal, but she was aware that her friend was some sort of healer based on his title and would likely know that she was way past that phase now.

“Brunnhilde.” That got her attention. She had never heard Bruce use her real name, with the exception of the first time she had brought it up and he had repeated it, seeming to test it. He had still continued to just call her Val or Angry Girl most of the time.

“Okay, okay,” she sighed. “I. . . I think that there’s something you need to know, and you’re probably going to hate me for it.”

“I doubt I would hate you,” he assured her, giving her a small smile as he reached forward to put a hand on her knee. The first time he had done this, Brunnhilde had pulled away, spitting with offense until Bruce explained that it was often used as a platonic gesture on Midgard and he hadn’t meant any harm. She had been a bit embarrassed after the fact for assuming that he would even want to be anything other than her friend, but he had brushed it off easily.

“You don’t remember landing on Sakaar, do you?” Brunnhilde started, still a bit hesitant. She could see the blink of confusion that Bruce gave her before he shook his head.

“No. I remember leaving Earth, but nothing after that until I followed Thor to the Quinjet,” Bruce told her. “I assume that I was just the Other Guy the whole time.”

“You weren’t,” the Valkyrie murmured, not missing the look of surprise he gave her in response. “When you landed, you were you. And I think I owe you an explanation.”

Scrapper 142 smirked at the site of the aircraft she found among the rummage of Sakaar. As she got closer, she noticed a man who appeared to be from Midgard slipping from the shadows. He had some sort of shall covering most of his body, his hair messy and his frame tense. He didn’t even notice her until she dropped a net on top of him and landed nearby.

As she stepped out, Scrapper noticed the man looking at her. “Um, hello,” he started, seemingly a bit nervous. “I’m sorry, am I trespassing? I’m— I’m not from here.”

Brunnhilde ignored his question. “What’s a Midgardian doing way out here?” She asked, moving closer. She had an obedience disk in her hand, planning to place it on his neck before taking him to the Grandmaster. So far, he didn’t seem like a threat, but she knew that it was better safe than sorry. “You’re a long way from home.”

The man’s eyes widened a bit. “Midgard. . . You’re an Asgardian? Is this. . .” He glanced around. “This isn’t what I expected Asgard to look like.”

The Scrapper stopped, a bit surprised. Not many Midgardians knew about the Nine Realms. Odin preferred to keep it that way, knowing that humans were weak and that they were safer being on the outside of the squabbles between realms. “How do you know about Asgard?”

The man looked back to her. “I’m friends with Thor,” he said simply.

Brunnhilde just blinked. “I have absolutely no idea who you are talking about,” she said with a small snort, moving forward and attaching the disk. The man jerked away, but she grabbed his wrist and forced it on. She notice his eyes flash green as he looked at her before he seemed to steel himself. “I am not an Asgardian. Not for countless centuries. I do not know Thor and they do not know me.”

“Where am I?” The man asked then, seeming to read between the lines. His eyes had faded to the more natural-looking brown now, but he gripped the net, trying to work his way out of it. “What did you just put on me?”

Scrapper grinned and held up the remote. “An obedience disk. Either you come with me, or I use this to electrocute you and drag you to the Grandmaster myself. Your choice.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man grunted, his eyes meeting hers. “You don’t want to make me angry.”

“Is that a challenge?” Brunnhilde raised the device again, not missing the flash of fear in the Midgardian’s eyes as she pressed the button and a shock ran through his body. She expected him to faint immediately, but instead the man bent over, gripping the dirt. She took a step back as she watched the veins of his neck starting to turn green. He seemed to fight if for a moment before he grew, turning into a figure that was the size of a Kronian, maybe even larger. The creature put a hand over the obedience disk and jerked it off, crushing it easily before turning on Brunnhilde, anger shining in his green eyes.

The creature grinned, balling his fists at the sight of her. “Hulk smash!”

Brunnhilde ran towards her ship, grabbing her weapons and activating them quickly, aiming and shooting at this “Hulk.” She felt fear slice through her as the blasts failed to do anything but make him angrier. She hurriedly went to her radio and tuned into the Scrapper Channel that would connect her to the Grandmaster. “Code 103!”

It didn’t take long for more Scrappers to appear, blasting at the Hulk as he roared back. Every now and then he would shout something at them, but he couldn’t do much as they hovered over the rubble that they were used to patrolling. Nothing they did seemed to effect the monster, not until the Grandmaster appeared and raised a hand, using his seidr to calm the beast. The Hulk slowly turned back to the Midgardian that Brunnhilde had found, except he was not passed out on the ground, naked.

Grandmaster turned to Brunnhilde then. “Meet me in my chambers.”

Brunnhilde could feel her heart pounding as she made her way to the Grandmaster’s chambers later that evening. She was being led by Topaz, of course. She wasn’t sure where they had taken the Midgardian, but she assumed that it was one of the prisoner chambers that she had been to often, dropping off slaves. “Good luck, Scrapper,” Topaz muttered before opening the door and allowing her to make her way inside.

Brunnhilde stepped through the door, flinching as it was shut behind her. She looked up and saw that the Grandmaster was looking out the window. “Scrapper 142,” he started, not turning to look at her.

“Grandmaster.”

The man turned to her now. “This is a strange creature that you have found,” he started, giving her a dangerous look. “One that I have never known to exist in the centuries that I have been alive.”

“He is a Midgardian,” Brunnhilde protested. “There’s just. . . Something different about him.”

“Indeed there is,” the Grandmaster replied. “I have made a decision regarding this new prisoner and have an offer for you. One that I truly hope you consider before turning down.”

“And what is that offer?” Brunnhilde asked.

“I have found a way to keep the Midgardian from reverting back to his more fragile form,” the Grandmaster started. “Instead, he will be kept in the green form and will be used as the new Grand Champion. The old Champion is growing old, and I fear he only has a few years left. I want you to help our new Champion get accustomed to his home and ensure that he does not try to escape or turn against us.”

Brunnhilde blinked with confusion. “He will try to kill me,” she told him. “He did try to kill me.”

“Which is why I have erased his memory for the past twenty-four hours,” the Grandmaster responded. “The Champion will not remember your failed attempt to contain him.”

“And what if I decline the offer?”

The Grandmaster smirked before turning to the window. “Then you will be his first opponent.”

That was how Brunnhilde found herself making the long trek to the Grand Champion’s suite. Already, the old Champion has been taken from his longtime home and the room had been given to the Hulk. She stared inside for a moment, waiting for the sound of Topaz’s retreating steps before she took a deep breath and opened the barrier, stepping inside before closing it again. She slowly stepped towards where the beast was sitting, looking outside the window. He was sitting there, his shoulders hunched over slightly. He almost looked sad, really. “Hey there, Big Guy,” she said softly.

Hulk looked back quickly and Brunnhilde saw something that resembled hope in his eyes before he saw who was there and it faded. “Not Tasha,” he mumbled before turning away again.

“No, I’m not Tasha,” she told him. She had no idea who Tasha was or why the Hulk had looked so excited to see her, but she just went along with her. “You can call me Scrapper, okay?”

“Hulk want Tasha,” he mumbled. “Sun real low.”

“I’m sorry, Buddy, I don’t know who Tasha is,” Brunnhilde said, carefully putting a hand on his back. When she first came in, she expected to be met with anger, not sadness, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.

“Tasha scary Avenger,” Hulk muttered. “Banner love Tasha. Hulk love Tasha. Hulk miss Tasha.”

“Banner,” Brunnhilde repeated the name. That must be the Midgardian’s name. So Hulk was still aware of his host, at least. He still remembered his past outside Sakaar. That could either make things much easier or much harder.”

“Banner left friends,” Hulk huffed. “Banner left Avengers.”

“Avengers, huh?” She asked, settling down next to him. She was catching on that this creature didn’t have a huge vocabulary. He was like an oversized toddler, and it had been years since she had encountered one of those. Maybe even decades or centuries. She couldn’t really remember.

Hulk nodded and held up a hand in front of him. He made a “pew” sound. “That Tony. Tony Banner’s friend. Hulk like Tony,” he started. “Tin Can.”

Then, Hulk moved his head to the side a bit, pulling his hand back. “Steve has shield. Steve let Hulk smash. Hulk like smash. Hulk like Steve. Hulk like Thor.” The creature made a swinging motion with his arm. “Thor has puny hammer.”

Hulk paused and then held out both hands and pulled one back as if he were shooting a bow and arrow. “Clint Tasha’s friend. Clint like arrows. Clint nice to Banner.”

Brunnhilde waited until Hulk lowered his arms and was silent for a moment before she spoke up. “Hulk is going to get to smash a lot really soon,” she told him, holding back a grin at the excited look he gave her. “You like that?”

“Hulk love smash,” he told her, standing up. “Banner don’t like Hulk smash.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Banner anymore.” Even as Brunnhilde said this, she felt a bad taste in her mouth. Something about this felt wrong. The Midgardian didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt anyone. He had warned her not to make him angry and then looked afraid when he realized she was going to do so anyway.

She shook off the thought. This was who she was now. She was a Scrapper. She captured prisoners. She sold them to the Grandmaster. She knew it was wrong, but she chose to do it anyway. She couldn’t just stop now. Not because she had a bad feeling.

Still, she couldn’t help but glance down at the tattoo on her forearm. She closed her eyes, releasing a shaky breath before looking back at Hulk. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Big Guy.”

Brunnhilde watched quietly as Bruce stared at the floor, seemingly trying to process everything she had just told him. The silence was killing her. A small part of her feared that when he raised his head to look at her again she would see the angry green of the Hulk rather than the soft brown that she was used to. She wasn’t afraid of the Hulk before, but she had not been on the receiving end of his anger since that first encounter two years ago.

“He did something to me,” Bruce said finally, his voice quiet. “Something to me or something to the Other Guy.”

Val nodded sadly. “He didn’t give me anymore details than that. I. . . I don’t know what he did.”

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, that makes more sense, at least,” he murmured. “That’s why he didn’t want to come out on the Bifrost.”

Brunnhilde nodded a bit, looking down. Bruce still hadn’t actually looked at her, his gaze pointed to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she whispered finally. “I know that what I did was wrong, and I should have told you sooner. I just. . . I couldn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce told her, finally looking up at her. “It’s not your fault.”

The Valkyrie shook her head. “No, Bruce. It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. I knew what I did was wrong but I did it anyway. And then I have the audacity to say I’m your friend like I’m not the reason he hurt you.”

“Hey,” Bruce’s voice was stern then and he stood up before kneeling in front of her, putting a hand on either shoulder. “Look at me, Val.”

Brunnhilde forced herself to look him in the eyes. “Bruce. . .”

“We all make mistakes,” he said softly, not letting their eye contact waver as he spoke. “I am not mad at you, okay? I’m glad that you told me this now and that you trust me enough to do so.”

“You should be mad at me.”

Bruce shook his head. “Nope. Not going to happen,” he told her, giving her a small smile. “You’ve already made up for it over and over. Just the fact that you’re not afraid of me? That itself means a lot to me, okay? There’s not many people who see me as anything more than a threat.”

“So you don’t hate me?” Val hated how pitiful she sounded right now, but she couldn’t help it. She had fully expected Bruce to be furious. She hated to admit that she was expecting him to hurt her. She had hoped he would hurt her, because that would be so much easier than processing these emotions that had become unfamiliar in her time on Sakaar. She didn’t understand how he could still be so kind to her after this.

“No,” he told her firmly. “You made a mistake, and that’s okay. People change. I mean, heck, when I first met Loki he was actively trying to take over Earth and use the Hulk as a weapon, but I know that won’t happen again because he’s a different person than he was then. I fully believe that you are a different person than the one who found me on Sakaar.”

Val briefly remembered her conversation with Loki earlier that week. How he had mentioned telling Bruce the truth. He hadn’t elaborated what that truth was, but she now knew that Bruce believed him whatever it was. He was willing to forgive Loki, and he was willing to forgive her as well it seemed. “Thank you.”

Bruce smiled and stood up. “Can I give you a hug, Angry Girl?”

To Val’s surprise, she found herself nodding. Only a moment later she felt arms wrapping around her and she allowed herself to melt into them, clinging to his sleeves as she lowered her head into his chest. “We’re still friends?”

“We’re still friends,” he assured her, giving her a tight squeeze before they pulled apart. “Now, how about I elaborate on those amazing descriptions of the other Avengers?”

Brunnhilde chuckled and nodded, standing up and following Bruce out of the storage room as he started talking about his friends back home. Her head finally clear of the fog that had been trapped there for days, she listened. She listened and laughed along with her friend as they spoke as if nothing had changed. Nothing was different.

From the small smile that she caught Loki giving her when the two returned to the chambers that evening, she knew that he had been right. She couldn’t stop herself from mouthing “thank you,” and didn’t miss the twinkle of mischief that flashed in his eyes before he turned back to Thor. Her and Bruce joined the brothers then, relaxing into a routine that was their new normal. For the first time in years, Brunnhilde felt like everything might be alright.

