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Review: Beartown (Beartown #1) by Fredrik Backman

Book 16 of 2022

Start Reading Time: 20 October 2022

Finish reading Time: 29 October 2022

Page Count: 432

TRIGGER WARNINGS: RAPE, HOMOPHOBIA, SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, BULLYING, SEXISM, MISOGYNY

This is the spoiler-free part of the review. I will put up a spoiler alert before going into the review that contains spoilers.

This is my first reread this year. I fell in love all over again for the second time, and it was amazing. There's something so comforting in reading a book you have already read and loved, it's like watching an old favorite movie, or listening to that old song you loved but have forgotten. The nostalgia it brings, and rediscovering your love of that book/movie/song, it's one of the best feelings ever. Because, unlike people, they don't change, they stay the same, and they can take us back to the past, to the first time we experience reading or watching or listening to them. It almost feels like coming home.

I thought that having already read this book before, I wouldn't be as emotional and as entertained as I was when I first read it, but I was proven wrong. I still cried, a lot. And I also laughed out loud at the jokes. And the hard parts are still hard to read. If anything, I cried and laughed harder, because after having read Us Against You, I fell in love even more with the characters, and I cherished the moments with these characters so much, because I know what will happen to them in Us Against You. I especially treasured the earlier parts of the book before that horrible thing happens, and that first game in the book, when Amat played his first game with the junior team and they won the semi-finals is one of the best moments of the book.

My second time reading Beartown makes me appreciate Backman's craftsmanship so much more, because I think in my first time reading it, I didn't appreciate it enough how Backman was able to create this ensemble of characters who are complex, and multidimensional, but are also unique and interesting, that I have come to love dearly. I mean, even with the supposed "bad guy" or the antagonist (because i think there's no real villain in this book), you can't help but sympathize with them, (even though, yes absolutely we do condemn what they did) because of the way Backman describes them in the book. Also, because I think Backman's intention comes across pretty clear, that he wants us to understand that the antagonist is just the product of the whole toxic masculinity and the winning culture that has been nurtured into him by these people in his community, but more on that later, in the spoilery part of the review. Anyway, it's ridiculous how Backman created so many well developed characters with interesting personalities in this small book, even if some of them don't have names (What is the bass player's names? What is Filip's mom's name? What is Kevin's mom's name? And what is the Club's President's name? I find it funny that Backman has this tendency to intentionally NOT give some of his characters names, that I think, at this point, it has became his one of his quirks, since I recall we also got one nameless character called "Somebody" for the whole book in Britt-Marie Was Here and the name was never revealed to us, lol), and make me feel for those characters. Even for the side characters that we get only little scenes of, which proves how perfectly and efficiently Backman uses his sentences and paragraphs in this book, that even the small paragraphs about the side characters were sufficient to make me teary eyed.

Anyway, the fact that we get so many well developed and interesting characters makes it really feels like a small town community to me, and makes me feel like I live in Beartown and known these people since forever, even though I live in a country with tropical seasons and have never experience snow in my whole life, not even a snowflake. Also, I have never even watched a single Hockey match in my whole life, I didn't know anything about it, but now, thanks to this book series, I think it's one of the coolest sports to ever exist on the face of this earth. Oh, and how can I forget to mention that I LEGIT LEARNED SWEDISH BECAUSE OF THIS MAN AND THIS BOOK SERIES. Yup. And apparently, I am not alone in this, I saw some comments on his IG posts that they learned Swedish because of him too. The impact this man has on his readers is crazy.

So here's a little silly tale of how I briefly attempted to learn Swedish because of Fredrik Backman (I mentioned this briefly in my review of Babel): 'Twas June of 2021, and I was but a naive soul when Fredrik Backman announced via his Instagram Post that The Winners, which is the third and final book of his critically acclaimed Beartown book series, will be released in Sweden in October 2021. Like any dedicated fan would, I immediately felt the urge to read it as soon as possible. If we're being 100% honest here, I wanted to read it when I found out that this book was still being made, which was when I finished reading Us Against You last year. But that would be impossible, since I didn't have access to Backman's mind. So, realistically speaking, the earliest I could read it is once it's first released in Sweden. That way, I wouldn't have to wait a whole year for the English version, like all of the less dedicated fans, which I was the total opposite of. I was a dedicated fan of Backman and this book series (I was also in denial of my own extremely limited brain capacity). So, I began my study of the Swedish language in a world-renowned language academy of Duolingo, you may have heard of it, it has 4.6 stars in the Google Play Store. It was so cool, my teacher was a cute little green owl named Duo, and he's the most supportive teacher I ever had, he'd celebrate every milestone in my study, and gave me awesome badges, he's the coolest. Also, not to toot my own horn, but I was doing super great, I was a top 1% of language learner on Duolingo and crowned World Champion for it (I know, the academy is quirky and dramatic that way), and I even hit 100 days streak, meaning I showed up and study everyday without fail for 100 days straight. I was super motivated and excited to learn.

However, I've only just reached the part of Adjectives 1 when I very tragically confronted by my own stupidity sadly came to a realization that I didn't possess enough brain power to master a whole new language enough to read and understand a book wholly written in that new language, in a span of only a few months, no matter how great I was doing on Duolingo, and that I better wait a whole year for the English version. (BTW, how old were you when you had to admit to yourself that you're not the genius you thought you were? Is 25 too old?) But, hey, how many authors are there in this world that are so good, they made you want to learn a whole new language? However, Robin Swift from Babel has inspired me so much that I am going to continue my study of the Swedish language, soon, I hope. However, this time I won't be putting any deadline on myself, so it may take longer or maybe shorter, I don't know yet. But one thing for sure, I will have fun doing it, so if by the time Backman releases a new book and I'll be able to read and understand it fully in Swedish, that would be a super cool bonus. Who knows, someday I may even be able to travel to Sweden, and practice talking to the native speakers there. So, hopefully this little story will have a happy ending in the end. Oh my God, what if I meet Fredrik Backman and talk to him in Swedish?!

My point is that Backman is such an amazing and gifted author and storyteller, he's one of the best for me personally, but he somehow still manages to be so humble. He'll always be one of my favorite authors of all time. I will always look forward to his next books and read whatever reading materials he releases, be it books, novellas, short stories, essays or even blog posts, I will read it all. Hell, I'll even read his grocery list. I hope I'll be able to read many, many more of his books in the future, and until he releases his next book, I'll keep rereading the books that he has already released.

Anyway, before going into the synopsis, I have to also mention that I may have a really short memory, because I actually forgot a lot of things in this book, apart from the main plot. So, it really kinda felt like reading a new book that you already knew the plot of. Oh, also, I watched the HBO TV series adaptation of this book, Björnstad, last year after I finished reading Us Against You, and they changed A LOT of things from the book in that show, so maybe some of the things I forgot in this book is due to that? I think they made it to be more of a thriller story, than the poignant story that's told in the book. Anyway, personally, I liked a lot of things about the TV show, the cast especially is so freaking good, and overall I give it a rating of 4 stars, but for me the books are still the best. I'm hoping for the second and third seasons of the TV show too, for the adaptation of Us Against You and The Winners, that would be so fucking cool. So far, I haven't disliked any movie or TV show adaptations of Backman's books; I watched the Swedish movie adaptation of A Man Called Ove and Britt-Marie Was Here, and I liked them both. I also watched and liked both the TV show adaptations of Beartown and Anxious People. I love that more and more people are consuming Backman's stories because they are amazing and Backman deserves all the recognition he's getting and more.

Now, finally, onto the brief synopsis: The book tells a story of a community, a small town called Beartown, located far in the middle of the freezing wood, currently on a brink of an economic collapse. The businesses, factories and investors are moving to other towns, ones that have more potential. All that's left in this town is a few businesses, strong and incredibly resilient people, and hockey. Oh yes, this is a hockey town, and it means so much more to them than just a sport or a hobby. Hockey gives them hope that one day, when their hockey team won the championship, it would show their town's potential, attract the investors and businesses, make them want to open new factories here in Beartown, create new jobs, and eventually save their town's economy. Maybe then more people would want to live there, so more schools will be opened and the town could grow their economy and population, that people from other towns won't be referring to their town as small and in the middle of nowhere, they'll know their town as a hockey town, full of potentials and winners.

When the whole town put all of their hopes on hockey, the hockey players have become their superheroes. The players of the junior team of the Beartown Hockey Club, they're only seniors in high school, a group of 18 year old boys, their brains still not fully developed yet, but they hold their town's future on their shoulders. And it is all up to them, in their semi-final game, which will be one of the most important games they will ever play. It's only the survival of their own town that will be affected by their performance in this game, that's all.

These boys, they're in the semi-finals because they love hockey, their club, their teammates and their coach. They're doing it because hockey gives them something bigger than themselves that gives meaning to their young lives. These boys have dedicated their everything to hockey, and in return, it gives them family, a future, and little tiny moments, little sparks of happiness, little tastes of glory. But, as the book stated, what is life, apart from moments?

Hockey demands everything from its players, and it's what the boys give everyday. But there's one player who gives it a little more than the other players. Kevin Erdahl is unlike any other hockey player. He has a burning fire inside him, bigger than the other hockey players, that pushes him to be the best hockey player on the rink. He begins every morning by firing pucks in his backyard, then he'll go to school, then practice Hockey with his team on their club's ice rink, and then he ends every evening the same way he begins his day, by firing pucks after pucks in his backyard. When he missed a shot on an open goal in a game where he scored all the goals and his team won, he spent the night practice firing shots from the same angle from which he had missed the final shot of the match, in the middle of the forest, in the middle of the night, in a below zero temperature, and it happened when he was just a little child. Now, he's the team captain and star player of Beartown hockey club's junior team. Soon, he'll be moving to the A-Team with his teammates and his junior team coach, he'll win every damn game, bring victory to Beartown, and after that, he'll go on to the NHL.

The Beartown hockey club's board of directors all know that with Kevin, the future of their club is bright. There are sponsors lining up, ready to support the club once the junior team wins the tournament and Kevin and his teammates move up to the A-Team. A new hockey school is going to be built with the help of the new sponsors. Everything is looking up for the Beartown Hockey Club. But there's a storm coming, and none of them is ready to face it.

When Kevin was very suddenly being detained by the police from the bus that was supposed to take him and the junior team to their final game, all of his teammates, his coaches, the other player's parents and everyone else protested the police and argued that there must be some kind of a mistake. Kevin would never do anything criminal, he's a good kid, straight A student at school, and star player on the ice. He's supposed to bring home victory to Beartown that day, not being kept in a police station, being questioned about the night when he turned a young girl's life into a nightmare. A night that would haunt the young girl for the rest of her life. But that's exactly what happened, and the Beartown junior team had to play their first game without its star player that day, because the girl and her family demanded justice for what Kevin did to the girl.

The young girl is Maya Andersson, musically talented and only 15 years young, she went to the party that Kevin was throwing at his house after his team won the semi-finals. Maya is just an ordinary high school freshman who loves nothing more in the world than playing her guitar, and spending time with her best friend, Ana. Maya's father just happens to be the General Manager of the Beartown Hockey Club, and her mother just happens to be a kick-ass lawyer. When Kevin invited her to the party himself, Maya was overjoyed, because she had a crush on Kevin, and Kevin reciprocated.

Maya would later regret ever coming to that party, Ana would later regret ever leaving the party without her best friend, and the whole town would have to learn how to deal with the turmoil.

Would the town's people believe the words of a young girl, or those of the hockey star player? What would the future be like for the town after this storm? And who's to blame for what happened, is it solely the boy's fault or the collective action and decision that the adults of this town made?

What is a community? The people of Beartown would soon learn, whether they want to or not.

🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨

From this point forward in the review, I will mention spoilers, plot twist and the ending. So, if you don’t wish to be spoiled, you can skip the rest of the review and come back to this review once you’ve finished reading this book.

The best things about this book for me are...

✨THE FRIENDSHIP✨. You know the drill, I will always make note of ✨the friendship✨ in every book review of the books that have ✨friendships✨ in them, lol. And oh boy, does this book have them, we get so much ✨friendship✨ in this book, each with different dynamics and I FREAKING LOVE IT. And here, I will mention each of these precious friendships:

Maya & Ana's friendship. What is not to love about their friendship? They're fated for each other. They even have a meet-cute, and it's the cutest one, I swear. The single line in the book that says, "They held hands before they saw each other’s faces." God, it's so simple yet speaks VOLUMES; their friendship is written in the stars. I really think that they're so lucky to have each other. As a former teenage girl, I can tell you how important it is to have a best friend in those formative teenage years, I know my friends really did keep me together during those years, and God knows, with what she went through in this book, Maya needs Ana, and vice versa. I'm one of a few people who are lucky enough to be able to truthfully say that I still keep in touch with the best friends that I had when I was fifteen years old, even if our relationship is not as tight as it used to be. So, reading about Maya and Ana's friendship is so special to me, they are so precious and I hope they keep this friendship into their adulthood. Maya and Ana complete each other, they're so different yet they still love each other despite those differences. They have the kind of friendship that has evolved into sisterhood, and that is such a blessing. I still have a best friend that had become my third sister, and we still have sleepovers and my family also considers her part of the family too, so I can tell you that it is such a special thing to have.

One of the most heart breaking moment of the book is when Ana got jealous of Maya and thought she was being ditched by her that she left the party without contacting Maya first, and Maya thinking that Ana will come and rescue her when she was being raped. I can't even begin to tell you how heartbreaking it was to read. This is one of the things that I have forgotten completely since I first read the book, so reading it this time, it hits me as hard as it did the first time. And the fact that Maya kept that a secret from Ana, so she won't blame herself further for what happened to Maya is just...

However, it's a realistic portrayal of friendship, I think. Friends get jealous of each other, friends fight, and friends make up, but ultimately, friends love each other. But one thing I learn from this book, no matter how mad your friends make you, never leave them until you know they're in a safe place, because regret's a fucking bitch. Better to swallow your pride and be safe, than to regret it later and wishing you could go back and do things differently for the rest of your life.

Amat & Zacharias & Lifa's friendship. They're my precious underdogs, these boys made me cry so much even though we get so little of them in this book. How is it that their scene only existed in maybe 5% of the book, but they're some of the most memorable scenes for me. When Lifa was encouraging Amat before his first game with the junior team,

"But Lifa never played again. Now he stands outside an apartment block in the Hollow, hugs Amat with tears in his eyes, and whispers: “I saw some little kids, six or seven, playing with hockey sticks outside my block yesterday. They were pretending to be their idols. One was Pavel Datsyuk, one was Sidney Crosby, one was Patrick Kane . . . and you know what the last one shouted? He shouted, ‘I’M AMAT!’ ” “That’s a load of crap,” Amat says with a smile, but Lifa shakes his head, holds his friend tight, and says: “Kill them, bro. Win the final and turn professional and kill them all. Show them you’re one of us.”"

We all need a friend like Lifa. He spoke a total of maybe 5 times all throughout this book, but he made such an impression on me, maybe it's because I know what he'll do in Us Against You for Amat, so I kind of pay more attention to him this time rereading the book, but he is honestly just a really good friend, and I love him. I wish we'll get more of him in The Winners. Maybe show his friendship with Zacharias too, they seem to be such polar opposites, and I think that'll make for a more interesting friendship dynamic to read.

Now, Amat and Zacharias' friendship is something entirely different than Amat and Lifa's, and it is so much more heartbreaking. When I read that Amat was the reason Zacharias stayed alive, I cried;

"For almost half his life, Zacharias has thought about ending it. He has been through the details time and time again in his head. Somewhere they can see it. Force the bastards to live with that image of him. “You did this.” You don’t need much: a rope, a few tools, something to stand on. A stool would be good, but an upside-down bucket would do just as well. He’s holding it in his hand. He’s got everything else he needs in his backpack. The only thing that’s stopped him from doing it earlier, several years ago, was Amat. One single friend like him—that can be enough."

"Amat was the reason he stayed alive. Amat was the one who told him, on all the darkest, hardest nights: “One day, Zach, you’ll have more money and influence than all those bastards. And then you’ll do great things. Because you know how much it hurts to have no power. So you won’t hurt them, even though you could. And that will make the world a better place.”"

My heart hurts so much for Zacharias, he's been bullied so much, I can't imagine how hard his life must be that he had been suicidal for half his life. And to have a best friend that becomes the reason you stay alive is... The ultimate friendship goal, it can't get better than that, I think. And so, it made it all the more heartbreaking when Amat was hanging out with his new teammates and seemingly abandoned Zacharias and Lifa. But then, when Zacharias silently protested the majority of the town that's taking Kevin's side by cleaning out the harsh graffiti on Maya's locker, yes I understand that it's because he knows how it feels to be the one being oppressed, and he's starting to fight against the discrimination, but I also think it's because Zacharias know that Amat has a crush on Maya for the longest time, and maybe it's his way of caring for him too, even though he had too much pride to actually show it to Amat, after he thought Amat had abandoned him.

When Amat showed up at Zacharias' door step, after he did what his mom told him to do, which is to not worry about her and keep better companies, and he wished Zacharias a happy birthday, and without another word, everything was as it always was between these two, and it is something so powerful to me. Because Amat knew that Zacharias has been there for him (and vice versa) since day one, and he's a true friend to him, and what better company to keep than that? And Zacharias knows that Amat has never abandoned him, he would never abandon him. I also love when Amat left Zacharias without telling him anything, when he knew that he was going to be beaten up by those boys, so that Zacharias wouldn't have to help him and get hurt too. We all need a friend like Amat, and a friend like Zacharias too. I love their friendship so much, and I'm excited and anxious to know how their friendship will grow in The Winners.

Amat & Bobo's Friendship. This is, I think, the most unique friendship dynamic, as their relationship went through a 180° transformation in a span of one book, and it is so much fun to read. Bobo went from being Amat's biggest bully, to being his defender and friend, although I don't know if Amat considers him to be his best friend yet. But, Bobo almost acted like a big brother to Amat, and it is so sweet.

Now, let's talk about Bobo for a second, because I think he has the best character development in this book, and I remember falling in love with his character even more in Us Against You. He's such a himbo with a golden heart. I think that his character shows one effect of toxic masculinity culture, because I think that's why he feels like he should be bullying kids like Amat and Zacharias in the beginning of the book, because he felt the need to show his dominance over those weaker than him. And only after he was benched on the semi-final game and saw that Amat was the fastest on the ice and has great potentials, did Bobo stop bullying and be vulnerable with Amat that night during Kevin's party. I think that Bobo has always been a good person instead of the bully that he was in the beginning of the book, because I think that he bullies people as an act to hide his weaknesses and appear stronger than he actually is, so that his teammates would think of him as a tough guy, and as the book stated,

"All his life Bobo has wanted just one thing: to be allowed to belong to something."

Bobo always acted as the clown of the group to cheer up his teammates before and after the game, because he needed validation from them as he desperately wanted to belong with them, and I think it's so sad that sometimes they laughed AT him, instead of with him. But with Amat, he doesn't have to be a clown to get validation from him. Bobo knew he doesn't have to prove anything to Amat, so he was able to be vulnerable with Amat, and when Amat was being vulnerable to him in return, I think that's the first time Bobo was able to form a genuine friendship and connection with someone in this book. And from there, I think Bobo gets more courage to be more true to himself and other people, so when he finally decided to take a stand against his teammates and helped Amat when they were attacking him that night, Bobo was able to free himself from the role that he made himself play in order to belong to his team. I know he said that the reason he helped Amat is because he'll never make it to Hed's A-team but he might still have a chance to make it into Beartown's A-team with Amat, however I think that deep down he knew his friendship with Amat is more genuine that the one he has with his former teammates, since he could be his true self with Amat. Also, with an incredible mom like Ann-Katrin, I know Bobo was raised right, and in Us Against You, Bobo's true himbo personality will shine through even more, and he will make me fall in love with him in that book.

Benji & Kevin's Friendship. God, just thinking about these two get me so emotional. Their friendship and how it ended in the book is such a tragedy. It's crazy how so many things were destroyed as a result of one atrocious thing that Kevin did. Benji will never get another best friend who can never keep any lie from him, who grew up with him and have shared every single secret with him, a best friend who he had shared a secret Island with. I think what Benji and Kevin had was incredibly precious and special, and it truly was a tragedy that their friendship had to end this way. Benji was there for Kevin when he was left all alone by his parents, and Benji protected Kevin like a Mama Bear on the ice, and off it too. And I have no doubt that they'd bonded over their daddy issues, and had since non-verbally promised to never abandon each other like their fathers did to them, which makes their bond stronger than the rest. To say that Benji loved Kevin would be an understatement, and it says a whole lot about Benji's character when he didn't take Kevin's side when the news broke. Maybe it's because he saw Maya that night, right after it happened, so he knew the truth, which would later be confirmed by Kevin too since he could never lie to Benji. Maybe it's because he felt betrayed by Kevin, and disgusted that his best friend could do such a horrible thing that Benji could never ever tolerate, because he was raised right by his incredible Mom and three awesome sisters. Or maybe it's because of something else entirely that's more heartbreaking?

This whole quote got me thinking something other than just friendship was going on between them:

""He stands up, arms outstretched. Benji puts more and more weight on his broken foot. Kevin takes a step forward, and he isn’t the Kevin everyone in Beartown knows, he’s Kevin from the island. Benji’s Kevin. His feet are soft in the snow as his fingertips gently touch Benji’s jaw. “Sorry, okay? Sorry . . . It . . . it’s going to be all right.”"

Something's telling me that these two had a romantic thing between them going on secretly. This is just my theory though, I might be 100% wrong here since I'm nothing but an idiot. But reading that quote, I just can't help but think that they might have had sex when they were on their Island. It might just be an experiment for Kevin, or he might secretly be a bisexual, and secretly hating himself for it since he'd always been demanded to be nothing less than perfect by his father, so maybe he had internalized homophobia? If it were true that they were secretly a romantic couple, it makes it all the more soul crushing reading Benji's story. Once again, a man he loved and trusted betrayed him, and his beloved hockey club might get closed down soon too, because of what his ex did. Just thinking about it now, I am shedding tears once again for Benji. I think that's why so many fans of this book are rooting for Benji, because he really deserves all the happiness in the world. This boy with sad eyes and the wildest heart has to have a happy ending, or I swear I'm gonna fucking riot.

