UNDERNEATH THE ARMOR


>Be Anon
>You grew up in the slums of some urban hellhole that 50 years ago was a manufacturing juggernaut.
>Same story as every other big city in the country.
>Your family were a bunch of druggies.
>get taken away from your home at the age of 8 by child protective services.
>Go through a slew of shitty foster homes clearly using you for those government bux.
>In the meantime you’re getting into fights on a constant basis. More often than not with other slum kids with gang affiliations.
>You don’t care, you never cared. In your juvenile delinquency you just wanted to beat people and take beatings.
>By the time you were 13, your had found yourself upping the ante in the amount of trouble you got yourself into.
>knife fights, and pretty brutal ones. 
>It was the straw that broke the camel’s back in a sense. After one fight where you almost killed another kid in broad daylight, the state took you out of the foster system and were planning on putting you in juvenile hall until you were 18.
>You were just another statistic. When you were released, you would have just committed some petty crime and ended up in jail or dead.
>That’s what every cop, lawyer, judge, and bureaucrat thought of you.
>They would have been right. After your biological father had one time smashed a broken bottle over your head at the age of 7, you never made any qualms about what you were.
>Gutter trash.

>Then your life took a sudden turn.
>Less than six months in Juvy an offer was made to you by your assigned counselor.
>Some family wanted to adopt you. It wasn’t part of the foster system, but a legitimate adoption.
>It was a prominent well-to-do family with two kids of their own.
>Your counselor asked if you wanted to meet them.
>You shrugged. Guess it couldn’t hurt.
>A few days later you are taken to one of those sterile classrooms that were prevalent throughout the entire facility.
>Ironically the only things that looked interesting in these rooms were the bars on the windows.
>Yet now there is something else that grabs your attention as your counselor ushers you into the room.
>You adoptive parents were…not what you were expecting.
>They were Anthros.
>You knew about Anthros of course, saw them on T.V. too but never saw one in person. They were pretty rare in your city. Hell a lot of them preferred to keep to themselves in their own cities and even a country or two.
>There was always a debate of integration. You never cared about that sort of thing. Or about politics in general. You were too busy being a dumbass kid with violent tendencies.
>Your hypothetical adoptive parents were dogs. Well the more appropriate term was “Jackal”. They looked similar to wolves but were shorter, with slimmer fur coats and more narrow muzzles. 
>They were only a few inches taller than you. The lady was 5’5 and the man was 5’8
>Could you even call him a ‘man’? How badly was this going to fuck up your terminology?
>Despite not being human it was still easy to read their facial expressions.
>Nervousness. You figured that anyone would naturally be nervous adopting a kid of a different species who never even interacted with anthros his entire life.
>Especially if that kid was felon in the making.
>You did admit that you thought it was a pretty stupid thing for them to do. They already had kids apparently.
> There was no need to put their family life in danger by inviting some wannabe hoodrat into their home because of some screwed up sense of empathy.

>”Hi” You say to them casually as walk over to the desk.
>The female Jackal shifts awkwardly in her seat. She was dressed way too well for a place like this. A purple sweater vest with a beige blouse, she looked like she belonged in a library. 
>The male Jackal is the first to approach me with a handshake, which I take.
>“Hello Anon, I’m Thomas and this is my wife, Yulia. We wanted to come and talk to you and see if you wanted to live with us.”
>Before you could respond, Yulia decided to be brave and interject.
>“We asked your counselor not to tell you we were Anthros! We didn’t want you…to be intimidated by that. We wanted you to come see us before you made any judgments.”
>She was clearly anxious about the whole ordeal, twittering her thumbs in her lap. You sighed.
>“Well it’s a surprise. But I’m not running for the hills at the mere sight of you or anything like that.”
>After everything you’d done with your short time on earth, you didn’t really have the right to judge anybody.
>Plus they’re appearances were actually rather pleasing to you. Maybe it was because of their canine origins. Humans still had domesticated dogs, and you had always been a dog person.
>You were smart enough to not bring this factoid up to them.
>“That’s good to know” Yulia said quietly. She was clearly the shyer of the two.
>You then turn to Thomas.
>“Why me?” You asked. “I’m nobody important or special.”
>You noticed those words seemed like daggers to Yulia as she winced when you said them. Thomas leaned forward, his pointed ears turned in interest towards you.
>“We’re good friends with the Judge who presided over you case. He told us about you. We know a lot about what happened and we think that if you were put into a..healthier environment you might thrive.”
>You were angry.
>You were so fucking angry.
>They were so naive. To think that just dumping some toddler gangbanger like you in some magical wonderland where everything is great would change the way you were.
>You weren’t ghetto trash because you were raised that way. You were ghetto trash because you were born that way. Two ghetto trash junkies decided to fuck without condoms and out popped you-
>“Would you like to come live with us?” Yulia asked quietly. It was clearly difficult for her to be assertive.
>“We have two of our own children. A boy and a girl, roughly your age.”
>“You’d have to see a psychologist for at least a year.” Thomas said “It was the only way they’d agree to let us adopt you.”
>You stared at couple. Despite being anthros they were the most normal people you’d ever met in your life.
>Normal to you was dirty streets, hookers, the constant sirens of police cars and indifferent foster homes.
>If you stayed here in Juvy, you knew your future. You would be either be a murder statistic or a prison statistic. You had accepted that and were okay with it.
>You looked at these two well mannered Jackals with all their good intentions that irked you. And the future with them was nothing.
>Not uncertain, just nothing. You would be white noise on the radio, a canvas with nothing on it.
>In your head that seemed so much worse than what you had originally planned your short, violent life would be like.
>So it astounded you when you nodded you head and nonchalantly said “Yes”.
>Yulia’s ears perked up when you said it. Thomas looked relieved and he began to slightly relax his face.
>“For a moment I didn’t actually think you’d take us up.” Thomas said
>“Neither did I” You say, not thinking.
>There is an awkward silence. You see Yulia’s ears droop slightly.
>“So why did you say yes?” she asked.
>You ignored her question “So when can I get out of this place?”
>“Well it’ll take a little while for all the paperwork to be processed.” Thomas answered “But we can have you move in by next week.”
>You nod silently. You can’t think of anything else to say.
>You shake Thomas’s hand and you turn to Yulia.
>You could tell she wanted to hug you. Tell you ‘welcome to the family’ and all that stuff.
>You shake her hand and tell the both of them you look forward to moving in.
>A very awkward, formal goodbye to a massive change in your personal life.

>It wasn’t nearly as awkward as when you finally moved in. 
>If you could even call it a move. You came with the clothes on your back and a small duffel bag of a few shirts, some underwear and socks.
>Yulia was frankly appalled at how little you had and insisted she would buy some for you during the car ride. 
>You were getting the impression that Yulia was a bit fussy and had some sensitive nerves. She was always talking to you and fiddling with her hands in her lap. It was a rather one-sided conversation about their home and the school you was going to be enrolled in.
>It was a private school that was majority human, but one of the few that the wealthy Anthros of the city could send their kids to safely. The public schools were out of the question, that would just be asking for a hazing.
>There was a school uniform you had to wear.
>Yulia suddenly panicked and asked if that was alright.
>You told her that you didn’t care.
>You didn’t mean to sound that callous, but before you could apologize she just kept right on talking. Skirting the whole thing under the rug as it were.
>You felt bad that you couldn’t contribute more to the conversation. But you didn’t know what to say.
>Other than ‘why am I here’ but that would cause more problems than it would solve.

>The house was big, but not a mansion by any means.
>But it was still a picturesque family dream. Two stories, a large front porch and big backyard to play around in or have a cook-out.
>It only made you feel more like you didn’t belong here.
>”Come on Anon, I’ll show you to your room.” Thomas gestured over for you to follow him.
>After entering the front foyer, you immediately pass into the living room.
>It’s huge, bigger than most apartments you lived in. With three large couches connected to form a U shape.
>Naturally there is a big TV, with every electronic system one could imagine hooked up to it.
>On the center couch you see what looked like two smaller versions of Thomas and Yulia cooped up on the couch. With the same brownish, orange fur.
>Oh no.
>It’s the kids.
>You hadn’t really prepared yourself to meet them yet.
>Suddenly get antsy and incredibly self conscious.
>This isn’t your home after all.
>It’s theirs.
>You pray that Thomas ignores them and moves straight to your room, your one place of sanctuary in this foreign house it seems.
>He doesn’t.
>“Winston, for God’s sake put a shirt on. Your mother just cleaned that couch yesterday! We don’t need shedded fur on it already.”
>You see the smaller Jackal’s ears droop as he turns to face his father.
>His eyes widen when he sees you.
>Doesn’t say anything.
>Neither do you. You feel too guilty.
>“Winston, this is Anon. Anon, this is my son, Winston. My daughter over there is Rebecca.”
>Suddenly what looked like two human sized puppies were peering their eyes at you over the couch. 
>You cautiously waive your hand at them. 
>“Um, hello.” You say
>Their parents did tell them that you was living with them right?
>You were basically the new ‘brother’
>Maybe on paper that was true, but you knew it was a lie.
>They don’t say anything as they gaze at you with broad puppy dog eyes. Curiously studying you.
>God dammit.
>“Here. Your room is upstairs, Anon.” Thank god Thomas gave you a way out.

>Your room is well… roomy.
>Once again its bigger than anywhere you lived in.
>A twin sized bed beneath a windowsill with a nightstand next to it and an empty white armoire. The walls are painted baby blue and the hardwood floors have a nice sheen they’re so polished.
> “Your school uniform is in the armoire” Thomas explained. “We got you a large which might be a bit big for you. But we were trying to take your growth spurts into consideration.”
>You nod quietly.
>“Yulia will wanna buy you some clothes today as well. We noticed you didn’t bring much with you.”
>You cringed internally. You didn’t want these people spending money on you, or getting you more than they had to. 
>It was bad enough that you were living in their home.
>But it was either that or stay here and interact with the kids.
>Your shyness gets the better of you and you ask if you and Yulia can go clothes shopping right now.
>Thomas smiles, he mistook your desire to get out of the house for some genuine enthusiasm. 

>You get into the front seat with Yulia.
>She’s beaming that you asked her to take you shopping. Ears perked and everything.
>D-Did you see her tail wag?
>She takes you to a mall.
>You’ve never been to a mall before.
>No one would ever build a mall anywhere near the places you’ve lived.
>All your clothes were either hand-me-downs or bought from cheap street vendors.
>And it was clear from all the people walking around with nice clothes that this was a place where rich people went shopping. 
>It was mostly human but you could spot the occasional anthro here and there.
>Were there really that many? Before Yulia and Thomas you had never seen one in your entire life. 
>but now it seemed they were popping up more and more.
>As you entered the large mall you suddenly begin to tense up.
>You don’t belong here, you don’t dress or fit in like these people do.
>You felt guilty trying to pretend to be someone you weren’t.
>Yulia apparently sensed how tense you were.
>Must be one of those animal instinct or something.
>In an unusually forward manner, she takes your arm and links it with her own.
>You’re too stunned to resist her.
>She now feels just how on edge you are and silently gives your arm a tight squeeze.
>Somehow this actually calms you down and gets you to relax.
>Okay her tail is definitely wagging.
>what the fug

>Takes you into a clothing store.
>It’s hard not to let out an actual gasp of pain from looking at the price tag on these shirts.
>She’s gonna pay THAT MUCH for you?
>You refuse.
>Run to the back of the store and grab a couple cheap pack of T-shirt.
>She frowns when you show them to her.
>“Just white T-shirts Anon? Don’t you want some different colors?”
>You show her the package of black T-shirts too.
>“That’s not much better Anon.”
>You pull out your trump card. The package of Grey T-shirts.
>She sighs.
>“If that’s what you really want then okay. But we gotta get you some hoodies and jeans too.”
>In this instance you had to swallow your sense of shame and go along with it. Those things were always expensive no matter what.
>You made sure to turn your head at the cash register so you didn’t have to look at what the price was.
>The drive home is oddly silent. Except with one phrase you say to Yulia.
>“Thank you for buying me clothes.” You mumble.
>It felt so forced, so automated, and completely insincere.
>She merely smiles at you.

>It’s starting to get late when the car pulls into the driveway.
>When you get inside you smell cooked food coming from the kitchen.
>It’s dinner being made. 
>You excuse yourself to go wash-up. Trying to hold off the first ‘family dinner’ for as long as possible.
>You delay it for five minutes at best with excessive hand-washing.
>As you slowly enter the dining room, you see the whole family huddled around the table and a large pot of what looks to be some kind of stew.
>Smells pretty good.
>You can feel all their eyes on you as you pick a random seat at the table. Trying to make as little noise as possible.
>Everything seems so dreadfully silent to you. 
>Luckily the kids didn’t really ask about you.
>Guess their parents told them everything they needed to know. Inquiring further would result in not exactly polite table conversation.
>The only question given to you was when Thomas asked what your favorite subject in school was.
>“Oh, um. I haven’t ever really…um liked school. Guess I got distracted by other things.”
>Shut up shut up shut up.
>This silence was awful. You did not belong here. What were you thinking agreeing to come here?
>You could imagine this family talking and laughing and being a family and now it was reduced to something that looked akin to a funeral service.
>All because you decided to invade their home.
>Did the kids resent you for changing their family dynamic? Would they? You thought they should.
>Dinner went by quietly. Only the sounds of the stew being eaten and the occasional small talk between Thomas and Winston. 
>You tried to finish your Stew as quickly as possible without making it noticeable.
>You ask if you can be excused from the table. Saying you’re quite tired and you’d like to get some rest.
>Maybe after you leave and head up to your room they can get back to acting like a real family instead of this sad circus performance.
>Truth be told you used sleep as an excuse, but you were actually pretty sleepy. The car trip and the shopping really wore you out.
>As you strip and throw your body onto the bed, you quickly start to close your eyes and let your sleep give in.
>”Welcome to your new life” you think before you pass out.


>Surprisingly, High School was a smooth transition for you.
>That was mostly because everyone quickly figured out you’re the fucked up adopted Ghetto kid so nobody messed with you.
>You even ended up making friends and joining a sports team.
>Just kidding, none of that happened.
>More often than not other kids were scared of you.
>You didn’t mind, in fact you liked the isolation and you preferred to eat and study by yourself.
>And the idea of joining a sports team and working together with a group of people horrified you.
>You never really did connect with your “siblings”. Mostly because that would have involved talking to them about your screwed up life.
>You couldn’t do that to them. Because if you brought up the fact that you saw 9 year olds do drugs deals as a proxy for their parents or older siblings, they’d tell their parents or even their friends about it.
>You didn’t want to tell them or their parents that you still had nightmares from your messed up childhood and more often than not woke up in the middle of the night.
>Sometimes you woke up crying.
>But you made sure to do it as quietly as possible so you didn’t wake anybody else up.
>You didn’t want to disrupt their family life more than you already had. You tried your best to keep as invisible as possible.
>By the time you were 15 it was evident that wasn’t going to work anymore.
>You hit your growth spurt, and It was a massive one.
>Within a year you went from 5’1 to 6’5.
>Frankly Yulia was flabbergasted that she had to kept buying you more clothes.
>You just felt guilty for the whole thing.
>Now you towered over your adoptive family. Jackals weren’t large anthros, 5’8 was the standard height for males.
>You on the other hand could walk head to head with lions and even some smaller bears.
>Though you were no longer invisible, the added height only made you more fearsome to the rest of your students.
>They could see you a mile away and they had ample time to steer clear of you. 
>This all led to one positive development for you.
>With no friends and no extracurricular activities. You spent almost all of your free time studying and reading.
>Much to your adoptive parents surprise, and even your own at first. Your first report card was nothing but straight A’s.
>Between school and home, you probably read about 14 hours a day.
>And you could finally tell Thomas what your favorite subject was.
>Medieval History.
>Maybe it was a typical boy thing to be obsessed with all the wars and violence in history.
>But to you, you read all the violent stories of knights and warriors who hacked each other to pieces and felt a kinship to them.
>Those knights put on fancy appearances but deep down you felt that they knew who were they really were and they didn’t lie to themselves about it.
>They were just as violent as you, if not more so. You felt that if you could have gone up to those people and talk to them as a 14 or 15 year old boy about all the feelings you had, they might laugh at you sure. But they would still understand you. You had a possibility to a connection to someone, even if they had been dead for 800 years.
>So you focused the entirety of your reading on these medieval histories, trying to find some glimmer of truth about these people that you could apply to yourself.
>After your year of weekly required visits to the psychologist. You told her frankly that you’d rather not come anymore, since it just got in the way of your reading.
>You never really told her anything useful anyway. You figured out years ago how to lead those people on.

>Yulia and Thomas were naturally delighted that you were so academically successful. Though they were still concerned that you didn’t bother making friends or joining clubs.
>You didn’t care and ignored them. Lost in your readings.
>You read an account of an anthro Fox who had broken his arm with the mere act of blocking with his shield. He kept on fighting and eventually beat down his opponent.
>How did he do that?! How did he keep fighting through that pain?
>That was the truth you wanted to know. 
>No matter what you read, it didn’t give you the truth you were looking for.
>It infuriated you.
>It got so bad that you were getting less than three hours of sleep a night since you spent all your time desperately reading to find what you were looking for.
>Eventually it came to bite you in the ass.

>One night you had a dream, it was as if you had been drawn on a piece of crumpled up paper and before you was this large mountain stenciled in. 
>It was a fucking pain in the ass to climb. Whoever drew this mountain sucked at it. 
>But when you climbed the very top you were rewarded with the eternal whiteness of the rest of the page.
>You were no longer Anon, some ghetto trash kid with a history of violence. Who some rich anthros took pity on.
>You were nobody, you were absorbed into the whiteness of the paper, of the canvas. You became part of some great truth and all your shackles were removed. You would lose consciousness, you would lose everything.
>And you wanted that.
>You wanted to bask in this paradise.

>You wake up to your alarm with a fever and a migraine. You don’t even have the strength to reach out and turn it off.
>It’s the first time you’ve ever called out to Yulia for help.
>At first she didn’t hear you with your raspy voice and loud alarm.
>Finally she stumbled in, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
>She jolts awake when she sees your face and rushes over you.
>Her eyes are painted with worry as she feels your forehead.
> “Yulia” you barely murmur. “I…”
> “Shush now. You stay in bed. I’m going to go take your temperature.”
>When the thermometer beeps and she looks at the number, you can see her tail fritz and kink.
>You figured out that quite a few Anthros expressed their feelings through their tails.
>And they were often quite bad at hiding it.
>She quickly gives you a small kiss on the forehead.
>It was the first time she had been so affectionate towards you, then again you had never given her an opportunity to do so.
>You had made sure to keep up the distance between yourself and the rest of the family.
>Her cool nose felt nice, the fur over her muzzle though felt less pleasant on your boiling forehead however.
>“Anon.” She said sweetly “I’m gonna get you some cold water, then I’m gonna have to take you to the Doctor.”
>You groan out an unintelligible reply and she rushes out of the room. You hear her talking to Thomas in a hushed, frantic tone. 
>You can’t hear what she’s saying, but It can’t really be that serious.
>How high was your temperature?
>With some effort you throw the duvet off and slowly start to sit up.
>You needed to put some clothes on, you usually just slept in your boxers.
>Your head feels woozy, like all the blood rushed out of your head.
>You rub your eyes as you begin to see spots. 
>You stumble over to your armoire and quickly throw on some sweatpants.
>At the very least you didn’t want Yulia to see you basically naked.
>She walks in as you throw on a shirt, surprised to see you standing.
>She practically forces you to sit back down on the bed and shoves a large glass of water in your hands.
>Drink it all in one gulp.
>You didn’t realize until then how dry your throat was. It felt like the Sahara desert was getting hit with a waterfall.
>Yulia supports you as you walk down the stairs.
>Puts you in the back seat of the car so you can lay on your back.
>Try looking out the window but it’s just a blue of green and blue.
>Can’t process it. Makes you feel sick.
>Just close your eyes.


>Be Yulia.
>Adopted Anon over a year ago.
>He’s still so quiet and reserved.
>Me or my husband can’t tell what he’s thinking.
>He doesn’t play with the kids either. Don’t force it since that would only make it worse.
>He doesn’t play with any kids, he just stays by himself. 
>Was trying to get him to be more social but he doesn’t budge.
>Doesn’t seem to mind being so lonely
>His grades are fantastic though.
>Makes me think it was all worth it. 
>He also got freakishly tall!
>I had no idea humans could get that big.
>I figured he would be taller than us, but god damn.
>It was like every month or so we had to buy him new clothes.
>He still only wants those T-shirt packs.
>But he isn’t interested in any sports despite his height.
>Thomas was trying his hardest to get him into a sport.
>But as usual Anon just wasn’t going for it.
>He prefers to spend all of his time reading.
>He doesn’t want to watch TV, or go outside, or play videogames
>He just wants to read.
>He’s been bringing home these massive volumes of history texts.
>About knights and kings and such. He’s into that sort of thing.
>It’s kinda astounding. He’ll just bring home 1000 page texts he gets from the library and consumes it all in like a week.
>I didn’t really expect that from him.
>I guess I didn’t really know what to expect from him when he moved in.
>He still doesn’t talk to us about what happened to him before.
>We already know, but we’d have liked to hear it from him.
>The psychologist could barely get anything out of him either before he just dismissed her after a year had passed.
>Despite all of that, he really is such a good boy.

>Woke up one morning.
>Heard Anon’s alarm going off for far longer than usual.
>He’s rather quick on his feet in the morning, unlike the rest of the household.
>I’m hearing him call my name.
>Barely.
>He’s such a poor sight. My heart melts when I look at him.
>All the color is gone from his face except his cheeks, which is a bright pink red.
>Scoot over on the bed and feel his forehead.
>He’s burning hot.
>Take his temperature.
>105 F
>Mom mode initiated.
>Lick his forehead and tell him to stay in bed while I call the Doctor.
>Rush into the kitchen with the phone. Find Thomas with a cup of coffee.
>Tell him Anon has a really high fever and he needs to go to the Doctor right now.
>He says he’ll take the kids in his car.
>Love my husband.
>Rush quickly back up to Anon’s room with a glass of water.
>He’s out of bed, getting dressed.
>He really is like any other teenager, tell him to do something and he’ll do the opposite. 
>He’s just more subtle about it.
>Lay him on his back in the car.
>Speed over to the Doctor.
>I look in the mirror and see him close his eyes.
>I’m hearing him whimper too.
>Speed faster.

>Doctor begins to examine him.
>Notices strained, bloodshot eyes and even the dark bags underneath.
>Thought it was just because he was sick. But the Doctor doesn’t think so.
>“Anon, have you been getting enough sleep?”
>There is a silence. He’s not answering.
>He’s a quiet boy, but he never flat out refused to answer a question before.
>“Anon?” The Doctor persists
>Anon is sheepishly shaking his head.
>He’s been reading well into the night.
>He said at most he’s been getting three hours of sleep. Sometimes he’s pulled all-nighters.
>“Uh-huh. and how long has this been going on?”
>He once again doesn’t answer. It takes the Doctor asking again a little more firmly before we’re given an answer.
>Three weeks.
>I’m a little stunned.
>Three weeks with practically no sleep.
>I should have been angry. But instead I was just worried.
>Why? Why would he do something like that to himself.
>The doctor shows no reaction. He just nods his head and writes something down before turning to me.
>“I had a feeling. He’s sick from over-exhaustion. What he needs is rest and something light to eat for the next week. Get him some over the counter meds and make sure he’s kept in a dark room with little light or people to bother him.”
>I nod as I gently lead Anon out of the office and back into the car.
>What was I suppose to tell him? To stop reading.
>The insane thing was I might have to do just that.

>Get home and practically unload Anon from the car.
>He really was a sorry sight.
>It was so awkward to support him up the stairs since he was so tall.  
>Managed to get him to his room somehow.
>Get him into bed and even tuck him in.
>Rub his cheek with my paw.
>Tell him I’ll check on him later.
>He barely responds.
>Worried but wanting him to get some rest I turn to leave.
>I think I literally jumped out of my skin.
>He tugged on my tail.
>And it wasn’t a gentle tug either.
>Only my husband does tha-nevermind.
>I look at him curiously.
>His eyes are half closed, I don’t think he’s really processing what he’s saying or doing.
>That wall that he usually kept up around himself wasn’t there.
> “Don’t go.” I hear him mumble.
>I think I’m on the brink of tears
>I sit on the edge of his bed and immediately he puts his head in my lap.
>This 15 year old boy was acting like a 5 year old pup.
>It was more adorable when he turn his face towards me and nuzzled into my fur.
>I had read all the reports of what had happened to him with his parents and the swath of various foster parents handling him like a game of hot potato.
>How could someone treat a sweet little boy like that?
>It both broke my heart and infuriated me.
>I’m jousted out of my thoughts when I feel him shuffling in his sleep.
>He’s totally passed out.
>I gently pet his soft hair.
>Scratch the back of his neck.
>Even in his sleep I can tell he likes that.
>It was little details like this that I could never coax out of him.
>He was always so distant from everyone around him.
>I want him to open up more.
>I have to get up and figure out what I have to cook with in the kitchen .
>But for just a few minutes I’ll stay here with him.
>With my little boy, who I hardly knew.


>Be Anon.
>Wake up, your sheets and duvet are moist with sweat.
>So are your clothes.
>The room is almost pitch black. You peak out the window curtains and are immediately blinded by a flash of sunlight.
>The light makes you nauseous and you quickly shoot your head back down to the pillow.
>Grown loudly, you feel disgusting in your sweaty clothes. 
>As you put on a clean shirt you try to recollect your memories.
>Yulia guided you up the stairs and put you in bed.
>Pretty much after you put your head to the pillow everything went blank.
>Probably just completely knocked out. The Doctor did say it was exhaustion afterall.
>You suddenly felt incredibly hungry.
>You open your door a slightly, preparing your eyes for the incoming light.
>Your eyes slowly adjust and you can tell its a little later than mid-day.
>You stagger into the kitchen, hoping to find something to snack on.
>Before you can start to pillage the cupboard you spot Yulia in the dining room.
>She looks a little surprised to see you standing up and it looks like she’s about to get you to go back to bed.
>Quickly explain that you’re starving.
>Nods and sits you down in a chair and starts to cook some scrambled eggs for you.
>Feel guilty about her making food for you.
>But you get over it and ask her how long you’ve been sleeping.
>Just over a day you slept all of yesterday and a good portion of today.
> “Wow, I slept over 24 hours?!” you ask, surprised.
>“I guess I just passed out the moment you got me into bed, huh?”
>Strangely, Yulia doesn’t respond to your inquiry.
>You figure she must be mad at you for getting sick in the first place.
>It is pretty much your own fault.
>You apologize and tell her you’ll take better care of yourself and make sure to get a proper night’s sleep from now on.
>She puts on a mock angry face before smiling at you.
>“That’s good Anon, I didn’t really feel right about having to force you to stop reading.”
>You nod as she puts your plate of food in front of it.
>You scarf it down in minutes.
>Politely excuse yourself and head back to bed.
>“F-feel better, Anon.”
>“Thanks” You say quietly. “I’m heading back to sleep. I won’t cause much of a fuss.”

>Come back to school a week later.
>Annoyed because you have to stay after school to grab notes and worksheets from all of your teachers.
>Math, Check. English, Check. Biology, Check. Latin, Check.
>All you needed was to talk to your History teacher and you would be set for the day.
>Hurry to his classroom since the school will be closing soon.
>He gives you all the missed worksheets and pulls up the powerpoint and lets you quickly jot down notes.
>“Hey Anon.” The teacher asks “I’ve noticed you’ve been carrying a lot of medieval history books around.”
>You nod quietly.
>“Those are college level texts Anon, I had to read a few of them back in my undergrad. How many of them have you read so far?”
>You list off the two and a half dozen books you’ve read so far.
>Needless to say the Teacher is more than a little surprised.
>“You sound like a bit of an enthusiast Anon. You know there are some people in the City who are into that era.”
>Oh?
> “Yeah, it’s the Society for Medieval Life, the SML. They do Renaissance fairs, educational tours, and they got an academic journal too. They also have a few specialists like blacksmiths and armor makers. They do mock battles too.”
>They fight? You were trying to sound as disinterested as possible.
>“Well they have lots of rules and regulations for it. But it is pretty popular Anon.”
>“It’s an international organization, but there is a pretty popular branch in the City. The nice part of the City too, so your parents won’t have to worry.”
>You ask how you can get in contact with them, the teacher shrugs.
>“Search them online and find the Chapter around here. They usually got an email or phone number. They’re always looking for new members.”
>You thank the teacher as you scrawl the last of your notes and practically bounce out of the school.
>When you got home you didn’t bother with your homework, you just looked these people up and sent them a hasty email.
>You cringe when you read it back to yourself and noticed at least two typos.
>You can barely sleep that night. You’re so fired up you breeze through all the schoolwork you missed but you surprisingly can’t read. You’re too jittery.
>Despite promising Yulia you’d get more sleep, you find it almost impossible tonight.
>You frankly don’t care.
>You thought that you could only find that truth through books and accounts written by long dead men.
>You could live through it though. But now you knew about this Society, were there people out there like you?
>Probably not. You could never tell people what you were truly looking for. It had too much to do with the violence that still occupied your thoughts.
>You felt guilty for still having the mindset of a street urchin. Even after a year had gone by, you still had that urge to fight. To not only hurt, but to get hurt yourself.
>You figured that even if there were people who loved the history as much as you did, they couldn’t relate to the core of who you knew you were.
>That was okay though. You weren’t selfish enough to ask others to try and relate to you.

>It takes two agonizing days but you finally get a response from the Chapter Master. 
>He was delighted to hear from someone as young as you, the Chapter was having a full group meeting in a few days.
>Emailed you the address and the time.
>If you were having trouble sleeping before now it was straight up impossible.
>You would have to ask Yulia to serve you bigger portions for dinner to make you bloated and groggy.
>Speaking of Yulia and Thomas, they were delighted to hear you were interested in doing something other than being holed up in your room reading.
>They weren’t too happy about your insistence on taking the bus into the city. But they relented eventually.
>You were the street smart urban teenager after all.