[junglejelly]

Prompt fill - Xichen Week Day 7(+11): Himbo/Seachen

(On AO3)

One day.

Jiang Cheng just wanted one day of peace and quiet, away from home, away from his responsibilities, away from his idiot brother and his nutcases of a mother and father. Just a few hours alone — him and a boat and nothing else.

Clearly, that was too much to ask for.

His solitary little fishing expedition had lasted exactly two hours, and then everything went to shit. This day off must have been more sorely needed than he thought, because he had fallen asleep right there in his little boat, in the middle of the river, fishing rod hanging out the side and face baking in the morning sun.

As a man who grew up his whole life on a lakeshore, he should have known better — and he did, he did, goddammit, it wasn’t his fault that his stupid body betrayed him and abandoned him to drift on the currents like an absolute amateur, dead to the world, until his boat literally crashed into a clump of rocks.

That was half an hour ago. And now…

Jiang Cheng stomped angrily through the underbrush, slapping away any branches that dared cross his path. The fact that the ground was made up of dead leaves and soft moss only served to make him angrier, as they cushioned his steps so as to render them almost silent and thus robbed him of his god-given right to express his rage via the soles of his boots. Which, incidentally, were damp and squishing with every step. As was the rest of him. Because, as if getting stranded in the middle of a forest tributary wasn’t embarrassing enough, he obviously also had to be pitched overboard at the impact, lose his oars, and get his boat hopelessly stuck on the rocks.

So there he was, half an hour later, trawling the woods in search of a branch thick and sturdy enough to act as a lever and hope it would be sufficient to lift the (thankfully undamaged) boat out of its rocky trap.

He was having no luck so far, though. No likely candidates were presenting themselves on the ground, and any branches he had tried to pry loose from a living tree had resisted his attempts.

His stomach growled.

Well, great. It must be nearing midday. Good thing he’d thought to set up his net before leaving the scene of the disaster. Maybe, he if was lucky, some fish would —

Just then, a twig slapped him in the face, making him yelp and jump back in surprise.

That’s it, he thought vengefully, spitting out a mouthful of leaves, his pulse rocketing up in indescribable fury. Fuck this. FUCK it. I am DONE.

“Fine. FINE! Keep your shitty branches!” he shrilled into the forest.

The forest did not answer.

He whirled around and stomped (soundlessly, goddammit) back the way he came.

As he neared the bank again, a splashing sound  made him quicken his footsteps. Finally, some good fortune! Judging from the noise, he definitely wasn’t going to go hungry in the next few hours.

Actually, it was a bit strange that he could hear it so clearly from all the way over here. Just how big was this fish, exactly?!

He stepped out of the underbrush.

… And stared. That’s it, he thought. I’ve finally lost it. Finally gone off the deep end. It had to happen eventually, right?

In front of him, the mermaid kept struggling.

After a few moments, when Jiang Cheng was sure this hallucination wasn’t going to suddenly disappear, he stepped forward and called out.

“Hey. You there. You, uh… you need a hand?”

The mermaid immediately flailed upright (well… the parts of it that weren’t a giant fish tail, holy fucking shit, anyway) and its eyes snapped to Jiang Cheng’s.

It looked… male? Probably? Hard to tell, with all that hair sticking everywhere and all those… well. Fins. And scales. (Scales! What the fuck!)

Jiang Cheng was spared from his imminent meltdown when the mermaid’s eyes creased in a smile and he (it? did mermaids even have genders?) exhaled in relief. “Oh, would you? I seem to have gotten myself in quite the predicament…”

Yep, definitely male, going by that voice. Jiang Cheng stared some more. Well, if this guy was going to act so chill, who was he to do otherwise?

“Right. Sure. Let me just… Hang on.”

Feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience, Jiang Cheng unsheathed his knife from his belt and approached, before a thought struck him and he stopped abruptly.

“Wait.” The mermaid looked at him questioningly. “Is this a trap? Are you gonna eat me?”

The creature tilted his head. “...Eat you?”

“Or drown me, or abduct me, or whatever,” Jiang Cheng amended hurriedly. Okay, that was dumb, nobody had ever heard of a mermaid eating its victims, but give him a break, he was under a lot of pressure here. He just said the first thing that popped into his mind!

Either way, the mermaid seemed offended. “Drown you? I would never!” He splashed his tail agitatedly. “We’re not savages, you know!”

“Well, forgive me for assuming,” Jiang Cheng muttered. “Never met a fucking mermaid before.”

“Mer, actually,” the mermaid — mer — corrected, politely but firmly. “Merman, if you must.”

“...Right,” Jiang Cheng managed, before he stepped closer (close enough to touch, and to see that tail right there in front of this face, what was his life) and attacked the thick netting with his knife.

It was, sadly, unsalvageable. Jiang Cheng didn’t even want to know how the… merman… had managed to get himself that badly tangled up into it, though it did use to be a good, strong fishing net, wide enough to get a generous catch in one go, if luck was in your favor. As it was, though, it was about to be turned into a pile of frayed rope bits. He could kiss his much-anticipated lunch goodbye, Jiang Cheng thought morosely.

“I was just trying to free the fish inside,” the merman said then, apparently feeling the need to explain himself and unknowingly adding insult to injury. “The poor things had gotten themselves trapped, I just couldn’t leave them that way.”

“Yeah, no, obviously,” Jiang Cheng forced out. “Wouldn’t want them to remain trapped in a fishing net, in case any old fisherman happening nearby could just lift them out and eat them for lunch, huh? No way, that’d be ridiculous,” he added, perhaps a little more hysterically than necessary.

“...”

Jiang Cheng didn’t look up, forcefully focusing on his task, but he could still feel the moment when the penny dropped and the merman gasped in realization.

“Oh! Oh no! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t — I really… I simply thought —”

Obviously distressed, the merman continued to babble and wring his hands for a while while Jiang Cheng worked on the last few threads digging into his tail.

“Oh, how awful of me! How thoughtless! Of course it was your net, I didn’t realize…” He trailed off for a moment, then seemed to reach a conclusion. “I must make amends,” he declared. “I shall catch you some fish. Bigger fish. Better fish,” he added, nodding to himself.

Jiang Cheng snorted. “Isn’t that, like, fratricide for you?”

The merman looked miffed, but, considering the circumstances, he must have felt like he owed it to Jiang Cheng to tone down the disapproval. “Of course not. We do eat fish, you know.”

“You do? Huh. Well, either way, don’t bother. I don’t think I could even stomach it, at this point,” he replied dejectedly. “I just wanna go home. And then maybe sleep for the next three weeks and hope that’s enough to forget this horrible, horrible day.”

This appeared to distress the merman. “Truly? Then you must allow me to repay you in another way. Anything you wish, that I am able to offer you. Name it, and it is yours.”

Jiang Cheng laughed ruefully. “Can you magically lift my boat from those rocks?”

He couldn’t. There was no way. That boat was well and truly wedged in there, stuck in between jagged boulders and buried in a tangle of driftwood.

“Oh! Of course! I didn’t see it there,” the merman replied happily.

...What? Jiang Cheng checked again, to see if the boat had moved from its previous immovable position.

Nope. Still there.

“Listen,” he started doubtfully, “thanks for offering, but I don’t think anyone can move that thing. I’ll probably have to come back with a few people,” he sighed.

“Nonsense,” the merman smiled. “Just get me out of here, and we’ll have it down in a flash.”

Jiang Cheng still doubted that, but whatever. No skin off his back if the merman tried and failed to rescue his stupid boat from the stupid rocks.

“You’re pretty trusting for a mermaid — sorry, merman — aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Our peoples have coexisted peacefully for a very long time, you know. Just because meetings between us are rare, does not mean I should feel threatened by your presence.” With a wide grin, he continued, “Quite the opposite, in fact — I am delighted to have made your acquaintance! Circumstances notwithstanding, of course.”

Jiang Cheng considered that. “You know, I thought Wei Wuxian was shitting me all this time, but…” He observed the merman critically. The pretty face, the silky hair held back by a glistening white ribbon… “Are you… are you that Lan Zhan guy, by any chance?”

The merman perked up. “Wangji? You know my brother?”

“He’s your brother?” Well then. Small world, huh. “I don’t know him, but my brother won’t shut up about him.”

“Really?” The merman clearly found this piece of information fascinating. “Where do they know each other from? Do you know?”

“Sorry, no clue. Honestly, I thought your brother didn’t even exist until a second ago. All I know is that my idiot of a brother claimed to have met a mermaid a few years ago and hasn’t shut up about him since.”

“Merman,” the other corrected again, absently. He seemed to be absorbed by the revelation.

“So?”

The merman snapped to attention again. “Hm?”

“Your name,” Jiang Chengs reminded him pointedly.

“Oh!” He drew himself straighter at that, a sunny smile settling on his features. “My name, yes. My name is Lan Xichen. A pleasure to meet you.” He dipped his head.

Lan Xichen. How… mundane. Boring, even. It was almost offensive, that such an exotic creature could have such an utterly normal name.

The creature in question kept beaming, completely unaware of Jiang Cheng’s uncharitable inner monologue.

Jiang Cheng blinked, slightly perturbed by the (frankly alarming) degree of cheeriness being displayed by the man — Lan Xichen, he reminded himself — while he was still restrained and a total stranger was brandishing a knife near his delicate fish parts.

Whatever. This guy probably wouldn’t live past thirty, with survival instincts like those, but that wasn’t his problem.

“Right. Well, I’m Jiang Cheng.”

At that point, Jiang Cheng’s intense sawing efforts finally paid off, and the last knot fell loose. He carefully picked at the threads digging into the fragile-looking membrane until every last scrap of rope fell away. He had half a second to survey his work — some areas looked a bit bruised, but at least no blood had been drawn — before Lan Xichen retracted his tail out of reach and under the surface. Jiang Cheng thought he could see him swish his tail a few times, cautiously testing it against the current, checking it for injuries. The river water was clean and crystalline there, and the sun danced off the merman’s light, silvery blue scales in undulating patterns.

When Lan Xichen refocused on Jiang Cheng, his smile was blinding. “Thank you! You have my gratitude, and that of the Lan clan.”

“...Yeah,” Jiang Cheng managed, dazed by the combination of glittering scales and beaming smile.

“Well! Let’s get to it, then,” the merman said cheerfully, already swimming away. Jiang Cheng stared.

Now that the urgency was gone, he was struck all over again by how utterly bonkers the whole encounter was. Would people back home even believe him, if he told them about this? Well, Wei Wuxian would, at least, he thought manically, gawking at the delicate fins rippling all along the merman’s tail as he swam away.

Wait. Away? Was he leaving already?

He ripped himself out of his trance just as the merman broke the surface again, long hair plastered to his neck and shoulders, and hoisted himself up on a boulder near the stranded boat.

He hummed thoughtfully, prodding at the thing and testing his grip.

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng started, “be careful, don’t —”

Too late. Lan Xichen gave a mighty heave, and with a grunt, the boat slid free of the rocks.

“— ...hurt yourself,” Jiang Cheng finished lamely, once again reduced to staring idiotically as his boat rocked slightly from the momentum, scraped but unharmed.

Somewhere on his periphery, Lan Xichen laughed brightly. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“You sure did,” Jiang Cheng replied automatically, still not sure if he should believe his eyes. What, did merpeople have super-strength, or something? Or was he just that dumb, and the damn thing was never actually stuck in the first place?

Oblivious to his distress, the merman slipped back into the water soundlessly and took it upon himself to steer the boat toward the shore where Jiang Cheng was still kneeling like a useless moron.

When it bumped against the grassy bank, Jiang Cheng unfolded himself enough to find the anchor and tie it to a nearby sapling — not exactly secure, but good enough for the few minutes it would take for him to depart. Probably. Hopefully.

“Thanks,” he threw at Lan Xichen. The words felt inadequate, but he wasn’t sure what else he could say.

The merman watched as Jiang Cheng bent to retrieve the sad remains of the fishing net. It was completely ruined, but hey, he wasn’t about to leave it here and litter the woods like a barbarian. He threw the tangled mess into the boat, where it flopped with a pathetic, wet thunk.

A low whine drew his gaze toward Lan Xichen. “I’m sorry,” the merman said in a tortured voice, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy — and wasn’t that a feat, Jiang Cheng thought, considering he was a fucking fish. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you seriously apologizing to me right now? For a stupid fishing net?” He demanded. “You could have stayed stuck and literally died.”

The merman pouted. “Still.”

“I give up,” Jiang Cheng signed, stepping into the boat to investigate the damage.

No holes, no water accumulated at the bottom, not even any scratches bigger than a hand-span. A miracle, really. Or rather, just compensation for all the rotten luck, Jiang Cheng thought grumpily. As if to prove him right, he also remembered — the oars. Those were still gone. Ugh. Seriously, fuck his life.

As he walked around, he caught the merman tracking his lower body with interest. His legs, he supposed — must look pretty weird to him, really. “So, have you ever actually met another human before?”