Adri & Jeanette's Friendship. It's the most underrated and maybe overlooked friendship in the book, but I love them anyway. These are two incredible and powerful women, who might have grown up and grown out their friendship, which I find to be very relatable, but to be able to read about them getting back their friendship again is such a wonderful thing. I wish we'll get more of their friendship, how they used to be, and what happened to their friendship over the years, I would so love to read it. One of the most beautiful quotes in this book is about their friendship, and I love it so much, I still can't get over it:

"You have friends when you’re fifteen years old. Sometimes you get them back."

THE ICE HOCKEY. Is it possible to not be a supporter of Beartown hockey club after finishing this book? I think not. Even me, who has never watched a single hockey match in my 26 years on earth, who had lived my life never been interested in, nor knowing anything about hockey until the first time I read this book last year. Look at me now, I am now a raging fan of Beartown hockey club, I think I might even be a Pack member, lol. Because of Amat, Benji, Bobo and Zacharias. And Peter and Sune. And that nameless little girl who will become the most talented player the club has ever seen. But beyond this book, I think I might be turning into a real hockey fan, lol. I have been watching so many hockey videos because of this book, that my Youtube recommended videos are all hockey videos, and I am always mesmerized by this sport every time I watch it. It's just another miracle of Backman, this book and this book series overall, beside them making me want to learn Swedish, they also turn me into a hockey fan.

I love that hockey is a sport that you have to be absolutely in love with and committed to, because it demands so much out of you. It has to be played on an ice rink, which is expensive to make, and pretty rare to find, unlike most other sports. Like football for example, it can be played in any empty ground, all you need is some players and a ball. And you can be wearing anything or nothing at all to play football, however you need to wear a full heavy gear to play hockey. Also, it requires a lot of skill, as you need to be great at skating on ice, too. To say that you need dedication to play hockey is an understatement. Like the book said, hockey is not instinctual, unlike football, where your instinct would tell you to kick the ball when it comes to you, with Hockey, someone had to really think creatively to create this sport. And the stark contrast that football players like to pretend they're hurt (diving), while hockey players like to pretend they're not, so they could keep playing, is so bad-ass. Also, what made Hockey so cool to me is the fact that the players are wearing blades under their feet that could literally cut through the human flesh, going at the incredible speed of around 10-25 mph (yes, I googled it), on a really cold and slippery ice rink, wearing a really heavy gear all over their bodies. It's almost like an extreme sport, I think. It's so fucking intense and hardcore.

So, what I think is not so cool about it, and kind of borderline concerning, is that it's kind of a highly dangerous, aggressive and violent sport, with many hockey players being seriously injured with a variety of injuries, with some of those injuries resulting in concussions, broken bones, or even long-term brain damage, among other gruesome, horrible things. If you look up some hockey players on Google, you may find some of the pictures of these players without their front teeth, which they lost during a hockey game. Not to mention the fighting tradition between the players (yup, it's legit a tradition and is allowed in hockey to fight, which boggled my mind when I first found out, and there are many compilation videos of these fights on youtube, and they are something else, I tell you, when they throw the sticks and the gloves, it's like a boxing match broke out on the ice, and the referees are just skating around them, lol). However, from watching a lot of hockey game videos, I get the sense that there's also a lot of respect and camaraderie among the players even when they were fighting in the game, it's the strangest and coolest thing ever. I remember on one of the videos I watched where the players were fighting, they were saying "good job, buddy" to each other after the fight, which is so cute but also, WHAT?! Maybe it's just because I have never watched or know anything about hockey before, but it just seems so weird to me. One comment I saw on a hockey video on Youtube said, "Hockey is like the biggest sibling rivalry. Gang fight one minute. Brothers the next." And I think that just says it perfectly.

My point is that, like the book stated, you really have to love and dedicate yourself to Hockey to play it. Hockey players are a group of super passionate, dedicated and committed people, which, I think, is really commendable, but these people must also be a little bit crazy too. The book is right, hockey tells a story, and these hockey players, they must have some stories for being that dedicated and committed to the sport, not to mention the stories of the hockey games. It is a sport for passionate people, for sure.

However, hockey's not just a sport, a hobby, or a game for most of the people in Beartown. For these people, it means survival, a way to get the investors to invest more in the town, save the economy, so they could keep living in it. Hockey means a lot of different things for the characters of this book too. For Amat, it means a way out of poverty, and a way towards a better life for him and his mother. For Kevin, hockey means a way to get his father's validation. For Peter, it's a way to escape and get a bit of silence, if just for a while, away from his awful home-life. For Bobo it's a way for him to be able to belong to something. Whatever it is, for them, hockey is something to give their all to, even if all they get in return is little bits of moments, for them it's all worth the pain and stress of it all. It's only their everything.

However what makes me give this book a five stars, is because it's not just an ordinary hockey book, while there's an abundance of love for this sport, yes, but it also criticizes the winning culture that is prominent in most sports, but especially in hockey. It's mostly about the cost of said winning culture on the young boys and its effect on the entire community, because yes, its effect is as widespread as to affect the whole hockey community of Beartown. And so, I really appreciate Backman for being so daring as to take on this complex matter in his book, because it's an important matter that's not being discussed often enough, but the effect is so great for society. They say that it takes a village to raise a child, well then we need to make damn sure that the village is good for the children, and so we need to talk about this more if we want to better our community, so that our children could grow up to be well adjusted, responsible and accountable adults. That's why I love this quote from Sune,

“Community is the fact that we work toward the same goal, that we accept our respective roles in order to reach it. Values is the fact that we trust each other. That we love each other.” David thought about that for a long while before asking: “What about culture, then?” Sune looked more serious, choosing his words carefully. In the end he said: “For me, culture is as much about what we encourage as what we actually permit.” David asked what he meant by that, and Sune replied: “That most people don’t do what we tell them to. They do what we let them get away with.”"

This is the single most important quote of the book, it could not be said better than that, and I feel like this should be taught in schools and even universities. Because I feel like every contributing member of society needs to know this. I also love how the two coaches of the club, Sune and David, represented two vastly different perspectives about winning culture, which I think are polar opposites of the spectrum, with David leaning more towards the toxic winning culture with him always telling his players to win at every game, and adamant that Kevin was ready to play with the A-team even though he was only 18 years old, and David was also mad at Peter for not waiting until after the final game to have Kevin arrested, revealing so much about his priorities and his insatiable thirst to win every game, regardless of what's morally right or wrong, or what's more important for the players, beyond their role as hockey players. While Sune was more concerned with nurturing the boys into good individuals, on and off the rink. He also thinks that losing a game is okay and even necessary sometimes, as he thinks that it builds character. Sune understands that 18 years old is way too young for Kevin to be playing with the A-team, because Sune understands that Kevin's emotional maturity has to grow a lot more before he could fit into the A-team, while he knows that Benji was ready for the A-team, but everyone else disagrees with him since Kevin's the star player (but Sune was right, by that amazing show of leadership that Benji showed on their final game, he's BEEN ready). That just shows how so much wiser and knowledgeable Sune is than David, but unfortunately, it's David that the Junior team adore and look up to, and the result of that on the boys off ice is what happens on the night after they won that semi-final game, destructive action that almost took down the whole town.

MAYA. No words feel adequate to describe how in awe I am of this girl. She's so strong, so resilient and she even comforted and encouraged those around her, when she's supposed to be the one who's being comforted, and encouraged, since she was the one who was raped. This is not to blame her family and Ana, but instead to highlight how admirable Maya is as a person. Her decision to speak up to her parents and the police, which was motivated by her desire to protect others who might go through the same horrible experience is so powerful. I am always in awe of these amazing people who are courageous enough to speak up about their traumatic experiences, with the noble motivation to help others. To me they are just next level bad-ass. When the MeToo movement was happening 5 years ago, I was so moved by these courageous people, and they inspired me to be stronger and help others even when we're traumatized. Since then, I have read books like Know My Name by Chanel Miller and Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow, and these books stayed with me to this day, Know My Name, especially.

A lot of the writing about rape in this book takes me back to Chanel Miller's book, and that book is just such an amazing read, and I realized by my first time reading this book how much that book has made an impression on me, that every time I read anything about sexual assaults or rape, it would instantly remind me of that book and how unjust the justice system is, but also how incredibly strong and amazing the survivors are. Although, granted, there are some similarities between Miller's story and Maya's (which maybe the reason why I was reminded of Miller's book while reading this book); the rapist in Miller's book is also a young star athlete and the survivor is nowhere as famous (at that time) as the rapist, as is the case in this book, so yeah maybe a lot of people also think of Miller's book while reading this, not just me, but it doesn't erase the fact that Miller's book is so amazing and it made a really big impression on me, as I'm sure is also the case for other readers as well. If you haven't read that book yet, I highly recommend it. It's not an easy read, but it's so worth it.

One of my favorite moments of Maya's is when Kevin's mom came to the Anderssons' house to apologize to Maya, that whole scene is just 😭😭😭 SOBS TOWN. It reminds me of this quote from The Haunting of Hill House, "Forgiveness is warm. Like a tear on a cheek." Not saying that Maya has forgiven Kevin, or his mom, because she would never forgive Kevin, and like she said in that scene, it's not Kevin's mom's fault, but you can't help how the mom's feeling guilty of her son's actions, but you can almost feel Maya's warmth coming off the pages when she was consoling Kevin's mom in that scene, thus the iconic scene from The Haunting of Hill House immediately came to my mind when I was reading that. I was immensely moved when I read it, and even though it's not her fault, I think Kevin's mom needed to hear those words straight from Maya herself, or she won't be able to go on living with herself or her son.

I just love that scene so much. Even if Maya didn't get justice from the justice system, she has this apology at least, and the acknowledgement of the mother of her rapist that what she said is true, and what her son did to Maya is real and so horrendous that it even broke the mother physically and mentally, and so maybe from that Maya can have a little peace too. It also gives me hope that Kevin has at least a little bit of hope of becoming a better person, because his mother is an incredible person.

There's so much beauty in Maya's character that I could go on talking about her for days, but I'm just gonna say here that most of all I am just so proud of her and she inspired me so much with her strength and with how she dealt with everything she experience in this book; the rape, the victim blaming by the town's people, the trauma, etc. When I first read the book, when I read the part when she took that rifle and hunted Kevin, I was so scared for what she was about to do and the backlash that would cause, but she surprised me with her strength in restraining herself enough to spare Kevin's life. That scene reminded me so much of that one scene in Avatar: The Last Airbender, Book 3: Fire, Episode 16, when Katara spared the life of the man who killed her mother, and these quotes on that episode immediately came to my mind when I read that scene in this book:

Katara: Now that I know he's out there, now that I know we could find him, I feel like I have no choice. Aang: Katara, you do have a choice, forgiveness. Zuko: That's the same as doing nothing. Aang: [Shakes head] No, it's not. It's easy to do nothing... but it's hard to forgive. Katara: It's not just hard. It's impossible.

Aang: You did the right thing. Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing. Katara: But I didn't forgive him. I'll never forgive him.

Zuko: You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer. Aang: It never is.

And then again in the flash forward to their future, when Maya spared Kevin again when she saw him with his pregnant wife. I don't even know if I could be as strong as her if I were in her shoes. I wish Maya and the real life survivors healing and peace, after everything they've been through, and though the justice system and the society most likely have failed them, despite all of that, I hope they'll still be able to heal and have peace for the rest of their lives.

I can't wait to read Us Against You because she wrote songs about her pain and trauma in that book, and her song lyrics gave me life, I love them so much. I am anxious to find out how she's doing in The Winners, though.

AMAT. My precious son, the best boy in the history of the universe. How did Backman create a character this perfect? But what's weird is, I feel like he's pretty underrated among the fans of this book, I don't know why, because he's just the most amazing hockey player and the best boy in this book. I swear every scene he's in, I either cry or smile so widely my cheeks hurt. This boy has my heart and he's the reason why I'm so eager and anxious reading The Winners, him and Benji, I think that book will be mostly about them, or at least I hope it is. I so desperately want him to be a successful hockey player as he had always aspired to be, but I also hope that he stays true to his awesome self, and not be swallowed up into the toxic winning culture. Like his mom said,

"“You might be playing with bears. But that doesn’t mean you have to forget that you’re a lion.”"

I WAS SO HEARTBROKEN BECAUSE HE DIDN'T END UP WITH MAYA IN THE END OF THIS BOOK. I was shipping them so freaking hard, because the way that Amat loved her is so heartrendingly sweet, but Maya doesn't even think of Amat that way, AND WHY AM I CRYING AGAIN??!!!! I think this is the one flaw of Maya that I can criticize, because why would you even look at Kevin when Amat, who's so infinitely better than Kevin, is literally right there???!!!!! I hope we get to know that he'll be with his true love in the end, and they'll live a happy, fulfilling long and prosperous life, along with Fatima too, of course.

BENJI. I am forever haunted by a boy with sad eyes and the wildest heart. I think I have already explained in length why me and a lot of the readers and fans of this book love Benji so much, and why we want so much for him to have a happy ending, so I won't repeat it here. But the effect that this fictional character has on me is CRAZY. I could be doing some random thing one day, and just out of the blue he would just pop into my brain and I would be wondering how he would end up in this book series, if he would be getting his happy ending and how that would look like. He's just the kind of character you can't help but love and get attached to and root for. He's clearly not without flaws, and he even did some questionable things before that final game where he sneakily attacked his rival team, but you know he's not a bad guy. He's flawed and I think because of that we relate to him so much, and why we root for him. I'm telling you, he is one exceptional character, and if I do not trust anyone who doesn't like him.

PETER AND KIRA. The ultimate couple goals, and parenting goals. They made me sob so many times. The thing with Backman books is that there's just an abundance of familial love that will bring you to tears, and there is no Backman book that didn't make me cry. As a child of a broken home, reading about these two make me yearn for a better home life, I'm so fucking jealous of Isak, Maya and Leo because they have such incredible parents. And Peter and Kira are so incredibly lucky to have each other, even if their marriage wasn't perfect. But it's also because they weren't perfect and despite all of the turbulence in their marriage that I think their relationship is amazing, because through all of it, they still stay together and love each other, and grow together from it all. They're like every broken home child's dream parents, and I love them so much.

THE BAD-ASS WOMEN: RAMONA, KIRA, FATIMA, BENJI'S MOM & SISTERS, JEANETTE & ANN-KATRIN. How do I even start to describe my love for these awesome characters? They are all incredible in their own unique ways, and for me personally, they're the highlight of this book, these amazing women. I think almost all of my favorite quotes of this book are spoken by them and almost all of my favorite scenes in the book are of them. Kira shutting down and humiliating the sexist club president publicly and being the most amazing mom to Maya and Leo? Iconic. Ramona slapping Sune and telling him that it's not hockey that rapes and kills, but it's men who do, and then shutting down the whole town for taking the side of the rapist instead of the victim? Queen behavior. Fatima raising a wonderful son all on her own, and telling her son she doesn't need any man, and inspiring him to do the right thing and tell the truth? Powerful and inspiring. Ann-Katrin stopping a raging big hockey player from hitting Amat? Legendary. Jeanette opening a boxing school for the girls in a hockey town? What a boss move. And Benji's Mom and sisters raising such a fine young man in Benji and doing it flawlessly? Goddesses. I love them and they are my heroes.

THE BRILLIANT WRITING. I know, I know, I had already gushed so much about Backman's writing in the beginning. But this is the first Backman book that I review on this blog, so I have some more things to say about his writing, so please bear (pun very much intended) with me. I feel like at this point, Backman has become some kind of a philosopher to me, because of all the profound wisdom he poured into all of his books. If Brando Sando is a wizard who possesses the super power of incredible world building and creates the most amazing magical fantasy worlds and characters with unique super powers, and releasing books at breakneck speed, and if RF Kuang is the Ultimate Girlboss for writing and creating FANG RUNIN the best anti-colonialism fantasy stories with rage, angst and fury so raw and beautiful, then Fredrik Backman is a Philosopher who tells stories about interesting yet seemingly "ordinary everyday people" with relatable problems, with endless profound wisdom scattered all over his books. I always feel like I come away with a new perspective in life after reading his books, thus I personally think he's become some kind of a philosopher with his own unique philosophy.

Having read all of his released books, except for The Winners, I now get the sense that Backman likes to take on the grim and dark themes like suicide, rape, even scary hostage situation for his books, but instead of telling it in the grim tone, he tells it with what I now call his signature "Backman style", putting more heart and soul into his stories, while still representing the real world issues and conflicts realistically and respectfully. He makes his readers look at the problem from other perspectives, making the readers feel for and sympathize with almost every characters involved in the story, and that is very uniquely his, and thus the name "Backman style".

This is one of my favorite books and book series of all time, so I don't have many criticisms about it, but let me try to dig deep and just nitpick some things to criticize…

I find it kind of confusing as to why Kevin only notices Maya (and vice versa) now, didn't they go to the same school for years, and she was his hockey club's GM's daughter, and Beartown's a small town, they must have crossed paths a lot. In the HBO TV show adaptation, the Anderssons have just moved to Beartown, so that makes sense why Kevin suddenly notices and has a crush on Maya. But in the book, the Anderssons have lived in Beartown for a long time already, Maya met Ana for the first time when she was 6 years old, and she's 15 in this book so they would have already lived in Beartown for at least 9 years, and during those years I'm pretty sure Maya and Kevin already knew each other, so their sudden attraction seems a little confusing to me.

I wish we got more scenes of Leo, I feel like he's a bit overlooked in the story, especially since he's the brother of Maya, and impacted much more closely and greatly by the horrible thing his sister experienced. Not to mention he's younger than Maya and a hockey player too. I know we'll get so much more of Leo in Us Against You, but it would make this book even better if it has more of Leo in it.

Backman gave me a heart attack with this quote,

"Amat, Zacharias, Bobo, and Benjamin: two have just turned sixteen, two will soon be turning eighteen. In ten years’ time two of them will be playing professionally. One will be a dad. One will be dead."

I do not appreciate the scary foreshadowing, and it's one of the reasons I wanted to read The Winners at the earliest possible time. This is not a real criticism of the book, I know, because the book is just so good, it's hard to even nitpick the things to criticize.

I wish this book could have been 1000+ pages long.

Here are my favourite moments from the book:

The semi-final game, because it's Amat's first game and he made an assist for one goal by Kevin.

When Benji covered for Maya when she broke the bathroom mirror.

That final game, because Amat, Benji, Filip and Bobo played their hearts out, and it was THEIR game, even if they didn't win.

When Amat told the truth of what he saw that night, in front of his teammates, the club, and everybody.

Anytime Ramona says something. Nothing comes out of her mouth that's ever less than iconic, and she's proven time and time again that she's the baddest bitch in town and she will never let anyone forget that. Such queen behaviour.

Every time Peter and Kira are being lovey dovey with each other.

When Benji and that bass player kissed when Benji was teaching him how to skate.

When Ann-Katrin stopped Lyt and the other boys from beating up Amat that day.

When Kevin's mom visits Benji in his house and that talk they had together, and when she hugged him for a moment.

The climax where Maya threatens to kill Kevin and traumatizes him for the rest of his life.

And finally, here are my favorite quotes from the book:

"When Amat was born, she lay with him on her chest in a narrow bed in a little hospital on the other side of the planet, no one but them in the whole world. A nurse had whispered the prayer in his mother’s ear back then—it is said to have been written on the wall above Mother Teresa’s bed—and the nurse hoped it would give the solitary woman strength and hope. Almost sixteen years later, the scrap of paper is still hanging on her son’s wall, the words mixed up, but she wrote them down as well as she could remember them: If you are honest, people may deceive you. Be honest anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfishness. Be kind anyway. All the good you do today will be forgotten by others tomorrow. Do good anyway."

"The final lines his mother wrote on the sheet of paper on his wall read as follows: What you create, others can destroy. Create anyway. Because in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and anyone else anyway. Immediately below that, written in red crayon in the determined handwriting of a primary school student, it says: They say Im to little to play. Become good player any way"

"This sport demands only one thing from you. Your all."

"The boy is worried about his mom’s back, and she worries that other children will see him with her and tease him. As long as Amat can remember, the two of them have been alone in the world. When he was little he used to collect empty beer cans from the stands at the end of the month to get the deposit back on them. Sometimes he still does."

"One day he’ll take his mom away from here, he’s sure of that. One day he’ll stop adding and subtracting income and expenditures in his head all the time. There’s an obvious difference between the children who live in homes where the money can run out and the ones who don’t. How old you are when you realize that also makes a difference. Amat knows his options are limited, so his plan is simple: from here to the junior team, then the A-team, then professional. When his first wages reach his account he’ll grab that cleaning cart from his mother and never let her see it again. He’ll allow her aching fingers to rest and give her aching back a break. He doesn’t want possessions. He just wants to lie in bed one single night without having to count."

""The people who live here are tough, we’ve got the bear in us, but we’ve taken blow after blow for a long time now. This town needs to win at something. We need to feel, just once, that we’re best. I know it’s a game. But that’s not all it is. Not always.”"

"It’s like her mom usually says when the cold and darkness have worn away at her patience and she’s had three or four glasses of wine: “You can’t live in this town, Maya, you can only survive it.”"

"Hockey is never satisfied being part of your life, it wants to be all of it."

"Grateful, grateful, grateful. That’s the role of mothers. But the role of children is to dream. So her son dreams that his mother will one day be able to walk into a room without having to apologize."

"“I’m bored! Let’s play a game!” Ana pleads. Maya sighs but doesn’t protest. Because she loves the smoothie-slurping idiot, and because they’re fifteen and her mom is always telling her, “You never have the sort of friends you have when you’re fifteen ever again. Even if you keep them for the rest of your life, it’s never the same as it was then.”"