>You showed up in casual wear: a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
>You wanted to get in and prepare for physical work, fighting and all that.
>Felt a bit too early to think about that stuff before your first meeting.
>But fuck it.
>The building is actually the gymnasium for one of the many colleges that were scattered around the city.
>When you walk in your greeted with a sizeable group of people, around three dozen.
>You find the Chapter Master and introduce yourself
>You let him know what interests you.
>“Well Anon, we can get you set up with some of our leftover gear for now.”

>A month passes of you going for sparring practices with the SML
>You hate it.
>You quickly figured out that they substituted real weapons for weapons made from rubber and Rattan.
>Plus there are too many things not allowed, certain swings, grappling, etc.
>It makes sense, it would be pretty easy to get a concussion or get seriously hurt for a hobby, you should have expected as much in the first place
> But you don’t feel like you’re engaging in a vicious sport or an adrenaline fueled fight.
>You feel like a LARPer faggot.
>It’s embarrassing.
>You feel like a piece of shit too, because you know there are a lot of people there who are really passionate about the history and the culture. They take it seriously.
>And here you are shitting all over them because you can’t treat it like a real fight.
>They do fencing, which is actually pretty okay. But your body is too tall and awkward to really take to it.
>You’re thinking of just quitting the whole organization, or at the very least stop going to “sparring” practices and focus on what else it has to offer.
>But on the whole it feels like a waste of your time.
>You were pretty depressed thinking about the whole thing when you heard the Chapter Master complaining.
>It was about another Medieval Organization and he didn’t think too highly of them
>Referred to it as a “mindless blood sport”.
>The hell?
>You start to listen as intently as possible while trying to look as casual as possible.
>The GMCL
>“Anon, do you need something?”
>You suddenly stammer an apology and wave him goodbye as you run out to meet Yulia in her car.
>Get home and immediately look it up.
>The Global Medieval Combat League.
>This is…everything you wanted.
>Do more research on it.
>It’s basically a niche within a niche.
>Mainly because they use actual weapons instead of glorified seedbags on a stick.
>They’re blunted, but you can live with that.
>Look at pictures and videos.
>Now you know why it’s called a blood sport. 
>Holy fuck, some of those guys got the crap beaten out of them.
>It was pretty intimidating…but you wanted that.
>You find out where the local club was
>No contact info surprisingly, but you did find out where their next meeting was.
>Same college as the other organization.
>That might have explained why that chapter master was bitching about them before.

>A week later you find where they’re training.
>Another Gymnasium, but smaller. It looked like where the College’s Gymnastics team would practice.
>Being so tall, it’s impossible to remain inconspicuous as you practically tiptoe your way inside.
>You feel a bunch of eyes on you as you walk slowly to the man you assumed to be the Marshal.
>You start to explain your interest and he just waves you away.
>“Listen kid, the SML meets tomorrow. Go spar with them.”
>You tell him you have, and it doesn’t satisfy you. You see his face get a bit more sympathetic.
>“Yeah, I get it kid. But this is a club for over 18. We can’t have you participating in fights
>You cut him off. You tell him you knew that already and didn’t care if you didn’t actually get into real fights for the next few years. You’d happily spar and practice with everybody.
>He’s about to say something and then you add you’ll clean up and organize the equipment after everyone is done.
>He doesn’t say anything for a moment before one of the other members jumps in.
>“Let the kid join, we got enough sparring gear for him. He can be our punching bag.”
>You hear a couple of the others chuckle, but you remain undaunted.
>“Fine” You hear him say. “But my boys aren’t gonna go easy on you cuz you're underage.”
>That’s exactly what you wanted to hear.
>“What’s your name anyway?”
>“Anon”
>“Whatever, lets get you geared up.”
>At first you became depressed again because all the weapons you had were brightly colored substitutes, and they weren’t made out of metal. It was rubber.
>But you did notice it was a much harder rubber.
>“Did you think we’d risk getting out real gear dented over sparring?” a member explained to you, “Fuck that”.
>The ‘sparring gear’ is pretty ridiculous looking too. It was also either bright blue or bright red. With heavy padding.
>With the face gear on you looked like something out of American Gladiators.
>The next four hours is some of the most intensive fighting you’ve ever done. And it wasn’t even for real.
>You got the absolute shit beat out of you. By the end of the session you’d be covered in welts and bruises.
>But despite being deemed the ‘club punching bag’ you did display some skill.
>You could hit hard enough and even block and parry somewhat decently.
>It threw a few of the boys off-guard and you managed to get in a few good hits.
>What messed you up was footwork. You didn’t know where to place your feet and you constantly felt off balance.
>A couple times the more experienced fighters just said fuck it and rammed your sorry ass right into the ground.
>But you still got up.
>Near the end of the session it was evident to everyone that you could barely lift your weapon.
>But you still swung it and took the beatings like a man.
>That in the end was how you gained everyone’s confidence. Not that you were strong (you weren’t) or that you were skilled (hardly). 
>But that after taking a painful hit, you kept swinging.
>This was the path to your truth.
>Your paradise.

>You now have a new routine for the rest of highschool.
>Go to class, come home, read, study and get easy A’s
>Go sparring once a week and get absolutely wrecked.
>You do add in regular exercise too. At first it was just cardio, to build up stamina so you didn’t get burned out so quickly during sparring.
>But then you did weight training, because you wanted to treat them like the punching bag.
>Eat large, get large.
>By the time highschool is over you aren’t an awkward lanky teenager.
>You were a fucking beast. You got straight up autistic when it came to working out.
>You had noticed that a few girls were eyeing you in the hallways
>A few of them were even anthros
>You didn’t give a fuck.
>You did all of this for yourself, to become better at what you desperately wanted in life.
>Not to be some badboy fuck toy for some girl.
>You didn’t care for a social life, you didn’t want friends, or a girlfriend, or anyone really.
>You just wanted to fight, your entire week was for a few hours in a gymnasium getting knocked around by guys at least a decade older than you.
>You spoke even less to your adoptive family now. If you weren’t buried in books or studying, you were working out.
>Thomas, Yulia, and their kids barely existed to you now.
>They were blurs in a house you lived in that wasn’t yours.
>Anthros or humans, it didn’t matter what species they were. They wouldn’t relate to you.
>You had nothing to say to them. Not out of malice, but just out of indifference.

>Eventually it came time to apply for college.
>You only applied to one school, the University where your sparring matches were held.
>They had a degree in Medieval Histories too, so everything seemed to fit together.
>With your phenomenal grades plus the fact that you were basically a ghetto trash turned adopted, well adjusted kid success story every single scholarship and grant was at your fingertips.
>Good thing too, you couldn’t bear the thought of Thomas or Yulia supporting your schooling when they had their own two children to think about.
>Both of whom would be moving out of the state, pretty far away.
>Rebecca got accepted in her preferred school, 500 miles south.
>Winston was never really a school person. He got an offer as a welding apprentice, out of the state too.
>The house was going to be empty for the first time ever.
>Except you would still be there. You found no reason to leave and pay for dorms when you lived so close.
>That would backfire.
>The kids leaving hit Yulia hard. She really was the perfect mother in every sense.
>And now she had no one to really mother anymore, her job was done.
>She lost a lot of her upbeat energy. She seemed quiet, more reserved. Less willing to talk to people.
>She was like this even around Thomas.
>The only time you heard any life in her voice was one day you came home early from classes.
>You heard her on the phone in the kitchen, she sounded bubbly but also slightly desperate. 
>It was an unsettling juxtaposition.
>After a second you could tell she was talking to Winston.
>She wanted to know everything that was going on with him, if he needed anything mailed. When he would have time to come up and visit or vice versa. 
>You could imagine Winston on the other end being pretty disconnected and not realizing how much she missed her son.
>You linger, she says goodbye and hanging up.
>A moment later. You hear her burst into tears.
>A full blown sob.
>Your heart stops, you didn’t know what to think or how to react.
>These people, this whole family were practically strangers to you.
>Even though you had been living with them for four years now.
>Yet here you were, this out of place person in the midst of this family’s sorrows.
>You couldn’t stand it anymore. You now had your goals in life, you had been ‘uprooted’ from your former life and gave yourself a new path in life.
>You didn’t need this family anymore.
>You didn’t need to be an invader in their home anymore.
>You didn’t like to admit it, but the thought of staying here, pretending at family and being a son. It broke your heart.
>You quietly move up to your room, Yulia didn’t hear you.
>Within a year you moved out of the house. Your grants would more than cover some living expenses.
>You made the excuse that you didn’t want to clutter the house with your fighting equipment.
>But that was a lie, you knew the real reason.
>It was better for everyone this way.
>That’s what you kept telling yourself when Yulia hugged you for the last time.

>Things on the sparring side of things looked far brighter.
>The moment you turned 18 and graduated high school you were inducted as a permanent member of the GMCL.
>A few weeks into college you had your first fight.
>It was a series of qualifying matches to see where your rank would be in the League.
>This was mandatory for all new members.
>Your club Marshall was nice enough to bus you over to another city himself where the matches would be held.
>You finally got to put on your armor for the first time.
>And use your weapon.
>A two handed glaive, that curved at the end for the purpose of hooking a combatant’s weapon away from him.
>A trick your Marshall had taught you.
>You had a series of six matches, all of them newbies like you.
>Though you figured most of them hadn’t done two years worth of sparring before they joined.
>You win 5 out of 6 of your rounds.
>You lost the sixth one because with all the winning you started getting cocky and immediately got flattened out.
>Marshall gave you shit for it and laughed at your expense.
>You couldn’t care less, you perform extremely well and you knew it.
>You looked at your new rank and smiled.
>You were only going to climb up higher from here on.

>Well that wasn’t exactly true.
>You were in the ‘duelist’ category’ basically one on one combat.
>There were group fights and they were pretty entertaining to watch.
>But you never had the personality to be a team player, except when it came to sparring and helping the rest of the club improve.
>But in the thick of the action, you wanted anyone you thrashed to be an opponent.
>You did not want to share.
>That being said, you were no longer fighting newbies like in the qualifying match.
>You had a total of eight matches over the year.
>You won four and lost four.
>You actually ended up going down a couple spots in rank.
>No one in the club gave you shit for it, it was almost expected since it was your first year.
>It fucking infuriated you.
>You did not work this hard to be mediocre.
>You promised yourself that you would always go up in rank from this point onwards.
>You would except nothing less.
>So you trained even harder.
>You ran as fast as you could as long as you could.
>In your armor.
>You hit the gym every day and lifted until you felt like you were going to die.
>Your arms were screaming in pain the next day but you didn’t care, you kept lifting just as heavy.
>You only gave yourself one rest day, where you would pass out all day and eat copious amounts of chicken and beef.
>You barely focused on your studies because they were so easy. The medieval history classes were interesting enough that you memorized everything without taking down notes.
>And all of those CORE classes for science and math were basically glorified high school courses.
>You breezed through it so casually that you barely cared about it.
>You cared about nothing except getting stronger, getting faster, and hitting harder.
>In the middle of the night if you would wake up from a nightmare, instead of crying like before you would get up and practice your god damn footwork until you could fall asleep again.
>Besides showering, you barely kept up your personal appearance.
>Your hair and beard grew wild and unkempt. You looked less like a school student and more like a jacked up hobo.
>Yulia would call you every now and again. She would ask you to come over but you always told her you were busy.
>You were right of course.
>Still every once in a while you would ring her up and see how she was doing.
>She tried her best to sound alright but you knew she wasn’t.
>You didn’t know why you kept up this charade.
>You felt relieved when Rebecca came home from break to visit.
>Same when Winston came about a month later.
>Finally she could interact with her real children instead of you toying with the whole family dynamic.
>It was so much easier this way.
>During your second year, you had ten matches.
>You. won. every. single. one
>Two of the opponents you gave concussions.
>The last fight you almost lost, twisting your ankle during the last lunge.
>But you got the hit and that was all that mattered.
>Your rank went up.
>You were not fucking around anymore.
>You only intensified your training.
>You wanted nothing else. 
>If people stared at you because you were tall and muscular you stared at them back.
>As if you were silently saying ‘Get the fuck out of my way’.
>No one outside matches ever got in your way.
>You had barely begun to climb that mountain in your dream.
>You were no where close to reaching that peak where there you could lose yourself.
>But you were climbing.
>That was all that mattered.
>Third year was much the same.
>You only had nine matches this time because your ankle had to recover.
>But once again you beat them all down.
>Not to say that they didn’t wallop you hard either.
>More often than not you would come home barely able to move. Your whole body stiff and painful.
>You would find yourself sprawled out on your bed. Basking in the sensation of the shredded fibers in your muscles slowly repairing themselves.
>It was only during those moments that you would skip out on training.
>You told yourself it was because you needed to give yourself rest after such a grueling match. Which was true enough.
>But the real reason was that you loved this pain, every bruise on your body you would press into with your finger and wince at. You swore you could feel your overworked muscles pumping and beating.
> And for every second that happened you could feel just how much it hurt when your muscles screamed mercy at you.
>You loved it. You were addicted it.
>You relished in that feeling of your body being completely broken.

>In your fourth and final year, you started to panic.
>Not because of your grades and not because of your matches.
>But because after this you had no idea what to do.
>What kind of job could you get with a medieval history degree?
>Didn’t really think it that far through.
>Either way you don’t actually want a job.
>You don’t want to do anything that would distract you from matches.
>fuck fuck fuck fuck
>A desperate light bulb pops in your head.
>Get a Masters.
>You school doesn’t have a Masters program in Medieval studies.
>God dammit.
>Start researching schools that fit your requirements
>Must have a Masters relating to Medieval era
>Must have a League club nearby to join.
>Every school you’ve been looking through for the past month fits only one of the categories.
>You’re so stressed that for a brief time your grades start to slack.
>Your fighting is getting sloppy too.
>You had 8 Matches this year.
>Win them all, but just barely. 
>You can feel yourself regressing.
>Need to resolve this immediately.
>expand your horizons and look beyond the country.
>Still running into the same problems-
>Wait!
>Whats this?
>University with a small GMCL club nearby.
>And any degrees?
>A two year program for a Masters in Medieval Architecture.
>.…
>Fuck it.
>Slowly start the application process.
>Transcripts and a few essays.
>Mostly on the design of old European fortresses and the evolution of design of Catholic Churches.
>Fairly simple stuff, maybe too simple for a Masters.
>Then you have to do the whole song and dance of scholarships and grants.
>This whole process takes your entire Senior Year.
>Annoyed that something is distracting you from matches.
>You’ll just have to suck it up for now.
>five months pass.
>They accept you. Not much of a surprise.
>You realize after all this time you never actually looked into the City you would be moving to.
>You never really cared that much in the first place.
>It’s one of those super metropolitan cities.
>Lots of Anthros live there.
>Turns out Humans are just a sizeable minority.
>Unless that somehow impended your ability to rent an apartment you didn’t give a shit.
>Call Yulia and Thomas and let her know you'll be leaving the country in a few months.
>They sound pretty surprised.
>Round of congratulation and “oh so proud of you”
>Suggest you come see them before you leave.
>Can’t really find an excuse for this one.
>You agree.
>You're pretty much done with school and all your matches are over. You just have to train more.


>Holy fucking shit you hate airplanes.
>16 hours in a plane with your tall bulky self was agonizing.
>Impossible to sleep so you just stared out the window.
>For 16 hours.
>This place wasn’t kidding with the whole metropolitan angle.
>All the signs are written in 13 different languages.
>Thankfully they didn’t lose your luggage.
>Surprisingly it was just your clothes and books. You mailed all of your equipment to the new club.
>Too much of a hassle to bring 55 pounds of armor and a deconstructed Glaive on an airplane.
>This new Marshall even offered to pay for the international fee of mailing it.
>It ended up being something insane like 300 dollars so you’re happy he offered.
>Thomas and Yulia had offered to do it, but you flatly refused them.
>You couldn’t be a burden on their lives anymore.
>Last time you saw them was when you went to their house for dinner.
>It went exactly as you expected, a very quiet peaceful evening. 
>You didn’t really have anything to say, other than answering their questions about this new University you were going to.
>You had shaken Thomas’s hand as he wished you good luck.
>Yulia had given you a big hug.
>You think you saw her eyes watering too.
>It was a painful thing to watch.
>They treated the whole thing like they would never see you again.
>You realized there might be some truth to that.

>You get out of the cab and meet up with landlord who gave you the keys.
>You had already paid four months rent in advance with your scholarship money.
>You’re only condition to the landlord was the apartment was entirely yours.
>You wanted to be left alone.
>you dump your bag on your bed.
>You could unpack later, you needed to pick up your equipment.
>It was almost a thousand dollars worth of armor just sitting around.
>It was nice to be able to walk everywhere.
>The university was only 20 minutes away and the Club was less than five
>You have your priorities in order.
>You didn’t know how wet the city could get though.
>It was near the end of summer and flash rains were common.
>Even if it wasn’t raining the city always looked wet.
>You frown slightly when you get to the club.
>a few dark vans were parked around it with both humans and anthros in construction hats casually walking around.
>What the fuck.
>You go and ask where the owner (presumably the Marshall is)
>After asking a few workers they point you in the right direction.
>You saw a slick Anthro Cheetah, tall and lanky like you had been in high school.
>He looked quite old though, his vibrant fur was starting to dull and wear out.
>Next to him was a Anthro Tiger, Tall and muscular but still a tad shorter than you.
>You call out to them, a slight tone of irritation in your voice.
>The Marshall turns around and instantly smiles at you.
>The tiger just folds his arms and cocks his eyebrow at you.
>“Hello Anon,” The Marshall extends his hand. “I’m Harald, nice to meet you in person.”
>Harald motions over to the Tiger.
>“That’s Antonio over there.”
>“Just call me Toni, My mom calls me Antonio.”
>Toni spoke in an accent that was distinctly Italian-American.
>Harald on the other hand spoke in an almost posh British style combined with a vague eastern European accent.
>It was a weird combination.
>“What’s going on? Where’s my stuff?” You ask, not bothering to introduce yourself.
>Harald frowns at the question.
>“Water damage from the ceiling. This building hasn’t been renovated in about 20 years. Part of roof collapsed and scared the hell out of the Fencers.”
>You look up and sure enough you can see the hole and few workers on the roof arguing over it.
>“I’m paying for the repairs no problem. We’ll have it all fixed up by the weekend. Problem was that I had to quickly pack up everything inside and move it somewhere else before it got damaged by the elements.”
>“Unfortunately my house could only hold so much. So I had Toni take your gear, it’s still in box it was mailed in.”
>You motion over to Toni.
>“Well lets go grab it then.”
>Toni frowns.
>“I got shit to do right now. Come by tonight at 9 and I’ll be home.”
>Now its your turn to frown.
>“I need that stuff, it’s everything I have.”
>“Yeah? What do you need it for? The club is fucked until next week.”
>“I need it because I paid over 900 dollars for it” You said, getting aggravated.
>“Yeah. Which is why I have it locked in my Room with all of my own stuff. Chill out dude, no ones gonna snatch it.”
>You were big and intimidating and you knew it. You could the give anyone a glare and they would back down.
>This tiger did not give an iota of a shit. Because he could glare right back.
>You didn’t know how to feel about your own medicine being dished back at you.
>You suddenly feel a thwack on your shoulder from Harald’s paw.
>He looked skinny but that cheetah was surprisingly strong.
>“Either way, I know you just got here. But I’ll need you to start training immediately after we reopen this dump.”
>You nod
>“Cuz I gotta get you into a qualifying match.”
>You cocked your head, slightly confused.
>“I did all of that years ago.” You explain, only to get a wagging claw from Harald.
> “You did it for the American Division. This is Europe, Anon.”
> “Don’t get too hung up over it. All of the heavy hitters in the league get rankings from both divisions eventually. Plus the officials usually take your past Rank into consideration. Do well and you won’t be starting from the bottom all over again.”
>You nod silently. It was odd to feel encouraged by someone else.
>You’re suddenly pushed out into the streets by Harald, he then comes over and makes a halfhearted swipe at Toni who backs away.
>”Now scram, I have to make sure they don’t screw this up. I got nothing for you two to do. You should explore the city, Anon. Have Toni take you on a tour.”
> Toni scowls.
>“Fucking walk around yourself.”
>You agree. But then a strange thought popped into your head.
> “Are we the only two people in the club?!” You ask.
>Toni nods. 
>“This was originally a fencing club. Still is, but Harald apparently had been wanting to start something for armored combat for quite some time. I joined first two years ago, and now here you are.”
>Toni suddenly stares at you.
>“You’re not gonna ask me about myself are you?”
>“I don’t give a shit.” You reply frankly “I just want my stuff.”
>This actually prompts a smile from Toni.
>“Fuck yeah, I can dig it. Here give me your phone.”
>He puts in his phone number and his address.
>“Come at 9, no earlier, my girl’s coming over and I don’t want you interrupting my groove.
>Groove? Whatever.
>You part ways and walked home.
>No, you ran home. You were still pissed.
>You didn’t have your armor with you at the exact moment you wanted it.
>After four years, it felt like a second skin to you.
>It had gotten so severe that in your old apartment you had your armor set up right next to your bed.
>You would feel anxious otherwise.
>Now you had to deal with it being in the house of some Tiger Anthro you hardly fucking knew.
>You ran as fast as you could, but you weren’t even remotely tired.
>You could run to the University, maybe check it out?
>Fuck that. You go inside and do push ups til you collapse.
>Now you’re tired.
>Oh yeah, you were also on a plane for 16 hours.
>Crawl into bed and take a nap. 

>Wake up. Eyes widen.
>FUCK. You forgot to set an Alarm.
>Check the time.
>9:45
>fuckfuckfuckfuck.
>Throw on a clean shirt and run out the door.
>It’s pouring outside.
>Great.
>You run over to Toni’s at brisk ten minute jog.
>At least it felt brisk to you. To anyone else it looked like you were running for your life.
>Tony lives in an Apartment complex.
>Luckily the front door isn’t locked like it usually is back home.
>Fuck the elevator, you run up 5 flights of stairs.
>Get to his door, hear music and lots of people.
>Is he throwing a party?
>Loudly bang on the door.
>Door opens and you see a Rabbit, stoned out of his mind.
>“What’s up?” He says too damn slowly.
>“Toni live here? I’m picking something up from him.”
>“It’s chill dude, come on in. Dude you’re fucking massive you know that?”
>You ignore him and walk past him. You didn’t really care for some freshman or whatever getting high.
>Your senses are hit with a cacophony of shit.
>Loud, unintelligible music. The smell of alcohol and marijuana, all the houselights turned off and replaced with swirls of red and blue.
>And anthros, lots of anthros dancing. 
>Well mostly grinding on one another to the music.
>You feel someone grab your arm.
>It’s a badger anthro as she winks at you and tries to pull you into the dance and feels up your muscles.
>You push her away and head into the kitchen, where it’s less crowded.
>You find Toni, hunched over pulling out a Pizza from the oven.
>“You threw a party with my stuff still here?”
>Toni doesn’t even look at you as he takes a knife and begins to slice up the pizza.
>“Dude it’s my house and I’ll do whatever I fucking want. Not my fault our club had rotting wood and I had to take your stuff.”
>Once he finishes he finally turns and looks at you. Determined to not let you ruin his night.
>“As a matter of fact you should be thanking me for even taking your gear in the first place. Even in a box your shit takes up a lot of space.”
>You grinded your teeth. He was right.
>“Fine. Sorry I’m being a pain in the ass. I just get twitchy when I don’t have my armor around me.”
>Toni lets out a grin as he wipes his hands with a towel.
>“It’s cool I get it. I get pretty sensitive about it too. You want a drink?”
>You shake your head. He frowns slightly.
>“Man, you’re no fun. You need to get laid. You know a lot of babes here would dig a guy like you. You’re more jacked than I am.”
>“Some Badger was tugging on my arm earlier.”
>“Oh shit! For real? She’s pretty hot.”
>“I pushed her away because I was looking for you”
>“Dude. You’re gonna kill MY libido. Were you raised by Puritans or something.”
>“Jackals actually.”
> Toni raised his brow, slightly confused as he looks over you. As if you were an Anthro and he just didn’t notice.
>“I’m adopted”
>“Dude, I’m having a good buzz, don’t ruin it with your sob story.”
>“Can I just get my fucking gear please?”
>He nods as he leads you towards his room. You couldn’t help but slightly smile at this whole conversation.
> “HEY TONI!” someone shouts “IS THAT YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND?”
>Toni gives the middle finger and you look towards the group of people for the voice.
>Instead your eyes widen as you see an Anthro that’s actually bigger than you.
>A Timber wolf. She looked like she was around seven feet tall
>She had those cool looking digitigrade legs
>It was hard to tell with her clothes, but it looked like her back was covered completely in black fur, with outlines of it reaching around her muzzles and cheeks.
>The rest was that distinct thick fluffy white fur that was common for polar animals.
>Or anthros in this case.
>She was definitely the biggest anthro in the party.
>She was obviously the drunkest too. She was stumbling around and clinging on the walls for dear life.
>If of course she wasn’t clinging on to some random person for support.
>As Toni unlocks the door to his room, you mention the wolf to him.
>“What? Ah fuck, that’s just what I need.”
>He ushers you into his room.
>His armor was on display with at least five different weapons hung on weapon racks.
>You had to admit it, you were pretty impressed.
>You were still more happy to find your stuff, still in its packaging when you mailed it.
>Two large square boxes and one long tube box for your glaive.
>Even just having it near you like this made you feel better.
>“Listen man” You hear Toni “Can you do me a favor.”
>You don’t respond as you stack the two large boxes and balance them on your shoulder and tuck the long box under your arm
>The walk home was gonna be a good workout.
>“Can you take that Wolf home?” He asks you “She’s fucking wasted and I think whoever brought her here ditched her.”
>You emit a slight groan.
>“It’s not my job to look after some dumb girl who had too much to drink.”
>“Dude, if she passes out in my apartment I’ll have no idea what to do with her.”
>“Oh so passing out on me is a much better option?”
>“Just ask her where she lives and walk her home if she’s nearby or call her a cab.”
>“Do I look like a babysitter, Toni?”
>“Come on. You owe me, I kept your shit safe.”
>It was amazing how in less than a few hours Toni could absolutely aggravate you.
>“Fuck it. Fine, Whatever, I’ll do it.”
>“Great! Thanks, consider us even now.”
>As Toni heads out the door, he slowly turns his head towards.
>“You’re not gonna like, take advantage of her or anything right?”
>“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Toni?”
>“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You seem about as sexual as a eunuch.”
> God dammit.
>You know what, whatever, you got your stuff, that's all that mattered.
>You did snicker though when someone loudly asked you if Toni was a good “power bottom”
>Now you just gotta get this wolf Anthro back home before she blacks out.
>Find her hunched over on the couch, looking dazed and confused.
>Flick her in the ear to get her attention.
>“You live nearby? You should call a cab.”
>She shakes her head at you slowly starts to sit up.
>“No…money” she managed to garble out.
>Dammit, you left your wallet at home.
>“Alright, lets go outside and get some fresh air.”
>She nods slowly and stands up, Fuck was she tall.
>The only Anthros you met that were taller than you were the bears.
>But this Timber Wolf had more than a few inches on you.
>She grabs your shoulder as you lead her out of the party.
>You see Toni giving you a thumbs up.
>This was such bullshit.
>You take the elevator this time, afraid that this wolf would fall down the stairs.
>“My friends….” She begins to say before you cut her off.
>“Ditched you, yeah I figured” you say. It came out meaner than you meant it to.
>She’s silent for the rest of the elevator ride down.
>When you get to front door you sigh.
>It’s pouring out.
>You hope the water doesn’t seep into your packages and get your armor wet.
>“Hey what’s all that stuff your c-carrying” she asks, trying her hardest not to slur her words.
>“Stuff” you say casually as she pouts at you.
>“My house isn’t far away.” You tell her “I have to drop this stuff off and I’ll get you money for a ride home.”
>She drunkenly clamors onto your free arm.
>“But it’s raining out.” She wines.
>“Deal with it”
> She hiccups. “You know for trying to help a..a lady in need. You sure aren’t a gentleman.”
>You groan.
>“And look at that long hair and sh-shambly beard. Are you sure you’re not an Anthro?”
>You groan even louder.
>It would have been funny watching her normally puffed up fur get soaked in the rain.
>If only she didn’t look so miserable.
>The rain was coming down hard, and combined with the sudden wind it felt like getting pelted in the face.
>The wolf was hunched over and practically buried her muzzle into your arm and shoulder.
>While at the same time your other arm and shoulder was carrying over 60 pounds of fighting gear.