“Not up close, no,” Lan Xichen hummed.

“And yet you let me approach you without a single misgiving.”

“Well… yes?”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t help it — he dropped his face into his hands. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “You actually have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, you weirdo!  Seriously, what the fuck! How are you still alive? How old are you, even?”

“Twenty-nine,” the merman grumbled, sinking lower into the water until his nose barely peeked out over the surface, but otherwise taking the chastisement without protest. Something told Jiang Cheng that this must not be his first time being admonished for this particular reason.

“Twenty-nine! That’s older than I am!” (Barely by two or three years, but Lan Xichen didn’t need to know that…) “Even I know better than to be so trusting, and I’m not the one from a rare species and with a tail so gorgeous people would probably kill to get their hands on it!”

Lan Xichen popped back up. “You think my tail is gorgeous?”

“...!” Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he was about to burst a blood vessel somewhere in his brain. “That is so not the point! Are you kidding me right now? That’s your takeaway from everything I just said?!”

“You think my tail is gorgeous,” Lan Xichen repeated, his lips stretching into a grin so wide Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have hesitated to call it shit-eating on any other face. Not this one, though. It was much too pretty and delicate. “You like my tail,” he said again, looking much too pleased with himself, and then — “Thank you. I like your legs, too. They’re quite nice.”

Jiang Cheng spluttered. “You —!”

The merman laughed, a tinkling, delighted sound, before diving underneath the surface and into a series of gleeful rolls and spins and splashes.

Okay, Jiang Cheng thought resignedly, that’s fucking adorable.

He braced himself for Lan Xichen coming back up, but despite that, he was still slightly stunned by the sheer brilliance of the merman’s smile when he reemerged.

“I like you,” the merman said without preamble, effectively shocking Jiang Cheng into a stupefied stillness and thoroughly frying his brain, all in one fell swoop. “Can we meet again?”

“I — I, I, uh...” Jiang Cheng stuttered.

Lan Xichen just hooked his fingers over the lip of the boat and let himself float there, smiling patiently, his eyes shining with a gentle mirth. Golden, Jiang Cheng thought distractedly. They’re golden. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed that. How did he miss that? And since when was gold even a real eye color that actually existed?

“Jiang Cheng?” the merman prompted gently.

“What?” Jiang Cheng startled. “Yes? I mean… What?”

“Can I see you again?” he asked once more, hopefully.

“...”

Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he was dreaming, at this point — but in that case, he figured, might as well go all the way, huh? What could it hurt? Nothing, that’s what.

“...Sure. Yes. We can… do that. If you want.”

Lan Xichen’s soft smile grew into a full-blown grin again, his eyes almost disappearing into happy creases.

“But,” Jiang Cheng continued, trying to distract himself from the sight, “for that to happen, I’m going to need to go home first. Which is not looking likely right now,” he finished ruefully.

The merman tilted his head. “Why is that? Is there something wrong with your boat?” He drew himself from the edge and gave the boat an appraising look — not that he was likely to know anything about them, Jiang Cheng surmised. Silly fish.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he sighed, “except that it doesn’t have any oars. They got lost when I hit the rocks earlier. Probably floating somewhere far away downstream.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Lan Xichen hedged.

Jiang Cheng met his gaze. “What? You got another miracle up your sleeve?”

“Not a miracle, but…” Lan Xichen diverted his glance sideways, towards a fallen tree resting on the bank. Its long-dead branches hung halfway into the water, gnarled and sturdy against the current. “Would one of these do?”

“Already tried those,” Jiang Cheng replied. “Don’t waste your time. They’re way, way too thick, no one could possibly —”

— aaand there he went again. Oh well, Jiang Cheng decided, settling in for the show. Maybe at least this way he could get revenge for earlier. He would sit there and point and laugh at Lan Xichen’s attempts, because there was no way in hell —

CRAAAAACK!

Jiang Cheng knew his eyes were bugging out of his head, okay, he knew, but listen. Listen. This time, he was positive he couldn’t have made a mistake, like he might have with the boat. This time, the branches were obviously enormous and obviously very, very securely attached to their trunk. He had checked. He had gone and touched those branches with his own two hands, and he knew —

Lan Xichen came back then, and lifted the thing out of the water to present it for his appraisal. A huge fucking tree limb, the straightest and smoothest he could probably find on that dead tree, which he had just snapped clean off with his bare fucking hands. And was now bringing to Jiang Cheng, like a proud puppy with a ridiculously oversized stick. Seriously. Seriously.

Jiang Cheng wanted to scream.

Instead, he very carefully grabbed the branch to deposit it inside the boat. Damn, but that thing was huge.

“So, is this one enough, or do you need anoth—”

“Shut up.”

Lan Xichen’s mouth snapped shut.

Jiang Cheng held out his hand imperiously. “Give me your arm.”

The merman raised wide eyes toward Jiang Cheng, a confused little frown pulling at his lips. “What —”

“I said,” Jiang Cheng growled, “give. Me. Your. Arm.” When the merman just kept staring at him uncertainly, he burst out, “Oh my god, you ridiculous dolphin, just come here already!”

Apparently deciding to trust Jiang Cheng despite his obvious bout of temporary insanity, Lan Xichen slowly approached and extended one of his arms towards him. With a wary look, he mumbled, “Dolphins aren’t even —”

“Shut up! I know they’re not,” Jiang Cheng snapped. With a tug, Lan Xichen’s arm was promptly brought over the edge of the boat for closer inspection, forcing the merman to grab the rim with his other hand for balance. He took the rough treatment without complaint, looking perplexed.

Jianf Cheng started with his hand, working his way up to the shoulder progressively. He carefully examined the webbed fingers (hadn’t noticed that, either), then poked and prodded at the wrist (all normal, same rotation as a human’s), the forearm (pale and muscular), the elbow (yup, just a regular elbow), the upper arm… Hm. Well, outside of it being pretty thickly toned, he couldn’t find anything. Why couldn’t he find anything? There was clearly something funky going on with this man’s arms, because no one, human or merman, should be able to win a contest with a boulder or rip an entire trunk off of a —

The merman cleared his throat.

It was then that Jiang Cheng realized with horror that he’d been… he’d been groping the poor man for several minutes, holding him in place and squeezing his biceps and just generally pawing at him like —

He dropped the limb immediately, feeling his face heat up with a vengeance and trying to hide it behind a scowl. “What?” he barked. “Don’t look at me like that! You’re the one who’s freaky!”

Unruffled, Lan Xichen offered, “Perhaps if you told me what you were looking for…?”

Jiang Cheng gaped. “Well, your —!” He paused, then flailed in the general direction of the fallen tree. “That thing you did! Twice! With the tree, and the… the rocks!”

“Ah,” the merman nodded in dawning comprehension. “Yes. It has been said that we of the Lan family have been blessed with unusual arm strength.”

“Excuse me, ‘unusual’? More like fucking monstrous, let’s be honest here — but I, uh, mean that in the best way, of course,” he amended hurriedly when Lan Xichen sent him a stricken look.

The merman lowered his gaze, lips wobbling.

Ah, shit. Goddammit, Jiang Cheng had really stepped in it this time. Calling a merman a monster, not even two seconds after molesting him, and after he’d been so disgustingly nice to him, too? Pathetic. Disgraceful. Despicable.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry,” he tried.

A tiny sniff, barely audible behind the curtain of hair that fell before the merman’s bowed face.

Oh, no. “Lan Xichen, please,” Jiang Cheng coaxed, quickly getting desperate. “I’m sorry, I promise that’s not… It’s not what I…” He scrubbed his hands over his face “Ugh! I don’t know what to say,” he lamented.

Lan Xichen peeked at him shyly from behind his sleek tresses. “Maybe if you gave me another compliment…?”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, the words already halfway out, before he snapped it shut and squinted suspiciously at the merman.

He braced his hands on the edge of the boat and leaned even closer.

There! That glimmer in his eye, that was —!

“Lan Xichen! Are you screwing with me right now?!”

But the merman was incapable of answering, already howling with laughter, his façade collapsing in less than an instant. Jiang Cheng stared. Lan Xichen’s laugh was loud and uncontrolled, little snorts slipping out now and then, though he tried to hide them behind his slightly webbed hands — all for naught, as the crinkle in his eyes betrayed his glee with no hope of concealment.

Jiang Cheng was mesmerized. As Lan Xichen’s laughter settled into quieter giggles, he felt something take flight in his heart, or in his gut, or maybe in some other, equally ridiculous internal organ with asinine romantic connotations.

Whatever.

He felt like he should be mad — the little shit had emotionally manipulated him just now, and so skillfully too! He’d bought into his charade hook, line and sinker (ha!) — but no. He felt… proud, maybe? Fond, definitely. And awed, maybe, by this creature, by this meeting, by the improbable set or circumstances that had led to it.

He shook his head, his lips tugging up in a helpless smile, never taking his eyes off the merman now clinging to his boat once more.

“Lan Xichen,” he breathed, almost reverently, “you are something else.”

When the merman reached for his hand, he didn’t offer any resistance (turnabout was fair play, after all). Lan Xichen laced their fingers together over the edge of the boat, right in the middle, like a symbol. “But you mean that in the best way, of course,” he stated solemnly, his voice wobbling with yet more laughter.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped him then, or the grin that settled over his face. He took a moment to marvel at that, and squeezed the hand clutching his. “Of course. The very best.”

[hyggeligbirch]

Straight Through Me

An EXO Fanfiction

pairing: jongin x baekhyun word count: 7 748 warnings: Major Character Death: Suicide

summary: On their one-year anniversary, Jongin goes through a scrapbook Baekhyun has left him.

parts: this || alternate ending

A thin black leather-bound book sits on the coffee table.  Jongin walks over and picks it up, the leather feeling cool in his hand as he falls backwards into his grey couch, too-soft cushions swallowing him up.  “To one year” is printed in Baekhyun's neat handwriting against the gold title plate on the inside cover.   A nose at his knee keeps him from turning to the first page.

           Jongin reaches out and scratches at Kongju's ears. “You want to sit with me, girl?”

           She whines and bumps her nose into his hand, earning another scratch and a little laugh.

           “Come on, girl.  Up!”  He pats the seat as he gives the command.  Kongju barely has to stretch as she heaves her body onto the couch.

           As she curls into his side, nose resting on his lap, he turns the page.  The picture on the page snags his eyes first, but he passes over it quickly; he'll look at it later.  It's the silvered handwriting that takes his attention now, and his fingers trace over the raised ink as he starts to read, quickly falling to scratch at Kongju. Baekhyun's printing has always been so neat, and this is no different.  It was hot, it begins.

--

           It was hot; the sun was yellow, and they really should have been wearing sunglasses.  But they were stupid college boys and it wasn't like they'd planned to play football.  At least, most of them hadn't planned to play today.  Minseok and Luhan seemed a little too prepared for the pick-up game, already having teams chosen and summoning a ball from thin air, but those two were always ready to play, so there really was no telling.

           It was a good game, the first five minutes. Then, Baekhyun tripped over a spectacular pass.   He fell heavily, clutching his ankle, whimpering at the pain.  Play ground to a confused halt as the ball just disappeared. Junmyeon ran over, sweaty and exhausted despite having done absolutely nothing useful on the field.  He knelt down, taking Baekhyun's ankle in hand, carefully turning it back and forth.  Baekhyun whined at the treatment, slapping at the man's hands.

           “That hurts!”

           Setting the foot down, Junmyeon rocked back onto his heels.  “I can't help if you won't let me look at it.”

           “Do you even know what you're looking at?” Baekhyun scowled, wincing as his own fingers probed at his ankle.  “Get Yixing to look at it.”

           Yixing was pushed forward, face blank in confusion. It wasn't too hard to recognize the situation, though.  A quick, gentle roll of the joint in his hands had him saying, “That's a bad sprain. You should sit off of that for a while, and ice it when you get the chance.”

           “But Luhan's team's creaming us!”

           “You're not going to make that much of a difference. Sit out,” Kyungsoo deadpanned.

           Disgruntled, Baekhyun lets Yixing help him off to the side, plopping heavily into the grass.  There was a rushed discussion behind the two and an unfamiliar face settled down next to him.  

           “I'm Jongin,” the stranger gave a slight bow, one arm resting on his knee, other settled in his lap.

           “Jongin, get back on the field!  Junmyeon will sit out!”

           Jongin yelled out at the field, “Get back to playing!” Laughing, he turned back to Baekhyun. “Sorry.  Luhan's not real happy about losing his best player.”

           “You're his best player?”

           “You know it.  Here,” he pulled Baekhyun's injured leg up onto his own thigh, “you should keep this elevated.  It'll help keep the swelling down.”  With that, he turned back to the game, careful to touch the other as little as possible.

           Baekhyun stared at him, then back at the game. “Looks like losing you didn't hurt them at all,” he muttered, crossing his arms and trying to ignore Jongin as much as possible, which was difficult with the positioning of his foot.