"Sune was a fat old man even then, but he looked Amat right in the eye when he said: “Some of you were born with talent, some weren’t. Some of you are lucky and got everything for free, some of you got nothing. But remember, when you’re out on the ice you’re all equals. And there’s one thing you need to know: desire always beats luck.”"

"It’s easy for a child to fall in love with something if they’re told that they can be best at it, as long as they want it enough. And no one wanted it more than Amat. Hockey became a way into society for him and his mother. He’s planning to turn it into more than that—he’s planning to make it the way out as well."

"Why does anyone care about hockey? * * * Because it tells stories."

"Kevin might be the star, but Benjamin Ovich is the heart of the team. Because Benji is like David: he’s prepared to do whatever it takes. So ever since he was small, the coach has drummed one single idea into him: “Don’t pay any attention to what people say, Benji. They’ll like us well enough when we start winning.”"

"All organizations like to boast that they’re building a culture, but when it comes down to it everyone really only cares about one sort: the culture of winning. Sune is well aware that the same thing applies the world over, but perhaps it’s more noticeable in a small community. We love winners, even though they’re very rarely particularly likeable people. They’re almost always obsessive and selfish and inconsiderate. That doesn’t matter. We forgive them. We like them while they’re winning."

"Benji and Kevin were both covered with blood and bruises when they arrived at the bus more than forty-five minutes late. David was standing there waiting. He had told the rest of the team to leave without him; he’d catch the train with Benji and Kevin when they showed up. But every player on the team had refused to get on the bus. They weren’t old enough to know their multiplication tables, but they knew that a team didn’t mean anything if you couldn’t depend on each other. That’s both a big and a small thing. Knowing that there are people who will never abandon you."

"It’s only a game. It only resolves tiny, insignificant things. Such as who gets validation. Who gets listened to. It allocates power and draws boundaries and turns some people into stars and others into spectators. That’s all."

"One of the hardest things about getting old is admitting mistakes that it’s too late to put right. The worst thing about having power over other people’s lives is that you sometimes get things wrong."

"So even Sune finds himself wondering: what are principles worth, if you don’t win?"

"It doesn’t matter now. A young man left Beartown in silence and when he came home again it was too late for words. You can’t look a gravestone in the eye and ask its forgiveness."

"Sports creates complicated men, proud enough to refuse to admit their mistakes, but humble enough always to put their team first."

"It’s only a game. It can only change people’s lives."

"All adults have days when we feel completely drained. When we no longer know quite what we spend so much time fighting for, when reality and everyday worries overwhelm us and we wonder how much longer we’re going to be able to carry on. The wonderful thing is that we can all live through far more days like that without breaking than we think. The terrible thing is that we never know exactly how many."

"He remembers something Sune told him during preseason training a lifetime ago: “Culture is as much about what we encourage as what we permit.”"

"But she had been wrong. He couldn’t protect his family. And not a single day goes by without him wondering what he could have done differently. Could he have made a deal with God? If he had sacrificed all his talent? Given up all his success? His own life? What would God have given him in exchange? Could he have changed places in the coffin with his firstborn son? * * * At night Kira still goes around the house, counting their children. One, two, three. * * * Two in their beds. One in heaven."

"One of the plainest truths about both towns and individuals is that they usually don’t turn into what we tell them to be, but what they are told they are."

"Maya can still remember the first time she met Ana. They held hands before they saw each other’s faces."

"Now Maya watches her friend walk off down the corridor, sees her pull her arms down as if she’s embarrassed, without even daring to yell “OUT,” because all she dreams about these days is being as normal as possible. Maya hates being a teenager, hates sandpaper, hates round holes. Misses the girl who pretended to be a knight in the forest. We become what we are told we are. Ana has always been told that she’s wrong."

"A simple truth, repeated as often as it is ignored, is that if you tell a child it can do absolutely anything, or that it can’t do anything at all, you will in all likelihood be proven right."

"“You might be playing with bears. But that doesn’t mean you have to forget that you’re a lion.”"

"“You ought to work as a lawyer or something, has anyone ever told you that?” The lawyer laughs. “I’ll consider it if I can’t go professional with rock-paper-scissors.” “You’re a cheat.” “You’re a liar.” Peter’s voice is shaking when he suddenly whispers: “I love you so much.” Kira laughs so he won’t hear her crying when she answers: “Same here.”"

""He joins the juniors at the center circle. In the middle of it is an image of a large, threatening bear. The emblem of the club: strength, size, fear. Amat is the smallest person on the ice; he always has been. Ever since he was eight years old everyone has always told him that he won’t be able to handle the next level, that he isn’t tough enough, strong enough, big enough. But now he looks around him. Tomorrow this team is playing a semifinal game—they’re one of the four best junior teams in the whole country. And he’s here. He looks at Lyt and Bobo, at Lars and David, at Benji and Kevin, and thinks that he’s going to show them he can play. Even if it kills him."

"Sune has never told Peter he loves him. It can be just as hard for father figures to say that as it is for real fathers."

"when the season is over he’ll go home and—deep down—will wish what we all wish whenever we leave something: that it’s going to collapse. That nothing will work without us. That we’re indispensible."

"And there are no winners without losers, no stars are born without others in the collective being sacrificed."

"Death does strange, incomprehensible things to loving souls."

"“And what do we want, Ramona? What can the sport give us? We devote our whole lives to it, and what can we hope to get, at best? A few moments . . . a few victories, a few seconds when we feel bigger than we really are, a few isolated opportunities to imagine that we’re . . . immortal. And it’s a lie. It really isn’t important.” Silence settles between them, untouched. Only when Peter pushes his empty cup back across the bar and stands up to leave does the old widow drain her glass and grunt: “The only thing the sport gives us are moments. But what the hell is life, Peter, apart from moments?”"

"Being a parent makes you feel like a blanket that’s always too small. No matter how hard you try to cover everyone, there’s always someone who’s freezing."

"There are plenty of things that hurt people without people ever really knowing why. Anxiety can act as internal gravity, shrinking the soul."

"Alan got out his hunting rifle before his family woke up. Then he took everything that hurt him and went straight out into the forest. It doesn’t matter how many times you explain it to a child. No one loses a parent that way without knowing that all the other grownups are lying when they say, “It wasn’t your fault.”"

"People feel pain. And it shrinks their souls."

"Pride in a team can come from a variety of causes. Pride in a place, or a community, or just a single person. We devote ourselves to sports because they remind us of how small we are just as much as they make us bigger."

"There’s a thin line between living and surviving, but there’s one positive side effect of being both romantic and very competitive: you never give up."

"A puck, two goals, hearts full of passion. Some people say hockey is like religion, but that’s wrong. Hockey is like faith. Religion is something between you and other people; it’s full of interpretations and theories and opinions. But faith . . . that’s just between you and God. It’s what you feel in your chest when the referee glides out to the center circle between two players, when you hear the sticks strike each other and see the black disk fall between them. Then it’s just between you and hockey. Because cherry trees always smell of cherry trees, whereas money smells of nothing."

"People keep asking what David’s “tactical secret” is. He can’t tell them, because they wouldn’t understand. The tactical secret is love. He became Kevin’s coach when he was a frightened little seven-year-old who would have been flattened by the older kids outside the rink if he hadn’t had Benji there to protect him. Even then, Benji was the most courageous little bastard David had ever seen, and Kevin the most talented."

"In the end even David smiles, and he’ll think back to that moment many times afterward: whether a joke is always only a joke, whether that particular one went too far, whether there are different rules inside and outside a locker room, whether it’s acceptable to cross the line in order to defuse tension and get rid of nerves before a game, or if he should have stopped Lars and intervened by saying something to the guys. But he does nothing. Just lets them all laugh. He’ll think about that when he gets home and looks his girlfriend in the eye."

"Loneliness is an invisible ailment."

"People sometimes say that sorrow is mental but longing is physical. One is a wound, the other an amputated limb, a withered petal compared to a snapped stem. Anything that grows closely enough to what it loves will eventually share the same roots. We can talk about loss, we can treat it and give it time, but biology still forces us to live according to certain rules: plants that are split down the middle don’t heal, they die."

"He wakes up in the mornings with the feeling that someone has stolen a better life from him, an unbearable phantom pain between what he should have been and what he actually became. Bitterness can be corrosive; it can rewrite your memories as if it were scrubbing a crime scene clean, until in the end you only remember what suits you of its causes."

"Outside the rink, alone in the snow, Ramona stands and feels the sound wave hit her. “I love you,” she whispers to Holger. Then she turns and walks home on her own with a smile in her chest. It is a moment shared between people and hockey, between a town whose inhabitants want to believe and a world that has spent years telling them to give up. There isn’t a single atheist in the whole building."

"Hockey is just a silly little game. We devote year after year after year to it without ever really hoping to get anything in return. We burn and bleed and cry, fully aware that the most the sport can give us, in the very best scenario, is incomprehensibly meager and worthless: just a few isolated moments of transcendence. That’s all. But what the hell else is life made of?"

"It was only when he had to watch a game from the stands for the first time that he realized how close adrenaline is to panic. What rouses the body to battle and achievement are the same instincts that instill mortal dread in the brain."

"Soon Maya won’t be Kira’s little girl anymore, and then Kira will become Maya’s little old mom. It doesn’t take a lot to be able to let go of your child. It takes everything."

"“It’s not your fault, darling. You can’t save everyone. You can’t carry the weight of the whole world.”"

"Then he pulls a joint from his pocket and tucks it gently behind Kevin’s ear. “For later. With a bit of tobacco, just the way you like it.” Kevin gives him a quick hug, so fleeting that no one would notice, but still so hard that it speaks volumes. He can never sleep after games, and that’s the only time he smokes. Only best friends know that sort of thing about each other. Only two boys who once lay side by side under the covers, reading comics by flashlight and realizing that the reason they always felt like outsiders was because they were superheroes."

"As Benji walks off into the darkness Kevin watches him go for a long time, feeling envious. He knows the girls fall for him because he’s good at hockey; without it he’d only be an average, mediocre seventeen-year-old. But not Benji. They fall for him for completely different reasons. He’s got something everyone wants, something completely independent of anything he does on the ice. His eyes always let you know that he could leave you any moment if he felt like it, without so much as a backward glance. He isn’t tied to anything, he just doesn’t care. Kevin is terrified of loneliness, but Benji embraces it as a natural state. All through their childhood Kevin has been scared that one day he’ll wake up and discover that the other superhero is gone. That this friendship never meant anything to him. Benji’s blood is different from other people’s. He disappears into the forest on the road down toward the lake, and Kevin can’t help thinking that Benji is the only truly free individual he knows."

"Katia has never been to their father’s grave, not once, but she thinks of him sometimes, and how it must have felt to be so unhappy and not be able to tell anyone. It’s a terrible thing to have to keep a big secret from the people you love."

"With each passing year, as Benji has grown older, Katia has wished him a different life. In a different place, another time, maybe he would have been a different boy. Milder, more secure. But not in Beartown. Here he is burdened with too much that no one sees, and here he has hockey. The team, the guys, Kevin. They mean everything to him, so he is everything they want him to be. And that’s a terrible thing. Having to keep a secret from those you love."

"For the perpetrator, rape lasts just a matter of minutes. For the victim, it never stops."

"Ana and Maya found each other as children when they saved each other’s lives. One pulled the other out of a hole in the ice, and in return she pulled the other out of her loneliness. They were opposites in many ways, but they both liked dancing badly, singing loud, and going fast on snowmobiles. That goes a long way. Best friends. Sisters before misters. And of all the things they’ve promised each other, the most important: we never desert each other."

"Humanity has many shortcomings, but none is stronger than pride."

"Behind a closed door on the upper floor of the Erdahl family house stays the only secret Maya has ever kept from her best friend: that right up to the last moment, when she could no longer breathe beneath Kevin, she kept telling herself one single thing: “I mustn’t be frightened. Ana will find me. Ana won’t desert me.”"

"“What happened?” Amat whispers. “What the hell do you think happened?” she replies. “We need to . . . You need to . . .” “What? What do I need to do, Amat? What the hell do I need to do?” “Talk to someone . . . the police . . . anyone, you need to . . .” “It won’t make any difference, Amat. It won’t make any difference what I say, because no one will believe me anyway.” “Why not?” She rubs the back of her glove across her eyes, and it comes away stained with eyeliner. Amat is crying, too, now. They are fifteen years old and the entire world has collapsed in the course of a single evening. A solitary car passes them; Maya’s eyes flare with the reflection of the headlights. When it’s gone past, something goes out inside both her and her eyes. “Because this is a fucking hockey town,” she whispers. Amat is left kneeling in the snow as she disappears down the road. The last thing he sees before night swallows her is her silhouette against the sign that says, “Welcome to Beartown.” * * * Soon she won’t be anymore."

"One of the many things snatched from the girl that night is the place where she never needed to feel afraid. Everyone has a place like that, until it gets taken away from us. You never get it back again. Maya will feel afraid everywhere from now on."

"Maya looks directly at him then; he’s standing ten yards away. Her tears are freezing at the same rate as his. But he merely gives a curt nod to the darkness, then turns around and disappears. He knows too much about how it feels to have to hide to give away someone else doing the same."

"Everyone has a thousand wishes before a tragedy, but just one afterward. When a child is born, its parents dream of it being as unique as possible, until it gets ill, when suddenly all they want is for everything to be normal. For several years after Isak died, Kira and Peter felt a terrible, lacerating guilt every time they laughed. Shame can still catch them when they feel happy, making them wonder if it’s a betrayal of their child that they didn’t disintegrate entirely when he left them. One of all the terrible effects of grief is that we interpret its absence as egotism. It’s impossible to explain what you have to do in order to carry on after a funeral, how to put the pieces of a family back together again, how to live with the jagged edges. So what do you end up asking for? You ask for a good day. One single good day. A few hours of amnesia."

"If you have three younger siblings when your dad goes out into the forest with a rifle, you grow up faster than you should, and maybe become harder than you would really like to be."

"His dad almost touches his cheek. Almost asks about the red marks on his neck. But instead he clears his throat and says: “People in this town are going to try to stick to you more than usual now, Kevin, so you need to remember that viruses make you sick. You need to be immune to them. And the final isn’t just about hockey. It’s about what sort of man you want to be. A man who goes out and grabs what he deserves, or one who stands in a corner waiting for someone to give it to him.” The father walks off without waiting for a reply, and his son stands there with scratch-marks on his hand and a heartbeat that won’t stop throbbing in his neck."

"Ana keeps her finger on the button, but doesn’t call. In a few years’ time she’ll read an old newspaper article about research showing that the part of the brain that registers physical pain is the same part that registers jealousy. And then Ana will understand why she hurt so badly."

"David asked about the banner, asked what it meant to Sune, and Sune replied: “Community is the fact that we work toward the same goal, that we accept our respective roles in order to reach it. Values is the fact that we trust each other. That we love each other.” David thought about that for a long while before asking: “What about culture, then?” Sune looked more serious, choosing his words carefully. In the end he said: “For me, culture is as much about what we encourage as what we actually permit.” David asked what he meant by that, and Sune replied: “That most people don’t do what we tell them to. They do what we let them get away with.”"

"Peter has always existed on various teams, and he knows the sacrifices that being on a team truly demands. “The team is greater than the individual” is just a cliché for people who don’t understand sports; for those who do, it’s a painful truth because it hurts to live in accordance with it. Submitting to a role you don’t want, doing a crap job in silence, playing on defense instead of getting to score goals and be the star. When you can accept the worst aspects of your teammates because you love the collective, that’s when you’re a team player."

"Kira once told him that the club had an unpleasant culture of silence, the sort of thing you find among soldiers and criminals. But sometimes that’s what it takes, a culture of silence to foster a culture of winning."

"Never again do you find friends like the ones you have when you’re fifteen years old."

"They had strikingly different dreams: Maya dreamed of a silent music studio, Ana a noisy throng of people. Ana wanted to be famous as a form of affirmation, Maya wanted to be rich so she didn’t have to care what anyone else thought. They are both unfathomably complex, the pair of them, and that’s why as different as they are, they understand each other."

"Over and over again they have the same quiet argument, with themselves and each other, because Ana knows it’s an unreasonable demand to make of another person: that Maya of all people should feel some sort of responsibility for anyone else right now. That she, of all people, should stand up and shout in the quietest town in the world. Scare the animals. Ana hides her face in her hands so that Maya’s parents won’t hear anyone crying in here."

"“Right now, Kevin has only hurt me. But if I talk, I’ll be letting him hurt everyone I love as well. I can’t handle that.” They hold each other’s hands. Sit beside each other in bed and count sleeping pills, wondering how many it would take to end their lives."

"In the locker room David wrote a single word on a puck and tucked it in Benji’s bag. Proud. Benji still has it. In the bus on the way home that evening, all his teammates were telling jokes. The laughter got louder and louder, the punch-lines cruder and cruder. Benji can only remember one of the jokes, one that Lars told: “Boys, how do you fit four gays on a chair at the same time? You turn it upside down!” Everyone laughed. Benji remembers glancing surreptitiously at David, and saw that he was laughing, too. It’s just as easy to be exclusive as it is to be inclusive, just as easy to create an Us as a Them. Benji has never been worried about being beaten up or hated if anyone finds out the truth about him; he’s been hated by every opposing team since he was a child. The only thing he’s scared of is that one day there will be jokes that his teammates and coach won’t tell when he’s in the room. The exclusivity of laughter."

"She’s been awake all night and every minute of it she was certain that she would never tell anyone about what had happened. It takes three little girls playing in the street outside her window to make her change her mind."

"Words are small things. No one means any harm by them, they keep saying that. Everyone is just doing their job. The police say it all the time. “I’m just doing my job here.” That’s why no one asks what the boy did; as soon as the girl starts to talk they interrupt her instead with questions about what she did. Did she go up the stairs ahead of him or behind him? Did she lie down on the bed voluntarily or was she forced? Did she unbutton her own blouse? Did she kiss him? No? Did she kiss him back, then? Had she been drinking alcohol? Had she smoked marijuana? Did she say no? Was she clear about that? Did she scream loudly enough? Did she struggle hard enough? Why didn’t she take photographs of her bruises right away? Why did she run from the party instead of saying anything to the other guests? They have to gather all the information, they say, when they ask the same question ten times in different ways in order to see if she changes her answer. This is a serious allegation, they remind her, as if it’s the allegation that’s the problem. She is told all the things she shouldn’t have done: She shouldn’t have waited so long before going to the police. She shouldn’t have gotten rid of the clothes she was wearing. Shouldn’t have showered. Shouldn’t have drunk alcohol. Shouldn’t have put herself in that situation. Shouldn’t have gone into the room, up the stairs, given him the impression. If only she hadn’t existed, then none of this would have happened, why didn’t she think of that? She’s fifteen, above the age of consent, and he’s seventeen, but he’s still “the boy” in every conversation. She’s “the young woman.” * * * Words are not small things."

"Maya knows all too well that this silence can be like water. If you let it make its way too far in, it can freeze into ice and break your heart. Even then, in the police station in Hed, she knew she would survive this. Even then she knew that her mom and dad wouldn’t. Parents don’t heal."

"What an uncomfortable, terrible source of shame it is for the world that the victim is so often the one left with the most empathy for others. There will be days when Maya is asked if she really understood the consequences, and she will nod yes, and of all the feelings inside her then, guilt will be the greatest. Because of the unimaginable cruelty she showed toward the people who loved her the most. They sat there in the police station. She told them everything. And she could see in her parents’ eyes how the story made the same terrible sentence echo through them, over and over again. The one every mom and every dad deep down most fear having to admit: * * * “We can’t protect our children.”"

"One of the first things you learn as a leader, whether you choose the position or have it forced upon you, is that leadership is as much about what you don’t say as what you do say."

"David’s strongest belief about hockey has always been that the world outside the rink mustn’t encroach upon the world inside it. They need to be separate universes. Outside, real life is complicated and frightening and hard, but inside the rink it is straightforward and comprehensible. If David hadn’t kept the worlds so clearly divided, these guys, with all the shit they’ve had to deal with out in the real world, would have been broken even as little kids. But the rink was their refuge. Their one happy place. No one could take that from them: the fact that they were winners there. That doesn’t just apply to the boys. David himself has often felt odd and out of place, but never on ice. It’s the last place where the collective functions, where the team takes precedence over the self. So how far are you allowed to go to protect your universe? How much of leadership is what you say, and how much is what you don’t say?"

"Peter drives back to Hed from Beartown. He walks into the hospital ready to announce triumphantly to Maya that Kevin has been picked up by the police. That she’s going to get justice. Then he walks into the room and sees her. Nothing in the world is as small as your own child in a hospital bed. There’s no justice to be had. He sits beside his daughter and cries, because he isn’t the sort of person who can kill someone. In the end he asks: “What can I do, Maya? Tell me what I can do . . .” His daughter pats her dad’s stubble. “Love me.” “Always.”"

"Tails screams until his voice gives out when Amat waits out the goalie and lifts the puck into the top of the net. Parents rush down the stands as if they were going to vault the boards. Amat glides around the net with his arms in the air but doesn’t get far before he is engulfed by Benji, Lyt, and Filip. The whole team is on the ice in moments, under and over and on top of each other. Tails grabs hold of someone’s mother—he doesn’t know whose—and screams: “WHERE ARE WE FROM?” A moment ago they were all atheists. None of them is now."

"... you can love something without loving everything about it. You don’t have to feel embarrassed about not being proud. That applies to hockey, but it also applies to friends."

"They’re not talking now. They don’t say a word all night long. Each of them knows what the other is thinking anyway. “We can’t protect our children.”"

"Hate can be a deeply stimulating emotion. The world becomes much easier to understand and much less terrifying if you divide everything and everyone into friends and enemies, we and they, good and evil. The easiest way to unite a group isn’t through love, because love is hard. It makes demands. Hate is simple."