>Eventually you arrive home.
> “Stay here.” You say pointing at the doorway. I’ll get a towel, I don’t want you tracking water throughout-
>She makes a mad dash to the bathroom.
>Leaving a large trail of rainwater.
>You hadn’t even been here for a day and already you needed to mop.
>You hear her start throwing up and dry heaving in the bathroom.
>This fucking Wolf is just gonna wreck your apartment before the night was done.
>You pull your only towel out of your bag.
>You knock on the door and are told to come in.
>She really is a pitiable sight.
>Her clothes, a yellow sweater and a pair of Jeans, were completely soaked.
>Her fur was matted and dripping. You could have wringed it out and gotten a glass of water.
>It almost looked like white and black watercolors that had bled together.
>Her head was resting against the toilet bowl, she was panting and she looked ready to fall asleep.
>Her once poofy tail now looked like some kind of dead, mutated snake.
>You sighed annoyingly and hand her your towel.
>“I’m not this bad.” She says dejectedly as she begins to wipe her face. 
>“This was my first time drinking” She lowers her head as she moves the towel over to her legs and tail.
>“I guess I went a lot harder than I realized. I’m like the complete opposite of attractive right now.”
>“I Don’t really care.” You say casually.
> “Well I do care!” She pouted “I’m throwing up in a stranger’s house. I don’t even know your name.”
>“It’s Anon” you answer.
>“Um, I’m Yasmine.” She say’s as she wrings the now soaked towel over the bathtub.
>“I uh…know this is really awkward, but can I stay the night? I don’t really wanna go back outside.”
>You sigh in response and you see her ears droop low. You kinda figured she would want to stay after she immediately dove headfirst into the toilet bowl.
>“Fine.” You say sternly. “You can sleep on the couch. I’ll get you some dry clothes.”
>Yasmine ears perked up again, but before she could say anything you were out the door and rifling through your bag.
>Anthro clothes had different dimensions to human clothes, you’d have to get her something baggy.
>You found an extra large shirt you used for jogging.
>Plus a pair of baggy shorts you wore on rest days.
>What was loose on you was tight on her.
>The shirt pressed into her chest and made apparent just how…endowed her cleavage was.
>The shorts were just plain awkward on her. Especially with her tail. She had to lower the shorts just enough to give her tail room.
>She gave you an accusatory glance as if you gave her these clothes on purpose.
>But your tired, indifferent gaze told her you didn’t really give a damn how raunchy she looked.
>“Drink water before you head to bed” You say, filling up a glass of tap water and handing it to her.
>“It’ll make the hangover less shitty apparently.”
>“Apparently?” Yasmine asks
>“I don’t drink.” you tell her.
>Fuck!
>You forgot to take armor out of the soaking wet boxes.
>You quickly scramble to the floor where you had placed them before and begin to tear at the box.
>You carefully place each piece of equipment on the living room floor.
>Thankfully no water got in.
>Take the glaive out of its longbox
>carefully attach the blade head to the staff.
>“What is all that stuff” You hear Yasmine ask.
>“Stuff.” You retort.
>“You said that last time, but it looks more interesting than just plain old stuff.”
>“It’s armor.” You say bluntly. “I compete in fights.”
>“But that’s all from the Dark ages.”
>“It’s called Medieval Armored Combat.” You say quickly, wanting the conversation to end.
>You hastily start to pick everything up and bring it to your room. Yasmine continues, her tail slightly wagging.
>“So you wear all that stuff and fight someone, with like a sword?”
>“Basically, yeah” You didn’t bother correcting her that you used a polearm.
>“Isn’t that dangerous?” She said with a combination of concern and curiosity.
>“It can be. It’s been called a blood sport before. But there are rules and regulations.”
>“I guess that explains why you look so buff. I noticed a few girls giving you fuckme eyes.”
>“Even if you do have that horrendous beard.” She added.
>You ignore that last bit and retrieve your blanket.
>You didn’t mind sleeping the night without one.
>But she would probably be cold and complain, even with all that fur.
>She smiles playfully and lays down on the couch as your throw the blanket on top of her.
>“Tuck me in.” She practically demands
>“Excuse me?” You say, baffled.
>“Tuck me in Anon, I’ve had a rough night.”
>You’re about to tell her to piss off when she makes a mock pouting face and widens her eyes.
>She was giving you the puppy dog treatment.
>And it worked.
>You sigh and let out a small curse as you go over and make sure she’s all tucked in under the blanket.
>Gotta make sure those paws get covered.
>As you pull up the blanket just under her muzzle, she licks your face.
>She giggles as you feel your face go red. Probably for the first time in your life.
> “G-good night.” You stutter as you turn off the light and rush back into your room and close the door behind you.
>Do crunches until you collapse.
>That doesn’t work, you can do crunches literally forever.
>Push-ups work better.
>Finally exhaust yourself and climb into bed and pass out.
>You only shiver slightly from the cold.

>You wake up sniffling.
>Damn rain gave you congestion.
>You were also freezing now.
>You hear movement outside your room.
>Oh right, the Wolf Anthro.
>You stumble out of bed to see her going through your kitchen.
> “I wanted to make us breakfast” She explained. “But you have literally nothing in here. Not even coffee.”
>“I moved here yesterday.”
> “Oh” Yasmine said, suddenly feeling guilty.
>“I guess I was your first impression of the city huh?”
>“It’s cool. Don’t worry about it” You say.
>You look at your phone.
>You got a text from Toni last night.
>“Bro, that wolf make it home?”
>You text him back.
>“She slept on my couch. Gonna kick her out soon.”
>You send him another message.
>“Also don’t call me bro.”
>“Um, you wanna get breakfast?” Yasmine asks.
>“I didn’t realize how hungry I’d get with a hangover. I’m starving.”
>When you don’t immediately answer, she adds:
>“I’ll pay for it. As thanks for last night.”
>Fuck it, why not.
>You sneeze and sniffle out a yes.
>It’s only then that Yasmine notices your nose is all red and stuffy.
>“Well, now I gotta buy you food. I didn’t want you to catch a cold!”
>Before you can reply she practically prances off into the bathroom, grabbing her clothes from last night which were left to dry on the radiator.
>As she comes out she shivers, her clothes are soaking wet anymore, but they’re still damp.
> “No offense, but I think I die of embarrassment if I went out in your clothes, they don’t fit me at all.”
>You nod slightly as you head back into your room and throw on a pair of sweatpants and a clean shirt.
>You look over your armor and weapon. Glad to have it back in your possession after having it mailed it to the Club almost two weeks ago.
>Two extremely agonizing weeks.
>“Come on Anon lets go. I know a place to eat.”
>Why were you going with this Anthro?
>Free food I guess.
>But you could pay for anything you wanted yourself.
>Whatever, lets just do it.
>With the Club still under reconstruction its not like you could spar or anything.
>Maybe it was best to spend the next few days getting acclimated to the new environment.
>But you didn’t need this Timber Wolf towering over you for you to do that.
>Your phone vibrates as you get a text message from Toni.
>“Ur such a faggot dude”

>Despite the fact that you were starving, you only ordered a modest breakfast of waffles with bacon.
>You would have felt bad completely taking advantage of Yasmine’s offer.
>Still, a hot meal was making you feel much better.
>You normally would eat some kind of branflakes for breakfast. 
>“You don’t talk much, Anon.” Yasmine said in between mouthfuls of sausage.
>“No, I’m pretty boring like that” you reply indifferently.
>“You don’t look boring. You look like some beefy lumberjack”
>“Looks don’t mean anything. I’ve met plenty of athletes who are uninteresting.”
>“Were they really though? Or did you just not bother to talk to them?”
>This rebuttal renders you silent as you pour more syrup on your already saturated waffles.
>“Plus I saw all that battle armor or whatever you had. Seems like you have some unique interests.”
>“That’s just a…”
>“What? Hobby?”
>You pause, “No.” You admitted “It’s not just a hobby. I take it too seriously to be a Hobby.”
>Yasmine leans in, her sizeable cleavage resting on the table.
>“I only came to this University because there’s a Club nearby that I could join.”
>“It’s like a Dojo or something?” Yasmine asks
>“I guess. After I got my Bachelors, I was desperately searching for another school I could go to so I could keep fighting without a Job getting in the way.”
>“You're determined to not join the workforce huh?” Yasmine grinned.
>“It’s all just a distraction to me. I don’t really care about anything else.”
>There was a small awkward silence with that admission.
>Why were you telling her anything?
>You always preferred to keep to yourself.
>It was because of fucking Toni, that’s why.
>You decided you were going to blame him for everything.
>“Wait, you already have a Bachelors” Yasmine asked, tilting her head.
>Fuck. You didn’t think you would get used to those natural puppy dog eyes of hers.
>“Yeah. I’m here for my Masters degree.”
>“You don’t really look the part.”
>“I got a virtually perfect GPA back in my old school.”
>“What?!” She almost choked on her food.
>“I told you. Looks don’t mean anything.”
>“The hell was your degree in?”
>“Medieval History”
>“I guess that makes sense” she said, aimlessly waving her fork around. “Considering what you do with your free time and all.”
>“So what’s your Master in?”
>“Medieval Architecture”.
>“Does that interest you?”
>“Not really. But school never did anyway. Even if I was a good student.”
>It was so surreal talking about your life in any fashion to anybody.
>You had never been this talkative to Yulia.
>A pang of guilt hits you.
>It hits you even harder when you realize that even now you weren’t all that talkative.
>You repress the feeling with another large bite of waffle.
>“Well?” Yasmine said as she drummed her fingers on the table and pretended to look annoyed.
>“Well what?” You asked, confused.
>“Aren’t you gonna ask me about my degree?!” She pouts.
>uhhhhhh
>You didn’t really care all that-
>YOU REALLY FUCKING HATED HER GOD DAMN PUPPYDOG EYES
>“What are you getting your degree in?” you ask in a ridiculously formal manner.
>Yasmine giggles.
>“Botany!” She exclaims proudly. “I’m in my third year now.”
>Oh wait. That actually means she’s smart right?
>“Anything specific?” You ask. “Cuz just ‘Botany’ is a bit broad.”
>“Weeelll,” she begins. 
>“All the money is in GMO crops and all that. So I’ll probably be working in some lab figuring out how to make wheat immune to diseases or something.”
>She eats half her omelette in one bite.
>She was almost as voracious of an eater as you are.
>“But I got into it because when I was a pup I liked the idea of breeding two batches of different colored flowers to decide what color I wanted the offspring to be.”
>“What? So you’re basically a control freak?” you said offhandedly
>She gives you a brief scowl, but it soon turns into one of those hungry grins.
>The same kind that you saw the feral wolf give on the nature channel before it killed a deer.
>“Haha, I guess so. I can be a bit possessive sometimes.”
>Now it was your turn to almost choke on your food.
>“Hey, by the way.” Yasmine started, “You haven’t seen the University yet right?”
>“Only pictures online” You said, washing down the last of your food with Orange juice.
>“Want me to take you on a little tour?”
>“Well I gotta…
>You actually couldn’t think of anything you had to do for the next few days.
>The club wouldn’t be open and you could basically work out whenever you wanted.
>Plus school wouldn’t start for a few more weeks.
>“Uh, I guess you can show me around.”
>She clasps her paws together and smiles widely.
>You even see her tail wag.
>“Great. I’ll grab the check and we can head out.”

>The University is big.
>Like really fucking big.
>Your old college was probably only a fraction of the size.
>It also wasn’t really that great of a school.
>This place however was apparently one of the best in the world.
>Despite it being built right in the middle of the city you were surprised by how much greenery there was.
>Lots of lush, well maintained fields were scattered all over the campus grounds.
>They would look even nicer when the sun decided to come out.
>You learn a bit about Yasmine.
>It was still so strange talking to someone who was taller than you.
>Though you guess it was just strange having an extended conversation with someone in the first place.
>She wasn’t from around here. She was born way up in the north in another country.
>Her father had retired from a career in the military.
>Her mother was a housewife.
>She had to coax it out of you, but you told her about your parents. Your adoptive parents that is.
>Thomas was a Defense attorney for the City.
>Yulia was also a housewife.
>You also briefly mentioned you were adopted by Anthro Jackals.
>Definitely threw Yasmine in for a loop.
>“Must have been quite the contrast. Raising you as a baby, alongside their own pups.”
>“They didn’t ‘raise’ me” You corrected her. “They adopted me when I was a teenager.”
>“Well what were you doing before that?” She asked innocently enough.
>“I was raised by foster parents mostly.” You said hastily.
>You quickly change the topic and start pointing to various school buildings and ask what they were for.
>You didn’t care all that much. You just needed the change of subject.
>People shouldn’t really have to hear all that stuff about you.
>Yasmine was happy to oblige and told you everything she knew about the school.
>It was all a haze to you. You were just happy she was talking and you weren’t.
>“Hey, it’s getting pretty late.” She said, looking at her phone. “I should be heading home.”
>“You still need money for a cab?”
>“Thanks, but I’m good. It’s not raining so I can just walk it.”
>She hands you her phone.
>“Put your number in it?”
>Wha?
>“You know, in case I need you to rescue me from a party again.” She said laughing.
>You sigh as you put in your contact info.
>“Don’t make a habit of that. Some other guy could have seen you and gotten the wrong idea.”
>“I know that!” She said frowning. “I wasn’t…being responsible. I’m lucky I found a guy like you Anon instead of some creep.”
>The way she worded that made you feel awkward.
>Suddenly she gives you a hug.
>You tense up and she looks down on you frowning.
>“You alright Anon?”
>“Y-yeah, you just surprised me thats all.”
>“You know, Anon. When someone hugs you, you usually hug them back”
>Blood runs to your cheeks as you tentatively wrap your arms around her.
>You feel her briefly rest her head on top of yours.
>Her fur is unbelievably soft. It’s almost like silk.
>You could bury yourself in this fur and fall asleep immediately.
>Thankfully the hug is over quickly and you feel your cheeks return to normal.
>“See you later Anon!” she says as she waves goodbye.
>You meekly wave back.
>God damn you need to get back to sparring as quickly as possible. 


>You’re sweating.
>Your hair and beard is matted and disgusting.
>Pools of sweat are accumulating around your eyes.
>Eye sweat.
>Gross.
>Harald’s training gear was slightly heavier than the stuff you used to spar with back home.
>It didn’t seem like much but after five hours it would wear you down.
>And Toni was actually pretty good too.
>Solid footwork, quick with his shield.
>And he could hit hard. 
>You weren’t too thrilled when you learned that he would be your only sparring partner.
>You still couldn’t believe that you two were the only members of the club.
>Besides the fencers of course, but they hardly existed in your mind.
>Apparently for two years Toni just sparred with Harald.
>That led you to believe that that Cheetah may have been old, but he wasn’t a pushover.
>“Well Toni” Harald asked, “What do you think of our newest member?”
>Toni threw off his headgear and practically jumped over to his water jug.
>His orange fur was darkened and dripping with sweat too.
>Plus he smelled terrible.
>“He’s quick with that polearm of his I’ll give him that.” He said in between massive gulps
>“I’ll have to get used to the new gear here.” You explain. 
>“We used lighter stuff over there. I could spar for six hours without breaking a sweat. But this…”
>Harald cut you off as he waived his hand in front of his face.
>“God damn you both stink. Take a shower and get out of here.”
>You and Toni collectively shrug as you head off to the bathrooms.
>“Oh!” Harald said, snapping his paws. “Anon, make sure you’re here on Thursday early morning.”
>“For the qualifying matches right?” You said with a sigh.
>“Sorry Anon, but I can’t put you in matches if you don’t have a rank.”
>“I don’t have to go right?” Toni asked with a smile that you wanted to just punch right off of him.
>“No. It would just be a waste of your time. Other than your jogging, take the day off.”
>Toni fist pumped into the air. You raised your brow at him as you both walk towards the showers.
>“You gonna throw another party?” You ask almost accusatory.
>“Why not? Otherwise it would a waste a perfectly good day. Wanna come after your match?”
>“Uhhh, parties aren’t really my thing.” You answer.
>“Figures. You are pretty boring. You should come over anyway though, chill out after your game and relax with a beer.”
>“I don’t really drink.”
> “Anon.” Toni looks at you somewhat seriously as he begins to disrobe and turns one of the showers on.
>“What the fuck do you do?”
>You think for a moment as you lather up the shampoo.
>“I Do this, I workout, I read, oh, and I go to school I guess.”
>“You don’t like, hang out with friends or have other hobbies, or fucking anything?”
>“Hey, I just got here.”
>“Did you do anything else at your old place?” Toni asked, holding his hand out for the shampoo bottle.
>You toss It to him. “No I didn’t.”
>Toni sighs “I don’t get you Anon. You bust your ass to have a physique like that. Girls would fawn over you if gave them a chance to even look at you.”
>“I don’t workout just to have the privilege of some drunk 18 year old harass me.”
>“Then go get some nice christian girl who will put up with your bullshit. Living like you’re a monk ain’t healthy.”
>There was a long silence with only the sound of hot running water going down the drain.
>“Anon, are you gay?”
>You instantly turn your head towards Toni.
>“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” 
>“I think it’s a valid question at this point” Toni said mock seriously
>“What, because I don’t immediately chase the first piece of ass I see I’m gay?”
>“Because I’m almost certain the only other person you’ve seen naked is me.”
>“WE’RE IN A COMMUNAL SHOWER!”
>“You’re so sheltered, Anon.”
>“We had a communal shower in my other Club.”
>“So you’ve seen a bunch of other naked dudes, but no chicks.”
>“God dammit Toni, what if I want to do other stuff besides get a girl.”
>Toni turns off his shower and begins to dry off.
>“You’re lucky you’re so big and scary, Anon. Cuz otherwise I’d be giving you shit for being a virgin.” 
>Amidst your steaming hot shower, you’re fuming at Toni right now.
>“I get that girls aren’t the most important thing in the world bro. Shit, there are times I don’t talk to my girlfriend for a week or more cuz I’d rather be focusing on this stuff.”
>He throws his towel on the sink counter as he begins to get dressed.
>“But you’re what? 23-24? Maybe older? And you haven’t even seen a girl naked before?”
>Your happy the steam is there so Toni doesn’t see you blushing.
>“That means somethings wrong with you that you need to work out. And don’t give me that waiting for marriage shit, cuz I already know you’re not that type of guy.”
>You glare at Toni, only blinking when shampoo starts to get in your eyes. He shrugs.
>“So stop being so weird and come to the party after your matches”
>“I’ll think about it” You answer.
>“Whatever.”
>“And I told you not to call me Bro!”
>“Get the fuck over it.”


>It was a two hour drive to the next city over for the qualifying matches.
>Harald was nice enough to take you there himself.
>Besides some talk about past fights you had done, it was mostly quiet.
>Unlike most people, who were just awkward around you when you got quiet, Harald seemed to take it in stride.
>You were surprised when you pulled up to a stadium used mostly for boxing games.
>Back home these qualifying matches were always done in gymnasiums in schools or outside.
>You were also surprised by how many people there were.
>“This is a niche sport” Harald admitted
>“But it’s also part of our history and culture here. Not so much where your from, Anon.”
>You nod silently.
>“Intimidated?” He asks.
>You shake your head.
>“Good. Lets get this over with.”
>That was pretty much the perfect summary of the whole day.
>A day that was spent registering with the league and then waiting.
>They’d call you up and you’d fight.
>Rules for qualifying matches were you lose if you get hit three times or thrown down.
>Quick and easy.
>You threw them down each time.
>You had eight matches overall.
>None of them lasted longer than five minutes.
>They were all newbies, still fresh from training.
>Most of them had probably fought with traditional sword and shields.
>They probably didn’t know how to deal with a polearm like you had.
>What a waste of your time.
>After the eighth fight you had spent a total of six hours here.
>Most of it was just waiting around.
>At least your rank was high.
>Harald offers you water as you remove your armor.
>“Last two guys you throttled were part of Peterson’s club”
>“Am I supposed to know who that is?” You ask as your pour water on your hair.
>“His Club is local to this city. It’s also considered the best one in our division.”
>“I don’t really care Harald.”
>“His training is top of the line. He probably won’t be happy you pushed two of his recruits around.”
>“I care even less about that, Harald.” You say, annoyed. “What is he going to throw a tantrum?”
>“No. But he’ll probably want to set you up with a match.”
>“Does he have anyone that’s actually good?” You say this less cocky, and more aggressively.
>“What part of ‘best club in the division’ didn’t you get, Anon?”
>“Christ, Harald I get it. Who does he have that’s good?”
>You pack up your gear in two large duffel bags and begin to walk out of the locker room.
> Harald begins to explain “Besides the recruits, all three dozen regular members are above average in the ranks.”
>“That doesn’t mean much.” You refute. “I’m now above average and I did nothing but beat a bunch of novices.”
>Harald flicks long tail, you swore he did it on purpose to psyche you out.
>“Except these are all veterans who have been doing this as long or longer than you have.” 
>“So you’re telling me to not accept a challenge from them?”
>“No, Anon! I’m telling you to not act like such an arrogant prick around them.”
>You frown as you throw your gear in the back of the car.
>“Everyone always has some big scary boogey man, Harald. But they all get thrashed eventually.”
>“Your match records from back home tell me that you haven’t lost.” Harald was quick to point out.
> “I did lose.” You argue back, exasperated. “When I first started I lost a few matches.”
>“Yeah and since then you’ve beaten your competition every time and even here you ran a perfect game. Don’t you get it Anon, you’re gonna be the boogey man.”
>You were silent. You didn’t really know how to respond to something like that. You try to choose your words carefully.
>“I don’t care about-
>“I care, Anon.” Harald didn’t even let you speak. “As the Club owner and manager it’s my job to make sure that the rest of the League doesn’t look at you like a measuring stick for themselves and try to tear you apart.”
>You were about to argue back and risk causing a scene in the parking lot when you saw Harald turn his head and his tail slightly droop.
>“Dammit,” Harald said, “Speak of the Devil”
>“What?”
>“Peterson’s coming our way. And he’s brought Clyde.”
>“Who the fuck is Clyde?” You asked, getting tired of all this nonsense.
>“Clyde’s an old scrapper, been doing this for over 20 years. He’s the best in their club, and as of five years ago the highest ranked fighter in this division.”
>You squint your eyes at the two figures.
>They could not look more different.
>Peterson was an old fox. He was short at only four feet tall and his once luscious tail now looked like a wilted flower due to age. Just as well, his orange fur had also dulled considerably over the years and he seemed to walk with a slight limp. You noticed one of his ears had also been torn and scarred over.
>Clyde was a massive panther. He was just as tall as you, but bulkier. His shoulders were broader and his leg muscles looked like they would rip out of the skin. His fur was a dark purple, so dark in fact it was easy to mistake it for being black.
>In stereotypical fashion, the fox had a wide mischievous grin on his face while the panther remained stoic, keeping his paws in his jean pockets. 
>Harald waved over to them, plastering his face with a smile so fake you could only classify it as a work of art.
>“Peterson!” Harald exclaimed a little too enthusiastically. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
>He didn’t acknowledged Clyde, who stood a little farther back, looking out into the distance while occasionally sneaking glances at you.
>“I hope you enjoyed watching the matches.” Harald continued “It’s always a treat watching the fresh meat go at each other.”
>Peterson nodded, his grin never wavering.
>“It’s something I look forward to every year, Harry. I was happy when I heard you had gotten a new member.”
>He turns and looks at you.
>“But I think you tricked me Harry, this boy isn’t new at all. He’s far too bulky and his muscle memory is too refined to be new.”
>You grunted at him, you resisted to form a scowl.
>“I was originally from the division in the States” You admitted “I moved here for school.”
>“Well I hope you find your new home to your liking…er
>“It’s Anon.”
>You hated how he inspected you like an insect he was about to eat.
>“Well Anon, since you beat two of my newest members. I wanted your opinion on them.”
>It was for a brief moment, but you saw Harald’s face tick. It was a warning, it was a plea.
> Do not. say anything. stupid.
>You now saw Clyde looking at you with more up front curiosity now.
>“With all due respect… Mr. Peterson.” You began slowly. “I have been with the league for a few years now and I take my training very um, seriously.”
>You paused, you swore Harald was sweating.
>“To compare new members to myself would be unhelpful and…disrespectful.”
>Harald seemed to relax. But it was a mistake to let his guard down.
>Peterson chuckled, though it sounded more like a wheeze.”
>“My, you are quite polite for a foreigner. But I insist you let me know. After all, you beat them so handily”
>You clenched your fists. His tone was so condescending and you knew his intent. He was accusing you of winning only because you fought people with no skills. It was a challenge, and you accepted it.
>“They sucked.” You said frankly, Clyde raised his brow at you and Harald looked like he was going to have a stroke.
>Only Peterson showed no expression as you continued.
> “Their footwork was atrocious, they have little to no muscle mass, they lacked the confidence to use their shields properly.”
>Now you were going in for the kill. You would poke this old little fox’s ego.
>“But worst of all, they had absolutely no mettle behind their swords. They were like children flailing around with sticks.”  
>You got him. His former playfully cunning grin had morphed into a far more sinister smile.
>“You’re not very polite at all, are you?”
>You have him your own evil smile. You were both out for blood.
>“No.”
>“Well, Anon. Perhaps you can tell me your opinions on my other fighters-”
>Before you can respond, you feel Harald’s firm and very angry paw on your shoulder.
>“Well I’m sure we can arrange a match sometime this year.” Harald chipperly said.
>“But unfortunately Peterson, I’ve already got six matches with him lined up, so you’ll have to wait your turn.”
>Clyde in turn walked up behind Peterson, letting him know that this little exchange should probably end soon.
>Peterson quickly relented and put on a more present expression.
>“Of course, silly me. Getting all excited. Harald, let me know when that boy is free. I’d love to see him in action again.”
>With that they left the two of you alone, with one last glance from Clyde.
>You feel Harald’s grip on your shoulder tighten.
>“Get in the car.”

>You sigh as you lean your head against the passenger window. 
>It was hard to ignore Harald in this enclosed space.
>I cannot believe you took the bait, Anon!” He yelled.
>“He was trying to provoke you and you willingly stepped into the ring with him.”
>“Who the fuck is he?!” You yelled back “I beat up his shitty fighters and then he has the balls to come up to me in a parking lot and start flinging garbage?”
>There was a long silence after this outburst. All this yelling had given you a headache.
> “Anon, this is the kind of stuff I was talking about before. He sees you as a measuring stick for his own fighters now. I’m trying to make sure you don’t get treated like a piece of meat.”
>“Well what if I am a piece of meat!?” you say exasperated.
>“Is that how you really see yourself, Anon?”
>“Yeah. I’m the piece of old, shitty steak that’s so tough and overcooked, you’ll break your teeth chewing on it.”
>“I know that sounds all cool and badass to you.” Harald said. “But the reality of that kind of attitude is you’re going to get banged up badly.”
>“They don’t accuse it of being a bloodsport for no reason-
>“Who is going to take care of you when you have a concussion, Anon?” Harald asked. “What about when someone takes a really heavy swing and dents your greaves and fucks up your legs? Or how will you attend school with broken bones?  
>You scowled at your reflection in the window.
>“If you treat yourself like this. All that’s going to happen is you’re going to get the absolute crap knocked out of you and everyone else will think its funny. They won’t respect your prowess as a worthy opponent. They’ll laugh at your ability to be a solid punching bag.” 
>“Can we please not talk anymore” you say boringly. “It’s been a long day.”
>To Harald’s credit the rest of the ride is in silence, except for the radio.
>You manage to catch some sleep before Harald pulls up in front of your apartment.
>With little more than a ‘thank you’ you grab your bags and head inside.
>Fuck. You forgot about Toni’s party tonight.
>You really didn’t want to go.
>You were tired from this long ass waste of a day and you were in a bad mood.
>But what Toni said in the showers before really bothered you.
>You didn’t know why. But now the idea of just doing nothing all night made you feel slightly shameful.
>But fuck that party though. Sounded like the worst experience ever.
>You sigh as you take out your phone and send a message to Yasmine.
>You seriously could not believe you were doing this.
>Fuck Toni.
>“Hey, u around? I just got home. Toni is having a party but I don’t wanna go. hang out instead?”
>You fucking cringed at that message.
>Who asks other people if they want to ‘hang out’?
>God all of this felt so wrong to you.
>You’d rather just do pushups or read a book.
>But then Toni would give you shit for it.
>And seriously, fuck Toni.
>You phone vibrates.
>“Sure! lol, stop by my place! Here’s my address!”
>You fumble to text back a response. the keypad felt so awkward with your large fingers.
>“I’ll be over after I hop out of the shower. I’m all sweaty and gross.” 
>You toss your phone on the kitchen counter before heading to the bathroom.