           Baekhyun sighed.  “Luhan's got the ball again.  He's running, he's running, he's run – and Minseok steals!  It won't last, Luhan's too good – and there's the steal and the ball's going back.  It's driving, it's driving, it's driving and there's the kick!  There's no way Kris is going to catch – ow.  That it looks like it hurt!”

           “Hey, announcer,” Jongin was smiling, and Baekhyun's stomach flopped at the sight.  “Does it count as a goal if the goalie blocks it with his face?”

           “No.  No, it doesn't,” he scowled back.

           “Then I guess you were wrong.”  And that disarming smile was back as Jongin turned back to the field.  “Is it my turn now?”  Without waiting for confirmation, Jongin started up.  “And that's been deemed no goal!  The ball's back at play and Minseok's lining up for a penalty kick – apparently giving the goalie a bloody nose is a foul -”

           “That's not how to do it.”  Baekhyun pursed his lips as he complained, swatting at Jongin's arm.

           “What, you think you can do better?”  From the way Jongin's eyebrow raised, this was a direct challenge.  

           Baekhyun wasn't going to let that one slide. “Minseok's lining up the penalty. He's got a good shot at it, too. Chanyeol's squared up.  Minseok kicks and it's – it's in!  Minseok ties the game with his first point!  And now the ball's back in play and there – they're off.  The teams are getting smaller every minute, though, folks!  It looks like Sehun's been thrown in as goalie for Team Minseok and Team Luhan's down to four as well.”

           “If Team Minseok would stop getting hurt, this game might go a little better,” Jongin said in a nasally falsetto.

           Baekhyun laughed and continued, pitching his voice up to match.  “Don't listen to that!  The game is going great!  There's some great play on the field, there.  Minseok passes to – Luhan.  Luhan's intercepted and the ball is now going in the other direction.  And Luhan's got it mostly down the field – field's absolutely empty – no, there's Tao coming up behind, looks like he wants the ball. Will Luhan pass it?  It looks like he will!”

           “No!  It's a fake-out!  Right at the net and it looks like Sehun's there.  No goal! No goal!”

           Baekhyun tried on another voice, a deep one that twanged over the words.  “Looks like the tides are turning, folks.  Tao's pitching a fit, so we'll be back in ten.”

           “Do you have a name?”  The question was sudden and direct.

           Baekhyun jumped at the look Jongin was giving him. “What?”

           “Do you have a name?”  Jongin's smile was patient as he repeated the question.

           “Yes.  Baekhyun.” He was startled and a little nervous and Jongin's leg was really warm on his ankle, or maybe that was just the inflammation.

           “What do you do when you're not hurt on the sidelines, Baekhyun?”

           “Oh, I'm a business major.  It's nothing interesting.  Lots of numbers and people.”  And it sounded just that boring when he said it aloud.

           Jongin twisted a couple of blades of grass in his fingers.  “You seem like you like people.”

           “I don't….What do you do?”

           “I keep hurt people company, of course.” Baekhyun wasn't sure if Jongin's smile intentionally got brighter, but it was almost blinding.

           “That's not what I meant!”

           Jongin laughed at his indignant face.  “I know.  I'm studying dance.”

           “Really?”  The excitement was clear in Baekhyun's voice.  “Are you any good?”

           Jongin's face fell.  “I'm working really hard, but I'm not good.  Not yet.”

           “You'll get there.”

           A scream from the field interrupted the conversation and the two turned back to the exciting game, commentating the actions on the field in increasingly ridiculous fashion.

 Final score: 3-1 Minseok.  Not that we noticed.

--

           Jongin smiles at the memory.  Baekhyun's words capture a different side of that day than he had ever seen before.  He – Jongin – had just been being nice; it was only fair that if Minseok's team lost a good player, Luhan's should as well.  And if they were both sitting out, why shouldn't they chat?

           He scratches at Kongju's head as he looks at the accompanying photo.  The intention of the photo had been to capture Team Minseok in their win (Minseok with his massive smile, hand on Chen's shoulder as Luhan pouted in the background), but a massive lens flare obscured most of the photo; the only thing distinguishable were the two figures sitting in the background.  They'd been having such a good time talking over the game that they'd been loathe to get up afterward.  Jongin remembers helping Baekhyun limp over to the crowd as they discussed where to go for dinner and marveling at the way the pale sun turned a soft gold as it caught in Baekhyun's hair.

           Kongju lifts her head and whines as Jongin reaches out to turn the page.  “It's okay, girl,” he said comfortingly, letting his hand back down to pet her head, “I'll pet you in just a minute.”

           She whines again, throwing her head back against his stomach.

           “It's okay, girl.  Sit still.”

           She settles back against him, dropping one of her great paws on her lap along with her head.  He chuckles and turns the page, crossing his legs to get more comfortable.  He groans at the picture.  It's a snapshot of him and Baekhyun – who took it? - playing the pepero game. There was no way they had gotten that close!  His eyes track across the page as he shakes his head, honing in on Baekhyun's neat silver penmanship, wondering just what Baekhyun had seen in this moment.  The letters shake just a little on the first words, as if Baekhyun had been laughing too hard to hold the pen steady. Junmyeon spent the night passed out in his bed…

--

           Junmyeon spent the night passed out in his bed. He'd had a few too many drinks; after the third time he fell into the couch trying to find the bathroom, Kris took pity on him and helped him to his room.  Taking advantage of Junmyeon's absence, Yixing made a blunt appear and passed it around.  Tao, temporarily lacking parental supervision, gave it a try.  Between coughs, he unleashed a spectacular string of Chinese swears at Yixing, and fell back into the wall, looking for someone to protect him.

           Between the booze and the weed, they really should have expected the suggestion of truth or dare – and the ensuing game.

           It started off fairly calm and relatively decent. The truths slowly became more outrageous and the dares more frequent – give a dance, sing a song, chug a beer – until Luhan took the dare offered him by Chen: kiss Minseok.  They weren't out and open with their relationship, but they were obvious enough that the others had suspicions, and maybe it was that fact, maybe it was the drugs, but there was no shame when Luhan kissed Minseok, heavy and open mouthed and way too long for the situation.  Suffice it to say that there were no more dares for the two of them.

           The highlight of the game was, however, when a very drunk Chanyeol made Jongin a dare that he could barely say without choking on his laughter, which really should have been a red flag.  “Play the pepero game with Baekhyun.”

           Jongin wasn't repulsed by the idea, and Baekhyun thought it would be all good fun – or maybe that was the alcohol talking – and suddenly there was a stick of pepero between their mouths.

           They were doing very well until Jongin could feel Baekhyun's breath on his face and something triggered in his brain and he panicked and broke off the game.  Baekhyun was bright red and Jongin was sure that was just the alcohol, but he was just as red.

           There was a triumphant roar and disappointed sighs as money changed hands.

I couldn't look him in the face for days.

--

           Kongju pushes her way further into Jongin's arms, her wet nose rubbing in his face as she moves, tail thumping on the couch.

           “Kongju, sit still!”  One hand holds the book up, protecting the pages, and the other pushes against Kongju's chest as he snaps the order.  She whines and licks his face a few times before obeying and lying heavily across his lap.  The weight is comforting as he turns the page.

           The black paper feels rougher against his fingers now, and there's a tickle in his throat at the picture centered on the left-hand page.  The seven of them – Minseok, Luhan, Baekhyun, Jongin, Tao, Kris, and Yixing– they're all in too big sweatshirts, most of them wearing sand covered jeans, and the ocean breeze has swept their hair up and up and up – are all laughing, smiles bigger than their faces and Jongin can feel the chill from that day sunk deep into his bones, even now.  As he moves his attention over to Baekhyun's writing, his thumb covers a pair of smiles – Luhan and Minseok, heads together, arms around each other, but they were always like that, off the field at least.

           The black ink is dark against the white page. We were stupid…

--

           “We were stupid to come out here,” Tao moaned. “It's too cold to swim and there's nothing to do but stand out on the beach.”

           His pouting was largely ignored in favor of setting a blanket out on the sand and distributing sandwiches.  It had been a long drive to make it to the beach, and they were all hungry.  Tao's mood would clear up once he had a little bit of food in him.  Somewhere within lunch, the conversation turned to the ocean, and what it pity it was they couldn't swim in it.  To make up for it, the suggestion was made – losers of Rock, Paper, Scissors had to go swim.  With disgusted groans Jongin and Baekhyun quickly lost.  While they went down the water, the others sat and chatted.

           Baekhyun only wandered in to the water to his waist, the cold water freezing all the way to his bones.  Teeth chattering, arms rubbing on himself, he tried to stay in long enough for it to count as 'swimming'.  Jongin, on the other hand, decided that if he was going to get in the water, he was going to get wet, and dove in head-first.  To his determination, the cold water wasn't too much of a problem.  Eventually he swam near Baekhyun, who was still freezing and chattering, wishing that they could just get out of the water soon.  The cold water shocked Jongin's lungs as he dove under, intent giving Baekhyun a scare.

           Instead of the shock of cold hands grabbing his ankles underwater, Baekhyun received the shock of Jongin going under the water and not coming up for what seemed like far too long.  In a panicked reaction, Baekhyun splashed over to where Jongin had gone under, finally braving the cold water enough to throw his hands in, searching for the other boy.  He managed to catch hold of Jongin and pull his head above water, where the boy coughed a little and managed to breathe again.  With the concern in mind, Baekhyun helped Jongin to the land, where the two were greeted by towels and a seat and cocoa from a thermos.  After the initial shock and panic had died down, a phone was procured and a selfie was taken of all of the boys.  Minseok and Luhan were hanging on each other; Tao, arm stretched out to hold the camera, was sitting alone, but close to Kris, avoiding the dripping boys as much as possible; Yixing was barely in the frame, looking like his attention had been gotten for just that moment; Kris was smiling, but also just trying to avoid the boys in the center – Jongin and Baekhyun. The two were completely soaked, hair and clothes plastered to their bodies and towels wrapped around their shoulders; cups of cocoa were clenched in their hands, but all of the boys looked so very happy.

 Only idiots would swim in water that cold.

--

           Irritated by Kongju's whining, Jongin pushes her off of his lap.  “Go out, girl.”  She stares at him for a moment before plodding off to wait at the door.  He pats her head as he grabs for her leash, and is surprised when she ducks away from him and steps backwards.  “Do you need to pee?  Then let's go out.”  She whines at him, pushes at the door again, and, getting no further responses from Jongin, curls back up on the couch.

           He sighs and sits back down next to her. “What was that about, girl?”

           She huffs at him and slowly wags her tail.

           He picks the book back up, turning to the next page.  An old recipe rubs under his fingers and he starts to read the next memory.  It was the first time…

--

           It was the first time Baekhyun had come to Jongin's apartment.  Jongin was in the kitchen, trying to make supper without accidentally feeding Kongju, who insisted on bumping into his hips every time he tried to move.  He was nervous – he and Baekhyun had only known each other a few weeks, but they'd been getting on very well, and, upon finding out that the other would be left alone over the weekend while his friends were on a business trip, Jongin invited him over for the day.  It was a fine idea until Jongin realized that the two would probably need food, and he couldn't cook much at all.  

           He was making what little he could when there was a knock at the door.  Hastily leaving the stove and throwing a “stay” at Kongju, he ran over to the door and pulled it open.

           “Welcome, come in, come in,” he said, backing up to let Baekhyun in, twisting a hand in his apron.  “You can just leave your shoes here – there's nowhere specific they need to go – and I do have some spare slippers if you -” A sharp bark interrupted his nervous words and he cursed, having forgotten to turn the burner off.

           As he ran back into the kitchen, the acrid smoke of a towel burning filling the air, Kongju came running out of the kitchen to investigate the visitor.  Distracted, Jongin didn't have time to give her sharp “stop” before he heard the clack of her nails on the wood floor as she launched herself with a happy bark at Baekhyun.

           Throwing a plate over the towel which, while technically not on fire, was still smoking, Jongin ran back to the main room.

           “Kongju!  Off!” He grabbed onto her collar and wrestled her great mass off of the visitor.  “I'm so sorry.  We're still working on appropriate behaviour around guests.”

           Baekhyun sat up, rubbing his chest.  “That is a big dog.”

           “Yes, she is.  Are you okay?”  Jongin had one hand on Kongju's collar and the other hovering above Baekhyun, anxious to make sure that he was okay, but too awkward to touch him.

           “I'm fine, I'm fine.”  He groaned as he stood up.  “How big is she?”

           “She's only about 40 kilos, but when it all lands on you like that… I'm so sorry.  Are you sure you're okay?”

           “Yeah.”  Baekhyun started to laugh.  “I wasn't expecting that.”

           Jongin was laughing too.  Once the two had calmed a little, Jongin sent Kongju to her crate and asked Baekhyun through to the kitchen, where a couple of chairs and an end table made for a makeshift dining table.  Apologizing for the setup, which Baekhyun assured him was fine, Jongin brought out the dinner he had prepared: hotdogs and crisps.  There had been beans to accompany, but they had been lost to the fire.