"So when night comes and the truths spread, no one types “Maya” on their cell phone or computer in Beartown, they type “M.” Or “the young woman.” Or “the slut.” No one talks about “the rape,” they all talk about “the allegation.” Or “the lie.” It starts with “nothing happened,” moves on to “and if anything did happen, it was voluntary,” escalates to “and if it wasn’t voluntary, she only has herself to blame; what did she think was going to happen if she got drunk and went into his room with him?” It starts with “she wanted it” and ends with “she deserved it.” It doesn’t take long to persuade each other to stop seeing a person as a person. And when enough people are quiet for long enough, a handful of voices can give the impression that everyone is screaming."

"They wanted an enemy. Now they’ve got one. And now they don’t know if they ought to sit next to their daughter or hunt down the person who harmed her, if they ought to help her live or see to it that he dies. Unless they’re the same thing. Hate is so much easier than its opposite. * * * Parents don’t heal. Nor do children."

"Sooner or later, almost every discussion about the way people behave toward one another ends up becoming an argument about “human nature.” That’s never been an easy thing for biology teachers to explain: on the one hand, our entire species survived because we stuck together and cooperated, but on the other hand we developed because the strongest individuals always thrived at the expense of the weak. So we always end up arguing about where the boundaries should be drawn. How selfish are we allowed to be? How much are we obliged to care about each other?"

"All his life he has been special, chosen, has been expected to do something out of the ordinary. So they don’t believe this of him, how could they even entertain the possibility? They’re not going to let him down. And if enough people stand behind you, you can start to believe almost anything that comes out of your mouth. That’s what he tells himself."

"There are damn few things in life that are harder than admitting to yourself that you’re a hypocrite."

"She will always be this to them now: at best the girl who got raped, at worst the girl who lied. They will never let her be anyone but that. In every room, on every street, in the supermarket and at the rink, she will walk in like an explosive device. They will be scared to touch her, even the ones who believe her, because they don’t want to risk getting hit by shrapnel when she detonates. They will back away in silence, turn in a different direction. They will wish that she would just disappear, that she had never been here. Not because they hate her, because they don’t, not all of them: they don’t all scrawl BITCH on her locker, they don’t all rape her, they aren’t all evil. But they’re all silent. Because that’s easier."

"What’s a hockey club? Maybe Tails is a hopeless romantic—his wife often says he is—but to him a hockey club is what makes everyone in this town remember, once a week, all the things they have in common instead of what divides them. The club is proof that they can work together to become something greater. It teaches them to dream. He believes in difficult questions and simple answers. What happens to a town that doesn’t grow? It dies."

"Difficult questions, simple answers. What is a community? * * * It is the sum total of our choices."

"“It’s okay, Dad. It’s okay.” “No, it’s not! It never will be! You must never, ever think it’s okay, that what he did . . . I’m scared, Maya, I’m so scared that you think I don’t want to kill him, that I don’t want to kill him every minute of every day, because I do.” The father’s tears trickle down his daughter’s cheeks. “I’m scared too, Dad. Of everything. Of the darkness and . . . everything.” “What can I do?” “Love me.” “Always, Pumpkin.” She nods."

"“I know you’d have killed for me, Mom. I know you’d have given your life for me. But we’re going to get through this, you and me. Because I’m your daughter. I’ve got wolf’s blood.”"

"“Do you think I’m less of a man because I can’t fight?” he whispers. “Do you think I’m less of a woman because I can?” she asks."

"“Is that why you’re here? To talk about that? Sweet Jesus . . . you men. It’s never your fault, is it? When are you going to admit that it isn’t ‘hockey’ that raises these boys, it’s YOU LOT? In every time and every place, I’ve come across men who blame their own stupidity on crap they themselves have invented. ‘Religion causes wars,’ ‘guns kill people,’ it’s all the same old bullshit!”"

"“Keep your trap shut when I’m talking! Fucking men! YOU’RE the problem! Religion doesn’t fight, guns don’t kill, and you need to be very fucking clear that hockey has never raped anyone! But do you know who do? Fight and kill and rape?” Sune clears his throat. “Men?” “MEN! It’s always fucking men!”"

"Girls aren’t allowed to like hockey even just a little bit in Beartown. Ideally they shouldn’t like it at all. Because if you like the sport you must be a lesbian, and if you like the players you’re a slut. Ana feels like pushing her neighbor up against the wall and telling him that the locker room where those boys sit telling their stupid jokes ends up preserving them like a tin can. It makes them mature more slowly, while some even go rotten inside. And they don’t have any female friends, and there are no women’s teams here, so they learn that hockey only belongs to them, and their coaches teach them that girls are a “distraction.” So they learn that girls only exist for fucking. She wants to point out how all the old men in this town praise them for “fighting” and “not backing down,” but not one single person tells them that when a girl says no, it means NO. And the problem with this town is not only that a boy raped a girl, but that everyone is pretending that he DIDN’T do it. So now all the other boys will think that what he did was okay. Because no one cares. Ana wants to stand on the rooftop and scream: “You don’t give a shit about Maya! And you don’t really give a shit about Kevin either! Because they’re not people to you, they’re just objects of value. And his value is far greater than hers!”"

"Jeanette’s first lesson that morning is substitute teaching with a grade-nine class. She sees that Zacharias has ink on his hands. He smells faintly of solvent. In the corridor there’s a locker on which the word BITCH is no longer scrawled, because he spent part of the night scrubbing it clean. Because he knows what it’s like to be the one other people hurt, just because they can. Because he knows what the strong do to the weak in this town. Jeanette doesn’t say anything to Zacharias. She knows this is his silent protest. And her decision not to tell anyone about who broke in last night becomes her own silent protest."

"“I’m going to attack everything and everyone they love, and I am going to protect my children, do you hear? I’M GOING TO PROTECT MY CHILDREN!” Her colleague stands up. There’s a trace of disappointment in her voice when she says: “That’s how wars start. One side protects itself, so the other side has to protect itself even more, and then we start swapping our own fear with their threats. And then we start firing at each other.” The coffee cup hits the wall at that. “SHE’S MY FUCKING CHILD!” Her colleague closes her eyes. They’re spaced far apart. “Maybe that’s when you really need to know the difference between vengeance and justice.”"

"“I miss your annoying face,” Maya eventually whispers. Ana smiles. “I miss your horrible taste in music.” Maya’s lower lip quivers. “I don’t want you to get caught up in this. I’m just trying to keep you out of it all.” Ana puts her hands on Maya’s shoulders. “I’m your sister. How much more caught up in it can I get?” Maya stares at her until her eyes sting. “I’m just trying to protect you.” “You’ve been trying to protect me all my life, and can I tell you something? You’re really shit at it! I’m obviously completely screwed up in the head, so how well do you think your protection has been working?” They start laughing, both of them. “You’re such an idiot,” Maya sniffs. “But no one else loves you like I do, you idiot. No one!” Maya exclaims." "Ana runs to catch up with her. They wrestle and hug each other. Watch the sun go up. Maya whispers: “Can I sleep at your place one night?” Ana doesn’t know what to say. Maya has never slept at her place, not once; it’s always been the other way around. But she’s a true friend, so of course she answers: “You don’t have to ask.”"

"“You know what my son has been accused of,” Erdahl says. “You make it sound like he’s the victim,” Ramona points out. Erdahl finally loses his composure. Tails has never seen it happen, and he gets so scared that he knocks over his own and Ramona’s glasses. Erdahl screams: “My son IS the victim! Have you got any fucking idea at ALL what it’s like to be accused of this? HAVE YOU?” Ramona doesn’t move a muscle when she replies: “No. But, off the top of my head, it strikes me that the only thing that might be worse than being accused of rape is being raped.”"

"“So you’re one of the people who are going to try to blame this on hockey?” Ramona nods seriously and asks: “Have you ever played hockey?” “I stopped when I was twelve,” Erdahl admits. “In that case, you’re right. In that case, I do blame hockey. Because if it had kept hold of you for another couple of years, you might have learned to lose like a man. You might have learned that your son can make mistakes, and when he does you ought to stand up like a man and take responsibility for that. Not come here and dump all the blame on a fifteen-year-old girl and her father.”"

“When I was little, my dad used to hit me if I spilled my milk, Leo. That didn’t teach me not to spill things. It just made me scared of milk. Remember that.”" "He tries to press the business card into her hand but she refuses. He cries: “You’re nothing if you’re alone in this world, Mom!” She doesn’t answer. Just sits beside him until he starts to cry. He sobs: “It’s too hard, Mom. You don’t understand how much I . . . I can’t . . .” Fatima removes her hands from his. Stands up. Backs away. And says sternly: “I don’t know what you know. But whatever it is, there’s clearly someone out there who’s terrified that you’re going to reveal it. And let me tell you something, my darling boy: I don’t need any men. I don’t need a man to drive me in a big car to the rink each morning, and I don’t need a man to give me a new job that I don’t want. I don’t need a man to pay my bills, and I don’t need a man to tell me what I can think and feel and believe. I only need one man: my son. And you’re not alone. You’ve never been alone. You just need to be better at choosing the company you keep.”"

"There will always be people who won’t understand his decision. Who will call him weak or dishonest or disloyal. They are probably people who live secure lives, who are surrounded by people who share their own opinions and only talk to people who reinforce their own worldview. It’s easy for them to judge him—it’s always easier to lecture other people about morality when you’ve never had to answer for anything yourself."

"He may have left his war-torn country before he could talk, but he has never stopped being a refugee. Hockey is the only thing that has ever made him feel like part of a group. Normal. Good at something."

"Amat stands outside the rink, looking his teammates in the eyes. Then he takes a deep breath, turns away from them, and starts walking. His first step is hesitant, the second more confident. He hears Lyt start shouting behind him, but carries on into the rink, not bothering to close the door behind him. He walks past the ice, up the stairs, into the cafeteria, forcing his way between the rows of chairs, stops in front of the board, and looks each and every man and woman in there in the eye. A man named Erdahl first of all, and longest of all. “My name is Amat. I saw what Kevin did to Maya. I was drunk, I’m in love with her, and I’m telling you that straight so that you lying bastards don’t have to say it behind my back when I walk out of here. Kevin Erdahl raped Maya Andersson. I’m going to go to the police tomorrow, and they’ll say I’m not a reliable witness. But I’m going to tell you everything now, everything that Kevin did, everything that I saw. And you won’t ever forget it. You know that my eyes work better than anyone else’s in here. Because that’s the first thing you learn on the Beartown Ice Hockey Club, isn’t it? ‘You can’t teach that way of seeing. That’s something you’re born with.’ ” Then he tells them. Every detail. Everything that was in Kevin’s room. The posters on the wall, the exact arrangement of trophies on the shelves, the scratches on the floor, the color of the bedclothes, the blood on the boy’s hand, the terror on the girl’s face, the muffled screams, stifled beneath a heavy palm, the bruises, the violence, the incomprehensible, hideous, unforgiveable nature of it all. He tells them everything. And no one in the room will ever forget it."

"He knows he’s put himself on the losing side—he’ll never win this. Maybe he’ll never get to play again. If anyone had asked him there and then if it was worth it, he would have whispered: “I don’t know.” Sometimes life doesn’t let you choose your battles. Just the company you keep."

""The love a parent feels for a child is strange. There is a starting point to our love for everyone else, but not this person. This one we have always loved, we loved them before they even existed. No matter how well prepared they are, all moms and dads experience a moment of total shock, when the tidal wave of feelings first washes through them, knocking them off their feet. It’s incomprehensible because there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s like trying to describe sand between your toes or snowflakes on your tongue to someone who’s lived their whole life in a dark room. It sends the soul flying."

"Amat is sitting on Zacharias’s bed when his phone buzzes. A single text. A single word. From Maya. “Thanks.” Amat replies with a single word. “Sorry.” The thanks is for what he has done. The apology is for how long it took him to summon the courage to do it."

"“And I can’t respect Peter for playing God with this team and this club and the whole town just because this is about his daughter. Let me ask you one thing, Sune: If Kevin had been accused of raping a different girl, if it hadn’t been Peter’s daughter, do you think Peter would have encouraged that girl’s family to report him to the police on the day of the final?” Sune leans his head against the doorpost. “Let me ask you something in return, David: What if it wasn’t Kevin who was reported to the police? If it had been any other guy? If it had been a guy from the Hollow. Would you still think the same way you do now?” “I don’t know,” David replies honestly. Sune lets those words sink in. Because in the end that’s all anyone can ask of another person. That we are prepared to admit that we don’t know everything."

"“I don’t have any children, David. But do you want to hear my best advice about being a parent?” “Yes.” “ ‘I was wrong.’ Good words to know.”"

"She very quickly puts her forefinger and thumb to her eyes, swallows hard, whispers. “Ever since you and Kevin were small, every time the two of you caused any trouble, the teachers and other parents always said it was you who started it, and blamed the fact that ‘you have no male role model.’ And I’ve never known what to say to that. Because I’ve never heard anything more stupid in my life.” Benjamin glances at her in surprise. She opens her eyes, reaches out her hand, and touches his cheek softly with it. “That hockey team . . . that bloody hockey team . . . I know you all love each other. How loyal you all are. Sometimes I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. I remember when you made catapults when you were nine years old, and Kevin broke the neighbor’s window—do you remember? You got the blame. Because when all the other boys ran away, you stayed where you were, because you realized that someone had to take the blame, and that it would be worse for Kevin if he got the blame than it would be for you.” Benji wipes his eyes. She’s still holding her hand against his cheek. She pats him and smiles. “You may not be an angel, Benjamin, I know that much. But, dear God, you haven’t lacked a role model. All your best qualities come from the fact that you’ve been raised in a house full of women.” She moves closer. The boy’s whole body is shaking. She hugs him tight and says: “My son has never been able to lie to you, Benjamin, has he? Kevin has been able to lie to everyone in the whole world. To his dad. To me. But never to you.” They sit there, her arms around him, for a single minute of their lives. Then Kevin’s mom stands up and gets back in her car. * * * Benji tries to light a cigarette. His hands are shaking too much to hold the lighter. His tears extinguish the flame."

"The Andersson family are sitting in their kitchen. All five, including Ana."

"They’re playing a childish card game. No one’s winning, because they’re all trying to let everyone else win."

"Kevin’s mother stands outside the house, broken, seemingly drowning in her own clothes. Her legs are shaking, struggling until they give way beneath her. They’ve told her that too much time has passed for the police to use anything as reliable evidence. The girl should have taken photographs, she shouldn’t have showered, she should have reported the incident at once. Now it’s too late, that’s what they said. But the bruises are still visible on the girl’s neck and wrists. Kevin’s mother can see them. The marks left by strong fingers forcing her. Holding her down. Stopping her from screaming. She sinks to her knees at the girl’s feet, reaches out her hand as if to touch her, but her trembling arms can’t reach. Maya stands there empty for a long time, just looking on. She closes her eyelids, stops breathing, her skin is mute, her tear ducts so numb that her body doesn’t feel like it’s her own. Then, with infinite care, she reaches out her fingers, as if she were picking a lock, and strokes the woman’s hair soothingly as she sobs uncontrollably against the girl’s legs. “I’m sorry . . . ,” Kevin’s mother whispers. “It isn’t your fault,” Maya replies. One of them falls. The other starts to climb back up."

"There are few words that are harder to explain than “loyalty.” It’s always regarded as a positive characteristic, because a lot of people would say that many of the best things people do for each other occur precisely because of loyalty. The only problem is that many of the very worst things we do to each other occur because of the same thing."

"Perhaps one day the man in the black jacket will think about this too: why he only wondered if it was Kevin or Amat who was telling the truth. Why Maya’s word wasn’t enough."

"Another morning comes. It always does. Time always moves at the same rate, only feelings have different speeds. Every day can mark a whole lifetime or a single heartbeat, depending on who you spend it with."

"All their lives, girls are told that the only thing they need to do is their best. That that will be enough, as long as they give everything they’ve got. When they themselves become mothers, they promise their daughters that it’s true, that if we just do as well as we can, if we’re honest and work hard, look after our family and love each other, then everything will be all right. Everything will be fine, there’s nothing to be frightened of. Children need the lie to be brave enough to sleep in their beds; parents need it to be able to get up the next morning."

"All our lives we try to protect those we love. It’s not enough. We can’t."

"His daughter’s arms hold him tighter. When she was little they used to tell each other secrets instead of bedtime stories. Her dad might confess in a whisper, “I ate the last cookie,” and his daughter might reply, “It was me who hid the remote.” It went on for years. Now she leans over and says into his ear:

“Want to know a secret, Dad?” “Yes, Pumpkin.” “I love hockey too.” Tears roll down his cheeks as he admits: “Me too, Pumpkin. Me too.” “Will you do something for me, Dad?” “Anything.” “Build a better club. Stay and make the sport better. For everyone.”"

"Benji has always felt that he has different versions of himself for different people. He’s always known that there are different versions of Kevin too. The Kevin who exists on the ice, the Kevin in school, the Kevin when they’re on their own. Above all, there’s a Kevin out on the island, and that Kevin is Benji’s alone."

"There are people who say that children don’t behave the way adults tell them to, but the way they see adults behave. Perhaps that’s true. But children live the way adults tell them to a fair bit as well."

"This place has a way of grabbing hold of your insides that’s hard to explain. On the one hand, there’s all that’s bad about it—and that really is a very long list—but there are a few things that are so good that they manage to shine through the crap. The people, most of all. As tough as the forest, as hard as the ice."

"You have friends when you’re fifteen years old. Sometimes you get them back."

"And after all those hours in the locker room, all those nights on the team bus, all the conversations and all the jokes and the blood, sweat, and tears, the boy didn’t dare tell his coach his biggest secret. That’s betrayal. David knows it’s a huge betrayal. There’s no other way to explain how much a grown man must have failed as a person if such a warrior of a boy could believe that his coach would be less proud of him if he were gay. David hates himself for not being better than his dad. That’s the job of sons."

"The girl is four years old, and is standing in a hall without lights, in a house full of bruises. Her hands are timid, she stands on tiptoe as if she’s always ready to run, and her ears listen out constantly for steps on the stairs. But her eyes are wide open, and stare at Adri without blinking. Adri’s heart has time to break many times as she crouches down to get a better look at the child. Adri has seen war, she’s seen suffering, but you never get used to it. You never know what to say to a four-year-old who hurts and thinks that’s normal, because life has never shown her anything else."

"Down to his very marrow, David wishes he could drive back to Hed, take the boy in his arms, and tell him that he knows now. But he can’t bring himself to unmask someone who clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. Big secrets make small men of us, especially when we’re the men others have to keep secrets from. So David drives home, puts his hand on his girlfriend’s stomach, and pretends he’s crying about the baby. His life will be successful, he will achieve everything he’s ever dreamed of—career and success and titles—he’ll coach unbeatable teams at legendary clubs in several different countries, but he will never let any player in any of them wear number “16.” He will always keep hoping that Benji is going to turn up one day and demand his jersey."

"There’s a hockey puck on a gravestone in Beartown. The writing is small, so that all the words can fit. Still the bravest bastard I know. Beside the puck lies a watch."

"There’s a note in the cabinet. In Maya’s neat handwriting. Happy, Ana. In ten years’ time I see myself being happy. You too."

"Kevin falls to the ground. He has time to understand that he’s dying. His brain is convinced that it’s exploding in blood and snot. His heart stops beating. When it starts again, it beats so hard that it bursts his chest. He’s screaming with tears, with an infant’s senseless hysteria and panic. Maya is still standing over him. She lowers the shotgun. From her pocket she takes out the single cartridge and drops it in the snow in front of him. She crouches down and forces him to look her in the eye as she says: “Now you’ll be scared of the dark, too, Kevin. For the rest of your life.”"

"In ten years’ time the parking lot will be full of other people. Kevin’s wife will be pregnant. Maya will be standing a few yards away, with every possibility in the world of ending his life. She could walk right over and say what he is, humiliate and annihilate him in front of the person he loves most. She will have all the power in that moment, but she will let him go. She will not forgive him, she will not pardon him, but she will spare him. And he will always know that."

"And she will always know that he still, ten years later, sleeps with the light on."

"When skating classes start in the rink that year, four teenagers have been asked to attend as instructors. They stand in the center circle, in the team’s colors: green, white, and brown; like the forest, ice, and earth. This place built a club that was like itself. Tough and unyielding—in love as in everything else. The boys look down at the bear painted beneath them. When they were little they were scared of it, and sometimes they still are. Amat, Zacharias, Bobo, and Benjamin: two have just turned sixteen, two will soon be turning eighteen. In ten years’ time two of them will be playing professionally. One will be a dad. One will be dead."

"None of them sees the first skate of the child who’s the last one out. She’s four years old, a scrawny little kid in gloves that are too big for her, with bruises everyone sees but nobody asks about. Her helmet slips down across her eyes, but the look in them is clear enough. Adri and Sune come after her, ready to hold the girl up, until they realize that there’s no need. The four boys at the center circle will build a new A-team next season, but that doesn’t matter, because in ten years’ time it won’t be their names that make the people of this town stand taller. And they’ll all lie and say they were here and saw it happen. The first skate of the girl who will become the most talented player this club has ever seen. They’ll all say they knew it even then. * * * Because people recognize the bear around here. * * * Cherry trees always smell of cherry trees. * * * They do that in hockey towns."

Welp, now I only have to reread Us Against You, then make and publish the review of it on this blog, and finally, I will read the book that I have been dying to read since last year, The Winners. I don't know if I'm ready for it, to be honest. It's my last most anticipated book this year, and it's the conclusion of one of my favorite book series of all time, and so far Backman hasn't announced anything about his next book yet, so I'm kinda nervous how this seems to be the last book of his for a little while. But TRUST that once I finish that book I will never ever shut up about it lol.