>It took you a while to find her apartment but after a few wrong turns you knock on her door.
>You hear some chatter behind the door and your sigh to yourself.
>She brought other people over.
>You didn’t do well in groups.
>She answers the door and your grateful that that wasn’t the case.
>She’s just on the phone.
>“Mom, I told you. I won’t be moving back in after college.”
>She smiles at you and motions you to come inside.
>She’s wearing a hoody that somehow is too big for even her.
>It almost reaches down to her knees.
>You didn’t even realize they sold clothes that big
>More like a tent. You couldn’t even see her bottoms.
>Just her tail hiding underneath.
>You quietly let yourself in, she gives you a big smile.
>“Well Dad’s just gonna have to get over it.” You hear her say.
>“It’s either on to my Doctorate or I get a job offer. What am I going to do back home?”
>You see her roll her eyes in your direction. She’s probably had this conversation before.
>“Listen, I got to get going Mom, I have company over.”
>You can’t hear what’s being said on the other line.
>But it was something that made Yasmine stammer for a second.
>“T-that’s not true Mom. I gotta go loveyoubye”
>She hastily hangs up the phone and greets you properly.
>With a hug.
>Unlike last time, you reciprocate without her having to tell you.
>Still feels very strange to hug someone though.
>But her fur is as warm and comfortable as ever.
>Like it was the perfect pillow and blanket all at once.
>She breaks from you and gives you a slight frown.
>“Anon, your hair is still all wet.”
>“It takes too long to dry with a towel-
>She gives you a slight playful shove.
>“I won’t have a human complain to me about drying hair.”
>You look at all her fur and concede that she probably has a point.
>“Plus” She added “It would be easier for you if you just got a haircut and shaved that beard of yours.”
>You shrug your shoulders. You hadn’t actually cut your hair since you started college.
>It had gotten long and wild and your beard made you look like that of a caveman.
>Maybe you liked that look. You looked haggard and worn out.
>It was your look, maybe not the most attractive one, but in some strange way it showed your dedication to your craft.
>Yasmine giggles at this explanation.
>“Your craft?” She asked “You mean whacking people with swords in metal armor?”
>You explained it was a little more complex than that.
>“How so” She says with a sly smile.
>She was enjoying teasing you.
>You tell her a lot of it is in the footwork, and adjusting where your place your body weight, and how you use your hands and wrists to parry and block.
>She nods carelessly. Not really understanding your explanations but not being bored by it nonetheless.
>“Like I had a few matches today” You explain
>Her ears perk up at this.
>“And I was against a bunch of new people. So they didn’t really understand a lot of the basics. Which meant I beat them pretty easily.”
>“Well with your muscles, I can imagine you were pretty intimidating.” She said, and now it was apparent that she was checking you out.
>You try not to blush and quickly change the subject.
>“W-was that your mom on the phone?”
>“What? Oh yeah, I still have two years before I graduate but she’s already trying to get me to come back and live with them when I’m done.”
>She moves past you and into the kitchen. It only now occurred to you that you could smell some pretty tasty cooking.
>“Oh. I decided to make dinner for the both of us. You hungry?”
>“Uh, actually yeah. I’m starving.”
>You realized that you hadn’t actually eaten anything since this morning.
>“I got some Chicken and roasted sweet potatoes in the oven. They’ll be done in like 40 minutes.”
>You nod.
>“What about your uh, adoptive parents?” Yasmine asks somewhat cautiously.
>“They’ve probably been calling you everyday since you got here. You’re awfully far away.”  
>You rub the back of your neck
>“Actually I haven’t spoken to them since before I got on the plane.”
>“What?” She said, almost as if she didn’t believe you
>“I can’t go two days without talking to my mom…Do you not get along with them or something.”
>“It’s nothing like that.” You say, looking down at the floor. “It’s just, uh, better this way. Let them get on with their lives and all that.”
>“I mean I don’t know your family” Yasmine said slowly, you could tell she was being careful with her words.
>“But don’t you think they miss you? A phone call could go a long way.”      
>You think of that time you came home and heard Yulia crying.
>You’re getting smacked around inside your head with the guilt.
>But she was crying because she missed her real children.
>You weren’t part of that equation.
>You were outside those boundaries. You could never really have a family. Too much had happened in your life.
>What you could do is focus on your education and your fighting.
>Okay, you were almost completely focused on the fighting.
>Some things just never changed with you.
>“I think…”You began. “That they have their own lives to get on with. And I have mine.”
>Yasmine frowns at this answer you notice her ears and tail drooping.
>“You keep to yourself a lot. I wonder a lot how you ended up talking to me.”
>“I don’t really have an answer for you.” You said bluntly “Things just happen I guess.”
>Before she can answer, the timer goes off and she practically skips over to the oven.
>Meanwhile you get a text message from Toni
>“Ayy, u coming?” 
>You quickly send out a reply
>“No, I’m hanging out with Yasmine tonight.”
>You smiled, that would blow a gasket in Toni’s head.
>No, you weren’t gonna go to his party.
>But you were not gonna let him give you shit.
>“Oh that big ass wolf?! Fuck yeah bro, have fun ;)”
>You did not like the implications of that winky face.
>But before you could respond to him Yasmine comes out of the kitchen.
>She’s acting sheepish all of a sudden. Her hands fumbling in front of her.
>“Um, Dinners ready. I just realized though that you probably have a big appetite. I don’t think I made enough-
>“It’s fine.” You reassure her, causing her to lighten up and smile at you.
>“Let’s eat some grub.” You say “I’m famished.”
>The food is delicious. Yasmine is a great cook.
> Unlike you, where every time you cooked, you never spiced anything.
>You never focused on the taste, just shoveling as much protein into your mouth as possible.
>It had been a while since you just let yourself enjoy a meal.
>Probably the last time was when Yulia cooked for you.
>You push back that thought before any guilt kicks in.
>Both of you talk about each others degrees.
>To be honest, you didn’t care about botany, and she didn’t care about medieval history.
>But it was more about the person, than the subject in general.
>It felt so strange and foreign, enjoying the company of someone else.
>It made you feel uneasy, like you were relying on someone for some unseen reason.
>You likened it to laying on a big comfy cloud that could give you that warm and fuzzy feeling.
>But then the laws of reality would kick in and you would fall right through the cloud.
>In this moment, talking to Yasmine, you were laying on the cloud. Basking in the comfort.
>But you were bracing for when you would eventually fall through.
>Eventually it gets to be around two in the morning.
>You excuse yourself, you had to be up in the morning for sparring practice.
>You can tell Yasmine is disappointed and doesn’t want you to leave.
>But you insist and she doesn’t fight back with you.
>You step outside the door and look back at her.
>“Thanks for making me dinner.” You say blankly to her.
>“I’ll have to pay you back sometime-
>She darts forward and gives you a hug. 
>This time she rests her head on top of yours.
>She is so warm and fuzzy.
>You instinctively reach forwards and grab tufts of her fur and pull yourself into her embrace before you even realized what you were doing.
>You rest your head just above her chest and you feel her take a deep breath.
>Something in you demanded you stay here.
>You ignore it and break the hug.
>But not before she gives your cheek a lick.
>Your cheeks are burning up rapidly.
>“You’re a lot nicer than you look” She says warmly.
>“I just wish you knew that too.”
>You don’t know what to say.
>She giggles as she steps back into her apartment.
>“I’ll see you later, Anon. Keep in touch okay?”
>You dumbly nod as she closes the door.
>You didn’t want it to close, you want to reach out and stop it.
>You don’t though. You watch it shut and hear Yasmine’s footsteps shuffle away.
>You jog home.
>Actually no. You don’t jog.
>You sprint as fast as you can.
>Anything to wear yourself out.
>Anything to dull your senses.
>You can’t understand what you’re feeling right now.
>You just want it to go away.
>You practically kick open your door.
>You’re out of breath but far from tired.
>Jumping jacks
>Push ups
>You grab your pull-up bar and do that too.
>You think of every possible exercise you can possible do in your home.
>You just need to get beyond tired and pass out on your bed without thinking anymore.
>You didn’t want to think about anything anymore.
>Except your matches, except the way your armor felt when you put it on.
>The way your body got beaten up in every match.
>The way you wallowed in the pain of bruises and sprains.
>You wanted all of that. But nothing else.
>Finally after what seemed like hundreds of push-ups. You can barely move just enough to crawl into bed.



>“Did we really have to come along?” You said in the backseat of Harald’s car.
>It’s been a little over six months since you arrived in this foreign city.
>Your classes were a little more intense than you were expecting.
>You actually had to put in effort to get good grades.
>But you made sure it never ate into your time at the Club.
>You knew your priorities.
>You had five matches so far.
>Naturally, you had won them all.
>The sixth one had scratched due to a broken leg from a previous fight.
>That meant your schedule was freed up.
>Harald interpreted this as dragging both you and Toni to the Fencers matches to help with equipment management.
>You disagreed with this assessment immensely, but Harald frankly didn’t give a shit.
>You swore his orange, worm-like tail was wagging when he made you do it.
>“Yes.” Harald said candidly “They’ll be over a dozen fencing teams today and a lot of spectators and journalists.”
>Toni rolled his eyes at that last bit.
>“Unlike the League, fencing generates a bigger audience.” Harald added
>“Which is bullshit” Toni said incredulously “Armored combat is flashier, and far more dangerous. You’d think people would be flocking to us.”
>“The sport is too niche Toni” You said, almost bitterly “We’re either seen as a bunch of bloodthirsty whackos, or hardcore D&D LARPers.”
>“We bust our asses too hard in training for people to look down on us” Toni said, almost forming a snarl. “Especially in favor of some skinny twink fencer.”
> “Enough you two!” Harald said, taking a right turn a little bit sharper than necessary to emphasize his point. 
>“Did you really start doing this because you wanted recognition? Did your Dad not hug you enough? Anon, not withstanding.”
>“Oh fuck you” You say, doing your best to repress a chuckle.
>“And you both are bloodthirsty whackos” Harald added “If you weren’t, you both wouldn’t be winning so much.”
> “Toni lost his last two matches though.” You said with a grin, you couldn’t help get a dig at the tiger.
>He reaches over from the front seat and punches you in the shoulder.
>”Dick. And I still have a winning record.”
>“You won’t for long if you keep losing. You still got four more matches”
>Toni huffs in response, before his lips curl in a sly smile.
>“Hows your thing going with that wolf babe?”
>God dammit, Toni.
>Harald lets out a whistle.
>NOT YOU TOO!
>“W-we’re not a ‘thing’ Toni!” You weakly stammer out causing Toni to let out a loud sigh
>“Bro, you are really fucking lame. She totally digs you. How have you not hit that yet?”
>“I’m busy with other stuff.” you say defensively
>“Yeah, like swinging that fucking glaive around and lifting weights. You are the definition of a meathead, Anon.”
>Your eager to change the subject, so you turn to Harald.
>“Hey, so I heard that you got the League’s committee to hold the Renfair at the College. That true?
>Harald nodded and smiled as he turned to the exit. Obviously pleased with himself.
>“You bet, Anon!” I’ve been petitioning them for over a year now. I convinced them that holding it at the University, what with all the open green fields in the middle of a populated city. It’s the perfect place to attract new people and maybe even get them to buy something.”
>“Any fights planned?.” Toni asked
>“Not so far.” Harald replied “It’s still pretty early though so don’t rule it out.”
>Not too long afterwards, you arrive in a large stadium.
>Place is packed with cars and people.
>“Shit man.” Toni said, somewhat awed. “I know fencing is a bigger deal than us, but god damn.”
>“Like I said” Harald replied “A dozen teams. This is a big day for fencers.”
>He popped open the trunk, he had packed it to the absolute brim with gear.
>Both you and Toni groan collectively. This was going to be a pain in the ass to carry.
>“Our team should be trickling in their own cars soon enough. Get this stuff inside boys.”
>You both accept your fate and head over, but before you can load up like pack-mules. Harald places his hands on both of your chests.
>He looks dead serious.
>“You boys aren’t just here to help with equipment. This place gets pretty competitive. Make sure no one fucks with our fencers while they’re preparing for their matches. Keep an eye on things.”
>“They may not play the same sport as you two. But they’re club members. Its your job to watch their backs.”
>You and Toni look at each other and nod.
>Bump fists.
> Then you throw as many duffel bags of gear over your shoulders as possible.
>Fuck multiple trips. 

>You hated crowded environments.
>Too many people and too much fucking noise.
>Plus with your large and bulky frame it’s hard for you not to bump into people.
>Or more accurately it’s hard not for people to bump into you.
>It’s just a day of constant aggravation.
>You wanted to just be bitter towards the fencing team, but you couldn’t.
>Truth be told a lot of them had come out to help with equipment during your matches and Toni’s.
>Bitching about it before made you feel really ungrateful. So you figured the least you could do was keep your cool.
>The stadium was massive, designed to hold tens of thousands of people. 
>All of the Fencing teams had their personal locker rooms and they shared a couple gymnasiums with each other while waiting for their own matches.
>Your phone vibrates.
>Its a text from Yasmine.
>“How r things?”
>“Busy. Need to babysitter fencers today.” You send a reply.
>Suddenly Toni runs up to you.
>“Bro, You seen Lenny?”
>“He’s not in the locker room?”
>Toni looks panicked.
>It’s not a good look for him.
>“No! He’s next in 15 minutes. I can’t find the fucker anywhere.”
>Well shit.
>“Alright, split up. You look over on the east foyer, and I’ll check the west.”
>Toni nods and you both take off.
>It was hard for you to run without plowing into people.
>Luckily you were so tall and stocky that most were polite enough to move out of your way when you came barreling down the hallway.
>They probably mistook you for security.
>Good.
>You eventually found Lenny.
>Hitting on a small mouse Anthro.
>Apparently his human figure was rather charming to her.
>She was blushing and hiding her cheeks in her little hands.
>Cute. But not cute enough to hide the annoyance in your voice.
>“Hey Fabio! Get her number and get out on the mat! You’re next, idiot.”
>He stammers an apology to you and quickly fumbles his phone for the mouse to put in her number.
>Then he impulsively kisses her square on the lips and goes running past you.
>Kiss the girl then immediately run away. Smooth, you thought.
>Apparently it was cuz the poor mouse was swooning.
>More like squeaking, but whatever.
>Not like you knew anything about romance.
>Only girl you talked to was Yasmine.
>If you had feelings for her, you didn’t want to think about it.
>You sigh and text Toni, letting him know you found Lenny.
>You meander back to the designated gymnasium-
>What the fuck!
>You saw some of the fencing team sitting in their chairs looking up at some more fencers.
>Your team looked nervous, even frightened.
>And those other fencers were not with your group.
>Oh it’s fucking on.
>You practically strut over.
>Some of them spot you but don’t move from their position.
>One of them turns towards you. Looked like a Jackrabbit Anthro.
>Before he can say anything you push him. Hard.
>He catches himself on his feet. But he still looks startled.
>“Whats your fucking-
>“Listen you little turd” You say in between your grinding teeth
>“Go back to your little corner and fuck off. All of you.”
>It’s tense for a few brief moments. 
>This is a matter of pride for them, they aren’t willing to back down.
>And you sure as hell won’t.
>The fencing team looks scared shitless. These other guys must have been psyching them out.
>Fuckers.
>“I said piss off.” You snarled.
>“You better listen to him. You haven’t seen him fight.”
>They freeze as they look at the origin of the voice.
>Oh great.
>It’s Peterson.
>You hadn’t seen him since that encounter in the parking lot months ago.
>He didn’t look any different. He reminded you of a worn out stuffed animal.
>“O-oh sir” The Jackrabbit stuttered “We were just-
>“I know what you were doing.” Peterson barked, “All of you head back. Now.”
>Despite being such and old little creature, he sure did have a commanding voice.
>They all scattered off like naughty school children who had just been caught.
>He turned to face you.
>Giving that same, mischievous smile.
>“I’m sorry about that.” He said, actually sounding genuine. “The fencing team went down last year from the 2nd best to the 4th so they’re a little too eager to reclaim their position.”
>“Just make sure you keep them in their containment area” You said, restraining the urge to growl at the fox. “I got enough to deal with today.”
>“You really are quite impolite.” He said smugly “Not many people have the gall to talk to me like you do. Even Harald is-
>“Harald is just nice.” You said, interrupting Peterson before he had a chance to say any disparaging remarks about your Club owner/manager.
>“I’m not.” You continued. “I could care less about manners. I just want to fight.”
>“I’ve noticed!” Peterson exclaimed. “I’ve looked at your matches, you’re one of the few left who still has a perfect record. I must say I wasn’t expecting that.”
>Then he showed you his true face, that evil blood curdling smile. He wanted to sink his teeth in you.
>“Maybe I should send one of my boys to ruin your record.”
>You laughed at him.
>“Wheres your bodyguard?” You mockingly ask. “I’ll fight him.”
>Peterson snorts.
>“Clyde isn’t interested in this sort of thing. And I wouldn’t allow you to fight him.”
>It was bait. Pure and simple and you knew it. But it was too sweet for you not to take.
>“Afraid I’ll smash him like the rest of my competition? Can’t say I blame-
>Peterson snapped at you. It took you off guard.
>“Do you think you’re the first young man full of piss and vinegar to want a crack at him?”
>You pause, you didn’t really have an answer to that.
>“Clyde is admittingly, old. It’s my job to make sure he saves his strength for worthwhile opponents. I can’t throw him at every boy who wants a shot at him.”
>He crossed his arms and stared down at you.
>Now he would go on the attack.
>“You got some talent, Anon. I’ll give you that. But you’d have to keep up what you’re doing for another five years for me to even consider it.”
>He paused, relishing in his moment before throwing the punch.
>“Right now. You’d just be a waste of my time, along with his.”
>Fuck
>FUCK
>He got you. He pushed your buttons and got to you.
>You weren’t hiding it well on your face.
>And that fucking fox was giving you the biggest shit-eating grin.
>He drew first blood, and he knew it.
>You chewed the inside of your cheek.
>You’re pretty sure you tasted blood.
>“Alright.” You say, seething. Your face is red with anger.
>“You wanna play that game with me? I have a proposition for you.”
>Now it was your turned to catch him off guard.
>He wasn’t expecting this.
>He was expecting you take his jab like a bitch.
>Fuck that. You’ll fight back.
>“What do you have in mind?” He said slowly, as if he was stepping into a landmine.
>“A match, at the Renfair.” You said, your eyes glaring at him and your jaw clenched.
>You were an intimidating and frankly, scary fucking person.
>But this Fox must have seen some shit in his youth.
>Because he didn’t flinch at your aggression.
>“Alright.” He said, “I can set you up with one of my-
>“Fuck that. We’re not going traditional with this.”
>Peterson raises his brow at you.
>You take a deep breathe.
>Maybe you weren’t thinking straight, but you didn’t care.
>Even if you were calm and collected, you knew you wanted this.
>You were just angry enough to go out and take it now.
>This was the next step to your paradise.
>Where you could dissolve into the white background.
>“Last stand rules.” You said slowly, to make sure the old codger understood what you were asking.
>His eyes widen slightly.
>“You can’t possibly win a match set-up like that!”
> “Fuck you.” you say, gnashing your teeth with the insult.
>It seemed Peterson now grasped the seriousness of the request.
>His smile was gone, his eyes now narrowed at your face.
>“Alright, we’ll negotiate the details later. But I’ll take your challenge, boy.”
>Both your eyes meet each other.
>He was probably the shortest Anthro you had ever met.
>But you had to admit, he was pretty fucking terrifying in his own right.
>“I’m going to humiliate you.” He said with real venom in his voice.  
>You say nothing. There was nothing left to say.
>Peterson turns and heads towards his fencing team.
>The rest of your fencing team that had watched the whole encounter looked scared shitless.
>Soon afterwards, your temper evens out and Toni comes back.
>You avoid him and see him talking to the rest of the fencers.
>A look of concern covers his face as he soon walks over and confronts you directly.
>“Bro. What the fuck did you just do?”

>”YOU STUPID FUCKING DUMBASS!” Harald shouted in the car.
>Now it was you in the front seat and Toni trying his best to be as small as possible in the back.
>“FIRST OF ALL, HOW DARE YOU CIRCUMVENT ME IN ARRANGING A MATCH!”
>“I wanted it!” You argued back.
> “Oh please” Harald said, lowering his voice slightly “Like you know what you want.”
>“As manager,” he continued “It’s my job and responsibility to arrange matches for you. Just because you’re an American doesn’t mean you can go fucking cowboy on me!”
>“Alright. Fine. I’m sorry Harald” You said, not really being sorry.
>“And second of all, Where do you get the balls to request a last stand match-up against Gregori fucking Peterson!?
>“A normal match against anyone of his fighters would have been a challenge. But you want to face a bunch of them by yourself?”
>Your temper flares up again.
>“He said I was a-
>“I KNOW WHAT HE FUCKING SAID, ANON!” 
>You could see his claws now poking of of his paws.
>Shit, was he gonna slash you?
>“I can’t even say you took his bait, he never wanted you to pull a stunt like this.”
>His claws dig into the steering wheel.
>“But since you offered yourself up like a fattened heifer, he’ll be glad to fucking feast on you.”
>He sighed and retracted his claws, rubbing his temple.
>“If I step in and negate this the whole Club will look foolish, Anon. We’ll have a reputation for cowardice that’ll extend to the fencers as well.”
>He pinches the bridge of his nose. For the first time you noticed that he looked tired.
>“So for the sake of the club, I’m going to go along with this. I’ll do my best to make sure you get a fair set of rules and conditions for this match.
>You nod quietly. You lost your appetite for argument.
>“Still” Harald continued. “I can’t help but feel I’m offering you as a sacrificial lamb.”
>“I’m…I’m sorry Harald. I really am, I just want to fight-
>He interrupts you.
>“It’s okay, Anon.”
>He puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it tightly.
>“But if you ever do something like this again you’re out. Is that clear? I won’t tolerate this nonsense in my club. Understand?”   
>You nod sheepishly. The threat of being kicked out of the one thing that gave you meaning was enough to keep you in line.
>The rest of the car ride home is in silence.
>On the bright side, the fencing team did pretty good.


>“Oh come on, Anon. I just want to see.” Yasmine whined.
>“It’s really not a huge deal.” You say as you get changed inside your room
>“Yeah, cuz you probably put it on all the time. Wearing medieval armor doesn’t seem weird to you.”
>Maybe she had a point.
>You walk out, the sound of metal rubbing and clanking against itself other echoes throughout your apartment.
>As you came out, she suddenly began to inspect every piece of armor and even lightly knocked her fists against the cuirass.
>For the first time, you felt silly wearing your gear.
>To the average person you would look so out of place.
>Most people wouldn’t understand that it was for a sport. They just assumed you were a weirdo who wore helmets from 600 years ago.
>“So are all these dents…?
>“From matches? Yeah. I wanna get them buffered out before the Renfair. I’ve been avoiding it cuz it’ll cost me a lot of money.”
>Yasmine nods as she traces he fingers over each nick and dent in the metal.
>Ironically it was very…sensual.
>“Oh Anon!” She said very melodramatically, throwing herself on the couch.
>“Are you the brave knight come to save me?” She giggled.
>You face turned red. You wish you wore the helmet too.
>“Seems a bit odd, me rescuing you.”
>“How so?” She said, looking a little hurt.
>“Well, I mean…You’re taller than me.
>She sits up from your couch and gives you a sultry gaze.
>No. Stop that.
>Ahhh, no don’t walk over here.
>She wraps her arms around you.
>Your whole face is completely red.
>She rests her muzzle on your head.
>“So does that mean I gotta rescue you, Anon?”
>“Um… w-well I..”
>“Hoist you over my shoulder, carry you in my arms.”
>“I GOTTA GO CHANGE OUT OF THIS GIVE ME A MOMENT PLEASE”
>You sprint towards your bedroom and rapidly close the door.
>You hear Yasmine snicker.
>“Honestly, Anon. It’s way too easy to get you flustered.”
>You grumble as you begin to carefully remove the armor.
>“I swear, its like you’ve never even been on a date before.”
> “Oh, very funny.” You say, still blushing.
>Toni already figured out you were a kissless virgin.
>You didn’t need Yasmine of all people to give you shit for it.
>You never cared about that sort of thing before.
>It just seemed…Irrelevant to your interests.
>But now when the few people you know bring it up, it makes you feel. You dunno, silly? Inadequate?
>Fuck it. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.
>“Anon, will you walk me to my night class?”
>You step out of your room and nod.
>“Sure. Lets get going"

>Late Spring in this city was amazing.
>Well, maybe it was only amazing because it was the first time in your life you decided to stop and notice the elements around you.
>Before in life, if it was hot you wore less, if it was cold you wore more.
>That was the extent of your interactions with the weather. 
>You never stopped to observe virgin snow left untouched
>Or droplets of rain splattering almost peacefully on your window.
>Or the whirlwind of fire as leaves fell and were whisked in the air in the autumn.
>Or now, when the evening spring breeze felt like mother nature itself was kissing you.
>When did you start noticing these things?
>You guess the more important question is why didn’t you notice it before?
>Somehow this chain of thoughts conclude at you thinking of Yulia.
>You still hadn’t called her, or anyone for that matter.
>It had been 8-9 months now since you left.
>That whole family seemed so distant to you now.
>You were having trouble remembering the details of Yulia’s face.
>Maybe it was better that way.
>To just forget about all of that.
>You know you would want them to do the same for you.
>“Anon, what games did you play as a kid?”
>You try to hide your look of confusion.
>You were so lost in thought you were totally ignoring whatever the hell Yasmine was talking about.
>“Uh, jump the loner, I guess.” you said, not thinking and just trying to cover yourself for not paying attention.
>“What’s that?”
>“Well when you would get out of school, all the kids would get into their little gangs and the kid who was left out would get beaten up.”
>“Wha..
>“A lot of the times, I was the odd kid out.” You said nonchalantly.
>“But sometimes I got lucky and found a group of kids willing to take me in. Then I got to beat up someone. One time we sent this kid to the hospital with a cracked skull. When my Foster Father found out he kicked the hell out of me.”
>You suddenly stopped yourself from talking. Realizing what you had carelessly said.
>You never. Never told anyone this. Not even Yulia.
>You turned and looked at Yasmine.
>It was a combination of bewilderment and sadness.
>“H-hey, looks like this is your building!” You say with forced enthusiasm.
>“Wait, Anon-”
>“N-n-no can do. You’ll be late. Finals week is coming up. Get on it.”
>Before she can say anything else you rush off. 
>When you think she’s out of sight you sprint back to your house.
>You slam the door behind you.
>You were in control of your emotions.
>You were feeling angry.
>Yeah. That’s right. Angry.
>Well, it makes sense logically to…act angry.
>Pick up a chair. Throw it. Scream.
>Calmly pick it up again and chuck it back on the ground.
>Scream again.
>That makes sense.
>Go in the kitchen.
>Pull out all your pots and pans. 
>Start throwing them on the floor.
>You’re making dents in the hardwood floor but you don’t care.
>Just letting off some steam that’s all.
>Wait, why are you sitting in the corner in the kitchen?
>Why am I crying?


>“This is a totally rigged game. You know that right, Anon?”
> You roll your eyes at Toni as he reads over the paper that contained the rules for your match against Peterson’s club.
>“That’s how Last Stand Matches work, Toni. They’re not suppose to be fair.”
>“Twelve fucking guys, Anon? Twelve of Peterson’s crack fighters? That’s fucked, Anon.”
> “Yeah but after one hit, they go down.” You argue back. “I get seven hits however.”
>“Look at this from a one on one perspective you dope.” Toni rebutted
>“Imagine one guy gets 12 hits before losing and you get seven. That would be a good handicap against a new guy.”
>Toni, frustrated chucks the paper on the table.
>“But all 12 of these fucks are as experienced, or have more experience than you.”
> “They don’t get to use long polearms like me though” You pointed out. “The most they’re allowed is short bardiches”
>“That’s a small comfort, bro. Why would you want a stacked game like this? At the Renfair of all places. Everybody you go to class with is gonna see you get your ass kicked.”
>“Do you seriously have that little faith in me?”
> Toni holds his paws up in the air innocently.
>“Look man, I admit you’re good. Hell, you’re better than I am. But the fact remains that Sparta eventually got their asses handed to them at Thermopylae.”
>“Are you seriously using a history analogy to lecture a guy who majored in History?”
>“I figured you might suddenly understand how serious this is, Anon.”
>“I’m the one doing it, Toni! I do kinda get what this is all about.”
> “You’re acting way too cool about this whole ordeal.”
>Now it was your turn to throw your hands up in the air.
>“Am I supposed to start breaking down and crying, Toni?” You asked sarcastically.
>Toni shrugs and slumps in his chair.
>“Fuck me, why did the league even create this match type in the first place?”
>“I think it’s for retirement” You answer “Like this’ll be some guy’s last game so he’ll go out in a blaze of glory.”
>Toni chuckled “That might be oddly fitting here.”
>“Why?”
>“Because no matter what happens, Anon. You’re going to get your shit pushed in. And who knows how long it’s going to take for you to recover from it.”


>You liked Spring, but Summer was proving to be a bitch.
>Fuck clear skies. It was only June and you were sweating.
>Made jogging unbearable some days.
>You were easily chugging two gallons of water a day.
>Which meant you were pissing constantly.
>Summer just wasn’t fun.
>Which made it all seem like a cruel joke when the Renaissance Fair came around.
>And of course it was going to be a hot day too.
>Being in all that armor was going to be rough. You’d have to be especially careful to hydrate and not give yourself a heat stroke.
>On the bright side at least you were in light clothing.
>On the downside it was a faggy tunic that all Renfair people had to wear.
>You tried to get out of it, but Harald was having none of it.
>So here you are, in your green tunic with your black stockings and and boots.
>At least you didn’t have to wear a wimple or anything.
>Or do some fake accent.
>It was still annoying to hear people call you “Link” all the damn time.
>You didn’t even play video games.
>Because of the heat, you were forced to shave and get a haircut.
>You can’t imagine how disgusting you’d be if you kept the beard in this heat.
>You shudder at the thought.
>“Hey Anon!”
>Oh no…
>“Anon! I’m over here.”
>No please, don’t see me like this..
>You turn and meekly wave at Yasmine.
>She runs over to you.
>White T-shirt and shorts. No shoes either, she opted to just go bare-foot…er pawed.
>She had also shed all of that fluffy winter fur off. Now it was more akin to those short haired dogs.
>You compared it to a girl with long hair to a girl with that super short pixie cut.
>Yasmine looked great either way-
>Wait. Why did you care?
>“Nice outfit?” She say’s grinning and nudging you.
>“Not my decision” You explained grumpily. “I was forced into this ridiculous thing.”
>Yasmine frowned
>“You know for being obsessed with Medieval…everything. You sure don’t sound too enthusiastic.”
>“The heat is making me cranky” You say. “Plus I think this whole ‘dress up’ thing is taking it a bit far. I feel silly.”
>“Nah” She says. “I think it looks cute on you.”
>“T-thanks.”
>“So show me around” She says, linking her arm with yours. “What’s there to do?”
>You look at your phone, you got some time before you have to prep for your match.
>“Well generally there are a lot of booths and such. Mainly selling merchandise or various recreations of medieval stuff, like weapons, armor, jewelry, trinkets stuff like that.”
>You begin to walk, leading her along. You feel your phone vibrating.
>It’s a message from Toni.
>“I see u with ur future wife lol”
>God dammit Toni shut the-
>“What about food?” Yasmine asks suddenly. “I’m actually really hungry.”
>“Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about that. They got all sorts of meats here. Pork, chicken, fish, and some different types of bird and such.”
>“Oh and a bunch of beers and wines…But I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
>Yasmine giggles and squeezes your arm. You still really weren’t used to a lot of physical contact.
>You didn’t hate it or actively avoid it, at least with Yasmine, but it still took some getting used to.
>“I wanna eat lots of meat.” She said, licking her lips.
>You noticed her tail wagging as well.
>Fuck that was cute.
>You feel your phone vibrating again.
>Oh, Toni’s calling you.
>Must be about the match.
>Yasmine cocks her head as you answer.
>“ello?”
>“Make sure you give her some Venetian sausage, Anon.”
>“What the fu-
>“It’s really thick and girthy. My girl salivates whenever I give her some.”
>“STOP FUCKING STALKING ME YOU WEIRDO!”
>You angrily hang up and put your phone on silent.
>Why does Yasmine look upset.
>“Is there a girl you didn’t tell me about?” She sniffles
>Oh my God.