           The food was good, for being so slapdash and cheap, and Baekhyun thought that it was sweet Jongin would go to the lengths to cook when he so obviously didn't usually.  Baekhyun commented on the size of the apartment, and it's cleanliness. When they finished eating, Jongin just dumped the plates in the sink and the two moved back into the main room to hang out.

 And the whole place smelled just like Jongin.

--

           Jongin turns the page, sparing a glance for Kongju, who has settled her head on her paws and is just staring at him.  He's confused by the four-leaf clover that falls from between the pages, picking it up and letting it twirl between his fingers. Baekhyun's penmanship is shakier than previously here, but it is still perfectly legible.  It started pouring…

--

           It started pouring, on that summer day.  The sky had gone from beautiful, light, clear blue, to a roiling grey in a matter of moments, catching the boys by surprise. They yelled as they ran for the nearest shelter, hands over their heads.

           They sat in a corner of the bathroom facing the doorway; here they were far enough from the opening not to get wet, but close enough that it wasn't the grossest part of the bathroom.  The rain was very loud on the tin roof – they were in a nature preserve or the like, and the bathrooms weren't terribly high-tech. Thunder started rolling fairly quickly and Baekhyun nervously played with a four-leaf clover he had picked, twisting the stem between the pads of his fingers and tugging gently at the leaves while Jongin tried to make small talk.  Eventually the two both quieted and just sat to wait out the storm. Baekhyun was incapable of sitting still and quiet for very long, though, and started singing under his breath. When Jongin realized where the noise was coming from, he asked Baekhyun if he sang much.  Baekhyun said he didn't, and was flattered when Jongin complimented his voice and asked him to sing some more.

           The storm was long and loud, but their little space was peaceful and calm.  Baekhyun asked Jongin if he would dance, since Baekhyun had been singing, but Jongin said there wasn't enough room and he wasn't good enough yet.  As the storm died down, Jongin helped Baekhyun stand up and the two stood at the doorway, watching the way the grey parted for the warm yellow of the summer sun.

 It was worth the hoarse voice for that little moment of calm.

--

           It's starting to get a little unnerving, the way the Kongju is just sitting and staring at Jongin, and he spares her a little pat as he goes to turn the page.  She whines at his hand on her head, tail completely still.  He thinks that she's finally worn herself from her whining. He turns his attention back to the book, expecting a small photo or memento and a short memory, like the rest of the pages.  Instead, he is greeted by two pages covered by small, glinting, silver handwriting. Squeezed onto the page, the memory begins.  It was obsidian…

--

           It was obsidian stone, cut precisely, all sharp edges and glimmering faces, weighing in his stomach, slicing open his lungs.  Baekhyun curled onto his bed, disregarding the papers scattered there – grade cards covered in red, papers never completed, rent reminders and bills – and pulled his knees to his chin, wrapping his hands around his stomach tightly. The pressure wasn't as comforting as he had hoped, but it was better than nothing, and at least this way his innards wouldn't be able to spill out when the knives inside of him inevitably slit him open.  Everything was black, was black, was black and weighted, pressing on his head and his eyes and his skin until he wanted to cry – to scream – to sob from the pain. He shuddered as his fingers scrabbled at his sides, trying to find something to hold on to as his mind told him he was falling falling falling.  The buzz of his phone echoed in his head, filling the space between his ears and he didn't care because at least it was louder than the thoughts echoing there.  Lacking the energy to even think of answering, he pressed his forehead into his knees.  If asked, he couldn't have said whether his eyes were closed or the world had just gone black.  

           All of his focus, all of his energy, went to the pain of the obsidian in his abdomen.  It jabbed into his lungs, making him gasp for breath.  It stabbed his heart, making it beat erratically. It sliced his veins open, filling his lungs.  It punctured his arteries, coating his organs.  He thought he was drowning.  He thought he was dying.

           He thought it might be easier – better – that way.

           And then there was a click at the door – barely recognized in the fog of his mind, barely distinguished from the echoes already there – and it swung open quietly.  Jongin's feet moved quickly, quietly.  The door was shut and he had made it to Baekhyun's bed, not that it was far, the studio apartment was so small, so small.  

           And Baekhyun was so small with his knees at his chest and his forehead tilted to meet them and his arms hugging himself so tightly.  Jongin hurriedly set the bag in his hands down on the floor and grabbed a pillow off of the floor.  He propped it against the headboard of the bed and slid his hands under Baekhyun.

           If Baekhyun looked small, shivering on his bed, he felt even smaller in Jongin's arms.  He was so thin, like he hadn't eaten properly in weeks, like he would break if Jongin held him too tightly.  Jongin's strong hands sat Baekhyun up so, so carefully and, with great effort, Baekhyun opened his eyes.  Unfocused, they watched Jongin bend back down to pick up the bag, sit back down on the bed.

           He felt, rather than saw, something small and warm pressed into his hands.  His fingers were forced around something small, thin, metallic.  Jongin's worried eyes watched as Baekhyun simply sat there, fingers limp around the bowl, spoon falling, splashing soup onto their pants. It was a soft motion when he reached out to take back the dishes, ever so carefully pulling them from Baekhyun's hands, which released them far too easily.

           Baekhyun's mouth opened reflexively when the warm metal of the spoon pressed against it, lips parting just enough for Jongin to tip the soup in.  A few more bites and Baekhyun's eyes focused and his hand came to grab the spoon.  Jongin helped him with first few bites, then let him feed himself, staying close to him, one hand at his back, the other hovering to assist if needed.

           Once Baekhyun had finished the soup, some small colour returning to his cheeks and his eyes losing their focus again, Jongin pulled the bowl away from him.  Picking him up again, Jongin helped Baekhyun lay down, carefully arranging the small boy to be as comfortable as possible.  He pulled the covers up to Baekhyun's chin and smoothed down his hair, rubbed his back gently.

           “Baek,” Jongin's voice was a little rough, very hushed. “Baek, I'll stop by after practice. Try to get some sleep, all right?”

           Baekhyun stared blankly at the wall as Jongin locked the door behind himself.

             It was still so empty.

--

           Stunned, Jongin turns the page quickly.  His eyes fall immediately upon the perfectly formed words and he begins to read.  People always say that hospitals are too white…

--

           People always say that hospitals are too white. As Baekhyun opened his eyes, he learned why.  The white walls and floor and sheets blinded him, scared him, feeling too close to his own mind.  He was so sore, all over, but especially his head and – his throat.  His throat.  It burned as he breathed; it burned as he swallowed.  His eyes watered at the pain and he tried to reach up to brush them off, but was met with resistance.  Something was tugging on his arm, in his hand, and it hurt to move against it.  He mewled against the pain, voice rasping and catching and tearing his throat raw again.  There was a noise to his right; he turned his head as much as possible and was stunned to see Jongin jerking awake, one hand rubbing at his eyes as he leaned forward, worried eyes darting across Baekhyun.

           Baekhyun was confused, but he found his voice first, rasping out against his raw throat, “What's going on?”

           Jongin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting to the door.  “I don't know if – I don't think – I don't know, Baekhyun.”  He sighed, eyes never leaving Baekhyun's face, fingers twisting at his jacket.  “Do you, ah, do you remember?  Anything?”

           Baekhyun shook his head, but his concern had been mounting with every word out of Jongin's mouth because he didn't usually sound so scratchy.  So destroyed.

           “Okay.  They – the doctors – they said that might happen.  I'll go get a nurse, just wait here.”  And with that, Jongin left the room, returning a moment later with a nurse.

           A bevy of doctors followed – physicians and surgeons and psychiatrists and psychologists – and they examined Baekhyun and asked him questions he couldn't answer, couldn't answer.  Eventually, one of them, seeing Baekhyun's distress, patted his leg and, on his way out of the room, said, “I think this might go better if you explain things to him.”

           Jongin stared after him, hands gripping his knees and eyes wide, before sinking back into himself.  He coughed, clearing his throat, but his voice still came out rough, strangled. “Do you really not remember anything?”

           “I don't.  Why, what happened?”  His heart rate was accelerating as he began to panic, fueled by Jongin's nervousness.

           Jongin sighed and dropped his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself before speaking in that strangled voice.  “Baekhyun, you – I – we don't know if it was intentional, or an accident, or - ,” he closed his eyes and breathed out harshly.  “You tried to kill yourself.”

           Baekhyun's eyes scrunched, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he tried to process this information.  “What?”

           “You – you,” Jongin inhaled sharply, “you tried to kill yourself.  I came back from practice, I was going to check on you, get you to eat something, but...” He shuddered and shook his head, trying to roll out the stress, avoid the tears.  “Bleach.  You'd – bleach – and all I could do – I called 119.  You don't remember anything?”

           “No.”  Baekhyun huddled in on himself, mind reeling at this information.  “Why would I...that...why?  Why?”

           Jongin shook his head.  “I don't know.”  After a moment's pause, he cleared his throat and spoke again, voice rasping.  “Baek, I know it's not the best time, but...”

           He was terrified of what this might be. “What?”

           “There was a plane crash, Baek.  Yesterday.  Early yesterday morning.  It was a flight, Beijing to Seoul and it crashed.  Five survivors.”

           His brain wasn't working.  The information refused to process.  There was no way Jongin was saying what he thought he was saying. It wasn't possible.  There was too much.  It was too much.  The world couldn't be that cruel.

           “Baekhyun, are you listening to me?”  Jongin's voice caught in his throat and it took a minute to come unstuck, turning sideways on its way up and strangling him. “Baekhyun, I said they're dead. Kris and Luhan and Tao.  Their plane crashed and they died.”

           Baekhyun knew he should probably have some kind of reaction, but all he felt was numb.  “And Lay?”

           “He's not dead, yet.  He's hurt really badly, but he's not dead.”

           The room was silent save for the beeps of the machines Baekhyun was hooked to, the machines making sure he was alive.

           “Baekhyun,” Jongin's voice broke and he started to shake, hunching over into himself, “You – you knew about the crash, before you – before you,” he choked, a sob escaping in a rushed gasp.  “They're already gone.  Why would you leave, too?”

           Baekhyun caught him as he collapsed, sobbing.

 This I survived.

--

           This I survived.  The words are written above a hospital bracelet – Baekhyun's hospital bracelet.  Jongin rubs at his neck, trying to loosen the stress from his shoulders.  He remembers that day – those days, really, it took hours for Baekhyun to wake up, and then he had to stay overnight again – in the hospital.

           He whistles at Kongju, who lifts her head at the noise.  “Come here, girl,” he pats his lap.

           She whines as she stretches and plods into his lap. She's big enough she barely has to sit up to lick his face.  Restless again, she lies nicely in his lap but whines and growls and hits her tail on the sofa.

           Jongin doesn't think anything about it; she's an active dog who likes attention.  Sometimes she gets like this.  He turns the page, the pain of the last memory still raw and piercing his heart. This page is comparatively empty. There's a ticket stub – some concert they'd gone to, a year past, that was way too loud and the mics weren't balanced correctly because the band was new and had shit sound guys.  It was way too cold… the memory begins, and Jongin laughs, startling Kongju, because it was.  It was -freezing that day.

--

           It was way too cold for a walk, but they'd still decided to go.  The concert had ended less than an hour previous, and Baekhyun's ears were still ringing, but the river was beautiful.  Baekhyun laughed as Jongin tried to surreptitiously warm his fingers under his arms.  While both of them had remembered scarves, neither had thought to bring proper gloves. Still grinning, Baekhyun grabbed Jongin's wrist and brought it to his face.  He exhaled gently on the frozen fingers, letting his warm breath warm them through.  Too focused on Jongin's hands to notice his face, Baekhyun failed to notice how focused Jongin's gaze was.  He failed to notice how much Jongin wondered what Baekhyun's lips feel like.

           “Tuck them in your scarf,” Baekhyun said, demonstrating with his free hand.  “They'll stay warmer that way.”

           Jongin quickly retracted his hand to follow the advice.  They walked a little more, Baekhyun chattering and Jongin watching Baekhyun, the way he looked out at the river and the lights like a little kid, the way he skipped a little when he walked in the cold, the way his hands tucked into his scarf like paws.

           He looked soft and Jongin reacted to something that he hadn't known was in him.  Grabbing Baekhyun's arm, Jongin stopped their walking, looked at Baekhyun, even and determined and little scary, and, taking advantage of Baekhyun's confusion, pressed their lips together.

           It only lasted a second, little more than a brush of the lips, and Jongin pulled back, bright red and refusing to meet Baekhyun's eyes.

It only lasted a second, and I wanted more.

--

           Jongin jumps at Kongju's sharp bark.  She stares up at him, dark eyes wide and sorrowful, and whines.  The noise pierces Jongin like a needle.

           “Shh, girl, it's okay.  You're safe.  We're safe. Lie, girl.  Kongju, lie down.”  His tone is placating and the orders are sharp and clear and she has to obey him, but she doesn't seem happy about it.  Her tail is down and so are her ears as she slides herself off of the couch to lie on the floor.  “That's it, girl.  Stay.”