PLOT - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

WRITING STYLE - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

ENTERTAINMENT LEVEL- ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

BOOK COVER DESIGN - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

OVERALL BOOK RATING - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

#beartown trilogy #beartown #book reviews

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munmunx5 · 3 years

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Thoughts on Sex Ed S3

It’s been over a week since Season 3 of Sex Education and here are some of my thoughts since it’s not considered as “spoilery” now.

I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I did on the show than when I was watching Episode 3x08. They hit the feels in all the right directions. I am not the biggest fan of Adam but bravo on the writers for making him so vulnerable this season that I couldn’t help but emphasize with him.

I’m all for seeing the Adam/Rahim dynamic developing more next season. Adam’s surprising Rahim time and time again this season, proving him wrong in his preconceived prejudices towards him. So much potential there. I also knew Adam/Eric weren’t going to work (sorry!). They were/are on different wavelengths. Let’s not forget that Adam bullied Eric for years... it’s just not a healthy set-up for a end-game relationship. I’ll talk more about that later.

The theme of this season? ACCEPTANCE.

- Hope’s lack of acceptance into her situation and narrow-mindedness worldview made her into an unhappy and ruthless Headmaster

- Moordale Secondary finally embracing and accepting their sexuality

- Eric finally completely accepting who he is and what he wants.

- Maureen and Aimee accepting that it is okay to be alone and that is what they need right now.

S3 was also about seeing these teenagers grow up and learn to accept the harsh realities of life.

I think people forget that these characters are only 17 years old (Maeve literally said it multiple times this season, the writers’ reminder to the viewers perhaps?!). I get so peeved when I see people saying anti-Otis, anti-Maeve sentiments. Teenagers make mistakes, they do stupid things, they regret doing these said stupid things, they break up with each other, they mend, and they fall IN LOVE (constantly). If you’ve been a teenager, you know... the angst is real. What makes this show so fun to watch is that we get to follow the lives of very flawed teenagers portrayed in a realistic and emotional way, without being overtly bashing, stereotypical or corny (like most teen dramas).

A big majority of the fandom are talking about Ruby/Otis being so amazing and end-game. That’s bullocks. It was clearly set up to be a one-time thing. It was a growing up moment for the both of them. Otis is finally embracing his own sexuality. Ruby is now finally learning how to love someone else besides her parents and herself. She was a complete arsehole and bully to everyone in Season 1 (even to her own friends). You can’t give her a free pass for all her misgivings just because she looks good with Otis or because she takes care of her sick father (btw, wouldn’t we all?). She was ashamed of her home life. She was ashamed of Otis. She was trying to control everything about Otis when they were together, to the point where he couldn’t chew his food in front of her. TOXIC relationship at it’s best. It’s real sad to me that people are obsessed with them. It just doesn’t make sense. Also, I didn’t see the chemistry. It was just teenage lust, and that was how Asa played it. There was no love on Otis’ part. Why ship a one-sided relationship?

Now, on to the foundation of the show: Otis and Maeve.

Everything falls back on them. Two words. SEX CLINIC.

They are the main reason Moordale turned into the “sex school” and the basis of the show (Eric clearly acknowledged this.) They have literally brought out the best in each other. Meave made Otis realize that he has a knack for talking to people and helping them (btw, his scene with Hope was beautiful, and I cried when I saw Jean listening on). Maeve brought him out of his shy “wallflower” bubble and into a person that people are drawn towards for advice. (Otis and Maeve both speaking up to everyone during the new SRE lectures and respectively getting kicked out was brilliant to see). Otis constantly encouraged Maeve to be the best that she could be academically and helped her to acknowledge her own brilliance (trophy from S1, anyone?). Yes, they have been selfish and have let jealously get the best of them (house party speech in S2, Maeve telling Ola that Otis is a virgin in S1...) . But that’s only human, isn’t it? Also, like most things in real life, they experienced a-many missed opportunities and bad timing with each other.

And their last scene with each other (fitting that it’s the final scene of S3):

“We have to see where we’re at when I get back.”

“So this is goodbye?”

“No, no... it’s see you soon.”

It’s left open-ended and there is no finality for the viewers. But we all know that they are meant to be. It is not yet the right timing yet for them to be together, but Maeve is emotionally strong enough to accept that, and now so is Otis.

Nothing screams endgame on the show than Otis and Maeve. The show revolves around them. I would’ve liked to see more scenes between Asa and Emma together because they have incredible chemistry but I think the writers wanted to focus on their other relationships more (and also a lot more time were spent with side characters this season). The writers also never forgot about them. We always saw the longing glances, the almost text messages/phone calls, and the conversations they have with other people about each other. Their romantic scenes were thoughtfully crafted. They made Eric (his speechlessness when Otis told him they kissed was PRICELESS) and Aimee their biggest shippers ever, which makes complete sense since they are the two people that know Otis and Maeve the best.

Judging by Emma’s latest interview about wanting to have a scene with Gillian next season (if it happens), we know there’s a chance she’s coming back on for Season 4.

One final comment, I absolutely LOVE Miss Sands.

#sex education season 3 #sex education #sex education meta #maeve and otis #otis x maeve #motis #maeve wiley #otis milburn #asa butterfield #emma mackey #sex education spoilers #eric and adam #otis and ruby #rahim and eric #aimee and maeve #otis and maeve meta #asa and emma

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

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Return to Sender: (Richard Alonso Muñoz x GN reader)

What is this? This is 4/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. I’m not gonna share the prompt as it’s spoilery, but it was requested by @sergeantkane who is a genius for picking this combo! It’s a prompt about LOVE LETTERS! Omg! And thus, it matches perfectly with Richard (trust me, I had NOT made that connection when I made the prompt list :P). Thank you so much for requesting, Clarke, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m excited about this one!

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Oh, I really quite like this one. Hope it makes you feel as soft as I did for Richard while writing it! Also- it’s my first bash at writing him, so let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who helped with film details too: those not already tagged in the post- @prurientpuddlejumper @witchyavenger @veuliee2 @waatermelon-sugaar @pascal-isaac

Word count: 4.5 k. So not a blurb, then? :P

Rating: Mature, for light steam (not explicit, but 18+ or out, please!)

Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Mild angst (but it ends well), Steamy. Kissing, brief non-explicit mention of erection. Implied coitus (cut scene). Richard works in a “correctional facility”. Small mention of attempted break-in. If I missed any let me know.

Tagging: @anetteaneta @isvvc-pvscvl @nowritingonthewall @supernovafeather (ONLY READ IF 18+)

GIF by @nathan-bateman

“Have you ever received a love letter?” Richard wonders shyly, without looking up from his crossword puzzle, his long eyelashes fanned out as his gaze dances over the monochrome squares.

Meanwhile, your eyes snap up immediately from your magazine, which you are idly leafing through, a breath catching in your chest.

You bristle at the question, and yet Richard seems either entirely oblivious, or entirely determined not to look-up at you. Perhaps both. So, instead of looking, he simply slurps the dregs of his milkshake, and pushes his plate of waffle remnants further toward the far end of the diner booth.

When he finally raises his gaze – a gentle prompt for you to answer him- his eyes are large and shining under the fluorescent lights as he peers at you over his glass, dabbing at his thick moustache with a paper napkin shortly after.

“No, never,” you state sadly, heeding his prompt with a small smile and a shake of your head. Not even a love e-mail.

“I’m surprised,” he flatters with a cautious smile. And, if you’re not mistaken, his eyes light-up with the faintest trace of desire. The barest undercurrent of passion, which is enough to have your heart beating like a drum. You notice it sometimes; this dull heat emanating off of him. It is a spark which never ignites, however - to your endless disappointment; you would fan that flame if only you knew how.

You swallow. He’s surprised? He can’t be that surprised, you think, a stone sinking through your stomach as you dwell too long on the topic of love letters, and meanwhile, Richard’s attention seamlessly diverts back to 3 across.

“You deserve one,” he says, still looking at the page, but a smile animating his wiry moustache. “A letter.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a spiralling sadness catching hold of you. Does he not understand what this is doing to you? This painful reminder? “Can we drop it, Richard?” you say tensely, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are even more soft and cautious than usual, causing you to admonish yourself for the bite in your tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course,” he smiles thinly, apologetically.

It’s simply the new job, you think. Director of Communications. The man has letters on the brain. Richard is so considerate, that you realise he must not intend to hurt you in dredging up the past; he would never. In a way though, you think, it’s even worse that he brings it up so… casually. You can only conclude he has forgotten that you sent your letter to him at all. Had your heartfelt words, declaring your love, had so little impact on him?

Maybe that’s it. After all, they seemed to have so little impact upon him at the time. What could you expect years later? On the other hand, you -apparently- remain rather sore about the topic, all this time later. It’s natural to be sensitive though, isn’t it? You’d written him a love letter and he didn’t write you back. He didn’t say it back. Didn’t feel it back.

And, perhaps it still stings so much, even all these years later, because you never did stop loving him, even if he never started loving you.

Feeling a sudden, overwhelming haste to leave, you thumb through the pages of your magazine so furiously that the next table turn their heads to look at you, until you find what you were searching for.

“Here, Richard. The article I mentioned. Dramatherapy for people who are incarcerated.”

You fold the magazine back on itself, fobbing it off on him with an unprecedented urgency, hurriedly signalling to the waitress that you’d like the check. The roomy diner booth suddenly feels suffocating, and you want to get out. Meanwhile, oblivious, Richard chuckles at the title of the article -some kind of pun, you recall- as you try to push down the unpleasant emotions surfacing within you.

“Thank you for this,” he smiles, looking up at you earnestly. Looking concerned as he reads the expression on your face. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes fix on the table, where his fingertips inch hesitantly across the surface, hovering moments from yours as he debates whether to extend comfort. You make the decision for him, snatching your hand back from his reach.

“Yes. I’m Fine,” you say, unconvincingly. “Can we please go? I need some fresh air.”

“Alright,” Richard agrees gently. He looks a little flustered, but, now sensing your urgency, he begins to sweep up his papers and to shrug on his jacket. He pulls out a small comb to fix his neat curls in place, and offers you a soft smile. “Maybe we can go to the park next?” he suggests.

As much as you want to run, you nod, some of your agitation dissipating now that the prior topic seems to be forgotten. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.” You school your expression into something calm, and you offer him a reassuring smile as his soulful eyes dance over you, a lingering but unobtrusive concern there.

As you split the check, you tell yourself for the millionth time that being his friend is enough; but even after the millionth time, you can’t quite believe it.

Still, today -Sunday- is your one day with him this week. And, no matter what you can’t have; you’ll take anything you can get.

He’s too dear to you to settle for anything less.

************

One month later:

You crouch in amongst the boxes on Richard’s front lawn. He is having a clear-out, setting out some items for goodwill, and some for a neighbourhood yard sale happening next weekend.

You are having fun assisting him in sifting through various items, occasionally bursting into a fit of laughter when he reveals yet another ill-informed, late night shopping channel “bargain” – usually some new-fangled, scarcely-used exercise contraption, which he proceeds to demonstrate in good-humour, making you fold over clutching your stomach in mirth. Occasionally, as you rifle through the boxes, you’ll be overcome by a pang of sentimentality when he uncovers an item with a memory attached; and -no matter how useless- he usually sneaks said item into his ever-growing “to-keep” pile.

“But this is the picnic hamper we took to Bound Beach Island! For your birthday, remember?”

“Yeah, Richard, but it’s battered! It has holes! It needs to go.”

“It was a beautiful day. The light and the dunes were beautiful… and… and y-“

“-Oh my goodness, what is this?! Please for the love of God tell me you never actually wore this!”

You work through the midday sun until you come to a tired, dead halt on the grass, finally parking your ass down and wiping your brow. Richard looks warm too, a “v” of sweat soaking his old, oversized “Save the Turtles” t-shirt. No - he really doesn’t throw anything away. You smile fondly, though, remembering his sea turtle phase. Of course, he’d read some article. He always was looking for a cause.

“I’ll make us some iced tea,” Richard announces with a tired puff of breath, looking more spent than he probably wants to admit after shuttling the various boxes. Still, the way his grizzled curls have fallen away from his harsh side-part appeals to you, sitting disobedient and undone on his forehead.

Thinking of him undone, you hear a faint beating of drums sound in your chest.

You ignore the music though, like always, instead smiling gratefully as he heads inside, and you take a second to collect yourself before dragging the nearest box towards you, deciding you may as well continue. This next box is taped securely shut, and you chuckle quietly to yourself when you notice it’s labelled “workout-gear”.

You peel the packing tape away and open it up, scooping out the pile of miscellaneous papers sitting right on top. Beginning to leaf through, you surmise it’s mainly unopened junk mail; mainly garishly printed promotional flyers - from a pizzeria which closed down years ago, you recognise. Probably hastily stuffed in before his last move and never dealt with. Absent-mindedly, you begin to bundle it up for the recycling pile, when a smaller, more humble envelope drops out on to your lap, a hand-scrawled address on the front. The stationary is resoundingly familiar.

In fact, everything about it is familiar.

Your heart hammers in your chest as it immediately dawns on you.

It’s your letter.

The letter you sent him, all those years ago. You’d needed to be apart from him- needed to go away to take care of family, and you simply couldn’t go without letting him know. Letting him know you were in love with him.

The memory is like a slow knife sinking into your chest as you idly turn it over in your hands.

But… It can’t be…?

It’s… unopened.

All the air leaves you lungs.

No. No. It doesn’t make a shred of sense.

You’d spoken to him right afterward, on the phone. The first time he’d called after you left town he’d almost pleaded with you, giving you an unequivocally clear, and endlessly painful answer that he didn’t want what you wanted. What you’d written about. He’d made it abundantly obvious that he simply wanted to be friends. “I- I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly like it is between us – please? Can we still talk every day?”

But if he didn’t read it…?

You heart pounds so hard that you hear blood rushing in your ears.

He doesn’t know.

His words didn’t mean what you…

Oh my god. All this time.

You shoot abruptly to standing when you see him approach, as if you’ve been caught red-handed, guiltily stuffing the letter into your back pocket before he can ask you what it is, an abundance of thoughts screaming in your head.

He hands you the glass of tea, ice tinkling gently, and you take it from him, the coolness shocking your palms.

Assessing what you’ve been up to in his absence, and noting the carcass of another box, Richard glances down at the pile of papers strewn at your feet. He looks suddenly worried for a moment, as if you might have found an old porn stash or something – and he looks just as suddenly relieved when he sees they are more innocent papers, scooping them up from the grass.

“Richard?” you say, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and the letter burning a hole in your pocket as he drops the items into the recycling. He hums for you to go on. “Do you... You know when I moved away...?” your voice is strained, and you gulp hard. “Just before, do you remember getting any unusual letters or... weird post from me?”

“Like what kind of thing?” he asks curiously, turning back to you.

“I don’t know exactly,” you lie, nervously. “I have a feeling I sent you something? A sappy goodbye thing?”

You see him mull it over, combing his impressive moustache with his fingers. “I don’t remember, sorry. But apparently I was drowning in junk mail at that apartment. Maybe it got lost, or returned to sender?”

Despite everything, you exhale a small laugh. In a roundabout way, you suppose it had been returned to sender after all. You look at the ground.

“Was it important?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looks at you.

Biding time, you take a sip of your tea while you search for an answer. It’s refreshing.

“It… Uh. It was a long, long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” you muse, masking your sadness, and he nods, looking at least half-satisfied with your answer.

Except, it does matter. It matters more than anything. And, with a sudden, overwhelming need to grab on to the past, you track to the “to go” box, rescuing the battered picnic basket from the pile of junk.

“You shouldn’t get rid of this,” you state, your back to Richard, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice falters. You tense as you feel him settle by your side, his hand hovering tentatively at the small of your back but never quite touching. “It was a beautiful day.”

“No,” he insists. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hang on to it.”

His words are like a punch in the gut. You turn your head to your side, where Richard is, your eyes and heart almost overflowing.

Noting your sadness, and connecting it to the picnic basket, he does everything he can to smooth things over, like always. “We can get a new one,” he says, his brown eyes sweet and hopeful and bright.

You love him. You love him still and you can’t help but turn towards him and reach out your arms, dragging him in for a hug.

“No! No, I’m sweaty,” he protests self-consciously, but you don’t care. You just need to hold him, even only for a moment – and, for a moment he stills as you loop around him, never quite clutching you back.

When you pull away though, you could swear that dim spark of passion is present in his eyes again. That spark that never catches, no matter how much or how often or how hard you wish it would. Oh, how you wish.

“Don’t ever change, Richard,” you say sincerely, your voice imbued with fondness. “Okay? You’re a sweet, wonderful man.”

His eyes are immediately soft and bashful again, the colour of his cheeks deepening a little, a crimson undertone blooming under his brown skin.

“Yes. Okay,” he offers, with a nod, his eyes creasing at the corners, and his posture even bolstered by the compliment, you could swear, his chest puffing out proudly.

For the rest of the afternoon, you ignore the unread words in the back of your pocket; but for the life of you, you can’t ignore those drums.

************

One month later:

You bundle the yapping, happy little white dog into your arms, relieved that she’s okay as her little tail happily beats against your arm.

“Are you okay, Lady?” you coo as she nuzzles her snoot into your face, eagerly lapping little kisses on to your cheek. “Thanks goodness, sweet little floof,” you baby-talk as your eyes quickly scan around Richard’s place, setting his spare key down on the kitchen counter.

You’d barrelled across town to get here, after receiving a call about an attempted break-in. His neighbour to the left had your contact details in case of an emergency -it’s not very easy to reach him at work, of course- so here you are. You came to give things a quick checking over, assured that no-one suspicious had continued to loiter. Richard won’t be much longer -his shift has nearly ended, and you’d left him a voicemail so you’re sure he’ll hurry- but you still thought you’d go on ahead of him, especially so that he wouldn’t worry about Lady.

Looking around, thankfully all seems well, and you don’t think anyone made it inside after all. Slowly then, you allow your nerves to calm and your heart to settle, bouncing the little bundle of fur in your arms, and feeding her a treat from the packet on top of the microwave, just in case she’d been stressed out.

Calming, you can’t help but smile as you look around, absorbing all the little details of Richard. You do hang out in his apartment a fair amount, but most often you will meet or sit outdoors, when the weather allows. After all, he loves to feel the sun and fresh air on his face, especially after spending all day cooped-up in windowless rooms. To you though, this Richard-ness is like a breath of fresh air, and you let it all wash over you, drinking in the details of his simple daily routine. The discarded half-plate of frijoles and rice by the sink. The ironing-board piled with identical uniform-issue shirts, pants, and plain white t-shirts. The photos on the fridge door – some of you and him too.

Doing a lap of the living space, you further note the dining-for-one TV table, evidence of his relatively solitary existence, and you can almost see him sitting there. Can almost hear his soft voice relating the far-fetched storylines of his favourite telenovelas. You imagine him chuckling warmly - perhaps shedding a tear sometimes too.

You decide you should pop your head into the bedroom and bathroom to check there too, for good measure, and you set Lady down, the dog trotting along at your heels. Once you’ve done a loop, you sigh, seeking out a fresh task, and you circle back to the sink, scraping his discarded plate and rinsing it, stacking it in the dishrack. Then, you move towards the TV chair, intending simply to sit yourself down and wait for Richard to come home. After all, you’re here now - you may as well say hello; or, maybe you can even prepare him dinner after his long shift, you muse.

As you revisit the small, rickety table, however, your eyes more keenly notice that a bunch of papers are strewn over it, all identical- a series of pastel pink leaves of paper and envelopes.

Letters.

Handwritten, in his familiar scrawl.

Letters addressed to you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, as you wonder what they could be. You don’t want to invade his privacy, of course, but perhaps this is something that’s meant for you? After all, sometimes he leaves you notes when you come over to feed or walk Lady.

Still, this feels different, and, with a lump in your throat that you don’t quite understand, you pick up one of the leaves at random, skimming the first line, yet feeling only more confused than you did before.

You see your name at the head of the paper, followed by the words “my dearest love,”, and underneath, some other half-formed paragraphs, scribbled over and crossed out.

No, you shake your head, your stomach flipping over. That can’t be right, you think, even as your fingers scramble for another leaf - for leaf upon leaf, until you piece together what’s going on. Until, with every line you read, fragments of both English and Spanish, you feel as though you are piecing together his heart.

Could it be true? Is this really true?

Your fingers dive for a sheet more developed that the rest, where you see paragraphs of writing, and you devour the words like you are starved of love; for you are, aren’t you? Starved? And yet, you suddenly feel so full. Brimming.

My darling,

There are infinite ways to fall in love. Some are elemental, like a raging fire. A shock of lightning on first sight. Some are slow-burning and constant, the heat of friendship warming your hearth, defrosting your iced fingertips when you come in from the cold.

There are infinite ways to fall in love, and I should know, my heart, as I have experienced every one of them with you.

You can barely read the rest as tears blur your eyes, and your hand comes to clamp over your mouth as realisation sinks through to the pit of you, the page quaking -like a leaf- in your fingers.

You make my heart beat like a drum. When I look at you, I am music, without being played. When you’re with me I am dancing, without movement. If only you would touch my skin, I feel like I would sing. If only you would-

“-Are you safe? Are you alright?” Richard asks from behind you, and you tear your eyes away from the page with a start. You were so absorbed by this swell of beating music that you didn’t hear the scrape of his key in the lock. You didn’t hear his hurried footsteps coming up behind you.

“Richard,” you suspire, and for once his touch is on you without hesitation, his hands clasped around each of your shoulders, slowly running down your arms, and you nod quickly to reassure him, your mouth opening wordlessly. You’re safe.

His touch is warm through your clothes, and you think he is right- your skin would sing for him too if he touched you. Your love rattles you, like drums beating musically in your chest, pulsing through your body.

Then, Richard clocks your sideward, guilty glance at the pile of letters, and you see his panic instantly surface at the thought of all his unsent and unspoken words laid bare before you. All the pieces of his heart exposed.