>You had to make sure you ate a lightly. You couldn’t go into a fight with a bloated stomach.
>Not unless you wanted to vomit all over the arena.
>Admittingly, Toni was right. The Venetian sausage was really good.
>You also had a slice of meat pie.
>But it was Yasmine who really dug in. She had a sample of everything.
>No matter what it was she wanted it in her mouth.
>She explained it as a habit she picked up from her Father.
>You see a group of people gathering around the ‘arena’
>Oh, must be the first match starting.
>Your game was gonna be the final one.
>The main event as it were.
>You didn’t know how to feel about that.
>“Lets go watch!” Yasmine barked out.
>“I wanna see what you do…” She said it almost bashfully.
>You nod as you lead her through the growing crowd of people.
>It was really only during the Renfair when matches would attract large groups of people.
>On-goers were curious. They wanted to see some fights.
>Especially if they were young and college aged like most of these people were.
>It was easy getting a front seat view. Most people moved out of your way since both you and Yasmine were so damn tall.
>The ‘arena’ if you could call it that was just a large patch of the grassy field tied off with ropes with flags.
>It was as basic as they came, but the real advantage was how big It was.
>It was about three times the size of a normal combat arena.
>On the edge of the arena was the Ref, or the ‘Marshall’ wearing chain mail. Meant to really just sit there unless he saw a rule broken.
>You saw the two combatants on either side.
>You didn’t really recognize the clubs they were from.
>“Oh great.” You said, mostly to yourself, but it still caught Yasmine’s attention
>“Hmm?”
>“They both use maces, this is gonna get nasty.”
>“Umm, hows that.”
>“Maces are designed with armor in mind” You explain “The rational was that if you can’t pierce the armor to get to the skin, just use a blunt weapon and break their bones instead.”
>“Oh wow.” said Yasmine, looking slightly aghast.
>“There are weight restrictions on maces within the League. So that people don’t get too badly hurt.”
>That was a straight up lie. Truth was that there was a weight restriction so people didn’t get killed.
>Broken bones were always on the table.
>The two fighters enter the arena on either side. And with a whistle from the Marshall the match begins.
>Both practically saunter over to each other. Both had a mace a shield.
>At least they weren’t two-handed.
>Those had been on the verge of being banned for years now.
>As they get closer to one another. One fighter, he looked like a smaller bear Anthro, swung first.
>An overhead swing, aiming for the shoulder.
>It’s easily blocked by the other fighter, a Human and he uses it as an opportunity to step in and kick his opponent.
>The Bear staggers back but manages to catch his footing.
>The human uses it as an opportunity to get a swing it.
>It connects. nails him right in the hip.
>Yasmine, along with a good portion of the audiences, grimaces at it.
>The bear yelps and once again staggers back.
>The human is merciless and goes for another swing.
>He got a little too cocky.
>The bear, frantically swings and hits the man right in his elbow.
>You can practically feel the bone vibrating throughout his arm.
>The man lowered his shield.
>The bear goes on the attack and pounces.
>Whack! Right in the jaw.
>Whack! Another one in the chest.
>Whack! A direct hit in the solar plexus.
>The man keels over.
>You’re certain he had more hits before losing, but maces tend to beat you before you ‘officially’ lose.
>What looked to be the club manager and someone else runs out towards the fallen fighter and hoists him up.
>They take his helmet off.
>His face is slightly swollen but he’s conscious otherwise.
>“That…That’s what you do on your free time?” Yasmine asks you.
>“Yeah pretty much.” You say indifferently, not really thinking much of it.
>“That’s…really scary, Anon.”
>You look up at her.
>Why does she look so worried.
>“You’re going to be fighting 12 of them?” She asked, somewhat horrified.
>You guess she didn’t really understand the kind of sport you played until now.
>Maybe she thought it was like the stuff you first did as a kid.
>With the swords made out of the rubber and rattan.
>Now she probably gets why a lot of other people derided it as a ‘blood sport’.
>At this moment, a part of you didn’t want her to know this about you.
>To you, this was child’s play. Especially when you compared it to your actual childhood.
>How ironic.
>If she was having trouble handling something this mild..
>No.
>She wouldn’t be able to accept the person you were back then.
>And that you secretly know you still are now.
>That’s why you pursued this in the first place.
>To gain an understanding of who you were.
>To follow in the footsteps of those violent knights.
>It sounded all so hokey and immature to you.
>But you wanted your paradise so badly.
>The one where everything was white and blank.
>And you lost yourself and became absorbed in that great virgin canvas.
>You had that dream a decade ago.
>It was so intense it made you sick.
>And you never had it again.
>That was your one free glimpse into the goal you wanted.
>It would never come again
>You would have to grab it
>And take it!
>“I’ll be fine, Yasmine” you say as you unlink your arm with hers.
>She looks as if she’s been rejected.
>You guess in a way she has been.
>You met her in the beginning of the academic year and you still weren’t official.
>You knew that you could start something with her if you wanted.
>But why expose her to yourself?
>You made sure to not subject your adoptive family to your troubles.
>Why was Yasmine any different?
>Why was anyone any different?
>“My match starts in a little over an hour” You say somewhat sweetly.
>“You gonna be okay without me for a bit?”
>She nods. It was strange seeing a wolf that tall acting that timid.
>“Okay, I’ll be off. I’ll see you afterwards.”
>“Anon, wait!”
>You turn and look at her.
>She was fiddling with her paws.
>It reminded you of Yulia.
>“G-good luck.” She said.
>You could tell that’s not what she actually wanted to say.
>But you nodded anyway and ran off to meet with Harald and Toni.

>“You know I was beginning to think you would chicken out.” Harald said grimly.
>“Are you trying to insult me before the match?” You ask befuddled.
>“No, I guess I was being more hopeful than anything else.”
>“Toni!” Harald yelled, “get the oil.”
>He then turns his attention back to you.”
>“Take off your clothes.”
>“W-wha-
>“For the oil dummy. Toni’s gonna massage you and get your muscles relaxed.”
>As awkward as this whole thing was. You were enjoying Toni grimacing at the thought of it.
>You quickly strip down to your underwear.
>“Well at least you’re in tip top shape.” Harald said, staring you down.
>“Okay, can you not.” You jabber out.
>Harald rolls his eyes as Toni comes back with the oil.
>“Why can’t you do this?” Toni griped
>“I gotta get something else for Anon, something special.”
>You did not like how that sounded.
>You and Toni both look at each other.
>“Hey Toni.”
>“What?”
>“Be careful not to touch my Venetian sausage.”
>“Are you kidd-
>“It’s pretty lengthy though, so I can forgive you if you happen to brush up against it.”
>“You are so fucking gay.”
>“Says the big burly tiger giving an oil massage to a big burly man.”
>“Just lay on your stomach you fairy. I’m starting with the shoulders”
>Surprisingly Toni was actually rather good at this.
>It must have been from all that grip strength.
>He was massaging tension out of you that you didn’t even know you had.
>No homo.
>thankfully, Harald comes back quickly carrying a brown paper bag.
>“Alright that’s enough. Anon, get geared up. We got a half hour.”
>You put on a clean light undershirt and thick leggings to prevent chaffing.
>Toni helps with the greaves and boots while Harald assists with the cuirass.
>You finally put on your gauntlets and reach over to grab your glaive.
>It felt like an extension of your arm by now.
>You never told anyone this, but sometimes when you were alone at your house you would just walk around carrying it.
>Because it felt stranger not to hold than to keep it in your arms.
>That’s how obsessed you had become.
>“Harald” You ask “Helmet please”
>“Not yet” the Cheetah said, grinning.
>He reaches out for the paper bag.
>A small box of face paints.
>Both you and Toni collectively raise your brows.
>“War paint.” He explains.
>“The point of that stuff was to intimidate your opponent” You say.
>“No one will see it behind my helmet.”
>“It’s not what others see” Harald says.
>“It’s the mindset of wearing this. It will ingrain in your head that you are a fucking beast.”
>You say nothing, just stare darkly into Harald’s eyes.
>He dips his fingers in black paint and begins to carefully apply it around your eyes.
>You don’t even blink
>“Anon. It’s time to get in your head space.” Harald said quietly.
>This is who you are.
>You’re brought back to your childhood.
>Where you wielded a small knife and went straight to slash the other kid.
>You still have some of the scars on your arms from getting cut.
>You remember the blood trickling down your body.
>You never told anybody this. Not the cops, or the psychologist, or Yulia, or Yasmine.
>But you loved it. The feeling of the open wound painting your body red.
>More. You wanted more.
>“I want it.” You mumble to yourself as Harald paints a curved line from your nose to the corner of your mouth.
>“I’m going to break everything.”
>He paints your lips black.
>The fumes from the paints only increase your hunger. Your urge.
>He runs the paint straight down your nose and has it fork on your forehead at a diagonal.
>“I’m on the path. I’m on the path.”
>At this, Harald stops and furrows his brow.
>“The path to what?” he asks
>“My Paradise.”
>He quietly finishes and you rise.
>You step out of the tent.
>It’s a short walk to the arena.
>by-standers stare at you. They look afraid.
>Good. Fuck them.
>You see the twelve fighters placed strategically throughout the arena beforehand
>This was part of the agreement.
>On the other side you spot Peterson, flanked by Clyde.
>Clyde’s rounded ears perk up when he see’s you.
>Peterson only nods slightly when he see’s the war paint.
>Now he knew you were taking this seriously.
>You’re about to step into the Arena when you hear Toni’s frantic voice.
>“For God’s sake you idiot, put on your helmet.”
>You lower your head and Toni puts it over you.
>You vision is now suddenly more narrow as you hear the click of the helmet.
>“Remember, you got seven hits. Keep track or you’ll be out before you know it”
>You nod as you swing your leg over the rope.
>You wonder where Yasmine is among the crowd.
>That doesn’t matter right now.
>You take a few steps towards the center.
>That was your agreed starting position.
>You wait for what appears to be an agonizingly long time.
>You’re a coil just waiting to spring.
>To attack.
>Finally you hear the whistle!

>You immediately jump back, winding up your glaive.
>The coyote on your right is trying to flank you.
>Idiot.
>You quickly squat low and swing at his legs.
>The momentum plus your low position naturally makes you fall over.
>But not before you nick the fucker in the legs.
>You’ve learned those digitigrade legs are susceptible to sprains.
>You hit him once so he’s down.
>Just now you made sure he won’t be getting back up.
>You’re sprawled on your side as you see four others immediately start to gang up on you.
>You’re in a position of weakness and they’ll batter you good.
>You grab a handful of dirt and fling it upwards.
>Gets right in one the assailants visors and he swings blindly at you.
>You stick your leg up and kick him, pushing him and the other three behind him back.
>Now’s your chance to get up.
>You spring up and manage a thrust at the blind combatant.
>He parries it with his axe.
>Lucky.
>In your rage your take the back end of your glaive and whack him in the head.
>It doesn’t count as a official hit. But it left him dazed.
>The other three run past him and are all prepared to strike at the same time.
>You wind your glaive up like a baseball bat. 
>And you swing.
>You were planning on swinging at air, to stop them in their tracks.
>It worked on the first two, the third one. A cougar, didn’t notice the reach your weapon had and got cracked right in the skull.
>He goes down, and doesn’t get back up.
>The other two are distracted.
>Go it for the kill. Thrash them now-
>THWACK
>Fuck!
You forgot about the rest of them.
>You lurch forward as you feel the blunt sword rattle across your back.
>Fucker went in for a cheap shot.
>Only six hits left for you.
>You got two, but now all ten are quickly descending on you.
>Run.
>The fighters who you blinded earlier attempts to flank you.
>You parry it easily and with the blunt end of your glaive you knock his axe out of his hand.
>He raises his shield but you hook it with your glaive.
>You push it aside and step into his space.
>You kick him in the kneecap.
>You hear him howl in pain as you give him a swift, but light hit to the torso and he goes down.
>Nine left.
>Their weapons are only inches away from you by now.
>Take a jump back and swing wildly, try to get some distance.
>Only one hit for them, so they’re wary of even your sloppiest attacks.
>Now they’re spreading out. They’re going to flank you on all all sides.
>Gotta pounce before they gang up on you again.
>You shoot out to their left flank.
>Your opponent looks like a Deer with a claymore.
>He was not expecting you to take the initiative.
>These idiots were actually expecting you to just sit there and wait for them to attack.
>He establishes a parry but you swing underneath him at an angle.
>You twist your wrists and dig your glaive into his side.
>His hooves are lifted up a few inches before you ram him back down.
>Eight left.
> You’re about to take on the next guy on the left flank when out of the corner of your eye you see something huge charging towards you.
>You barely manage to parry the sword swing and lock the weapon against your glaive but the shield rams right into your shoulder.
>You stagger, keeping yourself on your feet, but with the breathe completely knocked out of you.
>Plus it’s hard to regain your breathe control with a fucking shield digging into you.
>You look at the combatant.
>It’s a Bull.
>And he’s over seven feet tall.
>You cry out as you feel a sword hit you right in the back of your knee.
>It’s that fucking guy on the left flank
>Only five hits for you now.
>He’s gonna swing at your legs again.
>He’s trying to get you on your knees so the bull can just pummel you.
>Plus the rest of them are charging towards you.
>Peterson definitely told them to hurt you.
>If you didn’t react now, you’d be done in just a few seconds.
>Time seems to slow down.
>He’s letting go of his wind as he begins to swing once more at your leg.
>The bull’s breath smells bad.
>You tuck your glaive under your arm, to give you more leverage against the sword and the bull’s body weight.
>You wrap one arm around the glaive.
>You hope you wouldn’t break your fucking arm doing this.
>You take a step back and pivot.
>You reach out with your other hand.
>You grab his sword arm before it reaches your leg.
>They both look a little stunned at your maneuver.
>Didn’t matter because the rest of them would be on your ass soon.
>You push away the swordsman and step into the bull.
>You headbutt him.
>Attacks to the head leave the victim disoriented and dazed for a few seconds. 
>You were hazy too just now, but your were anticipating it.
>No bull expects to get headbutted.
>You break from him and turn your attention to the swordsman.
>He’s got good reactions, he’s already swinging.
>So are you.
>He nails you just under your arm.
>You hit him in the hip.
>He goes down on one knee. Signaling that you made the hit.
>Only four hits left on your end.
>You were getting knocked around too quickly. You needed to try and take less risks.
>But they’re were too many of them. You had to be as aggressive as possible.
>You had taken out five by now. Only seven left.
>You were doing good, but you need to do even better.
>You start to sprint away from the bull.
>You’re already feeling sore from those blows. Your sprints weren’t as fast as before.
>This was part of their strategy. They didn’t just want to land hits, they wanted to wear you out too.
>You hear the bull charging at you ahead of the rest of them.
>Good, let him chase you. Give him some momentum.
>You look back at him.
>He’s really sprinting towards you. Despite his mass, he’s probably faster than you.
>He’s also running with his shield to his side instead of up in front of his face.
>He’s not expecting a sudden attack from you.
>A good assumption, if you suddenly stopped and pivoted your legs and swung at him, you’d probably twist your ankle.
>You do it anyway.
>If you learned anything from the years of constant sparring, it was good footwork.
>Mid run you plant your foot firmly on the ground.
>While your other leg is still in the air you twist your torso towards the bull.
>You slide your hands towards the end of the glaive.
>You wanted as much reach and as much momentum as possible.
>The bull realizes too late what you’re doing. Just before your leg lands you crack your colossal opponent somewhere near the collarbone.
>Your swing is still in motion and you can’t stop it.
>Nor do you want to.
>With a loud warcry, you force your polearm to swing further into the beast like it was a ball to your club.
>It flies a few inches before landing with a loud thud.
> Six left.
>Half. Half of them were down.
>And the remaining six stopped dead in their tracks.
>Because you just sent a bull fucking air born.
>You resisted the urge to take a steal a glance and see the look on Peterson’s face.
>Six fighters and four hits left.
>The odds are looking more and more in your favor.
>Once again, you take the initiative.
>You raise your glaive above your head and charge into the group.
>Keep the pressure on them. Never relent
>Ignore your muscles screaming from that last swing.
>Ignore everything.
>One of them breaks from the group and does a tire iron swing.
>With a claymore.
>Fuck, he’s going for your knees.
>No time to parry!
>You jump over the claymore and you swing downward randomly into the main group of fighters.
>Your glaive makes a mark.
>Right on the skull of an unfortunate wolf.
>It yelps as its pushed back.
>You crash into the mass of other armored combatants.
>You tuck your knees into your chest as you barrel through the rest of them.
>You curse as your feel a mace dig into your thigh.
>You roll to the side and quickly get on your feet.
>You wince in pain.
>You landed wrong.
>You can feel it in your left foot.
>One of your toes is broken.
>You can’t tell which one though. Just that it’s not your big toe.
>You use your glaive to to give yourself some support. 
>Only five left.
>Three hits though.
>FUCK!
>THE GODDAMN CLAYMORE
>It’s shape looks like a lion as he takes a swing at you.
>You don’t have time to parry it.
>And your foot, you can’t move it time.
>You cry out as the claymore swings into your belly.
>Somethings wrong.
>In your chest. Something’s wrong.
>Running more on instinct than skill, you punch the lion right in the helmet.
>He staggers back briefly.
>You work through the pain and step forward
>Take a swing!
>Right in the shoulder blade and he spins towards the ground.
>Two hits left, four opponents remain.
>You’re so damn tired. 
>It hurts to move.
>And it hurts to breath.
>Something’s wrong. Your chest…
>You barely feel the contact with your chest.
>...where did he come from?
>They were…still on the ground a moment ago.
>You just look down and you see a bardiche making a deep dent in your chest plate.
>You feel a small wave of vibrations reverberating throughout your chest.
>Once again, operating more on reflexes than anything else. You take a swing and knock the opponent down.
>One hit, three fighters.
>It was a poor sloppy swing on your part.
>The moment you do it. You feel it.
>Your ribs breaking.
>Underneath your helmet, you spit and drool out blood.
>You can barely breathe. Your chest feels like an expanding balloon that pops with each breathe.
>It’s hard to stand.
>Hard to do…anything.
>You glare at the remaining three as they get into position.
> you’re leaning on your glaive to avoid falling over.
>Is this what its like to be drunk?
>Time slows down, you can barely comprehend the others.
>You can only focus on one thing.
>Give it to me.
>Give me what I seek.
>The world seems like an unfinished smudged painting to you.
>How dare they withhold it from me.
>I shall have it.
>Give.it.to.me.now
>GIVE ME MY PARADISE
>Everything goes white


>Be Yasmine.
>I’ve known Anon for about 10 months now.
>I had drank too much and he rescued me from the party.
>He took me back to his place.
>It all seems like a setup for something awful to happen to me.
>But Anon was nice, if a little bit cranky.
>He probably didn’t want me in his apartment in the first place.
>But he didn’t ditch me.
>He was such a paradox.
>Even with that awful bushy beard of his, he was so handsome and athletic.
>It was hard to not just stare at his barreled chest and broad shoulders.
>And his cute butt too.
>But he was almost viciously anti-social.
>He never interacted with anybody outside of his Club.
>I tried to introduce him to some of my friends but he just wouldn’t have it.
>Always making up some excuse.
>I can see why others would be scared of him.
>He’s only a little shorter than me and he can come off as awfully grim.
>But somehow I was the one who got close to him.
>That’s a small comfort though.
>I feel like I barely know anything about him.
>The distance between us is still so vast.
>What does that say about Anon then that I’m still the closest person to him?
>I know only small tidbits about his personality.
>He’s so serious all the time, and doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.
>Oh but I adore teasing him.
>He gets so flustered when I flirt with him.
>It’s so hard to resist just licking his face when he gets all red in the cheeks.
>He goes from this strong, serious man to this stuttering boy confronting his first crush.
>It’s adorable. It almost makes me weak in the knees.
>I can do that. And no one else.
>I think I’m starting to get territorial around him.
>Thank God he doesn’t talk to anyone, especially other girls.
>Otherwise I might have to have a…word with them.
>I’m almost certain he’s a virgin too.
>There’s no way a person that stiff and distant around other people would have sex.
>He’s too focused on his strange sport.
>At least I think it’s a little strange.
>I’ve never heard of someone dressing like they’re in the dark ages and hitting each other with swords.
>Like real, actual swords.
>He said they were all blunted. But still…
>He enjoys that?
>I was never a sports girl but still.
>I feel bad, I wish I understood its appeal.
>I wish I understood him.
>He’s almost never talked about himself.
>I know he’s adopted, by a family of Anthros no less.
>But he doesn’t seem close to them.
>I still don’t think he ever called them when he moved here.
>I…I don’t think he’s close to anybody.
>I’m almost certain his childhood was bad.
>He mentioned it once to me.
>It sounded awful.
>I don’t think he meant to, he seemed shocked that the word were coming out of his mouth.
>He quickly ran off on me afterwards.
>I felt like crying.
>I just wanted to know him better.
>That’s why I’m here at this Renaissance Fair.
>I never actually saw him…fight.
>He always went out of the city for those.
>I wanted to see him in his element.
>No. I need to know how he works. What makes him tick.
>I can admit to myself I have feelings for him.
>But it all feels so foolish if I don’t know who Anon is.
>Maybe after today, I’ll come a little closer to figuring him out.
>But I get really disheartened when I see him walking out towards the arena.
>He’s In his armor, but he’s not awkward about it like he was when I made him show off to me.
>It’s like a second skin to him.
>I think he’s more comfortable behind all that metal than he is in normal clothes.
>But it was his face that made my heart practically pump straight out of my chest.
>His face was painted black in large, but intricate designs.
>He looked terrifying.
>His eyes had murder written all over them.
>And the deep black paint under his eyes only exaggerated the look.
>And tiger runs out and helped Anon put on his helmet.
>That must have been Toni.
>Now even his face is hidden behind metal.
>I’m completely cut off from him now.
>Even though his face frightened me, I preferred it to the inhuman helmet that obscured the beautiful man underneath.
>And yes. He was beautiful.
>The rest of the on-lookers are packing up all around me, trying to get the best view.
>I hear the whistle blow and the match begins.
>Anon is so fast, the other can barely keep up with him.
>But he’s not just hitting them.
>He’s hurting them. Deliberately.
>It’s hard to keep track of everything that’s happening, but I notice he’s trying to hit the legs and head.
>The first time Anon’s weapon connected with someone’s head. I winced.
>He probably had a concussion and was knocked out.
>He certainly wasn’t getting back up.
>What was even worse was when you saw Anon getting hit.
>I let out a loud gasp when I saw someone swing a sword into his back.
>These weren’t graceful, majestic attacks.
>They were swinging away like it was a piece of rebar. 
>Has Anon really been doing this for years?
>He’s holding them off and even knocking them down when he can.
>It’s really quite impressive.
>I guess because I thought I knew Anon a little better, I never quite connected the dots on how violent he could be.
>I feel guilty but now I’m a little intimidated by him.
>But I’m also even more attracted to him.
>It’s too weird to think about now.
>HOLY SHIT!
>He took down that bull.
>A fucking bull.
>And one that was charging straight at him.
>I can’t deny it.
>He was turning me on.
>But then I noticed something.
>He wasn’t moving as fast.
>He looked stiff, like his body was getting tired.
>Or that he was injured.
>I yelped as I saw a sword hit him in the stomach.
>Now it was apparent something was wrong, he was barely moving.
>And he seemed dazed, I had to prevent myself from screaming when another swung into his chest.
>He didn’t even react to it. He just let it happen.
>I wish I could see his face.
>He had done enough, I wanted this to be over.
>The other three fighters are just standing there, watching him.
>He’s practically using his weapon as a crutch. He can’t even stand up properly.
>Someone end this. He can’t…
>They all charge at Anon.
>Please stop.
>I hear yelling.
>It’s Anon.
>It’s a deep, guttural yell. It’s something almost primal.
>He swings upward into a fighter’s armpit.
>He digs in and lifts him off his feet and practically chucks him to the ground.
>That most likely broke his arm.
>The other two go on either side of Anon and attempt to swing.
>He blocks one attacker with his weapon and just kicks the other one down on the ground.
>He pushes the one in front of him away and swings down onto the grounded combatant.
>He manages to roll away just in time.
>The other one is trying to make a swing at his back.
>Anon practically skips away.
>Before he could barely move.
>Now he’s almost dancing around them.
>But it’s an ugly dance, with him stomping his feet and swinging wildly.
>They’re blocking Anon’s attacks, but they’re having trouble keeping up.
>Anon probably saw a weakness and swings into a torso.
>The fighter, a Man takes it and is swung to his left and collides and topples over the other fighter.
>The last one, a Kangaroo quickly scrambles up and charges at Anon.
>Anon wildly attacks, but the roo just barely manages to block it with his shield.
>But I shiver when I notice the shield is dented, practically folded over.
>Just how hard can he hit?
>Anon swings the butt of his weapon and smacks the roo in the face.
>It’s all over now.
>The roo staggers back and you see Anon raise his weapon high.
>And smash right into his opponent’s shoulder blade.
>He crumples on the impact and falls down.
>He did it.
>Anon won.
>Now, just stop and get out of that ring for God’s sake.
>I see his body language change, he slouches over.
>He drops his weapon.
>Everything is so loud now. People are clapping and shuffling away now that its over.
>Others are shouting at Anon.
>He takes off his helmet and my eyes widen.
>I can’t help but start to quietly cry.
>He’s barely recognizable.
>That once distinct war paint is now smudged and runny with his sweat.
>His hair is wet and matted .
>There was blood around his mouth
>His eyes barely look human.
>It’s like the whole world around him…didn’t exist anymore.
>He throws his helmet down on the ground.
>He looks…not angry. 
>I can’t quite put my finger on it.
>The closest thing I can think of is ravenous.
>He walks over, not to his side of the arena, but on the opposite side.
>Where is he going.
>He stops. He’s glaring someone down.
>A small old fox and a large blackish panther standing next to him.
>Anon says something, but I’m too far away.
>He’s practically spitting the words out though.
>Suddenly I hear Toni’s voice.
>“Anon!” He cries “You can shit talk later! Just get back over here”
>Anon turns and begins to hobble over towards Toni.
>It’s obvious he’s limping now. 
>Please someone just help him.
>He gets to the center of the arena and collapses on his knees.
>I bring my paws to my muzzle as he kneels over and starts coughing out blood.
>Lots of it.
>I scream.
>“ANON!”


>You wake up.
>You’re sprawled out on a table in a tent.
>You would sigh, but it hurts too much.
>You noticed your armor has been stripped from you.
> You’re just in your undershirt and leggings. Drench in sweat.
>Your chest also really fucking hurts.
>You try to sit up.
>“Don’t”
>You look out the corner of your eye and see Harald in a chair.
>“I have a feeling you broke a few of your ribs.” He said rather casually.
>“We have an ambulance on the way.” He stands up and looks down at you, a pitying look washes over his face.
>“I’m sorry about this Anon, but I’m putting you out of commission for the rest of the Summer. No matches and no sparring. Depending on what your diagnosis is, I might allow you to do weight training and cardio but nothing else.”
>You nod faintly. You were prepared for what this match might cost you.
>After a few silent moments, Harald speaks again.
>“You’re handling this rather well.”
>“Because it was worth it.” you say slowly, trying to gauge the pain of each word you speak.
>“I reached it for a brief moment. My paradise.”
>“And?” Harald asked “How was it.”
>It’s a long time before you answer him.
>“I’d…I’d like to be alone for a bit. I’ll stay put.”
>Harald nods and puts his paws in his pocket.
>“Before I go, I need to know…what did you say to Peterson?” 
>You have to actually think about that one.
>After you took the blow to the chest. You don’t remember anything.
>All you knew was the white canvas of paradise.
>You came back after it was all over.
>And the first thing you saw was Peterson staring right back at you.
>Your helmet suddenly felt suffocating so you threw it off.
>You had walked over to him, not certain whether you were going to kill him or not.
>The adrenaline was still pumping through your body. You weren’t thinking straight.
>For once, Peterson looked completely shocked. He was having trouble regaining his composure.
>“So.” You said in between swallowing blood “Am I a waste of your fucking time now?”
>Peterson doesn’t say anything. This time Clyde steps in.
>Unlike Peterson, he keeps his cool and gives you the same curious look he always did.
>Except this time it’s a lot more intense.
>You realized this is the first time you heard him talk.
>“If you want me. Then you’ll get your wish.” He said coolly.
>“Assuming of course you don’t die on me til then.”
>“Fuck you!” You gurgle out, splattering small droplets of blood on the grass.
>“Anon!” You hear Toni cry out from the other side.
>“You can shit talk later! Just get back over here.”
>You turn back to Clyde and scowl at him.
>“You’re going to give it to me like they did.”
.>Clyde’s raises his brow, looking a little concerned.
>“And what would that be?”
>“My paradise.”
>Harald sighs as you tell him your story.
>“I told you not to circumvent me, Anon.”
>“You schedule it, you organize it, you work it out with Peterson.” You sputter out angrily.
>“Besides, was it gonna end up any other way?”
>“I guess not” Harald concedes.
>“You know, that girlfriend of yours, Yasmine? Was pretty concerned about you. She ran over here and was crying.”
>“Was she?”
>“mmhhm, I had to shoo her away while me and Toni stripped your armor off. Want me to find her? She’s probably not that far away.”
>“No.” You say softly. “I want to be alone right now.”
>Harald nods and leaves quietly.
>You didn’t get it.
>You just didn’t get it.
>You had fought harder than you ever did before.
>The pain that you always loved was paralyzing your body
>You had reached your paradise and lost yourself in the white void.
>And you did love it. You loved being in that place that you couldn’t comprehend.
>But now that you were back here. Why?
>Why did you suddenly hate this pain?
>Why was it excruciating and almost intolerable?
>Why were you silently begging for it to subside?
>You came so far and achieved a small piece of your dream.
>So why did you feel so dull and lifeless inside?
>Why were you more conscious about how lonely it felt laid out on this table In this tent?
>You were supposed to be happy.
>Why did you want to cry?