           Jongin turns the page and is met by a brilliant yellow decorating the borders of the pages, framing a picture – a selfie – of him and Baekhyun together at a performance.  The handwriting, sloppier than usual, written quickly, in excitement, scattered with emojis, is also in that yellow, that yellow which pops so much against the matte black of the page.  He moved like water…

--

           He moved like water on stage.  Where some of the other dancers were all right angles and sharp movements, Jongin flowed in every motion, a grace attributed to his classical training, but Baekhyun thought that maybe that grace was really just an intrinsic part of the man.

           There was a group dance.  There were a few actually, but Baekhyun didn't notice because all he could see was Jongin.  Jongin in that brilliant yellow spotlight that was a little too bright and a little too strong and hurt to see, but it was a good hurt because somehow that light was Jongin and Baekhyun wasn't sure whether the light was shining on Jongin or from him.

           And Baekhyun watched the way Jongin's feet skipped across the floor, never touching anywhere they didn't intend, never giving anything more than necessary.  And Baekhyun watched Jongin's arms flow, pulling the rest of his body after them, forcing him into perfection.  And Baekhyun watched Jongin's torso twist and turn and place just so, connecting the feet to the arms to the face that was contorting with emotion and completing the performance.

           And Baekhyun looked at Jongin and just knew that this man he loved and this man he would always love and it pierced straight through him, but he didn't feel like he was bleeding.

           After the performance, when the lights had died and the dancers became but human once again, Baekhyun found Jongin.  He found him with a giant grin on both of their faces. Baekhyun grabbed Jongin into a hug, and it was hot and sweaty and stank because dancing is a lot of work, but it was perfect, the way they fit together.  Baekhyun pressed his face into Jongin's neck, trying to feel this man and trying to be felt by this man, before pulling back with his face obscured by a smile.

           “You were fantastic,” he said and meant every word.

           Jongin pulled him back into the hug, crushing him in his arms, thanking him.

           They went out for ice cream after Jongin had washed and changed, sitting together in a booth, daring each other to try increasingly strange flavours.  Baekhyun begged for barbeque afterward and Jongin relented; the meat was good but the company was better.  It was a late night to follow, with video games late into the night at Jongin's. They sat together on the couch, feet touching in the center, Kongju spread heavily across their laps.

           It was everything Baekhyun could have wished for, but more, and he decided that – that light? - that was emitted by Jongin, it had to have been, because it was still there.  Baekhyun wondered how the world existed without Jongin in it. Baekhyun knew he loved that brilliant yellow.

 And this man? - This man I love and love and love.

--

           He has never realized how much that day meant to Baekhyun.  To him, it had been just another day. To Baekhyun, it had obviously been so much more.  Jongin goes to turn the page only to be startled by Kongju jumping up.  She stands at the arm of the couch, alert and on watch.  She's bred to guard, so the behaviour is not unusual.  Jongin pats her on the head and stretches himself down across the couch. Jongin didn't hurt himself a lot…

             Jongin didn't hurt himself a lot, but when he did, he'd sit on the couch with a good book and ice down the injury.  Baekhyun had gotten used to this routine, choosing to plop himself down next to Jongin anytime the book came out.  On this day, Jongin had his foot resting on the coffee table, an ice bag sitting on his knee and a thick blue book in his hands.  Baekhyun settled next to him to watch some TV. Quietly, quietly, of course.

           After a while, Baekhyun grew bored and began to mess with Jongin.  It was a game.  How far could he go before Jongin snapped?

           He never found out.  As Baekhyun was messing with Jongin, Kongju walked into the room and, seeing Baekhyun's actions, decided the boy wanted to play.  Taking a running start, she attempted to jump over Jongin's leg and land on Baekhyun's lap, but she was just too big.

           She crashed into Jongin's leg, pushing him over and down on to Baekhyun.  Both boys toppled to the ground and Kongju, thinking it looked like great fun, jumped on top of the pile.  The boys were pushed together by the massive weight of the dog and both blushed at the position.

 That dog is really too big.

--

           Kongju whines at the door.  Jongin turns the page.  Jongin was fast asleep...

--

           Jongin was fast asleep as Baekhyun slipped out of bed in the morning.  Last night had been a bad night for him; luckily, Jongin was always willing to let Baekhyun crash in his bed.  He wandered over to the shower, quickly scrubbing down with Jongin's body wash – which he loved doing, loved the way he smelled like Jongin for the rest of the day – and cleaned his hair.  He barely bothered to finish drying off before smearing on some makeup.  He had gotten very good at putting on the makeup; it was nearly always perfect.  Lazily, he headed out of the bathroom to scrounge some clothes up from Jongin's dresser. He sang absentmindedly, habit directing his actions far more than reason.

           Baekhyun wasn't far into the bedroom before a pillow met his face.  There wasn't much time to be offended, though, as his boyfriend slid out of bed after the pillow and crawled across the floor to plant his face in Baekhyun's side.

           “I let you stay here,” he mumbled groggily. “You let me sleep.”

           Baekhyun pulled at Jongin's hair in irritation.  Jongin retaliated by pulling on the man's legs, knocking him to the ground.  Laying on top of him, Jongin pet Baekhyun's thigh and started kissing at Baekhyun's side, at the perfect, straight scars that traced down his side.

           The kisses were tired, quiet, soft.  With each kiss, Jongin muttered “I love you” in to Baekhyun's side in his rough, just woken voice.  Jongin was so happy the scars weren't fresh.

 I could have stayed like that forever.

--

           There are only two pages left in the book.  Jongin ignores Kongju as she whines at the door in favor of reading the next page.  Jongin rubbed his ass...

--

           Jongin rubbed his ass.  His voice was incredulous as he addressed Baekhyun. “What the fuck!?”

           Baekhyun rolled his eyes, sitting back on his heels. “I once bit Sehun's but while he was sleeping.”

           Jongin scoffed.  “That's supposed to make me feel better?”

           “Yeah.”

           “How?”

           “You were awake.”

           Jongin stared.  He could not believe the words coming out of Baekhyun's mouth right now.

           Baekhyun quickly backpedaled at the lack of response. “You could have stopped me!”

           Jongin glared daggers at him.

           Baekhyun instinctively covered his crotch.

           “Fuck you, Byun Baekhyun.”

           The bathroom door slammed shut behind Jongin.

 As ways to fuck up go, that was, at least, funny.

--

           Kongju has given up her whining, choosing instead to stand at the door and stare at Jongin.  Thankful for the quiet, Jongin settles into the soft cushions, briefly closing his eyes and stretching his arms.  It's been a long day already, but he's enjoying the memories as he goes through Baekhyun's book.  As he turns the page, his fingers catch on a paperclip, dislodging a paper that's been hastily added.

           The paper is old and grey and torn from something else, edges rough and fraying.  On it is that handwriting, always so familiar, Baekhyun's neat lines, but here it wanders and shakes, as if trying to find its way in the dark.  Jongin's hand involuntarily shakes as he straightens the page.

           It takes less than a moment for the lines to register in his brain, the black searing into his retinas, hovering in his vision even when he glances away for a split second, wishing – hoping – praying – that he is mistaken.  The words are wrong, so wrong, they aren't Baekhyun, but they have to be because the black lines are his handwriting, absolutely.

           The second glance confirms the words and the book is falling falling falling.

I'm sorry

           There's a thud as the couch rocks backwards and falls back on its feet.

I'm

           There's a crash as the coffee table tips over, the days-old mugs shattering on the floor.

so

           There's a slam as the door smashes shut behind him.

sorry

           There's a whine as Kongju pushes her head against the dark wood, waiting.

Jongin

           The book sits, splayed open to that brilliantly yellow page and waits with her.

This isn't to hurt you

           The elevator is too slow for Jongin's impatience, terror and he flies down the stairs instead, jumping to the landing from halfway up, swinging around on the handrail, counting the flights.

I don't want to hurt you

           6…5...4...3...2...1

It's just too much

           He smashes through the doors at the ground floor, startling the lone woman in the lobby at this time of night.  He jumps over her bag and fumbles at the front door handle.

I can't do this

           It's a twenty minute walk with good traffic to Baekhyun's, but he makes it in five.

I can't do it

           He pounds on the elevator button, but the damn thing is broken again.

           It's eight flights of stairs and he thinks his chest is going to burst but he makes it to Baekhyun's door.

It's too much, Jongin

           His vision's blurring from sweat and tears and adrenaline and he can't find the right key and his stone fingers drop it and it won't go in the lock and the door finally, finally creaks open.

I'm so, so sorry

           The white floor is red-flecked – blood, slowly congealing.  It freezes Jongin in the doorway.

I've been fighting this for years

           His heart stops as his eyes track the dull-red blood.

But sometimes the dragon wins

           A knife on the counter, blood dried on the handle, dripping off the blade.

And I'm not the dragon

           A rope, unused, unused, lying next to the knife like an afterthought.

           There's so much blood.

Don't try to do anything

           So much.

           So much and it's pooled on the floor and Jongin doesn't want to look.  Doesn't want to see.

You've done everything you can

           Doesn't want to see Baekhyun, splayed on the floor like a broken doll.

You've done everything you should have

           Doesn't want to see Baekhyun's eyes glazed as they stare at the door.

Thank you for everything

           Doesn't want to see how still the boy's chest is.

There's nothing left to do

           Doesn't want to see doesn't want to see doesn't want to hurt.

I love you

           Jongin's heart stops.

This time, too late.

this || alternate ending

[wadjaya]

I wanna write cool fight scenes

    Rita peered through the slats of the ventilation shaft, her keen gaze easily making out the entryway to the gym. Along with it, she noticed all of the workout equipment- much of it shoved off to the sides to make a small circle toward the middle of the room, probably no more than five-feet in radius. In that circle- standing about two feet apart from one another- the targets of her snooping today.

    On one side, Naunet Mesi. Standing at an adorable five-foot-four, she stretched her shoulders by crossing each respective arm across her body and holding it there with the other elbow. Her hair was freshly double bun’d on the back of her head. Her mouth moved, though her words were too quiet for the snoopy skunk to make out. Rita watched her eyes narrow as something said seemed to ignite a competitive spirit.

    On the other, Wepwawet Wadjaya. Towering over her at six-foot-seven, the Angel of Death himself was about three-quarters facing away from Rita’s view, but his muscles were clearly visible against the back of his black tank top as the man stretched his shoulders by pulling his arms behind his head and back one by one. She couldn’t see his mouth move, but she was more used to picking out his voice from afar and so could make out a few of his words.

    “Like we used to?” With that question, Wepwawet made a point to do something at his front, outside of Rita’s view. Best guess: he had to tie his grey sweatpants a little tighter.

    Naunet, without immediately answering, bent down on one knee to stretch the other leg before swapping. Her mouth moved in what *might* have been a ‘yes, is that a problem?’ Her t-shirt was a bit more conservative than their unseen watcher would have liked- though it was clearly old. Likely just what she had packed for her journey to California, and the baggy gym shorts didn’t quite give away as much as Rita had hoped. That said, it was clear just from watching their muscles flex throughout the stretches that Naunet was almost as built as Wepwawet. Her focus seemed to be more around her upper body and abdominal regions, but Rita could make out what could have been some rather tight abs every few moments throughout the scene before her. Wepwawet, she had known, tended to focus on Arms, shoulders, and legs. Not that his abs weren’t noticeable, but he definitely had to flex them more than she seemed to.

    “No problem, just making sure you weren’t too out of practice. I never quit fighting, so just be careful.”

    Naunet didn’t even bother gracing Wepwawet’s concern with a response, a clearly incredulous look coming onto her features as she stood up and shifted into a fighting stance. Her hands never balled into fists and her feet were ready to move as she bounced slightly every quarter of a second. For his part, Wepwawet took more of a boxer’s stance. His feet were spread in a way he could more easily step to his sides and his fists balled in front of his face as though ready to adapt to her attack. Naunet’s arms were held with one closer to her face and one further ahead, seemingly prepared to take the initiative or to defend.

    The two waited like that for a few moments, each figure bouncing slightly every quarter-second or so as they seemingly waited for something. Rita tried to listen for some sort of cue, but the two suddenly began to move after about five seconds passed.

    Naunet took a long stride around Wep’s left side, her open palm reaching for a blow at his side just below the ribs. 

His elbow knocked her hand away and his whole body leaned to the right with his right arm pulling back to attempt a strong swing. 

Naunet’s left hand caught his right wrist with a forceful upward shove and her left leg stepped over her right in order to balance out that force. 

She seemed to see a moment to move as her eyes moved toward his belly. Her left arm pulled back a bit and shoved into his right abdominal region, forcing a heavy breath out of Wep as his entire massive form was shoved backward.

His left leg found traction and he stayed standing mainly on his left toes, the momentum leading him into a roundhouse kick around his right side.

Rita picked up on Naunet’s sharp exhale as the girl narrowly ducked under the rapid spin. Threat avoided, Naunet pressed her advantage with a palm strike at Wep’s left thigh, connecting with a muted smack right along the outside part of his leg.