At first, he looks apologetic, but then you step forwards a little more, into the circle of his arms. Arms which suddenly fall, unsure, at his sides once again. And, achingly slow, endlessly sure, you lift up you hand and you place it on his chest, over his heart, smoothing over his shirt and over the cool metal of the shield he wears there. You feel his heart really is beating like a drum. His chest is rising and falling beneath your hand, his breath quickened – eyes nervous.

You step a little closer, and your fingers continue their slow crawl, dancing up around his collar, inching further up until your fingers finally brush the bare skin at the nape of his neck, pushing up into the curls behind his ears, your thumb skimming his sideburn. You touch him, with your fingertips, and he does sing for you, a half-choked moan leaving his mouth at your tender caress.

“Richard,” you say breathily, searching his face, eyes openly appraising his beauty. “Don’t worry, sweet man. I love you too.” And, when you next meet his eyes there is no nervousness there. Not any longer. Instead, you find his dark, expressive eyes brewing with adoration, and that gentle but ever ascending note of passion.

“Darling, can I kiss you?” he pleads, his voice dogged by desire, his brow knitting together and his hands slipping bravely to your waist, circling you as you arch into him.

“Yes. Yes,” you say, and his mouth meets yours in a desperate, tumultuous crush. You sing too, your skin thrumming as you finally know the feeling of his thick moustache brushing against you. As you taste the sweet flavour of cherry sucker on his kiss. As you finally feel the texture of his slicked curls beneath your fingertips.

You kiss, urgently, until you are each smiling too broadly to continue, and instead Richard beams and presses sweet, intermittent kisses all over – your cheeks, your forehead, your hair, your neck- his moustache tickling wherever it touches. His hands are everywhere they can be politely, roaming over your back and your arms and your hair, and it feels so good to finally be held like this.

Eventually, he pulls back, his smile no longer tugging at his lips so keenly -lips now kiss flushed with deep colour- but shining in his liquid eyes. “How long have you loved me back?” he asks in a still choked, disbelieving voice.

You bite your lip, but then allow your face to split in a radiant, unrestrained grin.

Always. Always. I loved you first, you think.

You reach for your bag, reluctant to break from him so trailing your love’s hand in yours- and you fish out the letter. The one you’ve carried around since it was returned to you. “Take a look, Richard,” you encourage.

He looks from you to the small envelope, turning it in his spare hand as you pass it to him. “What is this?”

His brows rise in confusion as you tap the stamped postmark with your index finger. Years. Years ago.

“I sent you a letter,” you explain. “Telling you I loved you. That I love you,” you correct, squeezing his hand tightly in yours, amazed at how natural it feels already, to touch him.

He audibly gasps in air, looking pained. Devastated. “I never got it. I would’ve-“, he fumbles for words, but he can’t finish them, the magnitude of all those years lost to yearning too big to wrap his lips around. “I never got it,” he repeats sorrowfully.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about that now,” you soothe. “I got your letter.” And, as you engulf him with your arms a soft smile takes over his features once again. He can’t help it.

“I’m so glad you did,” he beams, drawing you to him for another kiss, which you eagerly accept, opening your mouth to him.

God, he’s a good kisser, his tongue in you deep and eager, and the heat generated is quick to catch, a fire lit in the pit of you. That moustache is a divine thing too, his lips soft and full beneath, his mild-mannered tongue positively sinful as it works against yours.

Letting the kiss grow, you grab hold of him by the belt to draw his body closer to yours, arching your hips into his, and you feel an impressive bulge greet you as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers bashfully, angling his hips away from you, in case you’re not ready for… that yet. “You’re perfection. So perfect, I… I’m a little bit, uh, excited.”

You don’t blame him. You’re a little bit excited too. There’s a drum beating in your chest. Music in your heart. A song everywhere. A dance in your body.

“W-would you like to take me to the bedroom, Richard?” you purr, softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You wish you could capture the bliss which sparks in his eyes then, and keep stoking it forever more. His whole being glows as if you are the sun shining down on him. He loves the sun on his face. He loves you.

He loves you.

*******

Later that night:

At some point after round three, Richard is ravenous, and so you head to the kitchen to grab some snacks. One of Richard’s plaid shirts wards off the slight chill, settled over your otherwise naked body. As you microwave something quick, you can barely keep the smile from your face – even more so as you glance over at the table full of half-finished letters. As the microwave pings and you grab out the plate, another idea occurs to you, and you simply can’t help yourself.

So, you pad mysteriously back towards the bedroom, where Richard is waiting. The blanket is slung low over his hips, skimming the dark trail of hair which draws your gaze down beyond his abdomen. He is covered, and yet you bloom blissfully with heat at your new-found knowledge of what lays beneath. He’s laying with one hand folded behind his head, and one hand rested on the soft, roundness of his stomach, which you had laid your head on only moments ago.

Richard’s eyes shine with unadulterated admiration as you enter, and you flash him a mischievous smile as you transfer the plate to his hands, and subsequently tip a cascade of his letters into the middle of the bed.

“What’s all this?” he asks, with a contented laugh as you bounce eagerly into bed by his side, humming in equal contentment as you slot yourself under his arm.

“I want you to read them to me. Will you?” you ask, sweetly, and he looks bashful all over again. “No-one has ever sent me a love letter.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles. “Or I thought so…”

He hesitates, perhaps feeling shy, but he wraps his arm around you securely, nuzzling you into his side as he picks up the closest leaf of paper.

He hums gratefully as you begin to stroke his smooth chest. He really does sing whenever you touch him.

“They’re not finished,” he caveats. “I wanted to find the perfect words and I… I couldn’t.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect. It’s more important that they’re delivered,” you say, your voice soft as you sink into him, and so, he gently clears his throat and he begins to read, his words and his rich, soothing voice filtering over you like warm sunshine.

After a moment listening, and letting his love and his letters envelop you, you interrupt him gently. “My sweet man. Promise me you’ll never write me another love letter?”

“Are they that awful?!” Richard exclaims.

“No!” you laugh, into his chest, tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just… I think I hate love letters, Richard. They’ve only ever kept me from you.”

His expression becomes wistful, lost in thought until a smile finally captures him. Then, with a finger curling gently under your chin, he dips down to plant a small kiss to the very tip of your nose.

“No more letters then,” he promises softly. “Let’s always promise to say it out loud from now on. Let’s talk every day.”

You heart full, you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, before planting a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips; and, despite what you’d just suggested, you plead for him to keep reading to you, his voice and his love lulling you to sleep in his arms.

With the love letters as kindling, your dim spark finally catches, your fire now blazing. You set it in a hearth in your chest, and you vow to keep it stoked for always.

THE END

Bonus:

#richard alonso muñoz x reader #Richard Alonso Muñoz #the letter room #richard alonso munoz x reader #oscar isaac #richard alonso-munoz x reader #luna's tumblrversary

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justalittlebluetiefling · 3 years

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Hi, who wants to read my... moderately spoilery reactions to the Wheel of Time trailer? I tried really hard to not mention anything outright, but who knows how I did by the end of this (I definitely mentioned at least one ship I really like). This has screenshots so it’s super effing long sorry not sorry.

This is very long and I don’t expect anyone to care, but this is all I’ve thought about all day so have my excitement and the one-and-a-half things I’ve explicitly spoiled which aren’t that major but still they count.

It starts with Egwene and Nynaeve so like, I’m already sold. 10000%. Because I love them so much.

And Nynaeve PUSHING EGWENE OFF A CLIFF which is clearly part of some test that prospective Wisdoms have to take.

AND THE FUCKING SCENERY

And the WINESPRING INN

And then THE BOYS ARE HERE and they’re all laughing together?! Be still my heart.

Like. Okay. But I really adore their friendship, so I’m so happy that we get to see them together. And Mat already looks like a troublemaker. I was already on board with the casting, but they look SO GOOD. And clearly in the same scene, we get to see Egwene and Rand smiling at each other like dorks who are into each other and Nynaeve looking all proud of Egwene and I’m already super into the dynamic between the five of them and we didn’t even see them all interact.

So then we get to THIS SHOT

And it was when I knew. This show is going to be a fantastic adaptation. Sorry for a reference to spoilers I won’t name outright, but THE FUCKING FORESHADOWING OF THIS SHOT. It’s gorgeous. It’s amazing. I don’t even have words. Her whole character arc is one of my favorite and this shot got me even more pumped than I already was to see it on screen.

I mean, DID I MENTION THE SCENERY! Tar Valon with Dragonmount looming up behind it LIKE I’M DEAD OKAY

I was so excited to see what they did and I am not disappointed.

And then we see Moiraine, which I’ll talk about later. I really can’t do this shot by shot or it would be too long and it’s already ridiculous. Plus I want to talk about THIS FUCKING MOMENT.

While Moiraine is narrating about The One Power. And I was blown away by this. Which maybe I’m dumb but she’s talking about Power and Egwene is floating down the river and it’s beautiful, because... okay hold on. Book quote here (first book, there’s one in later books that I want to use, but that’s massive spoilers): The Source is the river; the Aes Sedai, the waterwheel. But that’s why I loved this. They refer to the Power as a river so much during the books and this is one of those moments that I was struck by how much the people creating this must love the source material.

Moving on to SIUAN WITH THE CHEST TATTOO

She looks... SO GOOD. The colors. Like, all that gold??? Gosh, she looks amazing.

I did also really love that for our first glimpse of Saidar, we go from this:

to THIS

I’m actually really pleased with how it looks. I was a little worried that they would go too overboard with it, but it looks really subtle and seems to flow really well in all the shots they have it in.

And we get a glimpse of the Red Ajah! Also like, that blonde is Liandrin right? It has to be.

AND THEN LEANE!!!!

And then I’m pretty sure this is ALANNA stopping those arrows?!?! Looking like a freaking badass.

Plus a bonus in that shot which is Lan guarding Nynaeve??? So like, this is obviously a big change from the book, which we knew was coming, because Alanna doesn’t show up until a little later, but I’m not mad about it. I’m interested to see what they’re doing. Plus Lan x Nynaeve in a scene together? I’ll take all I can get.

So, next thing. I’m pretty sure this is Rand and Mat outside of Shadar Logoth.

Clearly not on the Caemlyn road. It seems like they (in general, not Rand and Mat) might skip over Caemlyn completely in favor of spending some time in Tar Valon season one. And I know that Rafe said in an answer today that season one contains parts of books 1, 2, and even a little of 3. I’m intrigued. There’s definitely a lot that I think can be shuffled around without losing the integrity of the story and I’m going into this with a very open mind. Anyway, another thing is just that the shot above is freaking gorgeous and I love what they’re doing.

NOW. We get THE BOYS again and I love it.

Rand and his bow and arrow!

AND MAT WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THE BLADE PLEASE STOP

I guess he doesn’t know but like. Please. It looks so cool.

And then a glimpse of Mashadar, which might be the only look in the trailer I’m not totally sold on.

But I’m reserving judgment until we see it in action. I’m like... super hopefully that they lean into horror a little, at least for this season. There’s a lot that I think lends itself to it and Mashadar is one of those things.

Also, Mat looks so pretty. But I have no idea what is supposed to be in that cage behind him???

I have no speculation for this.

I could do an edit to get Perrin and the wolf in the same shot, but I did a lot of gifs earlier oh wait I have a gif that works instead.

THAT BETTER BE HOPPER OKAY. I’m so excited about this. So, we got to see Rand & his bow, Mat & the dagger, and then Perrin & a wolf. Even though I guess it isn’t explicitly clear in the trailer that Perrin has a connection to wolves so I’m sorry for the spoiler. But I’m stoked. I want to meet Hopper.

ALSO OKAY THEY’RE PLAYING UP THE ROMANCE BIT sorry I’m about to explicitly spoil something below this screenshot.

I like the evolution of their relationship a lot and I’m really excited to see this play out on screen. It’s interesting that it looks like they might already be at a physical point in their relationship. But one of my favorite things about the book is them learning to let each other go. I think it’s clear that they loved each other, but things get in the way and they have to move on. So I hope they don’t fuck this up. And yes, I do have a favorite ship for Rand and I’m... a little wary about how they’re going to portray his love life. I just hope they do it right.

OKAY MOVING ON

I’m 99% sure this is Tam, okay? I was torn. I had to look at the actor pictures pretty close and that’s my decision.

Make that 100% sure. AND HE’S GOT TEARS IN HIS EYES. They’re going to make me cry like, right out of the gate, aren’t they? Anyway, he ALSO looks good and I have a thought but it’s spoilers so I’m not going to say it because I want there to be some surprise in your lives.

Okay then there’s one of my favorite things which is the transition from this (Winternight)

To this (unknown funeral?) (It feels sort of like Children of Light-y but that’s just because of the white shrouds with the gold pendants and I could be wrong.)

To THIS view of the Tower and Siuan walking up to her throne

Look at all the circles. All the symbolism! It’s all about the Power. The Wheel. Ages coming to pass, etc. etc. etc. BOOK QUOTE ACTUALLY: The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. Which the first line is IN THE TRAILER and I just dig it. I’m ready. I’m prepared. Be November now please.

Moving on I have nothing to say except LAN IS SO PRETTY HE LOOKS SO GOOD

I promise I won’t just say everyone is pretty the whole time but they are.

And our FIRST LOOK AT TROLLOCS with our SECOND look at a Myrddraal

SO COOL! I love everything about this. The Trollocs look horrifying. That Myrddraal has a skull on his horse. He DOESN’T HAVE EYES. I’M - Make. It. Horror.

Also, I just dig this shot of Mat and Rand running away with the Myrddraal popping up in the back at the end.

This feels like such a good embodiment of the characters. Especially Mat.

Okay and then I’m very curious about whoever Lan is fighting here, because it sort of looks like they might push Lan and Nynaeve (and maybe Moiraine?) into the path of the Aes Sedai who are escorting Logain back to the Tower. Because these definitely aren’t Children that he’s fighting.

And this is a bit of a skip in the trailer, but the lighting is the same as the Nynaeve gif I have.

The scenery also matches. So something is CLEARLY UP. I might just be thinking that these are Logain’s men because of the SWEET LOGAIN SHOT WE GOT.

I am wondering some things now, but wondering about them out loud would be very spoilery for people who haven’t read the books. Anyway, I have some thoughts about where they’re taking his story and wondering if they might skip the middle part of it, which I wouldn’t be mad about.

MOVING ON ONCE AGAIN.

Everything we’re seeing about the Tower is giving me life.

More Red Ajah. Green Ajah. And there are Brown Ajah in that room Moiraine is walking out of. HER POWER STRIDE. God I love her. And that dress. And this whole thing. Okay. I need to chill.

EXCEPT I CAN’T BECAUSE BLURRY TROLLOCS AND THEY LOOK SO COOL

And then Moiraine riding her horse! I’m so happy that it looks like they put her in pants for this.

I know that there’s a about riding dresses, but she looks so good on Aldieb. Don’t let me get attached to the horses. I mean, I’m pretty sure Aldieb survives, but like. I’m so scared of getting attached to horses in fantasy stuff.

AND I’M OBSESSED WITH NYNAEVE AND EGWENE AND THEIR FRIENDSHIP OKAY

Look at Nynaeve ready to fucking stab a Trolloc for Egwene. And Egwene back there ready to fight, too. Fuck. I love the women in this series okay? But especially these two and Moiraine (and Aviendha).

Okay but pausing this finally gave me a clear shot of what’s going on.

There’s an Aes Sedai in the back, holding Logain (I’m assuming) in stasis? And her Warder (maybe?!) is going in for the kill? Which I’m guessing is going to go poorly for him.

Anyway. This shot, not only is it cool, but is another one that makes me assume we’re skipping Caemlyn.

Because I’m pretty sure those pillars are confirmed to be a Waygate and that’s clearly not in someone’s cellar. Which doesn’t actually matter. I’m not tied to them going word for word by the books, plus this looks sick. But also yay for confirmation that they all hook up again by the end? I hope? I’m going off book a little here, but while I’m really not tied to things going exactly the same, because this is an ADAPTATION and I’m aware of what that means... I’m really hoping they end at the Eye again. That confrontation is just SO COOL. And would make such a good finale.

Listen. We get a FULL ON LOOK at the Myrddraal and I’m obsessed.

That is some Pan’s Labyrinth shit right there and I’m going to have nightmares about it. IT LOOKS PERFECT. I had no idea what to expect. I’m into it.

Also I am obsessed with this whole next sequence of Lan and Moiraine fighting at Winternight. Like, you can SEE his need to protect her because I’m assuming he’s looking over to where she’s channeling.

AND THIS LOOKS SO COOL I’M ALSO OBSESSED ALREADY

PLUS THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE?! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP.

They work SO WELL TOGETHER. The flow. The somersault into stabbing the Trolloc. The weave like, pushing him through the motion or going over him or SOMETHING. I’m SO EXCITED OKAY. This looks SO GOOD. I can’t wait.

AND THIS SHOT?!

I am ALL ABOUT IT.

ALSO THE SHOT OF THE POWER IN ACTION. I’m not going to post it here because it’s super flashy, but watching her call lightning down was just GORGEOUS. And then it flows into the logo of the show.

I’m obsessed with everything. The music. The scenery. The costumes. The casting?!

YOU GUYS. Can it just be November PLEASE.

#the wheel of time #wot spoilers #wot on prime #sorry for who this is turning me into #i'm just so excited #and i can't believe i get to see this show become a thing #i'm so ready #i will post some critical role content this weekend to make up for it i promise #so yes i explicitly spoiled one and a half things #and moderately spoiled other storylines #but i didn't give major details or anything #i just mentioned some things that are connected #i also know that rafe said today that there will be another trailer #and it will be longer #so i will probably not do this for that one lol #because this is too long

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angelanimedesaray · 4 years

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Animal Instincts (Part 2 of The Investment)

AN: yeeeaaahhhh this became a series. Not a super big ambitious one like Through The Looking Glass, but...there’s a few parts. Not sure if I can call it a mini-series, so right now I’ll just say series. Also this is officially a nitty-gritty series compared to some of my other stuff/ideas. I just feel like Vampire stuff should be like that, Y’know??? Also, yes, I’m a monster, believe me, I know, I was thinking that as I wrote some of these scenes...

AN On Character: Before ANYONE can call me out for this...if Levi seems too emotional...In my little Vampire Lore World, emotions are AMPLIFIED for Vampires. Happiness becomes joy, sadness becomes despair, (emotional) pain becomes agony, grief becomes devastation, etc etc.

Characters: Vampire!Levi, Reader, Hange, Erwin (Mentioned), many unnamed background OCs

Pairing: Still not sure if I can be labeling this Levi x Reader, esssspecially for this chapter...

Warnings: Language, Biting, Blood, Violence, Threats of Violence, Gore, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Heavy Angst, Bad Bad BAD Decisions. *Spoilery Tag* here comes some serious ‘Hurt Them to Protect Them’ Logic

Word Count: 11037

<---Previous Part Next Part--->

*Levi’s POV*

“You’re having far too much fun poking at me, Four-Eyes.”

“You can’t complain, Levi--you consented!”

“I made the mistake of assuming you’d have some form of restraint considering the situation.”

“Oh, come on, Levi, don’t be like that--don’t you find all this exciting?”

“No.”

“Just think of all we’re learning, though! Isn’t it fun?”

“None of this is my idea of fun.”

“That’s just because you’re too busy sulking to appreciate how fascinating this all is.”

“Tch.”

Levi sat next to Hange’s desk in her cluttered office, idly wiping a stray strand of blood from the fresh cut on his arm as she swiftly moved to study her new blood samples under the microscope. The curtains were drawn in consideration for Levi, the light in the room provided by the kerosene lamp on her desk. It was the morning after Levi had fed, and Hange was wanting to see if she could see any differences in his blood after his hunger had been satisfied. Ever since seeing how his blood had been able to bring Y/N back from the brink of death, Hange had been...rather obsessed. It was impressive how she managed to juggle her excited prodding of Eren as well as her smaller-scale experiments on Levi behind closed doors, though Levi was starting to wonder if she was even sleeping between it all.

“It’s amazing, but so unfair! We know your blood is different, that it has these extraordinary properties, and yet, comparing it with some of my own, there’s no visible difference I can see, even after you’ve fed--it appears to be the same as the sample of normal blood!” Hange said, her voice dipping in frustrated disappointment before swinging back upwards in excitement over and over again as she spoke.

Levi wiped the small smear of blood on his fingers away with his handkerchief and started to roll his sleeve back down. “Nothing about you is normal, Hange,” he deadpanned. “Eight seconds.”

“Oh?” Hange asked, perking up from the microscope to glance at where the minor injury had been, not a trace of blood left behind and smooth skin where the cut had been disappearing under his white sleeve. “That’s faster than last time by...five, six seconds? Does this mean that you heal faster the better fed you are?” Hange mused.

“It’s one theory,” Levi murmured, thinking back to when he’d given Y/N his blood. He had just, just fed off of her, yet the wound on his wrist then had taken a minute or more to heal up. Maybe there was some kind of focus or willpower involved, too. Right now, he didn’t need or want the wound to linger, and it didn’t, while then he’d need and wanted it to.

Just another theory to add to Hange’s growing pile.

Hange turned her attention back to the microscope, trying--most likely in vain--to see some kind of difference in his blood in case her first observation was wrong. “Speaking of feeding…”

“No, Hange,” Levi said in a quick, hard tone before she could continue her leading statement.

“Levi-iii, why not?” she whined. His irritation flared--how many times did he have to tell her no?

“I don’t have control when the hunger takes over like that--it’d be too dangerous. There’s no telling what could happen, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“It can’t be any different from poking at titans, which, need I remind you, I did with non-intelligent titans before we started the experiments with Eren.”

“This is different,” Levi said coldly. “Besides. It’s not something you want to see. Not really.”

“Except I do.”

Levi didn’t even bother to answer her this time. He’d already told her no, and since no one knew the Underground as well as him and he now had his inhuman speed, it wasn’t like she could follow him down into the Underground to try and spy on him. He had the final say, and he’d already said no.