>The paramedics saw your conditioned and immediately rushed you to the hospital.
>They gave you an oxygen tank to make it easier for you to breath.
>They also pumped you up with enough pain killers to knock out an elephant.
>Morphine is fucking awesome.
>After a few X-Rays and the Doctor talked to Harald a few times he gave you the prognosis.
>It wasn’t good.
>Four of your ribs were broken. Not cracked, but broken.
>One of your lungs had been punctured and collapsed.
>That explained coughing up blood.
>Turns out you needed to have minor surgery before you could be sent home.
>Thank God you purchased good health insurance.
>A day later they knocked you out with anesthetic and brought you to the operating room.
>When you came to, your blurry eyes were met with a huge, furry chest kept it check by a sweater that was just a tad too small. 
>“Yasmine?” You said groggily.
>You were still pretty dosed up on drugs.
>You hear her say yes. You don’t have the strength to look up and meet her face.
>You reach out weakly and grab her.
>You pull her towards you.
>You’re not thinking straight.
>But you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel her fur against you.
>She made a small, surprised squeal.
>“Thanks for coming” You murmur into her floof.
>She gently wraps her arm around your head and cradles you.
>“I’ll be taking you home this evening, okay?”
>You hear Yasmine tense up and let out a startled yip.
>“Am I interrupting anything?” 
>It was Toni.
>“N-no” Yasmine said, flustered.
>You could hear Toni chuckle.
>“You awake, bro?”
>You nod quietly.
>“Alright, I got your orders from Harald. You are inactive til August. Even then, you can only do some jogging and some light weights. When September hits we’ll ease you back into sparring.”
>You sigh. He was right and you were going to go along with this.
>But it didn’t mean you had to like it.
>“What about Clyde” you ask, almost desperately. “Will Harald-
>“Bro stop it. Don’t focus on that shit right now. It’ll happen when it happens”
>You give up, defeated.
>Toni holds up a little white paper bag.
>“These are your meds. All the instructions are there for you. They should last you til the end of month. After that you’ll have to get a refill.”
>You see him frowning.
>“Be careful with this stuff. These are hardcore pain killers. You can easily get addicted-
>“I’ll be looking after him.” said Yasmine suddenly. “I’ll make sure he’s taking them properly”
>Well you weren’t aware of this development.
>But you weren’t going to argue with it.
>You are helpless at this point. You would have to rely on others.
>If it wasn’t for the morphine in your system that thought would have terrified you more than it did.
>Toni nods approvingly at Yasmine.
>“Oh, I almost forgot. Harald’s got your armor. It’s pretty banged up so he’s gonna hold on to it and get it repaired”
>For some reason, that barely phased you.
>You just wanted to get out of here.
>Toni waves goodbye and leaves you alone with Yasmine.
>You swore he gave you a wink.
>“So you’re taking care of me now?” You say to Yasmine
>She shuffles her feet.
>“Well…someone will have to look after you…and I figured it would be easier if you just stayed with me for a bit.”
>Somehow in your drugged up state, you decided to mess with her
>“Take me to my apartment” You say sternly
>“O-okay.” Her voice quivered for a bit.
>You suddenly reverse the tone of your voice to something lighter
>“Because I have to pick up my clothes first, Yasmine.”
>She can’t help but let out low-key barks and indulges in licking your face.
>Her tail is wagging rapidly.
>It’s a little awkward but you do your best to hug her.
>She really is as affectionate as a dog.
>And you love it right now.

>The combination of your injured body plus the fact that you’re doped up as hell makes it slightly difficult to walk towards Yasmine’s door.
>You’re lucky she so much taller, its easier to prop yourself against her.
>You wrap your arm around her shoulder and dig your face into her side.
>Fuck you’ll never get tired of how her fur feels.
>“Um Anon, sit down for a moment while I set up the Futon.”
>You nod dumbly as you carefully plop down in a chair.
>The whole living room seems to be expanding with you shrinking at the same time.
>Fucking drugs are trippy
>You stare off into Yasmine’s backside.
>You’re mesmerized by the flicks her tail makes to either side.
>It’s like a metronome or something.
>You only noticed now that her tail wasn’t black or white like the rest of her fur.
>It was actually a light gray.
>How did you not pick up on that before?
>“I’m sorry.” You say absentmindedly
>“Oh stop that.” Yasmine said, not understanding your apology “I’m happy to have you here.”
>“Plus it’s not like I have school anymore” She added “And this is a good excuse to not stay with my parents for the Summer.”
>“Boring up there right?” You say, overly friendly. “I feel that!”
>She turns around and gives you a strange look.
>“We gotta get you into bed, Anon. You are way too high right now.”
>She’s resisting the urge to smirk.
>She finishes making the Futon and helps you up slowly.
>“U-um, Yasmine.” You say, suddenly getting nervous.
>“Whats up?”
>“I uh…I usually sleep with my shirt off…but it’s hard to-
>“Ah, I see.”
>If she could blush under all that fur, you’re certain she would.
>You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you actually slept in less clothes
>She slowly lifts your arms.
>Even with all the painkillers you can feel the strain on your chest.
>You grunt through the discomfort.
>“There we go” Yasmine said softly.
>“We’re going to have to get you some button-up shirts” 
>She’s so close to you right now.
>You can feel her warm breath on your chest.
>You suddenly feel very tired.
>Your eyes are drooping. They can barely stay open.
>Yasmine gently pushes you down onto the Futon.
>Even as you can barely stay awake, you can’t take your eyes off of her.
>She says goodnight and turns to leave.
>No.
>Wait. No. Please.
>You reach out and grab her tail.
>You pull on it.
>You hear her let out a small yip as she turn towards her.
>You don’t have the energy to look up at her.
>You just stare into her torso.
>“Don’t go.” You mumble
>“Please stay.” Even through your slurred speech, its obvious that you’re shamefully begging.
>You don’t hear Yasmine say anything.
>She just slowly gets under the blanket with you.
>It’s hard to get closer to her, you have to lay on your back.
>You’d prefer having all that fur pressed against you.
>But you feel her lick your cheek.
>Her arm slowly links with yours.
>And you feel her breath against your face.
>Only now, can you go to sleep.


>It’s been a week since you got out of the hospital.
>It’s driving you crazy.
>You can’t do anything.
>You can’t run around or lift weights.
>Harald practically forbid you from even entering the Club.
>You basically can’t actually do any of the things you like.
>You just have to sit on that Futon.
>There aren’t even classes to study for since its the Summer.
>You’ve decided to buy all the textbooks for next year’s courses and read them all.
>Why not? You literally have nothing else to do.
>The only bright side to all this was Yasmine.
>She was good company and was making sure you stayed on your meds.
>But all this inactivity made you grumpy and pissy.
>One moment you found yourself engrossed in a book.
>Another you were so frustrated that you just wanted to chuck it at the wall.
>But you were determined not to have Yasmine tolerate your sporadic mood swings.
>She was going out of her way to take care of you.
>You had accepted this new reality. You simply needed someone to look after you as you recovered.
>But you still didn’t like the idea of Yasmine being around you all the time.
>No one should be around you on a constant basis.
>It was like exposure to radiation.
>So it always made you feel relieved when she left to hangout with friends.
>She deserved a break from you.
>But no matter what she was always home to remind you to take your pain killers.
>Plus she was making sure you took the correct dosage.
>Toni had been right, you could definitely see how you could get hooked on this stuff.
>But it was almost impossible to breathe without them though.
>Those few fleeting moments where your took deep breathes without the medicine was a literal hell.
>It was not a pain you could force yourself to enjoy.
>Thankfully, there had not been a repeat of the first night when you arrived at Yasmine’s.
>You felt embarrassed and maybe even ashamed doing that.
>Never in your life had that happened to you.
>But at least you could use the drugs the hospital pumped you with as an excuse for your behavior.
>You had apologized profusely to Yasmine for the incident.
>But as usual, she said it was no big deal.
>Maybe you had more of an issue about it than she did…
>It was too vulnerable, too much for you to handle.
>Fuck it. You didn’t want to think about it.
>Just pick up another textbook and read.

>Two weeks later.
>The lack of activity is really starting to affect you.
>You’ve read every text book for your course.
>You’re considering re-reading them.
>You can also tell you’re gaining weight.
>And it’s not muscle mass.
>You feel slouchy and depressed.
>In desperation to find something to do, you’ve been cleaning Yasmine’s apartment.
>Slowly mopping the floor and wiping the counters.
>It’s still a bit too much to get on your knees and scrub the oven.
>Maybe someday.
>Naturally Yasmine doesn’t really want you to clean her place.
>But you have to find something to do on your feet and she begrudgingly relents.
>Toni had come by to visit a few times.
>You’ve been persistent in asking if you can head back to the club. If only to watch sparring between Toni and Harald.
>As the intermediary, Toni say’s that Harald is still resolute.
>He won’t even consider it til August.
>Fuck.
>You were prepared for the worst, but this this seemed almost beyond that.
>You were stuck in bed, barely active, getting slowly fatter and forced to rely on someone else completely to care for you.
>You didn’t think it could get much worse.
>It did though.
>One night, wake up gasping and sweating.
>You had a nightmare, its always been the same one.
>You can feel yourself panicking, your body is shivering.
>Your lips are trembling and you start to feel tears form.
>When this happened as kid, you would just silently cry it out until you fell back asleep.
>But then you figured out that just exercising til the hysteria had subsided was much more efficient.
>What the fuck could you do now though? You were practically an invalid.
>No…please no.
>You sit up from the futon and pinch the bridge of your nose.
>Shut your eyes tight.
>The tears aren’t going to stop this time.
>There’s nothing you can do.
>“Anon?” you hear a groggy Yasmine emerge from her bedroom
>Your whole body feels frozen.
>Absolutely not! She can’t see you like this!
>“Anon, are you okay? I thought I heard something.”
>“I-I’m fine!” You gasp out.
>You feel your chest tighten.
>Your breaths are short and rapid.
>You’re squeezing your eyes as tight as you can.
>Like a dam trying to hold back a flood.
>“Anon, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
>You hear her walk over to the futon.
>No no no no.
>Get a hold of yourself.
>You can’t let people see you like this.
>Only you can know about this.
>You can sense she’s standing over you.
>“Anon?” She says with a worried tone.
> “I said I’m fin-
>You burst into tears.
>And it’s not quiet either.
>This whole situation is so awful that you can’t help but break into a full out sob.
>You can’t look at her.
>You bury your face into your hands
>It hurts your chest to cry this hard.
>But at this point you can’t control yourself.
>You feel Yasmine’s arm wrap around your shoulder.
>She feels so warm.
>“N-n-no, don’t”
>She pulls your head into her chest.
>Your body feels like ice right now.
>But Yasmine’s is more like a sauna.
>It feels wonderful
>You feel safe.
>T-this isn’t right.
>You aren’t supposed to let others see this stuff.
>You’re a burden and you always have been.
>What gave you the right to push your problems onto oth-
>Yasmine rests her paw against your head.
>You bury your face into her chest.
>You’re falling.
>You’re scared to hit the bottom.
>You reach out and grab Yasmine.
>You intertwine your fingers into her fur.
>It feels like she’s the one lifeline you got.
>You didn’t want this.
>But what choice did you have?
>You cry into her shoulder
>Her bosom barely muffles your wails
>It’s loud, messy, and undignified.
>You do this for a few agonizingly long minutes.
>Afterwards you feel completely drained and numb.
>It’s almost the same feeling you have after a match.
>You keep your head pressed against Yasmine, afraid to pull away and deal with the consequences of what just happened.
>She starts to pet you.
>She shifts her body and shuffles into the futon with you.
>You rest your head on her shoulders.
>Her petting puts you at ease.
>Plus her heartbeat and and the rhythmic pattern of her chest expanding and contracting with each breath leaves you almost in a trance.
>This is the first time in your life you’ve felt protected before.
>Or safe, or cherished or any other mopey word that never once applied to you before.
>But you’re quickly finding its more addicting than any painkiller.
>“My parents.” You say gradually “My…real parents were drug addicts.”
>Her petting doesn’t stop. You nuzzle into her fur.
>“The only memories I have of my mom are her her lying comatose on the couch.”
>“My Dad hustled for cash to buy smack. When he was doped up, he would just ignore me. But if he didn’t get his fix he’d beat me pretty hard.”
>Yasmine tightens her grip around you.
>All this affection is completely foreign to you.
>Like a blind man who regained his sight.
>“When I was 8 I got taken away. I got put in a bunch of foster homes….they were all pretty shitty.”
>“I wandered the streets and got into fights and saw a lot of gang violence. People shooting each other…When I was a little older I started pulling knives on the other kids.”
>You shiver against Yasmine. Despite it being July, you’re freezing right now.
>She takes her hand and moves it up your shirt, rubbing your back.
>“I just wanted to fight, I didn’t even care if I won. I still have scars on my arms from getting cut by knives….I still get nightmares from back then.”
>You whimpered slightly as Yasmine started to lightly scratch the back of your head.
>You wanted to just melt into her right now.
>“I eventually got put in a detention center. That was where I got adopted by a wealthy family with a ridiculous sense of altruism.”
>That last bit sounded harsher than you meant it to. But it was still true to you. They had no reason to adopt a violent street urchin like you other than misplaced kindness.
>You’re silent after that. Savoring the sensation of Yasmine’s fur against you and her arms keep you warm.
>“I’m happy they adopted you.” She said suddenly. 
>You look up at her for the first time.
>She licks your face.
>“Otherwise I don’t think I would have met you.”
>Is it possible to get physically closer to someone than you already have?
>You just want all of her fur to envelope your entire body.
>“Stay with me tonight.” You say, almost demanding it.
>“As if I would leave now.” She said as she adjusted both your bodies.
>Your chest is healed enough that you can at least sleep on your side.
>Yasmine slowly pulls you in and you bury your face just above her muzzle.
>You never noticed it til tonight, but she has a very distinct scent.
>It’s musky and earthy.
>It’s almost spicy, the way her it tickles your nose.
>You love it.
>You feel her tail drape itself over your body before you pass out.


>“I can’t believe they’re out of lamb!” Yasmine said, pouting.
>“Well it is Friday afternoon.” You point out, staring at the long aisle of meat.
>“Everyone’s in a rush to grocery shop before the weekend hits. Just get some pork.”
>“But I told Toni that I was making Lamb.”
>“He seriously won’t care that much.” You say, rolling your eyes.
>“Well what will his girlfriend think?!”
>“Look. Why don’t you buy some pork and put it in the crockpot?” You suggest. “Everyone loves pulled pork.”
>Yasmine thinks for a minute, her tailing swaying side to side as she’s lost deep in thought about her choices.
>She decides to go with your suggestion and buy pork.
>You sigh, it was just Toni and his girl coming over for supper.
>She was treating it like it was this huge dinner party.
>“Did you get all the spices?” She asks.
> You holding up your little shopping basket and nod.
>You never figured that you would be so desperate to get out of the house that you would resort to going grocery shopping with Yasmine.
>...truth was even that was an excuse.
>You just wanted to be next to her.
>You had a sneaking suspicion that you were starting to get as possessive as she could be.
>You had caught on that over the last few days she was lathering you in her scent.
>You weren’t going to admit it but you loved it.
>Her musk practically made you drunk sometimes.
>Eventually she buys everything she needs.
>You’re still a little stiff walking home with her.
>But at least you’re out and about.
>It was only a few more weeks til you could start getting back in shape again.
>Your cringed thinking how high your body fat was going to be.
>“Hey Anon?” Yasmine piped up and you turned your head to her.
>“My parents want me to come visit in August. I don’t think I can worm my way out of this one.”
>You nod, “It’s fine. I should be able to be on my own by then.”
>You notice her expression change.
>“Well.. um actually I was wondering if you wanted to come with me? It’s always so dull to me, I could use the company.”
>“No” you say, more out of instinct than anything else. “I gotta use August to get back into shape.”
>You see her ears droop a little bit.
>Is this what heart break feels like?
>But it her disappointment leaves as quickly as it came.
>“Okay” she gives you a big smile. “I understand”
>The rest of the walk is silent.
>Why did you say no?
>Why do you always push people away out of habit?
>You were so confused right now. You never felt any sort of attraction towards someone else.
>But with Yasmine, you had these feelings for her and you didn’t know what to do.
>Toni, ever the dick, had been giving you shit about not going after her for almost a year now.
>But he was right, you could have had her anytime you wanted.
>Why did you want to keep her away? Whether you liked it or not that gap had been closed a few nights ago.
>She did everything for you and more.
>So why did you keep having this irrational fear of letting her in? Why did you have this pathetic urge to keep going on like that night didn’t happen.
>She was literally coating you in her smell.
>She didn’t want any other girl coming near you.
>The thought was oddly flattering…and slightly erotic.
>Well that’s a new thing for you to deal with!
>You thought of the possibility that she would give up on you.
>That she would see you as a lost cause and move on to someone else.
>You think of another person, either a man or an anthro linked on her arm.
>Coated in her scent.
>Licking his face instead of yours.
>Fuck white, you were practically seeing red now.
>You both reach her front door.
>“Hey Yasmine” You say as she’s fumbling for her keys.
>“What is it, Anon?”
>“Turn around for a sec.” 
>She raises her brow, confused as she looks at-
>You kiss her.
>It’s awkward and sloppy and oh my God you’re in your mid-20s and you’ve never kissed a girl before.
>Muzzle makes things a little tricky too…
>You hear her let out a small surprised yiff.
>You reach up and cup her cheeks in your hands.
>She eases into your palms.
>She kisses back and drops the grocery bags.
>She wraps her arms around your head and scratches the back of your neck.
>You tingle and squirm in your embrace.
>She found your sweet spot.
>You kiss her harder.
>You don’t want this to stop.
>You’re in broad daylight.
>Cars and people are passing by you.
>You just can’t seem to find it in yourself to care.
>You need more of her.
>You press your mouth further against hers.
>You’re surprised when you feel her tongue poking your lips.
>You open up and let her plunder and wrestle your own tongue into submission.
>You feel her arms squeeze your head.
>More.
>Give me more.
>The sound of a car honking and a guy shouting “Yeah! Give it to her!” breaks you both of the spell.
>You kiss her lightly one last time and press your nose up against hers.
>“Of course I’ll come with you.” You said, trying hard to suppress a giggle.
>You take a deep breath. Inhaling that intoxicating musky aroma.
>You feel her quiver in your hands.
>“I’m fucking addicted to you. I’ve just been too stupid to realize it.”
>Her breath is shaky as you reluctantly pull away from her.
>You slip your arm around her waist as she clumsily tries to unlock the door.
>Slam it shut behind you.
>You both practically chuck the groceries on the kitchen floor as you maul each other.
>You dive into the fur on her neck and kiss hard.
>Your fingers are rapidly running through her fur. Trying to touch every inch of her.
>Yasmine pants, her tongue sticking out slightly.
>She reaches down and grabs your ass.
>You groan into her neck as she squeezes.
>You feel your pants tighten as your erection stiffens.
>You’re practically dizzy from the rush of all these new sensations.
>“Oh God..” You whimper in between kissing her neck.
>You jump when she moves her hand and palms the growing tent in your trousers.
>You feel weak in your knees. You have to cling onto Yasmine’s body to avoid crumpling on the floor right then and there.
>“I’ve never….F-fuck!” You stammer as she rubs your groin between your jeans.
>You feel her pull away from your crotch and wraps her arms around your shoulders.
>“You’re a virgin, right Anon?”
>“Y-yeah…” you say bashfully, looking down at your feet.  
>“Toni will be here in two hours” She says regretfully. “I still gotta cook dinner.”
>“And I don’t want your first time to be a quickie.”
>The look on your face must have been truly pitiable. Because one glance at you and she immediately gives you a hard, lusty kiss.
>You close your eyes and give in to her.
>You let her tongue invade your mouth.
>This was too lewd for you, you couldn’t just let her ravage your body like this-
>Yes you can.
>You want her to completely take you.
>She pulls away from the kiss, leaving a small trail of saliva between the two of you.
>Your eyes are glazed over and your face is red.
>Yasmine gives you on final sultry gaze.
>“Can you fold up the Futon Anon? Afterwards you can lay down before dinner.”
>“But where am I gonna- you start before Yasmine puts a paw against your lips.
>“Take a nap in my bed, Anon. I’ll wake you if Toni gets here.”
>You nod, but not before you do something completely out of character.
>You grab her hand and nuzzle your cheek against it.
>You even suckle on one little paw.
>You hear her gasp and watch her rub her thighs together before she swaps you away.
>“Bad Anon, You can’t distract me like that!”
>She finally breaks completely from you and scampers off to the kitchen.
>You stagger over to the living room as you fold up the futon.
>Afterwards you slowly walk into Yasmine’s room.
>Her bed is huge, much bigger than yours.
>Guess it makes sense, she’s much taller than you are.
>You wanted to just dive into her bed.
>But your injured ribs prevent that.
>You lay down and bury your face in her pillow.
>You’re overpowered with her smell.
>You pull the blanket up even though its the middle of the Summer.
>You just wanted to be completely wrapped in her scent.
>You were certain it was illegal to be this comfy.

>“God damn, Yaz, that pulled pork was amazing.”
>Toni rubs his belly as he’s practically pulled out the door by his girlfriend, another tiger.
>Turned out Toni, was a bit loopy this evening.
>He had won his last match, but had gotten pretty injured.
>Two black eyes, a concussion, and a sprained wrist.
>He was dosed up on meds and it showed
>You could tell his girlfriend was embarrassed by it, but you reassured her it was fine.
>“Out of anyone, I get it more than most.” You said to her briefly.
>“Anon!” Toni yelped “Harald will probably let you back in the club in August.”
>You smirk.
>“I’m heading up with Yasmine to visit her parents that month.” You say slyly.
>It take’s a few looks between you and Yasmine before the light bulb goes off in Toni’s head.
>“OH SHIT!” he blurts out as his girlfriend looks on and sighs.
>The next five minutes is spent watching Toni laugh nonstop as his girlfriend tries to shove him in a taxi.
>She thanks you for the dinner before hopping in the cab herself.
>Despite Toni being drugged up enough to remind you of some of the addicts from the slums you lived in, you were happy he came over.
>It had kept your mind off of the sex you had been denied earlier.
>You clean up all the dishes, since Yasmine had cooked.
>You’re finishing scrubbing up the crockpot when you hear Yasmine’s footsteps behind you.
>She presses her chest up against your back.
>You stammer out a surprised “ah” when you feel the full weight of her meaty bosom.
>She wraps her arms around you.
>Her hands wander and aggressively grab your groin.
>You squirm and whine against her.
>You arch your back and let out a high pitch gasp as she begins to nibble and lick your ear.
>“N-n-nooooo” You weakly protest.
>She moves one of her hands and cups your chin.
>You arc your head back and look up at her.
>“You’re mine now, Anon.” She whispers.
>The way she says it causes your to arch your back even more.
>You wince, you have to be careful. Your ribs still haven’t full healed.
>Sensing this, Yasmine slowly spins you around, facing her.
>She presses you up against the kitchen counter.
>You look up into her eyes. 
>You can’t help but bite your lip.
>“Do you want me?” You ask
>Yasmine nods. 
>“Say it.” You demand like a spoiled child. “Say you want me…”
>She puts her hands on the counter on either side of you.
>She’s got you cornered and it feels like she’s towering over.
>She moves her muzzle less than an inch away from your lips, but doesn’t kiss them.
>She wants you to taste what she’s about to say.
>“I need you, Anon.”
>You moan loudly and shamelessly.
>You nuzzle your cheek against hers.
>You then pull your face back slightly and rub your noses together in an Eskimo kiss.
>Then you actually kiss her.
>And it’s the most erotic kiss so far.
>Both of your tongues shoot and and meet each other.
>As you both hold the kiss your tongues are battling each other for dominance.
>She wins and invades your mouth for the spoils.
>She keeps you subdued as she slides her tongue all inside your mouth.
>You roll your eyes back as she conquers you.
>Finally, she breaks the kiss.
>“Bedroom!” You gasp out.
>Some how you make it to her room while your both tangled in each others arms.
>She takes off your shirt and you look away embarrassed.
>You know you’re starting to getting out of shape.
>You bite your lip to muffle your voice and she licks between your pecks.
>She slowly takes off her top and frees her massive breasts from their prison.
>Without thinking you bury your face in the white fur.
>Yasmine squeals as you run your fingers over her chest.
>She gets even louder when you begin to lick and suckle at her nipple.
>You reach behind her and feel for the base of her tail.
>You pull.
>She yelps as she runs her paws through your hair.
>You keep suckling on her teat.
>You only stop when she pushes you back and reaches for the buttons to your jeans.
>You shudder as she pulls your pants down and your elastic underwear gives your painfully throbbing erection more room.
>She sticks her paw down your underwear and feels your bare cock for the first time.
>“You’re leaking, Anon.” She says in a low husky voice.
>“ah ah ah” Your gasping and lean your head against her for leverage.
>“This is mine.” She says as she cups your scrotum
>You weakly nod.
>“Say. It.” She demands, using your hair to pull your head back and look her in the eye.
>“It’s yooouuuurrs” You whine.
>You cry out in surprise as she rips and tears your underwear off of you.
>She spins you around and pushes you gently on the bed.
>You lean on your elbows as you watch her take her pants off.
>You breathe deeply as she slowly takes off her panties, a large wetspot had formed
>She’s slick and sopping and the fur around her crotch is darkened and damp.
>Yasmine gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you like a predator stalking its prey.
>She doesn’t break eye contact with you once.
>She gets on top, positioning herself just above your member.
>You’re practically panting you’re so nervous and excited.
>She leans forward and licks your face slowly as she straddles you.
> “I’ll be careful.” she says warmly, referring to your ribs.
>“O-okay.” You’re trying to slow your heart down but it just won’t stop beating around like a drum.
>“You ready, big boy?”
>“Yeah.”
>She kisses you.
>You moan as she slowly impales herself on you.
>It’s warm and wet, and really tight.
>Yasmine slowly rises and slams down on your pelvis.
>You mewl into her mouth.
>She carefully lifts your upper body up from the bed and holds you in her arms as she has her way with you.
>This sensation has the effect of a punch to the head.
>It leaves your dazed and confused.
>But you like this feeling.
>Of being absolutely lost in pleasure.
>You want to wallow in it more.
>Just how far can you go?
>Yasmine yelps as you suddenly thrust in her.
>She looks down at you.
>You kiss her. Hard.
>She begins to pant and whine.
>You invade her maw with your tongue this time.
>You run your tongue over her sharp teeth, she’s careful not to suddenly bite down.
>You reach your arms up and grab her head.
>You bump your forehead against hers and let out a small growl.
>“I knew….I knew for days you had been marking me with your scent.”
>Her eyes go wide and she begins to lick her lips.
>You were going to push her further.
>You wanted even more.
>Your grip on her tightens.
>“I know you’re a crazy possessive bitch practically in heat!”
>Now you swallow as your body feels like its in a vice grip in her arms.
>“So possess me! Fucking own me!”
>Yasmine slams you on the bed.
>You twinge from the short, but sharp pain in your chest.
>She pins your shoulders down to the mattress.
>Yasmine howls in your face as she speeds up her movements.
>There are loud, audible wet slapping sounds as she smashes her cunt up against your pelvis.
>Her juices are spilling all over your body.
>You push your head deeper into the pillow.
>You can’t hold on much longer.
>You grab her wrists and pull yourself up.
>Her face is like that of a starving predator.
>And you’re going to give her what she wants.
>What you want.
>“Bite me!” You cry out.
>Your plea results in a slightly confused look.
>“I said bite me! Mark me as yours!”
>You stretch out your shoulder and neck for her.
>She hesitates.
> “Pleeeease” You beg and finally she pounces.
>Yasmine wraps her arms around her prey and slowly sinks her teeth right between your shoulder and base of the neck.
>Only a few teeth break the skin.
>You wrap your hand around her muzzle to make sure she doesn’t let go.
>As she sucks in and starts to create a bruise, you feel yourself begin to cum.
>You scream as for the next 30 seconds you shoot rope after rope of cum inside her and paint her walls.
>Like prey caught in her jaws, she keeps you locked in place as you orgasm.
>You feel her convulse and tighten around you as Yasmine cums soon after you, milking you of even more seed.
>Your loud scream turns into a whimper as Yasmine empties your balls.
>Yasmine releases you and you fall back on the couch, gasping for air.
>You feel like your mind has been shattered into a thousand little pieces.
>Your body feels sore and the bite mark is throbbing.
>But you love it, its similar to the pain you feel after a match or a hard workout.
>You remember that the French coined a term for this kind of sensation.
>The little death.
>Yasmine rolls over to your side.
>“Be my little spoon.” She says
>You press your back against her chest and grab her arm as it wraps around you, snuggling your face against her paw.
>You let out a small, tired groan as you feel her licking the bite mark.
>It stings slightly but in a good way.
>“Now every time you look in the mirror” She says between licks “You’ll see that mark and think of me and get hard.”
>“When it fades” you coo “Give me a new one. I’ll always want it on my body”
>She nods and goes back to silently licking.
>You fall asleep, still feeling her tongue on the mark.