Wep, mid recovery from his spin, fell forward- at this point facing away from Naunet and exclaimed in a series of curses.

“Fucking- OW!” 

“Who’s out of practice, again?” Naunet’s singsong reply brought a smirk to Rita’s face as she’d imagined so many times how nice it’d be to let Wep get a taste of his own medicine once in a while.

“Alright, point for you. Give me a sec. Fucking- pressure points are cheating.” As he complained, Wepwawet stood back up and massaged the area of his thigh which had been harshly smacked just a moment before. A nerve, maybe?

Rita looked over Naunet- only able to see her back at this angle, but more than pleased with the view regardless. The shorts were too baggy for her to pick out any fine details on the booty side of things, but the sweat coming down her neck and back were soaking the grey shirt already. Rita could actually follow the wrinkles in the fabric to trace a vague outline of her sharp shoulder blades and tensed middle back. 

Rita noticed her face growing a bit warmer at the sight.

“Round two, ready up.” Wepwawet, seemingly finished with his brief massage, got back into his boxer’s stance as Naunet widened her own. This time, Rita noticed Wep’s lips mouthing something, perhaps a silent countdown?

On a final lip movement- probably a ‘go-’ Wepwawet immediately made a simple jab with his right fist aimed squarely at Naunet’s chin. The woman easily turned to avoid it, ducking down to sweep out his legs with her right foot. Anticipating the movement, Wepwawet easily hopped over and paused a moment as Net stood herself back up. 

Rita had never known Wep to be much of a kicker, given that he didn’t have an extra ball and chain of reach.

Aware of that, Naunet used her time to shift into a lower stance- arms bent just a little ahead of the curve of her back. Wepwawet reached outward- seemingly to try and grab at Net’s shirt- only for the woman to duck right under his arm and jab two fingers from her left hand directly into his left lower back. 

The action conjured a pained groan from Wepwawet, but he turned with his left arm tensed for an improvised clothesline type of hit. Her center already lowered, Naunet fell sideways with a smack as her hands caught her on the tiled floor. 

Best Rita could tell, Naunet didn’t say a word as she steadily pushed herself onto her feet. Wep watched with his stance relaxed before saying anything.

“My point?”

The woman lightly rubbed her left cheek as her gaze- previously competitive- hardened. 

Wepwawet shrugged as she set herself back to the more-or-less center of the circle, mirroring her position and changing up his stance a bit. As opposed to the previous defensive boxer stance, he held his arms out at either side and somewhat aligned them with the curve of his back- a more evasive start?

This time, Rita could see Naunet’s lips silently counting down before the girl’s eyes shimmered with a brighter blue.

In no time, her entire body seemed to pass his. Based on the flinches and grunts of Wep, Naunet must have landed a blow around his stomach and elbowed his lower back in one swift motion.

Without even taking stock of the hits, Wepwawet was already turning to return the damage with a vicious right-haymaker.

Naunet easily avoided the attack, and Rita could just keep up with the blue blur of the woman’s hair as she once more dipped around her opponent. Where Rita anticipated a nasty jab toward the back of his neck, instead she realized Wepwawet had already turned to face his opponent. 

Seemingly accustomed to Naunet’s speed, Wepwawet raised his knee in a feint to force the woman to his right- bringing her form to a halt as his arm was ready to catch her by a hair bun.

With the incredibly brief pause of this escalating brawl, Wepwawet made his opportunity to set his foot back down and grab her neck with his free hand. Naunet made no move to grab his wrist- one which would concern any unseen voyeurs above- and instead raised her less stable foot to give a strong kick just above his pelvis region.

Wep, in spite of bracing for something like that, was forced back into a more awkward hold- one which Naunet broke simply by pulling away. 

After that brief reset in the fight, Naunet continued to unleash a barrage of small blows with incredible speed for a human- all the while Rita noting the vicious blue glow of the woman’s bloodthirsty gaze.

Was this sparring, anymore?

Wepwawet- tank that he is- was taking the hits like a champion. It was clear by now that Naunet knew how to take down targets larger than herself, but even in spite of that anatomical knowledge it seemed that Wepwawet’s will was stronger than any body. It was only when he exhausted any other basic reaches and holds that Wepwawet finally succumbed to their new ruleset and allowed the emerald glow of his own irises to be revealed.

Just like that, with hardly a move from him, Naunet tumbled over her own feet and rolled back into a stand. 

“Took you long enough to get serious.” Naunet’s one messy bun threatened to come undone as the girl bounced in her stance- ready for anything. Her expression gave Rita absolutely no sense that this fight was intended to be ‘fun’ any more. As if to confirm her concerns, Naunet spit out her next words.

“Or did you think I wasn’t good enough to take seriously?”

“Wasn’t?” Was Wep’s simple response. 

Rita couldn’t even track Naunet as the girl rushed forward in a blur, Wep’s block and following tremors through his form merely implying that he had read her attack and narrowly covered his face as though he were in a boxing ring.

His return wide swing curved unnaturally as it transitioned into an awkward uppercut which- based on the loud smack which reverberated in the empty gym- caught Naunet on the jaw. That much, at least, became clear as the girl was thrown backwards out of her blurry rush and slid toward the edge of their rough circle.

“Point?” Wepwawet didn’t even relax his stance as he called out, seemingly not one to trust that they were honoring their little system anymore.

Naunet, for her part, stood up from that hit like a champ. Rita even picked up on a small ‘pop’ as the woman adjusted her jaw with one hand. The messier bun had now come entirely undone in all the action, and the wild look combined with the obvious sweat pouring down her cheeks led Rita to believe that this must be wrapping up soon.

Until the bruises inevitably started to form though, it was hard for the girl to deny that Naunet looked pret-ty hot at that moment. If more than a little scary.

“Point.” Naunet’s simple acknowledgement was followed by yet another brief flash of her eyes. Before Rita even realized anything happened, Naunet was already rushing the man.

Wepwawet instinctively lifted his arms to block, only for her nimble form to catch his hands in her own and pull her over. Time seemed to slow as the two watched Naunet- appearing slower due to her motion primarily being the work of gravity at that moment- flipped herself over his block and pushed herself into the air over his head.

With precision which Rita couldn’t even imagine, the woman somehow fell head-first facing away from Wep’s back as her legs crossed around his neck.

Her hands caught her on the tiled floor as Rita watched a powerful flick of her hips and strong flexing of her thighs pull Wepwawet backward and trap him.

The next thing either he or Rita knew, he was face first on the ground after Naunet threw his entire 230-ish pound body over her own tiny frame. Naunet recovered from the attack as he fell by cartwheeling into that momentum, her full height stood up as his chest finally landed.

And continued to slide, crashing into an elliptical that had been shoved aside to form this impromptu fight pit.

“Point!” Naunet punctuated her simple declaration by undoing the remaining bun, allowing her hair to fall more or less correctly after a good shake of her head.

Wepwawet groaned as the reality of what had actually happened in that last second of the fight hit him.

“God, I hope no one saw that.”

Naunet glanced over toward Rita, seemingly directly at the girl watching them that whole time.

“Oh, I hope someone did.” With a brief chuckle, she turned back toward her victim with only a hint of apology. “I got a bit intense there. Here- Lenny’s is on me.”

[vroenis]

Reaching Out, Reaching In

It would be criminal not to use ABIIOR for the lede given I’m going to quote Matty albeit not quite verbatim - nevertheless - buy this album, it’s incredible.

But of-course, I’m going to start by talking about

BT

I mention BT a lot; he enters the lists often in my writing, in my discussions. Like many artists in my collection and listening rotation, I seem to be really into an artist for a period of time and then reach a cutoff point where I stop being into them. This probably happens for most people, I don’t know, I’ve not asked most people, but I do want to be very careful of not living in the past or rather dying in it. Still, I like to keep finding new things or rather I’m compelled to. I enjoy things that continue to grow older each second time passes, but I always thirst for new creations by all artists of all ages, whether they bring to bear the experience of years, or they’ve only been around for a few. The point is everyone is here on this wild ride and art is their response to the stimuli; it’s what comes out of us in abstract and semi-abstract, re-translated and it forms these amazing emotional and often transcending connections and multifaceted responses in us and by us I mean me.

I’m getting distracted.

In the last and understandably downcast piece on my deathbed playlist, there are three key BT albums and it’s worth noting the years he released them;

2006 - This Binary Universe

2012 - Nuovo Morceau Subrosa

2016 - _ (untitled - there’s a story, you can look it up if you like, it’s more or less just referred to as the character *underscore*(verbal))

There were other albums in-between but naturally those don’t make the list as far as what I want to be hearing if I’m half or unconscious or in a delirium on my way to imminent death. In 2019, BT released two albums;

October 2019 - Between Here And You

December 2019 - Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear

You may remember I wrote a whole lot about 2009 - 2019 and these albums were absent.

If you go to the wiki for BT, which are his initials for Brian (Wayne) Transeau, you’ll see a wonderfully rich history of a stupendously talented musician and immensely intelligent individual. He is part of a collective of people most wouldn’t know about (which is perfectly fine, to be honest) who are responsible for the digital audio revolution that has completely changed the way we create, record, produce, publish and distribute music as we know it. There are parts of that people may think are negative and some elements certainly are, but the net benefit is unquestionably positive even if only on the sole subject of accessibility. Accessible digital audio has put creation and power within reach of everyone and of-course this means there’s a glut of material available, but it also means we catch sight of more amazing art rather than never see it, or it not seeing the light of day. I lean on humans seeing it and saying that directly rather than speaking in abstract. The light of day is literally us - we humans, seeing the expressions of one-another and hopefully remunerating appropriately so that we can continue to live and improve each other’s lives.

I have always had and continue to have immense respect for BT. He began writing This Binary Universe when his daughter was born, and as she grew, continued working on the album with this tiny infant often in his lap as he worked. He wrote it from creation in 5.1 surround sound, rather than all other “surround sound mixes” being done in retrospect from the stereo stems. It is an astonishing work and See You On The Other Side may very well be one of the greatest pieces of music in history. When I first listened to TBU in 2006, I  had a myriad of emotional responses and I certainly didn’t have as much knowledge of BT’s creation process and background for the album at the time, but I can appreciate that shortly thereafter upon learning it, it probably does form biases in how I feel about the album. This will be important to the discussion later. Nevertheless, the album feels massively injected with specific intent and yes, surely every artistic work is regardless and we’ll get there. This is going to be personal but all writing is - that doesn’t warrant further discussion, we should always be making that assumption.

I follow BT on Instagram and saw him build his awesome new studio, an amazing space for all his gear and synths and something any music professional would love to have in some way... which I may check in a moment, or perhaps not so soon but I hope I don’t forget to come back to that. I will say that I do like it. It is a wonderful playground of vintage, rare and new synths, of super powerful computers with extremely new software and plugs, of high-end analogue desks and outboard units, extremely nice monitors and custom designed absorbers, panels, racks and furniture. It is an absolutely amazing space.

After the studio was finished, he did some collabs with some other artists and folks, some of which I also follow on Instagram whose setups are wildly different so it was nice to see some cross-over. He also interspersed with increasing regularity work on his albums which included clips of 100+ piece orchestras and often DAW session captures of the stems and him working on them. It was all pretty cool and the tiny snippets he posted were rad.

In October 2019, I was travelling to visit family due to cancer treatment, something that’s been at the centre of my life for well over 18 months, and I have my first full listen-thru of Between Here And You on an early morning when the rest of the house is asleep. It’s pretty great, sonically I like it a lot. I don’t have the same response to TBU but I don’t expect to, I should give it a chance, but it still doesn’t elicit a really significant response in me. At this point it has to be said that on the same trip, I have my first full listen-thru of Telefon Tel Aviv’s Dreams Are Not Enough, having slept on its initial September release, and that might be enough to give context to how I responded - it may have been where my head was at and remains to this day. I couldn’t shake it tho, as I still really have an affinity for TBU and I was wondering what was up.

Fast-forward to December and the release of Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear, and I do not respond to this album at all. It has some decent BT synth and sample work in it that exhibits his amazing talent, but it’s cut with orchestral and choral music that to me is indistinct from any other contemporary material available on a Pandora channel playing similar genres. I hate the sound of myself being so critical of someone I admire so much, because for someone who can write bangin’ trance and intricately complicated micro-rhythms and sample-chopped music, someone who writes their own freaken’ software and who edits audio down to the sample because their attention to detail is so specific and demanding - for that same person to be so talented to also be able to write scores and choral vocal arrangements is immense. I’m sure it all means so much to BT and I’m so proud of him for creating what to him must be an amazing work. I’m not trying to say anything negative about the work itself...