Hange grumbled nonsense at his silence, Levi’s sensitive hearing not even able to pick up two words that could be strung together. “You’ve been more...short tempered, recently.”

“I wonder why.”

Hange ignored his sarcastic jab and kept talking.

“With all your senses and abilities being amplified, do you think its possible your personality has been, too? Your emotions?” Hange asked, growing curiosity in her voice as the theory formed.

Levi actually paused to consider it. He was annoyed easier recently. Sometimes he found it hard to get a grip on himself with emotions that went to extremes far faster than normal, or he clamped down so harshly on an impulse or emotion that he didn’t feel anything. He constantly felt like he was trying to do a balancing act blindfolded between the two extremes, trying to get back to his normal. Even he was aware that he wasn’t himself recently--besides the obvious. Though he’d written it off as just dealing with everything that had happened. What if this was going to be his normal if he couldn’t find that balance?

“I’m going to take your thoughtful silence as a yes,” Hange said, already reaching over to scribble down notes. “I feel sorry for the cadets.”

Levi scowled. What, did she think he had no self-control? He wasn’t taking all this craziness out on anyone, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Don’t you have to go poke at Eren instead of me this morning?” he asked, giving Hange a steady look.

“Yes, but when I’m done, I’ll try to snag you for a few more tests I want to try today.”

“Wonderful…” Levi grumbled, already getting to his feet.

“Before you leave, just a few more questions!”

Levi paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to speak only a step away from the door.

“How’s the filtering with your hearing coming? Have you tried anything to help with the overpowering smells? Is the sunlight still bothering you the same way? What about those urges when you’re around people?”

Levi turned and leaned his back against the door, expanding his explanation for Hange’s sake so she could take her notes. “Sunlight’s still irritating. Tolerable, but in short bursts, not long periods. The best I can do for scent is to not breathe through my nose when something’s too strong. I’m getting better at focusing on specific sounds to block out the excess, but if there’s something sudden or sharp it all floods in again.” Levi paused, hesitating to go into details about his bloodlust issues. But Hange and Erwin needed to know what his limits were if they were going to keep others safe from him. They needed to be aware what made him more likely to bite someone. He’d already had a few close calls, and they all knew it. “It’s still...hard, when someone’s bleeding near me, even if I’ve fed recently. But being well fed--blood or regular food--helps...but only so much. When I’m around people, if I can block out their pulse by focusing on something else--even if its just different breaths or a person’s voice--I’ll be just fine. If I don’t, or I get...distracted by the sound of someone’s pulse, that desire returns.”

“Do you think it’s getting easier with time?” Hange asked, her voice soft in consideration with the subject Levi was far more sensitive about.

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

“Do you think you need to eat more?”

Levi shook his head. “No. There’s a difference between the desire and the hunger. And usually I take the first chance I have to slip away when I feel that shift.”

“I’ll see if I can come up with some ideas on what might help. There’s still plenty we don’t know, so maybe we just need to spend a bit more time exploring.”

“Another time,” Levi said flatly, straightening up and turning to leave. He paused with his hand hovering over the doorknob, the sound of a new heartbeat from just on the other side of the door and a familiar scent wafting towards him causing him to stiffen before he turned to face Hange with a hiss. “Did you know she was coming?”

While Erwin had agreed to Levi’s request that Y/N be kept away from Levi as much as possible, Hange had openly disagreed with Levi’s tactic and had even tried to talk him out of it once. It was already hard enough to dodge Y/N daily while the persistent woman kept trying to corner him to make him talk to her. If Hange had started actively taking Y/N’s side and trying to get the two to bump into one another, staying away from her was going to become nearly impossible.

Hange held up her hands defensively. “I’m innocent this time, Levi, I swear.”

He didn’t believe her.

Levi’s teeth ground together as he backed away from the door, a knock sounding a few seconds later. Levi jerked his head towards the door to tell Hange to open it herself, his body taunt as he waited for the brief window he would have. Hange sighed dramatically to show her displeasure at the events around her, as always, but Levi simply ignored it, eyes still on the door.

As soon as the door had opened wide enough for Levi to slip through, he bolted, using his new speed to pass by Y/N with little more than a soft gust of air, maybe the briefest glimpse of Levi inside Hange’s office that would have been brief enough to pass off as a hopeful illusion. He didn’t stop until he reached an empty hall far enough away he couldn’t hear her heartbeat anymore. Once there, he leaned against the wall for a brief moment, eyes closed as he pushed any rising thoughts about her as far down as he could and reoriented himself.

He straightened just in time for another scout to round the corner, subconsciously putting on the façade of favoring his left leg as he continued down the hall. They didn’t have an excuse for why an injury that was supposed to sideline him for months would abruptly be so completely healed, so he had to keep moving around like he was out of commission even though he was even stronger physically than he’d been before. Plus, it gave Hange plenty of time to poke and prod while Levi was still only doing the non-physical half of his duties.

...or plenty of time to try and orchestrate forcing Levi into a situation where he had to talk to Y/N. He’d have to be on guard against Hange’s sneakier methods the more desperate she became to make it happen.

*Reader’s POV*

If anyone could rival you in stubbornness, it was Levi. Once that man settled on something, really put his mind to it and committed, nothing was going to change it except some kind of earth-shaking event. This particular quality of his was becoming more and more apparent with every passing day the Captain went so far out of his way to avoid you.

It had already been blatantly obvious the kind of lengths he was willing to go to try and push you out of his life entirely when, during your recovery, he didn’t even sleep in his office while you were recovering. He’d retreated to another side of the castle entirely, and stubbornly stayed there until his door was fixed and lockable again, and you had recovered and been moved back to where you usually slept. Now, you were lucky to catch glimpses of him from a distance. He started supervising training at different times--specifically ones where you were busy elsewhere--and was in and out of the mess hall for his food either long before you arrived or too quickly to give you a chance to corner him, not that the mess hall was the place to be having the kind of conversation the two of you needed. If you tried to find him in his office, he never answered--somehow he always seemed to know that it was you on the other side of the door, even if someone else did the knocking and talking for you. Once, when you had decided to just walk in, you’d even heard the lock click as your hand touched the doorknob. That one had hurt.

Still, you understood what he was doing. From the moment you’d woken up and had that brief exchange with him, Levi’s intentions had been obvious. Afraid that you would get hurt, Levi was trying to put as much distance between the two of you so nothing similar could happen again.

Had you been hurt? Yes. Had he almost killed you? Definitely. Had you been afraid? Hell yes, even if your surprisingly level-headed approach to the situation had suggested differently. But after waking up bed-ridden with a decently lengthy recovery period ahead of you, you’d had plenty of time to really think about what happened and what you understood of it. Almost being killed by someone wasn’t an easy thing to overcome. When you’d first woken up, you’d admittedly still been in a sort of shock about what had happened, the events hadn’t really sunk in yet. But your recovery had given you the time you needed to struggle, shake, cry a little, and work through it all.

What Levi had done, while terrifying and deadly for you, had been unintentional, and fueled by a hunger he wasn’t used to, a hunger that had probably been amplified by his near-death state and that much harder for him to control. He’d lost all sense of himself, you’d seen it in his eyes the brief moment before he’d bitten into your neck. You couldn’t imagine what he’d felt when he did come back to himself. Hange had said that he’d been desperate, that she’d never seen him the way he was while trying to save your life. And now, seeing the lengths he was going to in order to protect you from himself, seeing how afraid he was that he was going to hurt you again...how could you not be willing to forgive him?

If you could just catch him and get the stubborn, stoic man to talk to you already.

You couldn’t let the conversation be postponed any longer. This was something the two of you needed to talk about, so you could fully forgive him, maybe he could start to forgive himself, and both of you could move forward. It would also be helpful for Levi to get assistance with whatever this was he was going through, but right now you were focused on the basics.

And because you still couldn’t catch Levi, even with a heads up from Hange allowing you to briefly glimpse him in the woman’s office, you were pushed to the drastic and admittedly stupid actions.

You had to catch him when he went to the Underground to feed.

Knowing what was happening to him, it wasn’t hard to piece together how he’d been feeding recently when no cases of dead bodies drained of blood popped up within the walls on the surface or among the Scouts. You also knew he wasn’t feeding on any willing participants yet--he was afraid of losing control, and with the three people who were aware of his situation being people he didn’t want to accidentally kill, he wouldn’t be drinking from anyone in the Scouts. Where would he go if he was looking for people who would disappear without causing ripples if he lost control? The Underground, as depressing as the truth of it was.

Except he had started to catch attention. Not directly, obviously, but rumors were starting to bubble, rumors about a shadowy figure that snatched the filth of the Underground into the darkness and left mangled bloodless corpses behind as the only evidence it had ever been there. Only a couple bodies had been found, but if Levi had to feed as frequently as his nightly excursions suggested, there were more.

You’d been keeping an eye out for him nightly, trying to figure out his feeding pattern since you’d been driven to this point, which was how you knew. It was how you were able to figure out the rough window of when he’d need to feed again, how you were able to catch sight of him slipping out of Headquarters when everyone should have been asleep, and how you knew where you needed to go in order to follow him into the depths of the Underground.

Though you weren’t entirely sure if it could necessarily be called following. With his speed, Levi was impossible to keep in sight. You knew which entrance to the Underground he used, and you could rationalize that he would be looking for unsavory elements in the back alleys of the Underground, but that was all you had to go off of. You’d have to hope that you could find Levi down there, in a place he knew far better than you, in the short span of time it took him to find someone, feed, and then return to headquarters. If you missed him completely, you’d be stuck wandering the Underground until morning or later, considering there wouldn’t be any sun to tell you morning had broke.

But this was the only option you had left. It wasn’t your best idea, and you found yourself jumping at shadows as you plunged deeper and deeper below ground, but you had to try.

He wasn’t going to do it, so you had to try.

You had to resist the urge to cover your nose with your hand in a feeble attempt to block out the smell as you started weaving your way through the dark streets of the Underground. You couldn’t imagine how Levi tolerated it even if he had lived down here once, considering his enhanced senses.

Feeling eyes on you, you shook off the idle thoughts, reminding yourself this was the worst place inside the walls to be alone, even with military training, and you clearly stood out down here. You couldn’t afford to get lost in thoughts right now, especially since you knew Levi was prowling through these dark streets somewhere looking for someone to feed on.

Even though you hadn’t thought it could, the further into the winding, dark back streets, the worse the conditions were. Abandoned houses rotted away, and the occasional body was shoved aside off the main path so people could keep walking. Occasionally something would move in the dark, and you could see dim eyes watching you from huddled masses curled up next to walls or trash heaps for some form of shelter. You did your best not to disturb them, stepping carefully and trying to keep pity from rising into your expression. You were here for one person right now, and you were on a time limit. There wasn’t time to spend feeling bad for locals you couldn’t help.

It was while you were stepping around one of these locals that you hadn’t seen curled up at the corner because they’d been so indistinguishable from the trash pile they’d been sleeping in that you momentarily lost sense of your larger surroundings a moment too long. Taking care to step around the corner and not on the person you’d almost tripped over, you initially missed the sight of a group of five men that had almost reached the neck of the alley you were stepping into. Registering movement in your peripherals, your head snapped up to take in the sight of the small group of large men, body tensing at the light you saw spark in their eyes when you saw each other.

Your first thought was not to go down that alley, then it was to not turn your back on them. It was a T intersection, though. You couldn’t turn around because there was too much ground to cover still, and you didn’t really want to make some kind of awkward shimmy down the alley in the same direction they seemed to be heading.

You didn’t get much time to think about it. They were too close for comfort, so you turned and continued down the alley, your steps faster, body tensed and limbs ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. You could feel them behind you, heard the whistles and jeers about a pretty little surfacer wandering into the slums.

This wasn’t going to end well. Especially if you took a wrong turn into a dead end like you were in some kind of cliché horror story.

You turned your head just enough to get a look at them, noting with unease that the fifth seemed to have broken away from the group. No doubt to try and cut you off--you weren’t stupid, and you were in the Scouts, of course you’d be able to figure out that much.

Best not to keep going in a straight line down the alley, then. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could lose them in the winding back alleys. They might have the home field advantage, but at least you wouldn’t make it easy for them if they did manage to corner you between the five of them.

The next time you saw a narrow alley on your right, you took a sudden, sharp turn, breaking into a run as soon as you were out of the immediate sight of the group. You heard them holler behind you just past the halfway point in the alley, the four also breaking into a run a few seconds before you made another right turn, a left, straight, another left, a right…

Maybe you should try to double back and get back to the surface. You’d stumbled into trouble, you were going to have to spend time shaking them, most likely Levi would have fed and would be leaving by the time you managed to go back to searching for him again. It was best to cut your losses and head back above ground, try to corner him again another time, another way. This hadn’t been a smart idea from the beginning, but now it was much, much worse.

You could hear that group still pursuing you, more spread out now as they used their numbers to their advantage, just as you’d expected them to. And it seemed they’d sent the fastest ahead to try and cut you off, because as you turned the corner for another right turn, you could see one of them pop out of an alley a few ahead of you, already heading for you as you bolted into another side alley.

They were getting too close for comfort. And this one was staying on your ass like an abnormal in an open field.

Halfway down an annoyingly long and slightly wider alley, that one man still on your tail, a second appeared at the other end of the alley. He grinned when he saw you running straight for him, ripping one of the boards off the window of the abandoned house in the alley and holding it like a club.

You didn’t slow down, already taking in his form, mind going through the many disarming motions you’d been taught, some by Levi himself after you’d shown some promise in training. The smile diminished when you didn’t falter, but the second man stood his ground, waiting for you to get within reach.

You were waiting for the same moment.

As he pulled back to swing, you shifted to the side, grabbing at his arm with a pull, a twist upwards, a knee into his gut before you came down on his leg, shoving him aside with your upper body to send him staggering into the wall with a pained cry. His board clattered to the ground as the one who had been right behind you suddenly tackled you to the ground, your knees coming up to your chest in the fall so you could push him up and over your head once your back hit the stone. You all got back to your feet at roughly the same time, the two now between you and the mouth of the alley, and you knew there had to be about three somewhere behind you, so you needed to go forward, through these two assholes.

You put your hands up and fell into an at-the-ready stance.

Back to training, then.

You could practically feel Levi’s eyes on you on the training field, one of the only recruits who didn’t say a word of complaint about being taught to handle armed opponents even past basic training, when the Scouts were supposed to be fighting Titans, not humans. You took it seriously, actually put in the effort, actively listened to instructions and critiques, and didn’t utter a word of complaint.

Why the hell would you complain about being taught to protect yourself?

Now it seemed it was a good thing that had been the attitude you’d approached those lessons with, because you were going to need them.

One of them threw themselves at you with a shout and you side-stepped, pushing him past you with the help of his own momentum so you could focus on the guy who was trying to bring a fist down on your head, you leaned back just out of its path, stepped forward with your left, and brought your own fist in for a quick overhand punch with your right that connected with the man’s jaw. The first came in from behind you again, an arm slipping around your neck--you’d thought you had another few seconds before you’d have to face him again, hoping he’d fallen on his face. You leaned forward as much as you could and dropping one shoulder, sending the slim runner over your shoulder with his momentum to grab you from behind, stepping back and to the side with your other foot as he tumbled over you. Your arms came back up just in time to block another punch from the other guy with your arm, your other hand flashing out to nail him in the nose with enough force to hear a satisfying crack before you jumped back.

Another ripping sound similar to when the bigger guy of the two you were facing had ripped off a board came from the end of the alley you had entered behind you, and you turned long enough to see a third guy pulling off a smaller board with a little more effort.

Three on one in a back alley, now. You needed to get out of here, fast, before the rest could catch up.

Not wanting someone behind you again, you shifted, standing at the ready with your back to the wall between the two on the one end and the one on the other, coiled and ready to see who would come at you first. The one with the board charged you, prompting you to turn enough to face him, eyeing the board that was held high and swinging towards you as he came within range.

You caught the board, cutting your thumb open on a jagged edge in the process but keeping your grip firm as the force caused your arms to fold against your chest. With the man now within range, you pulled back just enough to give yourself enough room to kick him in the stomach, giving a push against the board at the same time to make sure he was send backwards. Knowing the other two would be trying to grab you from behind, you turned swiftly, bending your arm and swinging around sharply with your elbow connecting with whichever one had reached you first. You didn’t get the chance to see who it was before a shot suddenly rang out, shocking you enough you hesitated and were grabbed by the arm by the larger of your original two opponents.

Looking towards the other side of the alley you could see the other two members of the group had caught up, with one handing the still-smoking one shot pistol to the other, who was also giving him a second you were sure was already loaded and ready. It was probably safe to assume the one who had fired a shot into the air was the leader, and he was now approaching slowly, the other man hanging back to reload the little pistol.

What the hell kind of a job and black market deal did these guys have to pull off to get their hands on two pistols?

You tried to twist out of the hold on your arm, but even in the dark of the alley you could see the glint of the loaded pistol well enough to tell you it was leveled directly at your head, making you still. Another one of your original three attackers grabbed your other arm, the large man kicking the back of your leg to force you into a kneeling position.

“You’re quite the scrapper, aren’t you? Almost more trouble than you’re worth,” the leader mused, coming to stand directly in front of you. You tensed, pulling against the firm hands that held your arms and shoulders to force you into your kneeling position. As you struggled, the leader brought the barrel of the gun to hover directly and unmistakably in front of your face, causing you to still again. “I don’t like wasting bullets, so if you don’t want to die messy, I suggest you stay still in case I decide to just shoot you.”

“Boss, the whole point of chasing her down was to have a little fun with her!” the one who’d managed to stay on your ass during the chase complained. He sounded winded.

“At first, but after seeing all that? She might be able to overpower us if we keep her alive. You want to risk her breaking free long enough to kill you, idiot?” When no one made another complaint, the leader pressed the barrel of the gun against your forehead. “Such a waste, too. Sorry, Swee--”

Hands wrapped around the leader’s throat and one of his shoulders, so suddenly you weren’t sure you’d really seen it. However, the fact that he was suddenly yanked into the shadows without a warning let you know you had seen them. There was a visceral snapping sound a split second after the man had been grabbed, and before anyone could react, he was spat back out of the shadows as swiftly as they’d claimed him, thrown to the ground within sight of everyone, his neck snapped and body crumpled like a fallen handkerchief.

A feral snarl sounded from the darkness, and chaos erupted all around you.

*Levi’s POV*

Levi’s fingers threaded through the hair of tonight’s prey in a relentless grip, pressing their head down and into the ground while his other hand pulled their shoulder aside, leaving their neck stretched and exposed for him to sink his teeth into with little resistance. They had stopped struggling long ago, the kicks and futile punches and pushed now absent, the trembling beneath him slowing to a complete stop. He was able to drink deeply and undisturbed, hidden in the dark shadows of a dead end alley, the only sounds the occasional soft hum of pleasure and the sound of his teeth sinking deeper into flesh as he drank. He focused on the sounds to drown out the rest of the Underworld, the pulse he'd originally listened to long gone.

He was starting to consciously enjoy it when he fed...and even picking the scum of the Underground to prey on, he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

A loud sharp, familiar sound broke through Levi's filter, causing him to jerk back, head looking up towards the ceiling and tilted in the direction he'd heard the gunshot. A rush of sounds and smells suddenly rushed towards him again now that he'd been abruptly jostled out of his feed, overwhelming him while he wiped some of the blood from his face and tried to sort through the sensory mess once more and find the source of a gunshot, head pounding. The only people who were going to have guns down here were military and a lucky criminal who'd scored rather big--not ODM gear big, but still.

As he was trying to filter out the sound, the faintest whiff of a strong, familiar scent reached him. After being bathed in it the night he'd transformed, he would never mistake that scent for anything else. Y/N's blood. And it had to have been spilled if he was able to smell her through the stench of the Underground.

What the hell was she doing down here?

Focusing on that scent and trying to hear what was near her at the same time, Levi slowly rose to his feet, eyes closed as he focused. He could smell gunpowder in the air as well, could hear a concentration of heartbeats, most pounding from exertion, but one that possessed the familiar scent pounding faster from exertion and fear. Then came the distant voices.

"...don’t want to die messy, I suggest you stay still in case I decide to just shoot you."

Dammit.

Levi was moving before he could finish putting together what was happening, focused on closing the distance between where he'd been and where Y/N was in danger before another gunshot could be fired. The man who’d fired the shot was still talking with someone, making it easier for Levi to narrow down where they were. He stayed in the shadows even with his speed, making sure that he kept the element of surprise so that he could be sure to kill whoever had the gun first, before they had the chance to shoot again.

He could smell her blood, too. Did that mean she’d already been shot? How bad was her wound? If he got too close, could he resist?

He’d worry about that when he got there.

As soon as the scene of five men gathered around Y/N came into view, with one of them pressing the barrel of a pistol against her forehead, Levi’s blood boiled into a blind rage. The shadows around him blurred as he rushed forward, grabbing the man with the gun and pulling him into the shadows. He noticed there was a second man reloading the pistol that must have made the first shot, so he made his kill quick, snapping the man’s neck and pushing the body away without a second thought. The other armed man wildly swung around with the gun when he saw the dead body, a snarl ripping past Levi’s lips as he barreled into the armed man, sending him flying and colliding with the wall of once of the buildings he heard bones snapping as he was sent through the wall. Instincts taking over, including his newly acquired, monstrous ones, Levi went after one of the two men restraining Y/N next, moving too fast for the group of five to have even hope to react in defense.

Pulling the large man into the shadows and away from Y/N, effectively breaking his grip on her, Levi sank his teeth into the man’s neck, blood flowing free and unrestrained as he tore into the man’s throat with the intent to kill. He was able to drink quite a bit in the process, only because he didn’t let go until the man’s pulse started to stutter beneath his lips and he was sure the blood loss alone would kill him.

