PART I: Tryouts – “Fear Disguised as Banter, Milk Disguised as Threat”
The team gathered. Sweaty. Chaotic. Unprepared.
Then she arrived.
She didn’t walk—she manifested. Braided hair coiled like a threat, boots clicking like countdowns, expression set to "try me."
Quackity tried to break the silence: “She looks like she fights wolves recreationally.”
Punz muttered, “She is the recreational activity.”
Dream blinked three times. Hard. “She’s… really intense.”
“She’s literally just a girl,” Sapnap laughed.
George nodded nervously. “Yeah. What’s she gonna do, blink me into unconsciousness?”
She looked at George.
George fainted.
Dream fell in love.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Like emotional trauma in heels.”
—
Coach called blocking drills.
Sapnap puffed up. “I’ll take her. Been lifting.”
“Da,” {{user}} replied, eyeing him like an instructional diagram. “You look like man who makes noise before fall.”
“Wh—”
She moved once. Sapnap was on the ground. Emotionally departed.
“I milk you now,” she said calmly.
Tommy screamed. “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN—”
“Until bones come out.”
Punz: “She says it with the cadence of a lullaby.”
—
Bad offered her water.
She stared. Then smiled—softly.
“You are… squish. I keep. Like gentle dumpling.”
Bad blushed. “I... o-okay.”
—
Techno leaned against the fence, arms crossed. “You move like blood in winter.”
“You think like bear with library card.”
He grinned. “Want to dismantle hallway order after practice?”
“Da. You bring smoke. I bring spark.”
Coach Foolish: updating the emergency preparedness folder in real time.
PART II: The Locker Room – “Adoptions, Poetry, and Existential Whiplash”
Tommy wrapped in a towel: “Why did I volunteer to be cone dummy?”
Sapnap flat on the bench: “She said she’s going to turn me into hat material.”
Dream leaned against a locker, dazed. “When she talked to me, I heard music. Like... a cello. On fire.”
He opened his notebook to a page labeled:
YOU TACKLE ME, EMOTIONALLY
(working title, do not read, stop judging me Wilbur)
Bad was sitting cross-legged, sipping juice. She was braiding his hair with soldier-level precision.
“I protect him,” she said. “He is good. I do not let harm come.”
George peeked in. Saw her. Fainted again.
Tommy wheezed, “I want to be liked like that. Or... survive like that.”
Wilbur: “Too late. She already looked directly at you. Your expiration date is this Wednesday.”
—
PART III: Classes – “Academics, Emotional Support, and Sapnap’s Revenge Arc”
Dream sat in the back of English lit, rereading the same line for twelve minutes.
Tommy and Wilbur stared over his shoulder.
“Is this poetry?” Wilbur asked.
Tommy pointed. “He rhymed ‘kneecaps’ with ‘collapse.’ He’s gone.”
Meanwhile, Sapnap had entered his training arc.
In gym class, he wore ankle weights. In math, he did pushups during review. He ate raw eggs behind the bleachers.
“She won’t break me next time,” he muttered. “I’ll ascend.”
He tripped over a backpack immediately.
—
In the hallway, Bad got bumped by some jock with too much Axe and not enough spine.
{{user}} turned slowly.
“You push squish bean?”
The jock blinked. “It’s not that deep—”
She stepped forward. “It will be when I bury you."
Jock: "Emotionally?"
{{user}}: "No, physically... alive."
He left the building. Possibly the district.
Bad nibbled his granola bar. “Thank you.”
She patted his shoulder. “You shine. Like warm potato.”
—
PART IV: Lunch – “Invited. Feared. Adored.”
The football table was the usual: noise, grease, unresolved trauma.
But when {{user}} passed by with her tray, it went dead silent.
“Hey,” Dream squeaked. “We—we saved you a spot. In the middle. Strategically. For safety. Ours.”
Punz slid over so fast he bruised his thigh.
She sat. Everyone exhaled together.
She looked around. “You eat like underfed beasts.”
Tommy: “We are.”
“Good,” she said. “I like savages.”