But I just don’t respond to it. Almost all the other music I’ve been listening to over the last 10 years including very recently, feels like it’s been created in response to extremely personal experiences that haven’t all been great - singular or accumulations of events that have precipitated significant introspection, and the art that has resulted from it for me reflects it clearly. BT’s two albums feel like... a very fortunate and privileged guy who’s had a lot of time and opportunity to play with his gear, record it and release it. The title also sounds presumptuous as if to position that systemic poverty and oppression and struggle outside of ones’ control can be solved by the oppressed simply stopping being afraid and I border on hating it every time I read it... - and that sounds so horribly mean because it is, I don’t intend for it to be mean. I need to check my expectations and I need to respect that Brian is still doing what he wants to do and he doesn’t owe me anything, least of all in something as abstract as how something sounds and whether or not I like it, because ultimately that’s all I’m talking about here, no matter how obscure I want to make the discussion. The intent of the title, especially - I’m certain - isn’t to diminish those who suffer, and I should be careful in my reading of it. So keeping myself in check, I’m here to explore the rest of my response, and I’m going to try and give further context.

Coldplay

I’ve no problem telling you I like Coldplay. I guess if you knew more about my musical background, it’d be less of a surprise, tho if you’ve been following along, it’ll make sense. If you’re reading this journal backwards, it may or may not, depending on how much I write about production in the future. To cut a long story short, like many bands I’m almost not at all into the band themselves and almost entirely into the production that surrounds them. Meow meow meow, all the art purists will bang-on about how music is about the performers but producers and engineers are artists in every way as much as performers are, and even bands or individuals who “just perform” with their instrument and no-one else on stage and no technicals (screens, lights, unseen backing musos etc.) still have a myriad of people surrounding them without which they can’t execute their working careers. Anyway, feel free to remain ignorant of those facts if you like and be all “pure performers”, no problem - magic can be real for you.

I lost track of Coldplay at after their 2015 album A Head Full Of Dreams. I’m less emotionally invested in the band and totally don’t mind that they’d up until that point releasing more or less the same sound for four consecutive albums. I really like the sound and if you pay close enough attention, it was actually evolving nicely, enough for me at any rate. I’d forgotten all about the band which is easy to do when you don’t really pay attention to pop-music and the activities therein, and then a couple of months ago (January maybe?) by whatever divination of the YouTube algorithm, a video titled Coldplay: Everyday Life Live in Jordan came up in my recommendations - a thing I was until then, unaware even existed. I’d no idea what the band was doing and I’m always keen to give them a shot, so I clicked-thru.

Moments ago I said I was happy with the band doing the same sound over and over again, and when I listen back to those albums, I’m still fine with them - let’s call it the Viva/Prospekt’s/Dreams anthology. Several things struck me about Everyday Life. Given my personal experiences of the last ten years, my struggles and the struggles of everyone around me, both personal and the cultures I observe and choose to observe, watching these four guys geared up in these ruins in Jordan looked stupendously privileged and a massive flex of wealth and influence. It looked like money buying good photography, framing and impossible location kudos and style. The sound in culture to my personal experiences also felt irrelevant.

And now I can finally talk about

The 1975 - Reaching Out, Reaching In

I now don’t remember whether it was at the ABIIOR concert in Melbourne, September 2019, or in one of the many interview snippets on YouTube or an article - I’m fairly sure it was his voice, so I either saw him say it in a video or he said it at the concert or both. Matt Healy said something along the lines of...

“... I know our last album was very inwardly focused... but A Brief Inquiry is very outwardly focused... it’s more about the world... and you... and us...”

That is not at all what he said verbatim but it was something very similar to that so I desperately hope a 1975 fan drops in and corrects me or can find a clip of him repeating it. Anyway there are a lot of really good things to extract from that, firstly from what it means about The 1975′s music and the culture that forms around it, and then about the discussion I’m having.

BT, Coldplay and The 1975 all live in my Ultimate folder on my hard-drive,  but while BT and Coldplay fall where they will alpha-numerically as far as directory structure is concerned, The 1975 have the auspicious honour of having leading zeros in their text so they appear first. This is so that I never have to scroll all the way down to T in any program or utility (like my car’s head unit) to find them. Worth noting that composer Yoko Kanno is 01 and Underworld are 02.

The album that preceded A Brief Inquiry... was released in 2016, titled I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It, an intentionally Emo title, I believe or at least hope, and it is definitely an inwardly focused album in the themes indicated by its lyrical content. It’s to date one of my favourite albums of all time, superbly performed and produced and overflowing with emotion - there’s some truly heartbreaking sound and words therein. I feel like this album is a perfect inclusion with the others in my Circa 2009 - 2019 piece that was somehow vaguely about how much of a struggle those 10 years have been. I guess it’d be difficult to get a notion of that if you’re not familiar with the music and material, but all of that music is introspective - it’s all about reaching in. As mentioned above, the art these artists are producing is the result of deeply intimate experiences, some they share directly with us outside of the abstract of art - relationships, family loss, drug addiction, mental health - but many that they don’t so clearly telegraph and leave us with the abstract; the art.

A Brief Inquiry.../ABIIOR certainly is about reaching out, even when the lyrics do seem to be personal, but to me as an individual, it feels to reach out in the right way - that is to say *I* feel it’s reaching out to a world *I* identify with, in a way that *I* agree with or find agreeable. The songs in ABIIOR are about misunderstanding, they’re about not giving up, making mistakes, desperation, honesty, the chaos of the destruction of modern society. One of my all-time favourite songs has sprung from this album and has become anthemic for me - Love It If We Made It and I’m going to embed it;

And now I feel I want to say that naming an album “Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear” and also performing a concert in ancient ruins on the top of a mountain during a picturesque sunrise in Jordan with expensive drone photography both feel to me like also reaching out but in ways that I don’t like and agree with, that feel irrelevant and/or culturally inappropriate but I use the term culturally to mean my personal culture; the culture I see myself fit into as an individual that interacts with others, the struggles we seem to share as a collective.

I feel as tho Coldplay once did reach out in the good way I’m trying and possibly failing to describe, or perhaps just trying to frame from a position I prefer. I felt they had a more grounded sense of community with everyday people which makes the irony of their most recent project more apparent. It may well be that I just don’t like what these artists are doing any more and that’s fine. Sometimes we might feel entitled to a sense of righteousness, to validate our distaste for something on a more grand cultural level, to co-opt others into our critique so more fingers can point and collectively say “See?! That thing you’re doing really *is* BAD! More people said so!” but I really am keeping myself in check and not wanting to do that. I think I’m writing this journal to explain myself to myself - yes, to log my justifications because I believe in them, but also ensure I don’t turn into an arsehole. 

Still - I stand by my criticisms because they’re important. I don’t know why in-particular these few examples struck in this way when others didn’t. I bought a bunch of Anjuna music that has nothing to do with culture and emotional response in the ways I’ve discussed them and I love them. Sometimes music is about bangin’ beats and euphoria and that’s OK. Still, the world isn’t entirely a joyous place for me at the moment and hasn’t been. There are positives to celebrate, but I have never been one to only log my celebrations. In particular from a mental health perspective, only documenting positives is incredibly hazardous and I condemn the practice. As much as these entries are laced with darkness and difficulties, each one also contains the things that assist me in surviving, keeping me nourished and navigating this often hellish experience of life. Ultimately of all my skills, seeking out art I identify with is the most valuable survival skill I have, it is the only one that matters. 

Love is a kind of art, there’s nothing abstract in that statement - the love between people is artful, in any and all forms it takes - hence the tags; Art Worth Dying For, and Art Worth Living For.

[vulpcsglaciei]

alright! so it’s that time where my ass needs to talk about yusuke’s mental state, a little about character development and possible routes to his actual and future relationships. wanna clarify that there will be a lot of triggers like stockholm syndrome, unappropriated relationships, etc. so please be careful!

BACKGROUND. ( HEAVILY HEADCANON’D )

Kitagawa Yoshie ( 喜多川  好恵 ) was born into a very TRADITIONAL Japanese family back in Kyoto who are the guardians of a Shinto shrine. Her name is written with the kanji  “ 好恵” which means “nice favor/grace”. She was the eldest child, being expected to be next PRIESTESS of the generation. However, Yoshie wasn’t really happy about the destiny that was given to her without her consent. Her family was deeply religious, so she grew up surrounded by different forms of art and developed an immense passion about it. She didn’t want to be a priestess, she wanted to be an artist and this caused a lot of issues within her family as they felt she was being extremely rebellious, disrespecting the effort and the family's pride. 

One day, Yoshie met a man named Ito Masaaki. He was a local artist who dreamed about going to Tokyo and showing his talent. They both came from a rural place; small town, big hell, they shared the same passions and dreams and of course, Yoshie was young and lively and only wanted to run away. She was only 14 when she met him, but he realized that she was such a talented young woman that could allow him to fulfill his own dreams, he whispered words of loyalty and love to her causing the young girl to deeply fall in love with him. She would paint for him, and he would sell her art, keeping her money and telling her that it was the savings for them to finally go to Tokyo. Her family, not happy about the whole situation WARNED her about this man, but she would argue with them until one day she suddenly collapsed on the floor. After she was taken to the Doctor, Yoshie was diagnosed with epilepsy. Of course, the family would blame the man and say that they were CURSED by him, that the gods were PUNISHING her because she didn’t want to take her role. But Yoshie wouldn’t listen, and instead she kept painting as if her life depended on it, making sure that Masaaki had enough money for them to run away together. 

When Yoshie turned 16, the inevitable happened. Deciding that Masaaki was the CORRECT man, she offered her body as proof of true love, being told that they were going to get married some day. But then, Masaaki suddenly left with all the money that they have saved, and Yoshie was left behind with a new life on her womb. It was when their family couldn’t take it anymore, they would CURSE the newborn child and they would DISOWN their own daughter for disrespecting and dirtying the Kitagawa name. She was left alone, at the gates of the Shrine when a familiar face, Madarame Ichiryusai saw her desperately crying. He realized that she had potential, and took her in as his own daughter. But little did Yoshie know, that she was only living in a vicious circle of abuse. And then, he let her die and the story we know started.

ANALYSIS ON YUSUKE’S CHARACTER

Yusuke doesn’t know about his mother’s story, but he understands that both of them are victims of the circumstances. MANIPULATION is the key behind their background story, and the only way to break this vicious circle would be to finally recognize it. Yusuke was born and raised basically alone. He grew up having absolutely no one at his side, except from Madarame, being the reason why he denies the abuses, because he basically owns his life to this man. If it wasn’t for him, Yusuke probably would have died long ago, maybe he wasn’t even destined to born, but Madarame was sent for his aid in a very bizarre way. He is aware that he is being horribly abused, but is he even allowed to complain? 

Yusuke hates Madarame in a very passive way. He realizes that he is a horrible man, and he wishes to run away from his net but he knows that he is not able to do that, because somehow, he is THANKFUL to his abuser. Madarame was the CLOSEST parental figure that he had, so if he is being treated this way he would think that it’s only normal and that it is “for his own good”. He realizes that he is horrible, but then remembers all the good things that this man had done for him that he starts feeling GUILTY to even think so BADLY about someone who has been caring for his well being. It’s a toxic paternity, a toxic family relationship where is hard to cut bonds because, this is the person who you owe your life. A case of Stockholm Syndrome where Yusuke sides with him, mostly because that’s the only thing he can do. Because if he hates on him and recognizes that he has been abused and manipulated by this person he would lose his own mind, he wouldn’t have anyone and everything he believes on will be CRUSHED, including his own soul. But he is pretty much aware of it, he is just afraid to accept it. 

This is a mental condition that affects him in his every day life. For example, studies have said that this syndrome is initially created because the abuser threatens the victim’s life, or do good things from there, creating feelings of gratitude from the victim, developing DEPENDENCE and interpreting small acts of kindness as a good treatment and as an excuse to justify their behavior towards them. This leads to a state of happiness that the victim links to the abuser, creating an IMAGINARY positive bond with them, and causing them to be overprotective of their abuser by acting negatively with whoever dares to threaten their abusers. Thankfully, Yusuke is finally convinced by the Phantom Thieves that this NEEDS to be broken and he decides to REBEL against Madarame, but this doesn’t stop him of feeling CONFLICTED about the whole situation. 

That’s how everything in his daily life now starts to get affected. Yusuke is pretty observing and perceptive, he is able to understand and highlight abusive behavior, but he never judges it. This makes him really gullible and easy manipulable by others as he usually thinks that “they might have their reasons”. This train of thought can lead him to fall into the same abusive relationships as his mother without realizing, until someone else comes and points out that this shouldn’t be something that he should stand, which his answer would be “is it not?” This also leads to a self-esteem problem, because if the only people who cared for him treated him this way, then if someone else do it and then they are nice with him it’s okay because it means that they do it because “they care ofr him”. This behavior is extremely dangerous, especially in the emotional and sexual relationships that he might encounter in the future, not only being at risk of being abused and manipulated but also at the risk of becoming EXTREMELY dependent on the other without even realizing. 

I could keep talking about this, but the post actually got LONGER than I expected. Headcanons are going to be continuously developed as the character keeps growing more. If you came until here, thank you so much for reading my babblery!