Looking at the two remaining, Y/N had taken the chance with their stunned state and the fact she only had one person holding onto her now to attack the other man restraining her. She didn’t look hurt in the slightest as she pulled her restrainer towards her and kneed him in the gut, but he could still smell the blood she’d spilled at some point.

At the moment, however, his attention was drawn to the second still standing man who was now trying to attack Y/N from behind while she was busy with her restrainer. Levi rushed the second man as well, not bothering to hide in the shadows now as he ripped into the slender man’s throat just as he’d done to Y/N’s other restrainer, waiting until the pulse stuttered and the blood loss turned fatal before he dropped the body to the ground and turned to face the last man.

Y/N had knocked him to the ground by now, the man staring in horror at Levi. He must have been quite the sight. When he’d fed before this mess, he’d only had blood on his face, neck, and around his collar, since he was gradually improving with how messy he was when he fed. Now, however, after ripping out two throats, the blood stained his front as well. His eyes glowed a vivid crimson and pierced through the dark of the alley, fangs flashing as he licked away a thicker trail of blood while he approached the last man. Levi grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, picking him up with ease and pinning him against the wall.

“Demon--” the man hardly managed to squeak out. Something in Levi burned at the accusation, his grip on the man’s shirt tightening.

No witnesses, no loose ends. Unless he wanted his situation public legend or knowledge, depending on how much people were willing to believe.

Without a word, Levi sank his teeth into the man’s throat, covering the man’s mouth with his hand to muffle the screams even though they didn’t last long. As he drank and the pulse below his lips eventually slowed to a stop, Levi listened and thought about what he would do next.

The only other sounds in the alley came from behind him, from Y/N. She hadn’t moved, was hardly breathing, her heartbeat wild from adrenaline and a sense of fear, and it only seemed to be beating faster as she watched him drain the life from her last attacker.

What the hell had possessed her to make her think that following Levi into the Underground when he came here to feed was a good idea? The Underground was already dangerous, especially at night, especially with something like him lurking in the darkness looking for a meal. Her foolhardy determination to blow past his insistence they not be anywhere near one another was going to get her killed--it nearly had.

Levi felt his blood chill, even if he was still drinking in fresh warm blood. What would happen next? How many more reckless ideas would she get, how much farther was she going to push? Was she really willing to push her luck until she died while he was trying to keep her safe from him? What did he have to do to make her back off, for her to realize how serious this was, that she couldn’t be anywhere near him, that she couldn’t follow after him like this? Did he have to scare her off? At this rate, it was the only thing he could think of that might actually work. But how far was he willing to go to scare her enough to protect her? At the moment, she already had some fear lingering in her. If he didn’t wait too long, he could work with it; there might be a chance that he wouldn’t have to do too much if she was already afraid. He just had to scare her a little one time to make her leave him alone.

He was a little dizzy at the moment, feeling almost drunk on the sheer volume of blood he’d just consumed in such a short span of time. He could muscle through it, though. Ride the high just long enough to do what he had to.

Steeling his resolve, Levi released the now limp body in his arms, rushing Y/N and pinning her against the wall with a hand around her throat. His fangs were bared, eyes still glowing crimson, fresh blood still smeared across his face and front as he snarled. His thumb was placed strategically on her pulse point, able to feel as her heartbeat doubled its speed. He was trying to subtly watch her reaction to know when he’d done enough, his thumb tracing lightly along the vein on her neck, but not biting yet. She was tense, holding her breath, heartbeat racing wildly, and yet...after the first few seconds…

She let out a slow, shaking breath, her heartbeat starting to gradually and slightly calm down.

“You’re just trying to scare me. It’s not going to work, Levi.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he let his fingers tilt her neck to the side, well aware that he was pushing his limits, playing a dangerous game in his attempt to convince her that if she didn’t stay away from him, he’d kill her. His lips brushed against her neck, his fangs feeling like they were aching in desperation to sink into her neck. He could remember what she tasted like--he hadn’t had anything better, since. Only the scum of the Underground that left a chemically, filthy aftertaste in his mouth. But her…

He struggled against those thoughts, willing himself not to give into them. He didn’t want to bite her, not really. He just wanted to scare her.

They were both perfectly still, neither of them even breathing loudly or heavily, just tense, each waiting for the other to make a move. What was she thinking? Was she trying to call his bluff? Did she believe he wouldn’t bite her? Was she thinking of last time she’d bet on his restraint, how it had been thrown back in her face when he almost killed her? Was she trying to figure out how far he’d go to make her stay away? Was she trying to decide if he would really bite her again to make her run?

He was wondering the same thing. He’d pretty much sworn that he wouldn’t bite her again for any reason, and yet, he found himself in a position where a warning bite seemed like an option, just enough to make her realize he was serious, just enough to scare her off...but he didn’t trust his control once he started drinking from her. Especially now, smelling the heady aroma of her blood again, so much better than what he’d been feeding on down here in the Underground for a while now. But did the risk really outweigh the possible result? He had just drained four fairly big men of their blood, maybe he’d had enough it wouldn’t be too hard to stop...maybe. Did he really want to take that risk, to hurt her once again even if it was only a little, for the chance he might finally make her run away from him instead of towards him, so she’d be safe?

He waited a moment too long. Without warning, Y/N suddenly pushed him back, and Levi gave easily against the action, backing away a few steps and looking away. He had hardly put any of his strength into the motion, only meaning to scare, not harm her, wanting her to be able to push him away and bolt when he finally scared her enough to make her run. Clearly, she’d seen right through his actions and to his true intention.

His fangs retracted, the crimson in his eyes fading to a simple red glint, and he was suddenly quite conscious of the fact that he was covered in blood. Knowing it wouldn’t do him much good but wanting to make the attempt anyway, he tried wiping some of the blood from his face, refusing to look at Y/N as he did so.

He could run, but it wouldn’t do him any good. This talk was apparently inevitable, even if he deemed it inconsequential, pointless. She wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d already decided to cut her out--it was better for both of them if he did, rather than drag her down any further into this...mess.

“If you’re thinking of making a run for it, don’t,” she warned, as if she could read him as easily as a book. The fact he chose to look down the dark alley instead of at her probably gave the idle thought he’d had away.

“Why the hell are you down here?” he growled instead of addressing her accusation.

“It’s your fault I am! How else was I supposed to try and catch you to talk with you running from me like a kid instead of a grown ass man--”

“I’m not running from you, I told you to stay away from me from the start. You’re the one who apparently didn’t get the message,” Levi returned in a low tone.

“Oh, I heard you, I just chose to ignore it because you’re being--”

“If you end that sentence with what I think you’re about to--”

“What? What are you going to do, Levi? Just because you don’t like hearing what I have to say, because you know its true?”

Anger was bubbling up inside him with rapidly multiplying strength. He was trying to push it down, to clamp down on it for both their sakes, but it was a struggle he was losing the longer this argument went on. He could tell she was frustrated even though he still hadn’t looked at her, that she was hurt, that it was bubbling up as well and that was why she was so aggressive at the moment, but he didn’t care. Every word she threw at him, no matter how cutting, only stoked that anger right now.

“--damn it, Levi, look at me, will you?”

She flinched back from the anger in his eyes when he finally met her gaze, the red glint in his eyes growing stronger. He took the chance to throw in a few sharp words of his own.

“You’re the one acting worse than a child. At least a child’s ignorant when they stick their hand in the fire. You’re the dumbass that tries to jump feet first to see if its hot no matter how many times you’ve been burned before. A fucking incompetant idiot with a death wish is what you are!”

He’d never called her incompetant or incapable in any way before. Before all this happened, she hadn’t been, he hadn’t been worried about her being able to handle herself, hadn’t thought that it would be a stupid decision or a hasty, rash action that got her killed. Now, he was afraid her pigheadedness was going to lead to her getting killed because of him, directly or, after tonight, indirectly.

That was the other emotion swirling inside him under all the anger. Fear.

She stuck out her chin in defiance, though he saw a flash of pain in her eyes at his words that were spoken with a harsh tone that let her know it wasn’t just his gruff exterior talking. “Trying to shove me out isn’t going to work when I know that’s what you’re doing, Levi.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Levi snapped. “What part of ‘stay away from me or you’ll get hurt again’ did you not understand? What about me almost killing you the other night didn’t get through your head and trigger some common sense? How could you not understand the words I will kill you? I don’t want you anywhere near me, Y/N--”

“I already have been hurt, Levi! I’m already a part of this, and I want to help, what part of that don’t you understand?”

“The part where you suddenly became so intent to fucking die!” he snarled.

Even more infuriatingly, she ignored that exclamation and tried to switch to her version of cold facts. “You’re still not in control,” she said flatly, and Levi turned his back on her, already starting to walk away. She simply followed, still talking. “You’re not! You’re coming down here and ripping people to shreds, past recognition. You still don’t know how to control your bloodlust when you feed! What happens when someone gets wounded on an expedition and they’re bleeding all over the place in front of you? What happens if for some reason you lose control and you bite the wrong person? What are you going to do, Levi? Can you say that you’re going to stop, really? With the bodies you’ve been leaving that’s already getting you a shadowy reputation below and above ground? No!”

“None of this has anything to do with you. It’s not about you, its not effecting you, its not your problem, Y/N. You’re just desperately trying to insert yourself to feel important,” he spat out. He didn’t believe the last part, but he just wanted her to go away, to leave him alone like he’d asked. His hands were clenched into fists to hide the tremble, teeth clenched--

“I’m trying to help you because I want to. Its not that hard to understand, Levi. You need help, like it or not. You can’t keep attracting attention by feeding like this. You need to find someone who’s willing so you don’t have to keep feeding like this and to help you learn control, and you already know I--”

He blocked her out after that. Stopping in the middle of his angry prowl through the dark alleys, body rigid, hands flexing in and out of fists. His mind called back the intoxicating nature of her blood, how easy it had been to lose himself, the blood all over himself and the bed and drained from her body, how close she came to dying before a wild guess and a futile prayer managed to be just enough to bring her back from the brink. She wanted that to happen again? To offer her blood just for him to lose himself and drain her dry? He couldn’t remember how she’d struggled or plead with him because it was a euphoric haze in his mind, but he’d felt his prey down here struggle for their lives, heard them plead before he cut off or muffled their cries. His stomach lurched, threatening to send him forwards as his mind fabricated the vivid image of Y/N struggling in his grasp and gasping for him to stop as he drained her dry, too far gone to even flinch in reaction to her dying moments. He wouldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t. He refused, and no matter what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let it become reality, he wasn’t going to set up her pointless death by giving in. He had to make her run from him now and never look back, had to make her see that he could and would hurt her--kill her--if she kept going down this path. Now. While he was still so gorged on blood he could stop himself out of raw satisfaction with all he’d drank.

“You’re so desperate for me to feed off of you again,” he said in a steady tone, interrupting whatever she’d been saying after he’d blocked her out. “Fine.”

Once more, Levi pinned her against the wall. Except this time he wasn’t gentle about it, and this time his grip didn’t give her even a hair’s breath of space to move. His hand was firmly on her throat and angling her head upwards, the crimson in his eyes blazing once again with enough infuriated intensity he could see the glint of their glow reflected in her wide eyes.

“Let me remind you what you’re in for.”

Before he could second guess, before doubts could encroach, before he even had the chance to weigh the consequences, Levi bit down on her collar. Hard. She cried out in pain, the sound cut off when he squeezed her throat just enough to make her quiet. The blood didn’t come nearly as easily as it would have if he’d bitten her neck, but that was part of the reason he’d bitten here instead. Still, even after drinking from four people minutes ago, her blood tasted divine compared to the blood he’d been drinking in the Underground, the euphoria from last time starting to return.

Without the need for blood, Levi’s struggle to ignore the euphoria was a little easier, and no matter how much it hurt, Levi focused on every other part of Y/N to try and stave off the haze long enough.

She was trying to push him off--not that it was doing anything to stop him. He could feel her pulse rapidly picking up pace, his grip almost bruising and keeping her firmly pinned against the wall. She kept telling him to stop, to get off, called his name. He heard every word. It cut like shards of glass burrowing into his heart and lungs, blood still flowing past his lips with his teeth sinking relentlessly into her flesh. He didn’t stop.

The commands turned to pleas. The shoves turned to blows that wouldn’t even bruise him. He kept her pinned against the wall, eyes burning but closed, teeth embedded in her collar, his grip tight both to hold her in place but also because of the coiling tension inside him listening to her plead with him to let her go. He still didn’t stop.

Then he tasted it. Felt it in her pulse and her posture, in the hot tears that fell on his face and neck. Heard it in her voice. True fear. Normally, in a twisted way, it made blood taste better, somehow richer. Now, it was almost acidic, leaving a nasty aftertaste as Levi finally, instantly let her go. The abrupt motion made her crumple to the ground with a sob…

But by the time she’d have enough cognitive thought to look up, he would already be gone. As soon as he let her go he walked away. He didn’t have a destination in mind, didn’t pick a direction to head to eventually get back to the surface. He simply walked, wiping the blood from his face again with trembling hands, eyes unseeing the paths he followed even if he was subconsciously using his other senses to guide him away from anyone who was still out in the streets this late at night. It was like he was in a daze, walking without thinking, without seeing, without any sense of direction. The longer he didn’t think, the better, because if he started thinking again, if he thought about it, if he thought, if he…

Where was he even going? Where was he now? He was alone, at least...completely.

His body shuddered, as if in anticipation as the daze started to pass, some part of him getting him to whisper a soft ‘shit’ before the thoughts started to rush towards him. He tried to stave them off a few moments longer.

I had to do it.

I had to.

I had to, for her sake.

For her sake, I...

He kept trying to repeat the thought enough to convince himself. His hand reached out to steady himself against the nearest wall. His shaking hands clenched into fists.

I had to do it, I had to, I had to.

His face was wet. Not just with blood--he could see pinkish drops of hot tears escape from the tip of his nose and the edge of his jaw and chin. His teeth ground painfully together, jaw feeling like it would snap from the pressure as he leaned against the wall his fist had been pressed against, feeling his shoulder start to slowly slide downwards in halting bursts.

I...I had...

It felt like someone had gutted him. Now, as he started to come out of his haze, he felt hollow, as if an amature had gutted him with a dull blade and simply took everything. Everything except a suddenly overwhelming self-hatred that pierced and burned through him from the inside out, causing short gasps to burst past his lips despite the instinctual effort to keep it all in.

I made the wrong choice.

He shouldn’t have done it, but he did. He’d really sunk this low, and he hated himself all the more because of it. He should never have let himself make that choice. He knew it was wrong, that was why it had gutted him even as he’d done it, he knew, but he did it anyway.

Why? Why?

Am I really that desperate?

If I’m really this desperate, was she really wr--

No.

No...no, he’d made his choice. It was done, it was over. He’d knowingly hurt her to make her afraid of him, to make her leave, and she wasn’t ever going to look at him the same way again. Just like he’d wanted so desperately to do in the moment.

The damage was done.

He had to accept it.

He had to live with it now, no matter how much it hurt him.

He’d done it to himself.

He’d done it to them.

And he couldn’t take it back.

It was far too late for that.

*Reader’s POV*

Nights had become a ritual of terror for you.

Every night, without fail, this very thing happened.

The lights were out, like they were supposed to be, so there wasn’t a fire, so occupants could sleep, because it was night. Yet you stood frozen in place in the dark, the heat of the lamp dissipating the longer you stood frozen in place, staring into the darkness around you. It was your room, but it felt like something sinister was watching you in the shadows. And as soon as that thought crossed your mind, they were there. Vivid and crimson, glowing from the shadows, freezing you in place as the demonic eyes pierced fear straight to your core. Your chest tightened, breaths coming in shallow, painful bursts as your gaze locked with them.

You knew, logically, they weren’t there, but that didn’t change the fact that you saw them, didn’t change the sweat that dampened your skin, the chill that wouldn’t leave you, the struggle to breath, the inability to move, the unbridled fear they caused.

Lighting lamps to try and cast out the darkness for a little while was the obvious first choice, but it only made things worse. They couldn’t light every corner, the dim light making the shadows longer and the darkness more prominent where the light couldn’t reach it. Every time you let one of those shadowy corners slip into your peripherals it looked like there was someone right behind you, looming to attack. And the lamps couldn’t stay on all night.

The only thing left was to blow out the lights so a fire couldn’t start, hiding under the covers like some frightened child before the fear could paralyze you. The blanket was pulled over your head, your trembling yet rigidly tense body curled into a fetal position with your eyes squeezed shut. Your mind relentlessly conjured up the image of fangs flashing towards you, those red eyes burning as they grew closer and closer to where you were huddled helplessly under a sheet in complete darkness.

But opening your eyes was worse. Opening your eyes you’d have to face the darkness, and your mind whispered that once you opened them, your nightmares would be real, that you’d see the dark figure with the red eyes and the bloody fangs right in front of you, and as soon as you saw them, they’d attack. With your eyes closed you could feel them there, but they still hadn’t touched you. If you opened your eyes, it was over. You couldn’t stand staring at the open dark of your room, without knowing what was hiding within.

And this wasn’t just your nightly ritual. Even in the day you saw the eyes in your peripherals, in the shadowy places, glimpsed in passing and making you jump at shadows.

And if you did manage to fall asleep at night...the nightmares came. Nightmares where you could feel it all again, could see just those damn crimson eyes, could feel the teeth sinking repeatedly into your flesh until you woke with strangled screams and muffled sobs, futility struggling to recover some sense of composure.

What made it worse was you didn’t have the comfort of being told it was just a dream, just your mind playing tricks on you, that none of it was real.

Your nightmares had already been real once. Who was to say they wouldn’t become real again?

*Levi’s POV*

Headquarters was perfectly quiet. The only sound was the occasional snore, soft, steady heartbeats, and breathing of most people in the building fast asleep. The sounds he made in the kitchen as he went about making a cup of tea seemed loud in comparison, even if he knew for a fact that he was the only one who could hear them.

His insomnia had been relentless for days now, only able to catch snippets of uneasy rest in bursts that didn’t even amount to an hour on their own. It was why he was down here now, water starting to bubble in a kettle, the mixture for a chamomile tea at the ready. If he didn’t find a way to sleep, soon, he’d have to ask Hange to help him--he was that desperate for a solution.

Not that she would want to help him.

Hange opened and shut the door with a resounding slam that made cadets in the hall freeze as she stormed into Levi’s office, glasses propped atop her head to clearly display the unbridled anger in her eyes. ”What the hell did you do?”

He knew why he couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“I treated the bite, Levi. I know what happened.”

Once he heard the water bubbling in the kettle, Levi went about slowly pouring the water into his cup, eyes unfocused as his thoughts came back to plague him in the silence of the kitchen.

”She followed me into the Underground, Hange. I just gave her a scare so she would finally stay away like I told her to.”

“Oh, you did more than that.”

“...What are you talking about?”

“Shit,” he cursed, yanking his hand back as he spilled some of the hot water onto his hand, setting the kettle down a little too roughly, trying to clean up the mess and ignore the burning in his hand.

“Have you seen Y/N lately?”

“No, and I don’t expect to, if she finally listened.”

“Keep up that attitude, Levi, and I’ll skewer you; I know you’ll heal. You went too far, Levi.”

He’d been picking up the too-full tea cup, and as Hange’s words from the memory pierced him far deeper with his recently acquired knowledge, his grip tightened, and the cup shattered under his hand. Flesh burning from the hot tea, herbs smearing against the now fresh wounds in his hands, crimson blending into the only temporarily yellowish orange liquid as the blood spilled down his hands, and bits of the cup stuck in his hand, while the rest lay shattered on the floor.

”She forgave you for the first one, and for good reason. But this?”

--Late at night, just beyond the stone of the wall, behind two simple wooden doors, Levi could hear the only other occupant in the castle that was awake right now. Her heartbeat was erratic with unbridled terror and emotional pain. It had been her strangled scream that only Levi could hear that had pierced the quiet of Headquarters, the scream now reduced to muffled, body wracking sobs into a pillow or a blanket.--

Levi kneeled down in front of his mess, still-injured hands reaching out to try to pick up the shattered cup, to gather up the broken pieces, to clean up his mess. He kept cutting his hands again, though. He didn’t know how, he knew how to be careful, knew how to be gentle so he didn’t cut himself, didn’t break anything further. But right now, he kept drawing more blood, kept inflicting fresh wounds on his hands and watching the small ones heal almost too fast to even notice they were there while the garish pieces sticking out of his hand and openly bleeding still showed, glaring at him in the dim lighting.

”Erwin’s already mentioned he might have to dismiss her as unfit for duty. We both know she didn’t have anything else besides the Scouts before, and now...”

The damn cup was broken. He didn’t even know why he was trying to recover each little piece, like he was actually going to try and reassemble it, like he could somehow fix it. The cup was broken and he couldn’t fix it.

It’s broken, and he can’t fix it.

Broken, and he can’t fix it.

Broken, and can’t fix it.

Broken…

Broken...

”Levi, stop, please!”

--He was alone in the hall. His lips were parted, but no sound came out, eyes half lidded, but glinting bright and wet in the moonlight with unrestrained pain, head leaning back against the stone with his chin tilted upwards towards the sky. The sobs continued through the stone behind him, and he let out a slow, shaking breath before he slowly pushed away from the wall--

“Fuck!” Levi suddenly shouted, hand slamming against the mess in front of him, hand slicing open even further as more shards of the cup found its way into his hand or shattered even further from the force of the blow. Blood dripped steadily onto his mess, painting everything that same, garish color, staining everything he touched.

He grabbed at the wrist of his injured hand, only then realizing his hands had been shaking the entire time.

”Levi, please!”

--he ducked his head low and tried not to hear the sobs that were already resounding mercilessly in his head, blending into the darkness with ease while his hand trailed absently along the stone as he walked away.

Next Part--->

Levi Tags: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn @sunny-flo

Investment Series Tags: @regalillegal @cecldcecld

Vampire Levi Tags: @mysteriousmagicx @thesilencebeforeastorm @super-peace-fangirl @psychiccvampire

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