>No matter what, traveling by airplane was the worst thing ever.
>But god damn, trains were trying really hard to change your opinion.
>Yasmine’s parents lived so far up north that you had to change trains three different times.
>It was hectic and confusing.
>But at the very least the seats were comfy.
>Well maybe the seven foot tall wolf you were leaning on for a pillow was helping with that.
>You cuddle under her arm as she rests her chin on the top of your head.
>This was the last leg of your trip before you would be meeting her parents.
>Surprisingly you weren’t all that nervous.
>Then again you were never nervous around others in general, you just avoided them.
>Though there was one thing that you were hung up about.
>“Hey Yaz” you say, rubbing your eyes “Did you tell your folks about…us?”
>She huffs in response.
>“Course I did, Anon. Not gonna lie to my parents about my boyfriend.”
>“Will they have any issues with me being…ya know um human?”
>“Well Dad was certainly in for a shock, but I think he just didn’t want to think of his daughter dating in general.”
>You nod blankly, not having any reference point for how fathers…or parents in general feel about their daughters.
>“Anon…” Yasmine began “You should get in contact with your parents…it’s been a year now.”
>You stir in her arm. This wasn’t a comfortable topic for you.
>“It’s just difficult.” You respond quietly.
>“Well it’s only gonna get more difficult the longer to put it off, ya know?”
>“Yeah” you say, not wanting to think about it any more.
>The rest of the train ride is silent. You both fall asleep.
>You only stir from your slumber at the sound of the conductor over the speakers.
>It takes some effort but you manage to rouse Yasmine.
>Over the past two weeks you’ve come to find out that she’s an incredibly heavy sleeper.
>Not that you mind. You found it nice to wake up in the middle of the night and readjust yourself in her floof without disturbing her.
>“Train rides over.” you say “Don’t forget your stuff.”
>Yasmine grumbles an affirmative as you both groggily trudge out to the station.
>“Okay, so which one is your Dad-
>You immediately spot a wolf as tall as Yasmine.
>His fur is a more ‘dirty’ white than Yasmine’s and the fur on his back is grey instead of white.
>“…never mind” you say, feeling silly.
>Yasmine snickers “I’ll give you a hint.”
>You rolled your eyes before you both approach.
>“Hi Daddy.” she pipes up before giving him a hug.
>“Hey sweetheart, how was the trip?” His voice was low and hoarse.
>You knew he retired from the military, you could imagine he had spent most of his life screaming at the top of his lungs.
>“Very long, me and Anon just spent most of the ride sleeping.”
>With the mention of her boyfriend, the father diverts his eyes towards you.
>You imagined that he probably thought Yasmine was bringing home a smaller, skinnier human.
>Even though you hadn’t lifted a weight in over two months, you were still in better physical condition than 90+ percent of people. 
>You both stare at each other for a few moments before he puts out his hand.
>“You know there are a lot of guys in the army not as built as you.”
>You nod as you accept his handshake.
>“Well..” you begin “I take my training very seriously.”
>He nods slowly.
>“Names Oliver, Yasmine here has told me a lot about you.”
>You couldn’t deny you were slightly curious as to what she said.
>“I heard you’re into that armored fighting, with swords and maces and such?”
>“It’s a little more complicated than that.” You say.
>Oliver grunts at this, he never smiled but you could tell that he wasn’t outright hostile towards you.
>More like curious but cautious.
>“Well it’s a bit of car ride back to the house, so tell me all about it.”
>You quietly nod as you and Yasmine follow Oliver back to the parking lot.
>She slowly links her arm with yours.
>“That went better than expected.” She murmured, quietly giggling.
>“Was it supposed to go badly?” You ask, slightly nervous.
>“Let’s just say it took three days of my mom nagging him to convince him to let you sleep in my room.”
>Oh fuck, you hadn’t even thought of that.
>“Well that’s nice…” you say, your cheeks getting warm. “But we probably shouldn’t ah….”
>“No probably not.” Yasmine agreed. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of their hospitality like that.”
>You feel her arm tighten around yours and her paw interlock with your fingers.
>“Plus you’re way too loud. They’d hear every noise you make.”
>You both get in the car, Oliver offers you the passenger seat while Yasmine gets in the back.
>“Hey Anon” Oliver inquires “Was it hot on the train? You’re sweating.”
>“N-no, it’s fine.”

>The ride to the house is about an hour long.
>You would have preferred sitting in the back snuggled up to Yasmine.
>But Oliver wanted to talk to you, he wanted to gauge you.
>Plus maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuddle up to your girlfriend in front of her dad.
>He was mostly asking about your very peculiar “hobby”
>You hated referring to it as medieval combat.
>It sounded too technical and clinical for what it really was.
>At the very least Oliver could grasp the basics of it better than Yasmine.
>He also seemed more intrigued by it than she was.
>You guess that wasn’t too surprising, considering his military career.
>“Sounds pretty dangerous, Anon.” Oliver said as he sped down the highway.
>“It can be, I’m still recovering from my last match in June.”
>“Yasmine said you broke 3-4 ribs and screwed up your lungs.”
>“The ribs caused one of my lungs to puncture and collapse.” You explain “I need some minor surgery the next day.”
>“But those are exceptional examples!” you hastily explain “The worst that can happen is usually sprains or maybe a concussion.”
>“So what happened to you?” Oliver asked, raising his brow speculatively.
>“He fought 12 guys all buy himself!” Yasmine interjected.
>“Hell, that’s something else” Oliver sounded impressed.
>You feel weird being praised like that.
>The whole match caused a shockwave throughout the League.
>You were the biggest thing in your division at this point.
>But you were so distant from all the buzz, you had been too occupied recovering at Yasmine’s.
>Her apartment kept you shielded from all the talk and speculation.
>You honestly preferred it that way.
>You didn’t want to go into details about that match.
>It was too personal for you, too intimate for you to share with another person.
>They wouldn’t understand your paradise or what you were constantly reaching for.
>“Well what do your parents think?” Oliver asked.
>You could practically feel Yasmine go cold when her father asked that question.
>She was being too dramatic.
>Or maybe your resistance to really talk about it made her react in that manner.
>“I mean your adopted parents” Oliver continued “Yasmine said you were raised by Jackals.”
>“Yeah..” You spoke gradually “I got good grades and was well behaved by the time they picked me up.”
>You suddenly realized that you had almost completely forgotten what Yulia looked like.
>It was just a splatter of color against a canvas at this point.
>“So they kinda let me do my own thing. Plus I didn’t really get into it until I turned 18, by then they couldn’t have really said anything to me.”
>“You’re from the States, right? Have you seen them since you moved?”
>“uhh, no, I’m afraid not.”
>Oliver caught on from both your tone of voice and Yasmine’s stiffness in the backseat that maybe this wasn’t the best topic.
>He switches over to your Masters program and asks you about college in general.
>You were getting the feeling that he was slowly warming up to you.
>On paper you were a tall, physically fit college graduate getting his Masters.
>But the reality was that you were born into an urban dump where you festered in the trash during your earliest years.
>You knew everything that came after was just futility attempting to paint over the actual you.
>“Well, we’re here.” Oliver said as he pulled into the driveway.
>You looked around.
>Countryside as far as the eye can see.
>With a modest two story house popping out against the plains.
>“This place must get pretty intense during the winter.” You say.
>“We make do” Oliver responds gruffly, turning to Yasmine.
>“I asked your Mom to make your favorite.”
>“Rabbit!” She exclaims, her eyes lighting up.
>“With roasted green beans and cauliflower rice” He added. “Just don’t tell the neighbors.”
>“Why?” You ask, confused.
>“They’re Jack Rabbit anthros” He explains.
> Oh…

>You introduce yourself to Yasmine’s mother.
>She’s actually your height, instead of towering over you like her husband and daughter.
>With pure black fur all over.
>The contrast between her and Oliver and Yasmine is kinda stunning.
>“You’re Anon, Right? I’m Ella”
>You reach out to shake her hand but are startled when she hugs you.
>You have a feeling you now know why Yasmine is so affectionate.
>“Sorry to rush you all into Dinner like this.” She says “But if we wait any longer it’ll get cold”
>You don’t care. After all the traveling you could use a large meal.
>That actually remind of you.
>“Is it alright if I go jogging in the early morning?” You ask “I need to get back into a routine.”
>Oliver nods.
>“It gets a little nippy in the morning, even in the Summer so just remember to wear something warm” 
>With that said you’re all ushered into the dining room by Ella.
>The Rabbit is delicious, you’ve never had anything gamey before.
>You take slow bites, trying to savor the juices.
>Yasmine quite literally wolfs it all down and asks for seconds.
>It’s always astounded you how voracious her appetite is.
>Ella asks you similar things at the table that Oliver asked you in the car.
>This time it’s just generally about your academic career.
>Needless to say she was impressed with your general book smarts
>Though the topic of an actual job after school came up, where you admit you were woefully unprepared.
>At least the subject of your parents didn’t come up again.
>After you’ve all eaten every scrap of food. Elle gets up and asks Yasmine to help her with the dishes.
>You protest, saying that you should clean them since she did all the cooking.
>She was flattered with your offer, but immediately turns you down.
>“I won’t have a guest in my house cleaning dishes.” she says rather sternly. “Go out on the back porch with Olly and let that meal digest.”
>You nod, but reluctantly, you never liked the idea of one person doing all of the kitchen work.
>Your train of thought is interrupted by Oliver as he opens the fridge.
>“You want a beer, Anon? I got some Lager here.”
>“No thank you, I don’t drink”
>Oliver frowns at this before shrugging and heads out.
>You follow him after getting a glass of water.
>You hear the crack of Oliver opening his beer.
>You sit down on a nearby chair… which is way too big for you.
>Guess it was designed for taller anthros in mind.
>“So you won’t drink a single beer?” Oliver asked, sounded slightly dejected
>“Is it for diet reasons? Or….”
>“It’s true that alcohol would detract from the physical work I do…” You admit.
>“But really I just saw a lot of the foster families I was stuck with drink, and my er…biological father drank a lot too. So I don’t really have a love for booze.”
>You spoke this explanation slowly. It was harder than you realized saying all this out loud.
>Oliver let out a grunt.
>“Well I suppose that’s a pretty damn good reason. You’ll have to beg my pardon then, I usually don’t trust a guy who won’t share a beer with me. But I can make an exception in this case.”
>“Thanks” You chuckle.
>You both sit there for a long time, looking out at the night sky and letting the cool wind tickle your skin…or fur too.
>“You know” Oliver started “For a while I’ve been trying to figure out what ‘girlfriend’s dad’ speech I was gonna give you. I came up with a few.”
>He takes a long swig of his beer.
>“But then I saw you at the station, and then we spoke at that car ride. And son of a bitch nothing I thought of would really work with you.”
>“I guess I’m not what you thought of.” You add in.
>“I thought you were gonna be some arrogant human looking at my daughter like a trophy. Lots of you can be like that around Anthros.”
>“I wouldn’t know nothing about that.” You say
>“Yasmine told me you’ve known her for about a year, but it’s only now you two started dating. why?”
>You sigh “Is this gonna be the ‘girlfriend’s dad’ speech?”
>“It’s the best thing I could come up with after meeting you, Anon.”
>You’re silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts. You take a large gulp of water before you speak.
>“I’m not good with people. Or rather I don’t care about talking or interacting with people. I’ve always just wanted to be left alone while I do what’s important to me.”
>“So you don’t like others?” Oliver asks.
>“That’s not it…I had a violent upbringing. I know people don’t want that kind of thing introduced into their lives, so I just…live at a distance.”
>“Well you seem pretty darn close to Yaz” Oliver pointed out.
>“Would it make you feel better if I said I tried really hard to keep the distance between us?”
>“No, Probably not.”
>“It was that last match I had” you said “It left me incapacitated…I couldn’t do anything on my own. So she offered to take care of me and I really didn’t have any good reason to say no. The distance between us closed whether I liked it or not. And then…”
>“Things happened.” Oliver said frankly.
>“Yeah… things happened.”
>You notice Oliver begins to drain his beer.
>“Well, I suppose she could have done worse. You’re a decent fella, Anon.”
>“Thanks, I guess.”
>“Still” He added “All that stuff about distance from people. It’s not healthy. Now I get where you’re coming from. I saw combat during my Army days before they made me an officer. It does change a man.”
>“I wouldn’t compare living in some hood to a warzone” you argue 
>“You heard gunshots in your neighborhood as a kid?” Oliver asks.
>“I watched them.”
>“Then it’s all the same shit.”
>Oliver cradled his empty beer in his paws.
>“You can’t make what you’ve seen make you feel like a freak. People are tougher than you give them credit for, Anon. They can handle others who’ve seen and done some nasty stuff in their lives. I came home with bad memories and a few years later figured out my wife and all my friends could still tolerate me.”
>“It’s different” you say suddenly.
>“How so?”
>“You were in the military. They sent you to some shithole and gave you orders, structure and put you in some awful scenario. But you could get through it all because you had a job to do right? You just had to do your job and get out of that place you never wanted to go back to.”
>You held back your tears. You’d been damned if you were going to cry in front of Yasmine’s father.
>“There was no purpose or structure for me. I didn’t do all the awful things I did because of some force outside my control.”
>You rub your fingers against the rim of your cup.
>“I voluntarily engaged it in. I got the shit beaten out of me, I got cut with knives, I had bruises all over my body and I did the same thing to other people.”
>You stare down at the porch. You couldn’t look him in the eye.
>“And I did all of it because I enjoyed it.”

>“So how was the talk with Dad?” Yasmine asks as she closes the bedroom door behind you.
>Her old bedroom was actually really comfy. Smaller than her current place, but it had a den-like feeling to it.
>“It was okay, just shot the shit for a little bit. We get along.”
>“I’m honestly relieved. I swore he was gonna go for your jugular.”
> You pull out your pajama shorts and begin to strip.
>“Nah, it was nothing that dramat-HEY!
>Yasmine grabs you and pulls you into her lap on the bed.
>She makes sure to press your back firmly against her breasts.
>Your heart begins to flutter.
>“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t do it at your parents.” You whisper.
>You see Yasmine grin out of the corner of your eye.
>“I agreed to no sex. This is different.”
>She begins to lick your ear and before you can let out an audible moan she covers your mouth with her paw.
>“But you are noisy dear, so I’m going to have to muffle you.”
>You roll your eyes back and lean into Yasmine’s plush, fluffy body.
>You begin to pant profusely into her paw.
>But most shamelessly of all, you spread your legs for her.
>You wanted to give her easy access.
>She giggles at your eagerness as she slides her other paw down your chest.
>“Do you wanna be my slutty boy-toy?”
>You nod desperately and grunt out a muffled yes.
>She licks and nuzzles the back of your neck as she reaches her paw lower and lower until she’s gripping your balls.
>“You’re so fuuulll” she hummed “We’re gonna have to empty you before bed”
>You squirm against her touch as she begins to quickly stroke you.
>Her paw over your mouth is the only thing preventing you from getting too loud.
>“Do you wanna cum for me?”
>You squeeze your eyes shut as you nod.
>“I love watching you cum, you’re such a cute boy.”
>Oh god… was she gonna call you-
>“Be a good boy and give me your cum.”
>You reach your arms behind you and grab onto Yasmine.
>“Shoot.” she demands.
>You feel the orgasm rising.
>“I said shoot.”
>Your cries are muffled as your spurt thick ropes of cum over your abs, convulsing against her body.
>“Good boy!” she says calmly as she continues to milk you with her paw. 
>“I love robbing my good boy of his cum.”
>Fuck she knew exactly what to say to you. 
>You remove her paw from your mouth and look up at her.
>You have absolutely abandoned all sense of decency.
>Your eyes are wide and your mouth is agape.
>Your tongue is lolling out of your mouth.
>You reach up and sloppily kiss her.
>You flinch as she continues to stroke your now soft member.
> “Clean me up.” you say.
>She gives you a lusty smile as she lays you on your back and slowly crawls to your member.
>She takes all of you in your mouth, its hard for you to suppress a gasp as she licks your overly sensitive member.
>Then she hovers over the large mess on your abs.
>As she ticks out her tongue, she arcs it to better scoop it up.
>You reach out and pet her head as she swallows your spilled seed.
>This is better than any massage you ever had.
>When she’s done licking up the mess she rolls over and lays next to her.
>You nuzzle in between her breasts.
>“You taste good” she mumbles as she pulls the blanket over the two of you.
>You groan in embarrassment as she wraps her arms around you and mushes your body against hers.
>“Don’t worry, you’ll be returning the favor tomorrow.”
>You bite your lip in anticipation as you rub your face against the white fur.
>Soon sleep overtakes you.


>It turned out that setting up the match with Clyde was trickier than had been previously thought.
>Both of you wanted to go at each other as soon as possible.
>But Harald refused, saying you needed more time to recover and build your strength back up.
>The whole thing resulted in a screaming match between you two.
>You didn’t speak to him for a week.
>But eventually you gave in.
>You had to admit to yourself that almost three months without exercise took their toll.
>Unless you counted your…nightly escapades with Yasmine as exercise.
>But the fact that you were winded after jogging around Oliver’s house already told you what you needed to know.
>Your stamina was garbage now.
>Luckily you could still lift the same weights you could before.
>But it was noticeably harder to do so.
>You eventually had to complain to Harald about this.
>He helped you with a workout and diet plan to get you back to where you were before June.
>Well you called it a diet, but in reality it was a gorging.
>Over 5000 calories of food a day, all of it high in protein.
>Basically lots of chicken and fish.
>This meant you bought all of the groceries while Yasmine cooked everything.
>You had moved into her apartment in September after your lease expired.
>So you would be damned if she had to fork out more cash because of your insane eating habits.
>Still, it was a little nerve wracking moving all of your armor into her room. It felt a little too intimate for you at first.
>Then you realized it wasn’t just her room anymore.
>You both shared it now.
>Even as the school year passed you were still just as addicted to her as the first day you kissed her.
>You never admitted it to her, but you may just have been hopelessly in love.
>You tried hard not to show it though.
>You just kept focusing on the match with Clyde.
>A date in January was in the works before It fell through.
>Which infuriated you.
>So God damn close.
>eventually, Harald and Peterson ironed out an agreement.
>A standard match in late May, after the school semester had ended.
>So almost a year after the original match.
>It was also when you would be finishing your Masters.
>You had your thesis all mapped out.
>Lord knows you read enough books.
>But after all this was done, what would happen to you?
>You felt more confident and less afraid of the prospect of finding work.
>But you didn’t really know how to go about it.
>You’d ask your academic department for advice later.
>But for now you had to focus on Clyde.
>This year was also the fewest amount of matches you had.
>Harald was paranoid about injury so you only had two matches this whole year.
>Clyde would be the third.
>Harald assured you it was rare for a fighter to prepare so much for a single game.
>But not completely unheard of.
>You didn’t like it but you weren’t going to argue with him this time around.
>Christmas came and went. You spent it with Yasmine and her parents.
>Though you two did get in an argument.
>It was about your parents.
>She was starting to insist you call them.
>Especially on Christmas.
>You naturally refused.
>You felt like you had finally exited out of their lives.
>You had spent the years living there trying as hard as possible to be invisible.
>So now why would you go there and present yourself as if you were one of them.
>You weren’t.
>You were just a strange chapter that would hopefully be forgotten.
>Yasmine couldn’t really see it that way. 
>She got so frustrated with you that she barely spoke to you for two days.
>And in bed she faced away from you.
>But by the time Christmas Eve came around she was back to her normal self.
>You discovered your love for eggnog
>You felt bad seeing Ella panic as she realized she had to make more after you greedily drank it all.
>As penance you helped Oliver around the house.
>After New Years you finally headed back to your own apartment.
>The months go by as you slip into a routine of school, workouts, eating and sparring.
>Also sex.
>Is this what life was?
>Getting into a routine for the next 50 years then dying?
>It sounded grim, but you actually liked the idea.
>It gave you structure where you needed it the most.
>But even with all of that, you still had your goal.
>To find paradise.
>Even after all this time, the dream of that ethereal white void still possessed you.
>You tasted a glimpse of it a year ago, but now you were starving for more.
>And Clyde seemed to be the only one who could bring you back to that place.
>Finally your classes had ended and you had submitted your thesis for review.
>It wouldn’t be until the end of the Summer til you heard back from them, but all of your professors who had looked over the work done had approved.
>You were confident you would be getting a stellar grade.
>Furthermore, there were rumblings from the history Department about potential job offers you were given.
>A small handful of museums and foundations dedicated to the preservation of historical buildings were interested in talking to you.
>That all would come later.
>Until you fought Clyde you couldn’t move on.
>You needed your fix so you could finally overdose on paradise.
>You were lying awake at night, smothered in Yasmine’s arms. Thinking of nothing but scaling the mountain you saw in your dream a decade ago.
>You saw yourself now as only a few feet away from the top.
>You did not care if you won or lost this match.
>Just as long as you could finally scaled the mountain.

>You had come over from a long day of jogging.
>Classes had ended two days ago so you were now taking this opportunity to train as hard as possible.
>Your match was in a week.
>It wasn’t going to be populated with spectators.
>It would be up in the countryside.
>This was a private affair more or less.
>The feud that had developed between the two clubs was the talk of the division.
>People exaggerated everything.
>You grab a towel and wipe the sweat away from your face.
>“Yaz?” You shout. “Are you home?”
>You hear nothing for a moment before you pick up the sound of the bedroom door opening.
>When you looked at her, you immediately knew something was wrong.
>Her tail was drooping and her ears were practically folded against her head they were so low.
>Her expression was one of nervousness.
>Something scared her.
>“What’s wrong?” You say as you move towards her.
>She puts her arm out to stop you from approaching her.
>You swore your heart stopped.
>What was this.
>“Anon…I did something today I know you won’t like. But I had to do it…and I don’t regret doing it.”
>You tense up, utterly unsure as to what she was talking about.
>“I….I went through your phone while you were out today. I found your mother’s phone number and called her…”
>You imagined a thousand glass windows shattering in your mind.
>This wasn’t happening. Not now, not when you finally removed the burden of your existence from their lives.
>They were going to just forget you…and now this fucking shit!
>“She’s not my mother.” You say, lowering your eyes at Yasmine.
>You glare did not leave her daunted.
>“She’s really sweet. And I could tell she missed you…She sounded like she had seen a ghost when she picked up the phone. She said she wanted to-
>“OF COURSE SHE SAID IT!” your yelling causes Yasmine to flinch.
>“That’s just who those people are! They’ll say and do good thing after good fucking thing! With absolutely no idea in the world how it’ll affect them in the future!”
>You’re breathing heavy. And the shouting is already giving you a headache.
>But you ignore it, you’ve already lost your temper and there wasn’t any going back.
>“Do you understand that they adopted me from a fucking detention center! I was in a prison for children where I would have stayed until I hit 18! How stupidly altruistic do you have to be to bring someone that dangerous in your own home with your fucking children! I could have hurt them! Do you understand me, Yasmine?!”
>“But you’d never-
>“YES I COULD HAVE! They invited an invader into their home and I was so desperate and shameless that I accepted it. I couldn’t stand it, being this foreign burden in their home and pretending I was a part of their family. I’m too fucked up to be a part of something normal like that!”
>Your voice broke as you said that last part. Yasmine reaches her arm out to you.
>You swat it away.
>“When I left, I thought ‘finally’ they can stop all this bullshit and move on and I can just be a distant memory rather than living some cheap imitation.”
>“There is no way they think of you like-
>“YOU BROUGHT IT ALL BACK TO THE FOREFRONT! WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?”
>You’re pacing around the living room, trying to find someway in your head to just turn back the clock and pretend this didn’t happen.
>There is no way.
>You can’t handle that right now.
>“I’m heading out” You say suddenly.
>“Where?” Yasmine said.
>You could tell from her tone that she was on the brink of tears.
>Were you gonna make her cry?
>Oh god you couldn’t handle that.
>You had to leave immediately.
>“I don’t know where. I just need to go.”
>Before she said anything else you walked out and slammed the door behind you.
>You began to sprint.
>You didn’t want to hear Yasmine cry.
>You’re almost certain such a thing would have ripped you to pieces.
>But where to go?
>You couldn’t go back there. Not right now.
>You had the match.
>You had the fucking match.
>Nothing else mattered.
>Paradise.
>Please God just give me the paradise.
>You wanted to reach up the top of the mountain and become absorb in the eternal white.
>Lose all sense of your self.
>That way you wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nonsense anymore.
>You look like an insane man to onlookers as you sprint.

>You knock on the door.
>No response. You knock louder.
>You knew he was there.
>Toni open’s the door, wearing his pajamas.
>He’s surprised as hell to see you.
>“Bro, are you crying?”
>“I…I need a place to stay, just until the match.”
>Toni sighs and lets you in, while also asking “What the fuck happen.”
>You give him the short version of what happened.
>naturally he’s a little perplexed.
>“I get going through your phone is shitty. But she just called your Mom. I think you’re overreacting.”
>“First of all, she isn’t my mom, and secondly…look it’s just complicated and I don’t wanna go into it.”
>Toni shrugs his shoulders as he heads into the kitchen.
>“I gotta worry about the match!” You say, thinking you need to justify yourself further.
>“Yeah, yeah, bro. I get you.”
>“Um…could you do me another favor?”
>Toni pokes his head out of the kitchen doorway.
>“Could you…go get my armor today.”
>“Are you fucking kidding me, Anon.”
>“I’ll feel anxious sleeping unless I have it okay. I know Yasmine won’t…she won’t make a fuss about it.”
>Toni rubs his temple.
>“Alright, but listen. I’m not gonna play fucking marriage counselor between you two. Figure out you’re own shit, alright.”
>You nod.
>“Can you just tell her that I’m…that I’m coming back and I’m not mad at her as…much. I just need to be alone for the match.”
>You can hear Toni grumble as he leaves the kitchen and goes back into his bedroom to get changed.
>Apparently he was going to just do it now.
>“And one more thing.”
>“Jesus Christ, Anon, what the fuck did I just say?”
>“Listen! If she’s crying or been crying. Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”
>He shakes his head as he leaves with two large duffel bags.
>“You’re really hopeless you know that?”
>He closes the door behind you and you’re left alone with your thoughts.
>Despite what you said before, it was the last thing you wanted.


>“Alright.” Harald said “You got everything packed, Toni?”
>“yeah, yeah. Christ man, it’s not like we’re going on a fucking camping trip.”
>“We’re going to be a bit away from civilization. So it’s good to stay prepared.”
>You sat on a bench watching the two bickering while eating a ready made cup of oatmeal.
>Naturally since you were the one fighting, you had to save your energy.
>Which made you smile since you got to watch Toni bitch and moan.
>Suddenly the two stop and look in the distance.
>You hear Toni mutter a “Aw shit” under his breath.
>You look at what they’re gazing at.
>It’s Yasmine. Her hands in front of her as she walks towards the car.
>You freeze, not knowing how to react.
>“For God’s sake, Anon” Toni complains “Go talk to your woman.”
>You nod slightly as you get up and head over to her.
>You just wanted to bury yourself in her white luscious fur.
>But you agonizingly restrained yourself.
>“Anon…” she began before you interrupted her.
>“Listen. I’m sorry for my outburst. I’ll be coming home after the match and we can talk.”
>She shakes her head so rapidly her whole body follows along with her.
>“I sorta figured that out…I just wanted to wish you good luck…and I wanted to ask you something.”
>You take a deep breath as you wait for the question.
>“You called yourself an…invader and a burden and a imitation… is that how you see yourself, Anon? Have you just been putting yourself down all this time?”
>You lips quiver for a moment before you steel yourself and narrow your eyes at her.
> “It’s all a facade, Yasmine. All of it.”
>“All of the reading I do, going to college, getting degrees, even this thing I do on my spare time. It’s all just the surface level of who I am. It all just obscures the person I know I’ve always been.”
>“And what I am, and what I always will be, is gutter trash. I should have just died years ago in the ghetto I was born into. But for some random reason I’m here instead. But that doesn’t change the facts about who I am.”
>You can’t look Yasmine in the eye as you turn and walk back to the car.
>“You’re wrong” She murmurs.
>“My father didn’t raise me to fall in love with ‘gutter trash’”.
>No amount of your hardass persona could have prepared you for that bombshell.
>You keep walking, but she knows you heard her.
>Your steps feel a little heavier.
>Like your feet are coated in cement.
>Did she just..
>“We’re Ready!” Toni roars. “Get in the fucking car!”
>You turn your head back to Yasmine.
>You give her a brief smile and wave as you run back to Harald and Toni.
>“You ready for this?” Harald asks as you get in the passenger seat.
>You can’t help but smile.
>For a lot of different reasons.
>“I was ready the moment I beat those dopes last year.”
>Toni slaps you on the back.
>“Fuck yeah! Now that’s more like it! You’re such a drag when you’re mopey. You patch things up with Yaz?”
>You nod quietly as you lean your head against the window.
>You had been waiting for this day for a literal year.
>But in that moment, you couldn’t think of anything but her.


>“This is the place?” you say as Harald parks.
>“A clearing on top of a hill is a little dramatic don’t you think?” You ask.
>“Well, no one in our division will shut up about this match up so we decided a bit of romantic flair was in order.”
>You roll your eyes at this as you spot Peterson’s van already in the clearing.
>“Yeah, I know Anon. They got here about an hour ago.”
>“Who’s the Marshall?” You ask cautiously.
>“A Liger from another city. He’s neutral for both parties so it’ll be a fair match. Don’t worry.”
>You nod, satisfied.
>“We’ve also brought emergency medkits just in case something happens. I got a satellite phone with me if we need to call an ambulance again.”
>Toni makes an audible huff at this info.
>“You don’t honestly think he’ll need that again-
>“Who do think he’s fighting, Toni?” Harald said, annoyed. “Clyde is literally rank uno and has been for five years. This is gonna be a slugfest.”
>Toni remains silent, humbled.
>“Once you’re done unloading, oil up Anon like before. Sorry Anon, but you’ll have to strip out in the open.”
>“It’s fine. Not like anyone else is here.”
>“I’m gonna go and meet up with Peterson and make sure everything is solid.”
>As Harald walks off you begin to take off your clothes down to your underwear as Toni pulls the oil out of the bag.
>“You’re gonna have to stand up this time.” Toni said as he lathered the oil around your shoulders.
>“It’s cool.” You say stoically.
>Toni eyes a large, bruised bite mark appearing just over the base of your neck.
>“Care to explain that?” He says, smirking. “Oddly enough it’s shaped like Yaz’s mouth.”
>“N-none of your business!” You sputter as you hear him laughing behind you.
>You feel your muscles ease up as Toni uses his considerable grip strength to iron out any kinks you had in your upper back.
>“So are you heading back home after this?” Toni asks “Cuz I’m getting kinda tired of you living with me.”
>“Yeah, thanks for taking me in though. I needed it.”
>Toni ignores your thanks as he squats slightly to work on your lower back
>“So what she say to you? At the parking lot I mean.”
>You take a deep breath, really letting yourself feel the sensation of filling your lungs with air.
>You had become more appreciative of such simple actions after your lung has collapsed.
>“She said…she said she loved me.”
>Toni stopped working on your calves for a moment.
>“Well that’s a step up. What did you say?”
>“I didn’t say anything.”
>You felt like swallowing tongue in that moment.
>Toni stands back up and turns to face you.
>He applies more oil to his paws and slaps it on your chest.
>Harder than he needed to.
>“Listen Anon, if you’re gay for me you really should just come out and say it. I’m not interested but at least you won’t be lying to yourself anymore.”
>“You are literally oiling my chest Toni!”
>“And a absolutely stunning Wolf with the biggest tits I’ve ever seen said she loved you and you didn’t immediately reciprocate.” 
>You have no rebuttal, he was right.
>“I’d give you a phone and have you call her right now. But you gotta focus on this match.”
>At least this was something you could both agree on happily.
>He moves over to your triceps.
>“Now I don’t give a fuck what Harald says to scare you. Kick this Panther’s fucking ass.”
>You offer him a fist bump.
>Fist bump initiated.
>“I’m gonna fuck him up, bro.” You say smiling
>He gives you a wide toothy grin.
>“Get dressed and lets get your armor on.”
>As Toni helps you with your greaves, Harald comes back over.
>“Lets get your face paint, Anon.”
>You nod.
>He dips his finger in the black paint and creates and large dot on the center of your nose.
>Then he painted a series of 12 angular lines stretching all around your face with the dot at the center.
>“The hell are you graffitiing on his mug?” Toni asked, perplex.
>“It’s called the Black Sun” Harald said as he painted a large circle along the ends of the lines. “It’s based in old Medieval paganism”
>“Wasn’t that shit used by the Nazis” Toni asked skeptically.
>“The Nazis also started the first successful anti-smoking campaign, is that bad too?”
>“Yeah cuz smoking is fucking awesome.”
>“You better not be saying that while you’re in my club!”
>You’ve kept your eyes closed this whole time.
>You’re trying not to shake in anticipation.
>This is it.
>You can find paradise here.
>You can be absorbed.
>You can lose all sense of self.
>And be free of the bonds of being you.
>“It’s mine.” You mumble, causing Harald to stop.
>The cheetah looks at you, concerned.
>“Your paradise?” He asks.
>You nod.
>“Okay Anon, everything is ready.”
>You stand up and put your helmet on.
>You feel the weight of your glaive as you hold it in your hands
>It felt as light as a feather to you now.
>You walk out into the dirt clearing. On the other side is Peterson, glaring you down.
>And Clyde, in full armor.
>You take a good look at his weapon.
>Oh fuck.
>It’s a two-handed flamberge.
>And by God it was massive.
>Someone as old as him could carry a sword that fucking big?!
>You tighten the grip on your glaive.
>You’re both still until you hear the whistle blow.
>Charge.

>The reach with your glaive means that you swing first.
>Not only does he parry it, he practically shoves it aside with his sword hilt.
>He moves in.
>Fuck he was fast.
>He’s aiming right towards your hip.
>You have barely enough time to block the attack with the butt of your glaive.
>You flinch in pain.
>This fucking flamberge.
>the blade wasn’t given its undulating shape for decoration.
>It fucked with the vibrations of whoever was parrying the stupid thing.
>You felt the joints in your arms rattle at the parry.
>Fuck, even when you blocked his attack it would still hurt,
>Is this how he became number 1? Wear them out with pain before going in for the final blow?
>Well fuck that!
>You shove him back, your shoulder digging into his chest plate.
>You go for for another swing, this time aiming for the legs.
>A classic approach. Two-handers always had trouble defending their lower half.
>You feel the breath knocked right the fuck out of you as he connects straight into the side of your torso.
>You had been too slow on your swing.
>He he just flattened your ass straight onto the ground.
>You go rolling over on the ground.
>He stands there motionless.
>One of the match rules was no hits while the other was down.
>Also known as the “honour-bound rule”
>You suck in as much air as you can back into your lungs.
>The good thing about broken bones is they come back stronger than ever.
>You hope they were strong enough to withstand this son of a bitch.
>Despite being 30 years older than you, he was faster than you and maybe even stronger than you.
>It seemed all you had to your advantage right now was the reach of your weapon.
>And pure fucking grit.
>You stand up and immediately raise your weapon over your head.
>The message was clear: come near me and you’re getting bashed.
>You never had to play this defensively before.
>The match had barely started and you already felt backed into a corner.
>But you couldn’t deny that the feeling was exhilarating.
>Just how good could you have gotten had this monster of a panther been your sparring partner?
>Well you were about to find out one thing.
>Would he take your challenge?
>The answer was yes.
>He charged straight at you.
>With a loud yell you swing down.
>He raises his sword up horizontally to block it.
>But you’re swing is too damn strong.
>When the two blades connect, you push the flamberge down and the Clyde ends up hitting himself in the head with his own sword.
>Not exactly a dignified hit.
>He staggers back, dazed from the headshot.
>You pull back your glaive and wind up your arms.
>You were going for a old fashion tire iron swing.
>He’s gonna be sore tomorrow morning. Fucker!
>He ducked.
>He quickly squatted and fucked ducked under your glaive like it was a game of limbo.
>Fuck, your body is being carried by the momentum of your swing!
>You can’t stop, your body is going to twist away from him.
>Now he was gonna wind up a swing.
>Fuck Fuck fuck!
>You yell out as he slams his sword into your diaphragm.
>For a moment you simply can’t breathe.
>You almost fall down but use your glaive to balance yourself at the last minute.
>The pain is something you haven’t felt before.
>Even the hits you took against the 12 man team weren’t this hard.
>Good.
>You worked better in pain.
>With your breath still wheezing, you power through and charge him.
>He wasn’t anticipating you to recover so quickly.
>To be fair, you hadn’t recovered.
>You just didn’t give a fuck.
>You once again swing at his legs, aiming right for his knees.
>It connects and you grind your teeth as your dig in.
>Clyde goes airborne, landing headfirst, legs last.
>It was a bad fall, it looked like something out of a cartoon.
>You take a few steps back as he shakily gets back on his feat.
>A hit like that would have ended the match for some.
>But you guessed that this guy just didn’t give a fuck either.
>Now it’s your turn to be surprised as he charges at you yelling.
>You raise your glaive to parry as he swings down at you.
>And he does it again.
>And again.
>And again.
>He’s merciless in his assault, not stopping once to give you breathing room.
>And each time you parry you can feel the joints in your arms and hands cry out in pain.
>He was trying to break you down.
>You knew that eventually it would work.
>With one final parry you manage to shove him back for a brief moment.
>You thrust forward with your glaive, trying to get more distance from him.
>He practically swats the thing away with his sword and charges towards you.
>Fuck this shit.
>You loose a hand from your weapon and punch him.
>Square in his chest plate.
>God! It fucking hurt your knuckles.
>But it did stop him.
>You raise your leg and kick him.
>He loses his balance and falls.
>You take this time to run back enough from him to feel safe.
>And also time to realize just how banged up you were.
>You had only taken two direct hits, but your elbows and fingers felt like they were on fire.
>It was becoming difficult to flex out your arms, they felt more locked in place.
>That wasn’t good, it would be even more difficult to maneuver.
>You watch Clyde quickly get back up.
>His body language showed that he was getting frustrated with you.
>He sprints towards you, sword ready.
>You get ready to attack him.
>He’s in range.
>You connect with his left shoulder.
>but…he keeps moving.
>He faltered only slightly before he step in your space.
>He cracked the sword over your helmet.
>You immediately fall straight to the ground.
>You felt like throwing up and were on the verge of passing out.
>Fucking how?! He just took that hit to the shoulder like it was nothing and just plowed on through.
>You could barely comprehend where the fuck you were.
>You feel blood running down the side of your head.
>You probably had a concussion.
>Fuck it.
>Just get up, and don’t vomit.
>You get on your hands and knees, breathing deeply before you gather the energy to stand up.
>Your legs feel like jelly, but you manage to get back up.
>You were going to pay him back for that bullshit.
>You take a defensive stance.
>Come on you fucker take a swing.
>He begins his wind up motion and makes a beeline straight to you.
>Come on kitty.
>Just a little bit fucking closer.
>You quickly change your stance and swing.
>But you weren’t aiming for his body.
>You swing underneath his own sword, below the hilt guard.
>You smile viciously as your glaive connects with the knuckles of his fingers.
>You easily broke a few.
>That’s right. Fuck you!
>You hear Clyde suck his teeth as he loses his footing and stumbles towards you.
>You move to the side and begin to swing into his back.
>He hadn’t fallen just yet.
>But when you connected he sure did.
>He fell flat on his face.
>You stand there satisfied. Patiently waiting for him to get up.
>After a few moments be begins to push his body back up to its feet with the help of his sword.
>You definitively broke his pointer and middle finger on his right hand.
>It was going to be a lot harder for him to swing that big fucking sword reliably.
>If he wasn’t careful it could fling right out of his hands.
>Even with all that said though, you were concerned.
>His stand was different. It was more ‘mobile’ than before.
>Plus now he was only holding his sword one handed.
>The fuck was his deal?
>He once again sprints towards you.
>But this time his sword is at his side.
>The fuck? Weren’t you the one with the concussion?
>You swing at him, if he wanted to get knocked out that was his-
>What!?
>He ducked again?!
>But he was still moving towards you.
>And once again you couldn’t stop the momentum of your swing.
>He raises his sword only slightly.
>He gets inches away from you.
>He slides the sword directly under your right armpit.
>He makes a rapid twist in the the blade.
>You feel a pop in your shoulder.
>No.
>What the fuck!
>Why couldn’t you lift your arm?
>He pulls back his sword and slams the pommel directly into your face.
>You’re spinning.
>My arm.
>My fucking arm!
>You figured out what he had done.
>He dislocated your shoulder completely
>He popped the joint right out of the fucking socket.
>You could already feel your shoulder swelling.
>And you couldn’t feel your arm at all.
>It fucking dangled uselessly from the rest of your body.
>You could barely concentrate from the pain.
>You were holding your glaive with one hand.
>The hand that wasn’t dominant.
>No. Fuck you!
>You won’t rob me!
>YOU WON’T ROB ME OF MY PARADISE.
>COME HERE KITTY!
>LET ME ERASE EVERYTHING!


>Be Clyde
>I’m a simple accountant.
>But on the side I’m the most dangerous fighter in the Eastern European division of the Global Medieval Combat League.
>I’ve been doing this for 25 years now.
>Most of that time was with Peterson as my club manager.
>He was a veteran of the old Yugoslav wars.
>Afterwards he changed his name and everything.
>He had applied his military training to teaching the club how to fight.
>Within the next three years we had established ourselves as a truly premier club in the league.
>And later on I went to be the highest ranked fighter in the division
>But the truth was anyone else could have reached to our prestige if they worked hard enough.
>Most cut corners and were lazy with their training. There were only a few times I found a fighter capable enough.
>One of them was Anon, a human from the States.
>He was tall and extremely built and those muscles weren’t just from genetics.
>I didn’t know how much he had dedicated his short life to training to get to that point
>But I was cautiously optimistic.
>But like any young man, he was hot headed and prone to rash decisions.
>And of course Peterson naturally took advantage of him, which I disapproved of.
>But nobody had expected him to challenge us to a last stand bout.
>And I never would have expected him to win the damn thing!
>It was an absolute humiliation for us.
>Our reputation as a club was in jeopardy.
>One man, a foreigner no less, beat 12 of our veteran members.
>It was disgraceful. But it left me excited.
>This was an opponent who truly had worked hard.
>I would have been ashamed of myself at that point if I didn’t accept his challenge.
>Still, his inexperienced showed a few times.
>Over the years I imagine he had begun to overestimate the value of the reach his glaive had.
>He used it to compensate for his lack of real speed.
>That might have been enough for lesser opponents but not me.
>I was having fun thrashing him around.
>But he did have other talents.
>Make no mistake, he would overpower me in raw strength.
>And he could take an awful beating.
>Even I felt slightly bad when I bashed his head the first time around.
>What I didn’t know was that he was crafty.
>God damn I didn’t think a few broken fingers could hurt that fucking much.
>And that blow in my back suddenly brought me back to the reality that I was in my 50’s.
>Well if he was going to play a trick like that, I would one-up him.
>I can’t lie to myself about this. It really is a fucking nasty trick I’m about to do.
>Ducking under that swing in time was a gamble, but once I got close to him it was all over.
>This was a trick Peterson taught me years ago.
>Pop the shoulder blade out of the socket and the whole arm is useless.
>I rarely did this to opponents, it just seemed unnecessary to me.
>But I respected this fighter’s prowess too much to withhold anything from him.
>As I pulled back I bonked him over the head with my sword handle to make sure he didn’t immediately retaliate before he realized what had happened.
>His right arm was just hanging there. Utterly useless.
>This was a good fight, but it was over-
>I block a thrust from his glaive.
>Not a parry, but a straight up block.
>His blade was only a few inches away from my face.
>What? He was holding it with just one hand!
>Come on kid, stop this. You can’t keep that up-
>He swings it over his head and I can just barely parry it.
>The hell? He wasn’t this fast on his swings before!
>He rotates the glaive and locks my weapon in with his.
>He steps closer to me.
>I can smell his breath through his helmet.
>I hear him growl.
>Then I hear a roar.
>Like an actual roar from a lion.
>What the fu-
>He brings a knee up and jams it into my my groin.
>It’s a cheap shot but at this point it would be hypocritical of me to complain.
>He breaks the hold and jumps back from me.
>More like a prance, he’s movements are practically dancing now.
>He leaps forward and he swings over his head.
>I easily block it.
>I could tell before that the flamberge was fucking with his joints.
>But now it seems he barely even notices.
>Was this just adrenaline kicking in?
>He swings the butt of his glaive and smacks me in the hip.
>I stagger and taste blood as he immediately respond again swinging the glaive into my face.
>I can feel my helmet denting upon impact.
>I’m happy I don’t fall over.
>Like this, I don’t know whether or not he wouldn’t attack me if I went prone.
>His attacks are relentless, I can’t make sense of his footwork.
>It’s all completely improvised and natural.
>My own counter attack is stopped with a headbutt of all things.
>He’s trying to make up for his lack of an arm by using his whole body to attack me!
>I anticipate his kick and swing into his leg.
>It works and leaves him off balance.
>I go for a swing.
>I need to end this right now.
>I don’t connect, he parried the damn thing at the last moment.
>He goes for another swing to my head.
>I can easily block this-
>He changed his angle!
>He feinted me?
>HE FUCKING FEINTED ME!?
>I gasp as he bangs the blade against the side of my torso.
>And I knew he was going at full strength.
>It was like getting hit with the full force of a hurricane.
>How? How the hell could he do this with just one damn arm.
>I wanted to cripple him. But it seemed I only made him worse.
>I manage to shove him back and get some room between the two of us.
>I just needed a moment’s peace.
>I slowly raise my flamberge behind my head.
>He does the same thing.
>So this is how it was gonna end.
>We both run towards each other.
>Our weapons clash at the exact same time.
>We're locked in against each other.
>Both of us are pushing our entire body weight against one another.
>We do this for what seems like eternity.
>Wait…
>Somethings wrong.
>I look at the glaive and his fingers.
>They’re shaking.
>He could barely hold on.
>And more and more it seemed he was less pushing against me and more leaning on me.
>What the hell is going on?
>I hear a small, tiny voice from behind my opponent’s helmet.
>“I…I can’t move.”
>What?
>“My muscles have locked up…I can’t do anything.”
>Was he trying to psyche me out?
>No…I don’t think he’s that kind of fighter.
>And he was practically slump against me now.
>In this state I could easily use his body weight against him.
>So I move slightly.
>And he falls to the ground.
>It was his stamina that cost him.
>He was probably running on fumes for awhile now.
>Had he lasted just a bit longer, he probably would have beaten me.
>I notice he’s still gripping his weapon. Trying to raise it.
>Even in defeat he still wanted more.
>What spirit he has!
>I see his Club manager begin to run over to him, I kneel down and gently take off his helmet.

>You lost.
>Well fuck.
>You don’t remember anything after your shoulder had been dislocated.
>After that, you came to and you were locked in a struggle with Clyde.
>And you also couldn’t move, at all.
>Your muscles just refused to respond to your demands.
>It was shameful having to admit you had run out of gas.
>You could barely think right now.
>You were in that painful, awful afterglow of when you entered that white void.
>Where every ache in your body seemed intolerable.
>But it was all worth it, right?
>You had gotten what you wanted right?
>Than why didn’t it feel like enough? Were you being greedy?
>“My…paradise” you stutter how as Clyde takes off your helmet.
>“I found my paradise.”
>“And what is your paradise?” Asked Clyde as he removed his own helmet.
>You think for a moment, as hard as that was.
>“When everything goes white and I lose track of myself. I forget who I am.”
>Clyde frowns at your answer.
>“That’s…
>He’s interrupted by Harald’s shouting.
>“Toni come on! Time to pack up!”
>“Be careful” Clyde warned, “his right shoulder has been dislocated.”
>Harald doesn’t say anything as he tucks his arm under your groin and hoists you up over his shoulder.
>“Come on, Anon. We gotta get you to the hospital.”
>He lays you down in the backseat of the car.
>“I’m sorry I…”
>“It’s fine, Anon. That was one hell of a fight. Peterson wasn’t looking so smug afterwards.”
>You nod as you finally doze off. Your head throbbing in pain.


>You wake up to a familiar setting.
>A hospital room.
>You try to move your body.
>You can’t, your muscles are still refusing to obey you.
>You don’t even bother trying to move you shoulder.
>Eventually a physician comes in, surprised to find you awake.
>The next few hours are done taking tests and having the physician slowly rotate your shoulder to try and get it popped back into place
>It’s an unpleasant experience.
>You ask where Harald and Toni went.
>You’re told they dropped you off and went over to pick up Yazmine.
>You sigh, you didn’t want her to see you in a hospital again.
>Then you were told you had another visitor.
>The physician excuses herself as Clyde walks in.
>He has stints on his two fingers as well as a bandage wrapped around his head.
>“Sorry about the shoulder.” He said “It was the only thing I could think of to beat you.”
>“It’s fine.” You say, feeling awkward talking to the Panther who had just beaten you only a short while ago.
>Neither of you say anything for a long time.
>Finally your patience breaks.
>“So why are you here? Just to apologize?”
>“Not exactly. I wanted to let you know that after this match, I’ve retired from the League.”
>“Why?” You stammer “You beat me? You’re still competitive.”
>“Barely.” He says frankly. Silencing you. “If in a few months you came back to challenge me again. I would lose… and frankly I’m just getting to old for this. It’s a young man’s game I’m afraid.”
>“Is that supposed to be my consolation prize for losing?” You say, slightly bitter.
>“You can think of it however you want. But that’s not really the reason I came down here either.”
>He sits on the chair and leans in towards you.
>“That game last year and this match too. Those were the ones where you found your paradise right?”
>You nodded quietly.
>“You felt dead inside afterwards right? Like everything had been scooped out of you.”
>You don’t answer his question. You silence is all the answer he needs.
>“I fought against a few others over the years who’ve had similar ideas running amok in their head. Let me tell you right now, that isn’t paradise you’re seeking.”
>“It’s oblivion.”
>You say nothing.
>“Now generally there are only two reasons for someone to be chasing something as dangerous as that. Either nothing good has happened to them and they don’t mind self-destructing and ruining themselves…Or more likely they’ve never really appreciated or understood all the good they have in their lives.”
>You feel like the entire universe stood still in that moment.
>“And every single fighter I met who had the same stupid idea as you all ended up hollow inside. They sacrificed their soul and didn’t even get anything out of it."
>You stare blankly out at the wall across the room.
>“Well, I said all I wanted to say. You can do with that what you will. Feel better.” 
>And without another word, he got up and left. You never saw him again.

>You stir from your slumber about an hour later.
>You see Yasmine slowly close the door behind you.
>“You came” You say, blinking away the sleep out of your eyes.
>She gives you a mock frown
>“Of course I did silly. Hows your arm?”
>You groan.
>“They popped it back in its socket. But I still gotta be in a sling for a week. After that I have to do this list of exercises everyday til I get full range back again. I’ll have to come in once a week for checkups They said It’ll be fully healed in by the end of the Summer.”
>Now Yasmine frowns at you for real as she approaches your bedside.
>“This is the second time now, Anon. I don’t like you getting these massive injuries that take three months to recover from.”
>“I…I know.” You say, looking up into her eyes.
>God, what have you been doing with your life?
>Were you really just content to break yourself into pieces and have your loved ones watch?
>Or rather just Yasmine watch.
>You had never given Yulia the opportunity.
>You don’t try to suppress the guilt this time.
>You stretch out your uninjured arm to Yasmine.
>She takes your hand in hers.
>Your fingers interlock in her paws.
>“Right before I was sent to the detention center” You begin. “I almost killed a boy.”
>She tightens her grip around your hand, your eyes begin to swell up.
>“I didn’t bother even using the knife, I just took the metal handle and bashed him over the soft spot in his temple.”
>Hot tears are rolling down your face.
>Good God you’re so fucking scared.
>“But it wasn’t enough for me. He was down and I had won, but I needed a stronger fix. So I dragged him by the scruff of his shirt over to the sidewalk.”
>You had suffered cuts from both broken beer bottles and pocket knives, you had been beaten and kicked over every inch of your body. You had been dealt broken bones and suffered sprains as weapons of iron hammered down upon your metal skin.
>But nothing hurt as much as this.
>Why could you hardly breathe?
> Oh God…. Oh God.
>“I put his mouth on the curb and I was gonna smash my foot over his head” You gasp out.
>“And the only reason I didn’t was because some other kids pulled me away.” 
>Your vision is blurry from the tears.
>You feel Yasmine’s other arm wrap around your head.
>She presses her muzzle against your face and nuzzles you.
>“It’s the same dream!”
>“I’m there again, except this time I do it…and I’m also the poor kid and I feel my teeth shattered and bend and rip into my gums and throat”
>Yasmine hums lightly into your ear as your breathing calms down.
>It felt like you had exhaled all the bile that had been accumulating in your body since you were born.
>Was this a cleansing?
>It felt like heaven.
>You had climbed the mountain.
>But now it wasn’t white at the top.
>It was an infinite splash of colors stretching along forever.
>“Yasmine.” You whisper 
>“Hmmm?”
>“There is something I should have told you before at the parking lot.”
>“Yeah?”
>You move your lips ever so closer to hers and let them linger.
>You want her to taste the words and have her chew on them when you kiss.
>“I love you.”


>You knock on the door lightly
>You feel Yasmine’s arm tighten around yours.
>“It’ll be okay.” She says gently.
>You nod, swallowing.
>The door opens to a face you hadn’t seen in a long time.
>“H-hi Yulia.” You stammer. “Our plane landed a little early so w-we thought we’d just surprise you.”
>For a moment nothing is said.
>She looks older, her orange-brownish fur is starting to fade a bit.
>Plus her once skinny frame was starting to fill out.
>But you peered into her face.
>And all of a sudden you remember every little thing about her.
>The placement of her whiskers, her skinny muzzle and her small black nose.
>It was like riding a bike after a few years.
>You remembered everything.
>She immediately dashes out of the door and hugs you.
>She’s over a foot shorter than you, so the highest she can go is your chest.
>You wrap your arm around her and even lightly scratch her ear.
>She looks up at you and smiles.
>“I missed you, Anon.”
>“I-I know.”
>She pulls back only slightly and looks over at Yasmine.
>The two Anthros could not look more different.
>“Are you Yasmine?”
>Yaz nods her head.
>“Well I’m surprised Anon managed to find a girlfriend taller than him.”
>Oh ho ho ho. You enjoyed watching Yasmine squirm.
>Yulia beckons you both inside.
>Yasmine has to be mindful to duck her head at the door frame.
>This house wasn’t made for large anthros after all.
>You find Thomas in the kitchen.
>He’s gotten older too. He’s wearing glasses and he’s also not as thin as he used to be.
>He comes up and shakes your hand.
>“Hey Anon! Long time no see, how’s the arm doing? I heard you got it pretty banged up.”
>You nod “Dislocated it. It’s a little stiff but it’s getting better. At least I’m not in a sling anymore.”
>“That’s great to hear. You’re actually here a bit early. Rebecca and Winston won’t be around til tomorrow evening.”
>“Yulia told me over the phone Winston got a contract oversees for some construction thing?” You ask.
>“You bet! He’ll be a one out of small handful of welders managing some projects in Qatar of all places. We weren’t too happy about the location but at least he’ll be making good money.”
>That was an understatement, he’d probably be a millionaire before he hit 30.
>“What about you Anon? Yulia said you found a job over where you live?”
>“Um yeah…I’m working for the Government as a private contractor. There are a lot of old abandon churches and fortress littered throughout the country. They want me to go in and inspect them, recommend how to refurbish them and calculate their monetary value.”
>“Sounds like a lot of work.” He says, grinning.
>“Yeah.” You answer “I’ll probably be doing it for the rest of my life.”
>“And what about you?” Thomas says, gesturing to Yasmine. “What are your plans.”
>“Doctorate” She says “A Bachelors in Botany won’t really get me anywhere, so I’ll need more education.”
>Thomas nods approvingly as he continues to shuffle through his kitchen cabinets.
>“Shoot.” He curses “Honey, do we have any Bell’s seasoning left?”
>“Don’t you remember? We used it all last month.”
>He chews on his lip in annoyance.
>“Well damn, looks like I have to go out.”
>Suddenly his ears perk up and he looks over at Yasmine.
>“You said you wanted to cook some recipes while you were here right? Wanna tag along and buy what you need?”
>“Sure!” Yasmine answers, wagging her tail.
>“You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit do you Anon?”
>“Not at all.” You say smirking. “Just make sure to bring her home at a proper time.”
>You both chuckle as he pats you should and puts on his coat with Yasmine following suit.
>It was so strange talking to them in such a normal manner.
>Like they really were…your family.
>“Hey Anon” Yulia chirps “While they’re out you wanna help me chop some vegetables?"
>You nod as you take out the cutting board and a knife.
>She hands you a few cloves of garlic to cut.
>You both work in silence for a while.
>Finally, Yulia speaks up.
>“You know Anon…I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to see you again.”
>You focus intently on the cutting, looking at nothing else but the blade slicing.
>“I didn’t know either.” You say. “I was stuck in my own little bubble, and I didn’t want to have anyone near me.”
>“Well people get like that sometimes.” She said cheerfully.
>What an amazing woman.
>Even after all this time. She was giving you an excuse for your behavior. A way out.
>But you couldn’t take it.
>You were too ashamed of yourself.
>“I was always like that”
>She stops cutting.
>“I was so hung up on myself, so focused on keeping people away from me that I never once stopped to realized what others had done for me.”
>“…What you had done for me.”
>You too stop cutting vegetables. Your hands were shaking.
>You turn to face Yulia, finally looking into her wide eyes staring right back at you.
>“You took me into your home for no reason.”
>“You gave me a bed to sleep in.”
>“Food to eat.”
>“The clothes on my back.”
>“A safe place I could read and educate myself.”
>“An opportunity to attend college.”
>“I am only here now because of you.”
>“And I acted like the ungrateful bastard I was.”
>“I ran away from you, I cynically took your charity without so much as a thanks.”
>Yulia opens her mouth but you speak over her.
>“No. When Winston and Rebecca moved out…I came home and heard you crying. I knew I should have comforted you, I knew I should have done what a good son would do, but I didn’t. I moved away instead and after that I moved even farther away without speaking to you once. All that mattered was me.”
>You cover your face in your hands as you start to gasp and break down.
>“I’m sorry I’m so so sorry”
>You feel her dash out and wrap her arms around your waist.
>You fall to your knees.
>She’s still holding on to you.
>You cling to her shoulders and cry into her chest.
>“Please forgive me oh God I’m so sorry”
>“I’m so sorry Mom!”
>Her breathing spikes as she tightens her grip on you.
>Nothing could ever tear you away from her.
>You continue to bawl for a little while. Her fur drying your cheeks.
>Eventually you pour out all the repressed guilt and shame you held within yourself over the years.
>You pull back from her chest.
>Your Mom licks your face.
>“I have always loved you, Anon. And I always will.”
>You nod in the same manner a small child would.
>“Now go take a shower and clean yourself up before the others get back. I’ll take care of the veggies.”
>You shakily get back up on your feet and lumber over to the bathroom upstairs.
>As you turn on the shower and take off your clothes you look at yourself in the mirror.
>Your eyes are red and puffy. In fact your whole face is red from the ordeal.
>You look like an absolute wreck.
>Than why couldn’t you stop smiling?


>“Anon!” Toni said “It’s time, get off your ass and lets get this started.”
>You sigh as you put your greaves on.
>You weren’t fond of having the Renfair in Southern Italy.
>Yeah it made sense and it was very scenic and all.
>But it was just too damn hot in all this armor.
>“Yaz!” You hear Toni call out “Over here!”
>You turn your head suddenly
>She was wearing an elaborate gray medieval dress. With white silk embroidery around the chest and shoulders.
>It was your wedding gift to her.
>And she look absolutely stunning.
>But there was something even more beautiful in her arms as you walked over to her.
>“Say hi to Daddy.” she said to the pup. She held him under his arms and let his little legs and paws dangle.
>You scratch your son’s ear and lean in to let him lick your face.
>Your heart melts when you listen to him coo and grab your hair.
>Anthro pups, besides being bipedal were a lot like ordinary domestic dogs for the the first few years of their lives.
>He wouldn’t even say his first words until he was around five years old.
>Then his development would go off like a rocket.
>He had a dark black fur all over his body.
>Except one place.
>His tail was snow white.
>You pat his head and kiss him on the nose.
>“You’re my everything” You whisper to the pup before gazing back up into Yasmine’s eyes.
>Your hand cups her cheek and she nuzzles into your palm.
>You lean in to kiss her.
>“And you are my Paradise.”